The old man rubbed his earlobe mockingly and said, “Practice swordsmanship? Without mentioning the Wudang Sect Leader’s step into the Heavenly Elephant realm, what about Wu Liuding’s mountain-piercing polearm technique before you? Are you still thinking about practicing the sword? Practice nonsense! At your cultivation rate, you’ll forever trail behind these peerless prodigies, eating dust their footsteps leave behind. As the son of the Human Butcher and the Princess—you aren’t even ashamed?”
Xu Fengnian replied calmly with a smile, “What’s there to be ashamed of? As long as the blade is one’s own, even if one stumbles and blunders, one’s sincerity ensures no cause for complaint. Wasn’t Xu Xiao a top martial cultivation expert? Yet he still built up this family enterprise. My older sister is upset about my sword practice because she fears I’ll fall into madness, afraid I’d forsake even my home for the sake of swordsmanship. Yet certain things can’t be achieved through idle talk alone—Shangyin Academy is a prime example. Eloquence is only a contest between sages, but when faced with a brute with no reasoning, fists and blades become the only means of persuasion. Truly, there are few learned people in the world, and even fewer with great learning.”
The old sword saint smiled and said, “Some truth to that. I’ve never liked Confucian scholars’ idle chatter. Back then, Qi Xuanzhen had this very same temper. But he was a freak beyond logic—he could both argue so convincingly they spoke of heavenly blossoms falling, and slay demons as a guardian immortal. If he didn’t possess such talents, who would willingly sit through his lectures?”
Two playful tiger cubs, tired from running around, snoozed on Xu Fengnian’s foot. Xu bent over to gently stroke their young fur.
The old sword saint fell silent all of a sudden.
Xu Fengnian stood up, startling the cubs awake, and they resumed joyfully hopping at the bow. He asked curiously, “Senior, really can you fly a sword?”
The old man remained silent, only glancing toward the cliffside.
At the end of the Tongling, the twin cliffs were neatly sliced, less than ten zhang apart, resembling a gate allowing passage only to a single boat. This was the final ghostly gauntlet, carved with four large characters reading “Ghost-Wailing Xiongguan” upon the rock. They were inscribed by Lu Dongxuan, the immortal Wudang master who ascended riding a crane, using his immortal sword. Interestingly, Lu Dongxuan was known as the Sage of Dan, Sword, and Poetry—an unrivaled swordsman and renowned Landbound Sword Immortal. He also mastered alchemy and left behind many celebrated poems, yet only eight characters were preserved in his calligraphy. Besides “Ghost-Wailing Xiongguan,” there remained only ” Xuanwu shall rise..” Both were carved with sword strokes in calligraphic form.
Beyond the ghostly gauntlet, the view opened wide. The Yanzi River, Shu River, and Canglan River converged here. This place was once the battlefield of three ancient kingdoms and historically the site of countless martial exploits by heroes. The river, once swift and narrow, gradually widened and slowed, as if transitioning from the underworld to the world of the living—suddenly serene and uplifting.
Xu Fengnian saw the old Li, always clad in that rancid sheepskin robe, still gazing at the four characters on the cliff after passing through the ghost gate, looking somewhat melancholy. This old sword saint of Jianghu, seldom scratching his feet, picking his nose, or cleaning his ears, was only in such moments of stillness and focus that Xu truly recalled he was Li Chun’gang. Even having suffered a broken blade and lost an arm, this man remained the immortal who once stood alone atop the sword path.
The old man murmured, “In my youth, I did many reckless things—entered the Diamond Realm at sixteen, the Zhi Xuan Jing at nineteen, and reached the Celestial Phenomenon Realm at twenty-four. I was hailed as a once-in-five-centuries sword prodigy. When I first emerged onto Jianghu, with millions observing the Tide, I crossed the Guangling tide atop a tower. At twenty-four, I challenged Wu Wei of the Plum Sword Sect in the Eastern Sword Pool, humiliating his elder so greatly that he ended his own life. At thirty-six, I claimed myself the Invincible Under the Heavens, declaring the Four Great Grandmasters—Mao You, Fengdu Green Robe, and Fujiang Red Armor—all were mere fame-seekers. Even if those three joined forces, one sword of mine would suffice. I never lost to them, but fell to the junior Wang Xianzhi. She left Fengdu searching for me—this foolish woman deliberately allowed me to pierce her chest with a sword. I considered myself unrivaled under heaven, claiming I could best any foe with one sword, allure any woman with merely a finger. But in the end, I learned what heartbreak means—when you wound another, it is yourself that suffers. To save her, I went to Longhushan seeking longevity pills from Qi Xuanzhen. Yet, before I reached the Demon-Slaying Stage, she passed away. Her dying words: she refused to live—only wanted to die in my embrace. If she’d lived, we’d surely be strangers again. She didn’t want that. And at that time, I still hadn’t had the courage to speak the words—that without her, one sword, two swords, a thousand swords, meant nothing. This ghost gateway was where we first met. Back then I could already fly a blade, while she was but a clumsy girl not yet in cultivation. How she became Fengdu Green Robe, and why she became Fengdu Green Robe—I never knew. All I knew was that this life would never see her again. All honor and disgrace, all floating and sinking matters, swept downstream together like a boat, mere fleeting clouds and smoke. I liked the young Jiang girl because she reminded me of that girl from the past. Ascending the Lotus Summit, descending the Demon-Slaying Stage, I learned she was my enemy’s daughter from Qi Xuanzhen. Since she happened upon me and couldn’t kill me, her only wish was to die by my hand. The bitterest of all is longing; the farthest of all is life and death.”
Xu Fengnian had no reply. The legends of sword saint Li Chun’gang blurred over forty years. Qi Xuanzhen had long ascended in daylight. Wang Xianzhi remained in the Emperor’s City without ever setting foot beyond the Eastern Sea. Fengdu Green Robe had passed away. Fujiang Red Armor seemed to have become a puppet. Those fortunate to have seen the old sword saint alive were likely now elderly men.
Truly, as the immortal Lv Zu once said, “Sleeping till the second or third watch, all honor and wealth fade into illusion. Thinking ahead a hundred years, both old and young become ancients.”
Li Chun’gang said with irony, “In my youth, I aspired to be like Lv Zu, just as Qi Xuanzhen did. Yet, I admired Lv Zu’s sword, while he pursued Lv Zu’s Dao. So I loved Lv Zu’s ability to take heads with flying swords, only to be harshly scolded by Qi Xuanzhen. That Daoist old fellow, sitting on the Demon-Slaying Stage, said something like—when two men clash, slashing necks and splitting lungs, killing with swords, flying them a thousand miles—this is the lowermost commoner’s technique, a trivial skill no different from cockfighting. Strength may overcome others, but true Dao is self-mastery. Listen to that tone! Wasn’t it lofty? At the time, I felt disheartened and willingly conceded defeat. Then, seeing my friend-enemy ascend through white rainbows, I had no words left. I thought perhaps I had erred. Qi Xuanzhen had realized immortality, walking lotus steps. Myself, I once stood on the verge of the Heavenly Elephant, yet one foot within the Landbound Immortal realm regressed a thousand miles. After descending the mountain, I lost an arm and fell into the Finger Mystic realm, daring no longer to utter reckless proclamations about slaying dragons wherever I found them. Only in recent years beneath the Tingchao Pavilion did I finally realize a simple truth—ha! That old whimsical fellow Qi Xuanzhen deliberately misled me!”
Xu Fengnian sighed softly. The great ship entered the great river, no longer swaying wildly. In his childhood, arriving here with Old Huang, both were astounded. After a long while, the old sword saint finally regained his senses and turned to return, only to see Jiang Ni, who had been seasick and vomiting the entire journey, emerge from the cabin, leaning on the railings. Her face remained pale, although improved compared to Book-Warrior Beach and Tongling.
Guan. Compared to Xu Fengnian’s first boat journey, when both of them were half-dead with misery, they were about equally pitiful. Qing Niao leaped lightly down from the second floor of the boat and murmured, “Master, the one who capsized the previous ship awaits us in the river center.”
Sure enough, as the ship proceeded, they spotted again the green-robed guest with polearm aboard a lone boat.
This Wu Liuding must’ve swallowed lions’ hearts and panthers’ gallbladders! One polearm challenge wasn’t enough; did he want to provoke three more full rounds? Xu Fengnian widened his eyes, staring at the increasingly clear figure of Wu Liuding. This young swordsman’s appearance was nothing special—his expression stoic, clearly a cold and unapproachable personality. Ever since ancient times, sword grave warriors had always been so. To go forth into the world, junior sword cultivators must first defeat a family elder, regardless of life or death. Wu Liuding, tall and lean, didn’t carry a sword today, only shouldering a dark green bamboo pole with both hands resting on it. His posture was arrogant beyond all reason.
Jiang Ni, still feeling nauseous, even she could see the bold assassin standing atop the rivercraft. The sailors claimed he was the Dragon King, but she refused to believe it. Glancing back with a frown at Xu Fengnian, she weakly asked, “You can’t beat this person?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled and shook his head, “Certainly not.”
Jiang Ni sneered, “So then what’s the point of your sword training?”
Xu Fengnian laughed heartily, “Honestly, I don’t know. But you could ask Senior Li whether he knew he’d become a sword saint on the first day he held a blade.”
Unbeknownst to him, the old Li interjected bluntly, “I did.”
Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes. Jiang Ni’s mood suddenly improved, smiling faintly, with two little dimples appearing on her cheeks.
Xu Fengnian said, “Beautiful.”
Jiang Ni immediately stiffened her expression.
Xu teased, “Xiao Ninuer, come on, smile again. If you do, even though I know I’ll definitely lose to that world-class swordsman, I’ll still take up my blade and charge. What a bargain isn’t it? Perhaps this young master might never return. And if Senior Sword Saint helps me out, you can then sob and wail dramatically to ensure I’m certainly killed on this The Land of Rivers and Mountains. How about a smile?”
Jiang Ni’s head swam, seasickness nearly driving her to leap into the river in frustration. She hated the Young Master who insisted on this boat journey. She struggled to consider this deal while Xu continued to press her. Finally, with great effort, she managed what she considered her most faultless grin. Immediately, Xu laughed and teased that it was too ugly and insincere—this Young Master would never engage in such a losing business. Jiang Ni tried changing expressions repeatedly, but none satisfied. Finally, Xu feigned sighing that the deal was obviously off—luckily the ship held many experts; there’s no way he couldn’t defeat that lone suicidal bastard. Even if he were the Dragon King himself, they’d skin his hide and snap his bones. Jiang Ni laughed for a while, her little face stiff from smiling too long, only to see the cowardly and sly Young Master secretly laughing, infuriating her into rushing forward intending to fight him. Xu threatened, “You planning to bite me? Careful, I’ll let the Vajra Bodhisattvabite you back!”
The timid little Jiang Ni quickly stopped, glaring murder at him with wide eyes.
Xu Fengnian burst into laughter, but after finishing, he suddenly turned serious, gripping his sword with both hands, ready to leap from the bow to challenge the pole-wielding Wu Liuding.
Just as his foot was about to leap forward,
The old sword saint, who had silently watched the two young ones bicker, flicked his sleeve, yanking Xu back and making the Young Master plop ungracefully onto the deck, looking ridiculous.
Jiang Ni finally burst into genuine laughter.
The old sword saint’s gaze turned misty, observing the annoyed expression of the young Xu and the smiling face of the young Jiang girl.
That long-ago The Land of Rivers and Mountains, when he crossed the river with flying swords, reciting poetry, she had leaned on the rail just like that, wearing the same smile.
Back then, that was the peak of youthful brilliance—the most vigorous time for the youngest and most dazzling swordsman, Li Chun’gang, and also the most innocent time for that girl.
They passed each other, he chasing only the path of the sword saint, not thinking of her, while she foolishly cherished thoughts for a lifetime.
The old sword saint murmured that ancient poem from that day:
I vowed to forge three thousand blades,
One day opening my case, a jade dragon roaring.
The chill in my hand could freeze three feet deep,
The stone’s divine will, a snake’s line.
The old sword saint extended his single arm and softly said, “Xu Fengnian, borrow me one sword. One sword alone.”
Xu Fengnian was stunned.
Li Chun’gang mumbled, “I owe a sword.”
Xu Fengnian gritted his teeth, drew Xiu Dong, and hurled it forward toward the hundred-pace distant boat where Qing Shan wore green robes.
Facing Jiang Ni, the old sword saint cast a final glance at her. That Xu kid had said this little mud girl resembled Princess Wangfei, but that wasn’t quite accurate. She was more like that girl back then who loved wearing green.
Li Chun’gang smiled. It was a smile filled with only the marks of time. He floated backward off the ship’s bow, raising his head in unrestrained laughter, “Little Green Robe, see Li Chun’gang’s single sword strike!”
Facing the lone boat, the lone sword bearing Green Robe, and the thrown Xiu Dong, the aged man with no divine blade or Trojan Ox, with no youthful grace or dashing charm, only a single arm, grasped Xiu Dong, the non-blade, and turned around delivering only a single, casual sword strike.
Qi Xuanzhen once said, “You prove Dao through sword force but have strayed from the heavenly Dao.”
But you said, “One sword is enough.”
What need do I, Li Chun’gang, have for heavenly Dao?!
One sword suffices!
At first, no one saw the beauty of that sword strike; it appeared dull, the river silent.
Yet that Green RobeDragon King abruptly disregarded his boat, fleeing at full speed.
Instantly,
The great river roared open, cleaved in two for two hundred zhang.
Such a legendary single sword strike by a Landbound Sword Immortal—should there truly exist dragons in this world, none could survive it!
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