When Xu Fengnian hurriedly arrived at the site where the adult female kuai had perished, he witnessed a heart-rending spectacle—the strange creature from Qingcheng, barely clinging to life. Nearly two zhang long including her tail, and probably weighing no less than five hundred jin, this enormous beast, unrivaled in forest domains, bore grievous wounds across her body. Broken scales and armor littered the ground, while two of her six legs had been slashed away by a sharp weapon. One could only imagine the brutal battle that had transpired.
Xu Fengnian noticed her terrible injuries though her eyes remained wide open in apparent anguish, puzzling him momentarily.
Yang Qingfeng, an expert in taming beasts, broke decorum by rushing forward and kneeling before the kuai. He touched her abdomen with both hands, and only then did Xu Fengnian notice movement there. Yang, visibly astonished, explained that a young beast was on the verge of birth. Whether it would survive or not depended solely on the will of Heaven.
Without hesitation, Xu Fengnian handed Yang the short sword “Chunlei” and used its sharpest edge to slice open the beast’s iron-tough belly. Yet, despite her final breaths, the female kuai laboriously turned her head toward her belly, as if hoping to witness the birth of her offspring before dying. From the bloodied cavity, Yang retrieved two newborn creatures—a male and a female, one after the other—making them sister and brother.
Xu Fengnian knelt to receive the two small, crimson cubs and carefully moved closer, presenting them to their mother. As if to ensure she saw proof of their survival, the adult female kuai, her breath fading, finally closed her eyes gently.
Yang Qingfeng, drenched in sweat and smeared with blood, exclaimed joyfully, “The first face they see when their eyes open determines their parentage. This moment is fleeting—don’t squander it, Prince. Truthfully, I cannot predict when they might open their eyes. Please, wait patiently until they do gaze upon you. Such a rare opportunity offered by Heaven’s Will is indeed beyond price. If I am correct, the creature known as the hukuai typically resides in underworld springs, where male kuai surface every five hundred years to mate with a tigress. Though the hukuai has male and female genders, history tells us that they seldom reproduce. Like dragons, they resist drowning, and dominate mountains as kings for five centuries before dying. This one is indeed strange. Prince, this is a gift from Heaven itself!”
The twin cubs began to writhe, their tiny bodies covered in scales scraped from their mother, scratching Xu Fengnian’s palms. Yang, visibly tense, reminded him this was the sign that they were about to open their eyes. Yet, at this crucial moment, Xu Fengnian held them gently, instead turning the cubs to face their mother. The moment their eyes fluttered open, their first sight was that of their motionless mother lying in a pool of blood, leaving them dazed. Blood from Xu Fengnian’s wounds smeared across the cubs’ bodies. The twin cubs then turned upward, gazing at Xu Fengnian with a daze. Perhaps their mother had defied the natural order, incurring Heaven’s retribution. Not only had she perished, but according to Zhao Yutai’s records, twin cubs with a single kuai horn were unheard of. Gazing at them softly, Xu Fengnian smiled and whispered, “Little ones, what you see first will always be your mother. Don’t ever forget her. As for me, I am certainly not your father, not in the least—I swear it!”
Standing nearby, holding his massive sword “Chixia,” Lü Qiantang listened and struggled to hide his amusement. The Prince, usually shrouded in inscrutability, still occasionally inspired affection.
Yang Qingfeng, in contrast, was crestfallen—the cubs had opened their eyes to death, not to their new master. Such a rare celestial blessing, akin to an imperial mandate given to founding emperors, had simply been discarded! But his heart slowly eased when he saw the cubs gently lick the blood from Xu Fengnian’s palm, and the two little heads simultaneously nestle against the prince’s arms. Xu Fengnian stood, naming them “Bodhisattva” and “Vajra,” the very scene witnessed by Shu Xiu and Ning Emei by chance.
As the cubs wiggled in his arms, Yang Qingfeng smiled, saying, “Hukuai cubs are far sturdier than colts. They can likely walk now. Perhaps the prince could find a source of water to wash them off. Ancient texts say young hukuai gain spirit only after exposure to water. The stream you just leapt across would suffice—shallow enough that they can’t escape into deep waters or dive away. Deeper rivers or pools would pose difficulties.”
Xu Fengnian nodded. “Lü Qiantang, together with General Ning, you will bury this mother kuai.”
Yang Qingfeng was shocked. “Prince, the armor from a hukuai could be fashioned into armor impervious to blade or flame—equal to the Red Armor of the Fujiang, at the very least!”
Xu Fengnian glanced sideways at Yang Qingfeng with narrowed eyes but said nothing. Yang remained silent after that.
Xu Fengnian brought the cubs to the streamside and placed them gently in the water. There, they dove effortlessly, splashing and playing. As they swam further from shore, the slightly smaller sister, Vajra, appeared unable to spot Xu Fengnian. She bit her brother, and together they broke the water’s surface, paddling with all four legs toward Xu Fengnian, who sat on the bank. They practically bounded over the waves and leapt into his lap with startling force, almost toppling him backward while sending a sharp pain through his chest. Not minding in the slightest, despite the cubs’ naturally armored skin, he reached out and affectionately touched his two mischievous companions. He smiled warmly.
General Ning Emi, baffled but watching the scene unfold, merely thought the two cubs looked odd and supernatural.
Shu Xiu, whispering beside Yang Qingfeng, asked, “Hey Yang, what are these little creatures called?”
Yang Qingfeng remained stonily silent.
Shu Xiu smirked, “So stingy.”
Yang Qingfeng merely watched the prince’s back as he played with the cubs by the stream, unable to comprehend why such a treasure-laden corpse had been wasted.
Softly murmuring to herself, Shu Xiu said, “This prince… he tends to show more kindness to small, overlooked things and people. He treats even his mounts better than us.”
Hearing this, Yang Qingfeng scoffed coldly, “Maybe only you, then.”
Shu Xiu remembered the prince calling her “Shu Dama” (Big Sister Shu), and recalled the times he had offered her to others in the old Daoist temple and Qingyang Palace. Her heart burned with wrath, yet she smiled sweetly, laced with venom: “Funny how just one glance from the prince was enough to make your legs tremble.”
Yang Qingfeng interlocked his pale fingers across his chest.
Shu Xiu mocked, “Yang Qingfeng, if you’ve the courage to fight, I promise not to strike back—do whatever you please with me.”
Yang Qingfeng restrained his rising anger, simply replying flatly, “Sister? No wonder the prince calls you Big Sister Shu. At your age, I’m not particularly interested. I’m sure the prince, being a man of refined taste, feels the same.”
Shu’s anger, as always, distracted onlookers not with her rage but with her heaving bosom.
The young cubs had already learned to walk awkwardly. Though they occasionally stumbled while darting around Xu Fengnian, they rose again, unharmed despite the dust they kicked up. When Xu Fengnian saw Ning Emei and Lü Qiantang approaching, he stood and led the playful cubs back toward the caravan. Sitting beside Qingniao, Jiang Ni, noticing the lively siblings, paused in surprise. Old sword master Lao, upon hearing the sounds, drew back the carriage curtain, glimpsed them, and exclaimed, “Their spiritual energy rivals that of the black tiger that listened to Daos master Qi Xuanzhen for years.”
Xu Fengnian lifted the cubs by the scruff into the carriage but did not spot Yu Youwei, who had likely gone to sulk with Jiang Ni and Old Li. Xu Fengnian removed the twin blades “Xiudong” and “Chunlei,” sat cross-legged, and the cubs nudged at his calves. He patted them gently. When they looked up puzzled, he grinned, “You’re Bodhisattva—you’re the sister. You’re Vajra—you’re the younger brother. And I am Xu Fengnian—not your father. Understand? Now, I must cultivate the Huangting, so no causing trouble—else I’ll hang you both upside down.”
Oddly, the moment Xu Fengnian settled into his practice, the cubs grew still, curling at his feet without movement. If the male cub, born a moment later and thus a younger brother, attempted to stir, his sister—though smaller—would give him a gentle bite, and he dared not retaliate.
It was difficult to remain focused while cultivating, yet Xu Fengnian’s lips unknowingly curled into a smile as he thought of these two young cubs, his internal energy flowing more smoothly than usual.
Suddenly, Xu Fengnian recalled a conversation with a cowherd beneath a cascading mountain waterfall: “Supreme detachment is not a lack of emotion; it is a calm state of non-attachment, as though forgetting. Yet, when emotions resurface, they are deep and true. Words exist to express meaning, and once meaning is grasped, words are forgotten. The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao. Knowing Dao partially yet hesitating to speak fully may be the truest understanding of Dao.”
Xu Fengnian opened his eyes, chuckling bitterly. “What kind of lofty Dao makes everything so vague and incomprehensible? Cowherd, if you really are the incarnation of Xuantian Dasheng, why don’t you descend from Wudang to Mount Longhu? If that’s too much, then at least go to Jiangnan!”
Xu Fengnian’s face grew serious again. He murmured to himself, “Is meeting one woman truly harder than becoming the greatest cultivator in the land?”
The twin Daoist patriarchs faced each other across the north and south.
Six hundred years ago, Mount Longhu thrived while Wudang almost lost all disciples, with half its practitioners fleeing the mountains. Three hundred years later, Wudang eclipsed Longhu so severely that Longhu could not sink lower. Now, after a hundred years, the imperial court continued elevating Longhu while Wudang declined with each generation. Even Wang Chonglou and predecessors never once visited the capital.
What of the next century?
Few truly believed Xuanwu would rise again for five hundred years.
Would the thousand-year-long struggle between north and south be resolved by the cowherd—unaware of even his own Dao—or by the young Daoist prodigy of Longhu, hailed as the most gifted in cultivation and martial prowess, with hopes of rivaling the ancient saint Qi Xuanzhen?
Xu Fengnian still could not comprehend Hong Xiang’s Dao.
Wouldn’t it be easier to descend the mountain and go south than to best the powerful Longhu school, which has generations of masters?
With a bitter smile, Xu Fengnian muttered, “Your Dao, so elusive yet full of meaning, is one I may never grasp. If you won’t speak or act, how will my eldest sister ever understand? Just hiding atop Wudang, riding cows—what the hell does that achieve?”
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