Qi Dangguo, the stalwart Commandant of the Northern Liang Army who bore the banner, found himself in a dilemma. Though he was one of the six adopted sons of the illustrious Grand Pillar of the State, Xu Xiao, and known as the “Wolf Hound” among the “One Tiger, Two Bears, and Three Hounds,” his relationship with the young master had never been particularly harmonious.
Truth be told, Qi Dangguo, who rose from humble origins in the military ranks, disapproved of the young master’s notorious escapades across the provinces. But loyalty prevailed—since Xu Fengnian was the eldest legitimate son of his sworn father, Qi Dangguo wouldn’t hesitate even if ordered to abduct a maiden himself. Now, however, the problem was how to escort Xu Fengnian back to the palace. He couldn’t just toss the esteemed young master over a horse like baggage, could he?
Fortunately, a galloping rider arrived just in time to resolve Qi Dangguo’s predicament.
The horse was pitch-black, towering and robust—once a wild stallion king, tamed and gifted to the young prince Xu Longxiang. Upon their first meeting, the unruly beast reared its massive hooves to trample its new master, only to be met with an iron fist. The boy knocked it to the ground with a single punch, and from then on, the once-ferocious steed became as docile as a gentle maiden.
The young prince Xu Longxiang, having rushed over upon hearing the news, reined in his horse and dismounted. He called out affectionately to his brother, but when there was no response, he naively assumed him dead and burst into heart-wrenching sobs. Qi Dangguo, intending to explain that the young master was merely exhausted, was shoved aside by the prince with such force that the seasoned warrior nearly stumbled—a testament to the boy’s extraordinary strength.
The old servant, whom Xu Fengnian affectionately called “Old Huang,” hurried over and whispered a few words in a thick Western Shu accent. Only then did Xu Longxiang’s tears turn to laughter. He gave the old man a hearty slap on the shoulder, sending him tumbling into the dust.
Though the young prince was rough with outsiders, he treated his elder brother with utmost care. He crouched down, lifted the sleeping Xu Fengnian onto his back, and slowly made his way toward the city gates. His mount, nicknamed “Black Tooth,” pranced excitedly beside them, nudging its head toward a red horse led by the old servant—a steed equally majestic but missing a hoof and covered in scars. The red horse, however, was unimpressed and snapped its teeth, sending Black Tooth skittering away, though not too far, as if reluctant to part.
At first, the people of Lingzhou City couldn’t fathom who could warrant being carried into the city by the young prince Xu Longxiang, trailed by two hundred fierce palace guards. But when someone gasped, “The young master!” chaos erupted. The wide boulevard, usually spacious enough for three carriages side by side, became a scene of pandemonium. Young ladies, abandoning all pretense of grace, lifted their skirts and fled in shrieks, while shops hastily stashed away their prized wares.
The news—”The young master has returned!”—spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of Lingzhou in the blink of an eye. The city’s brothels, over twenty in number, perked up at once. Madams and pimps wept with joy, while courtesans leaned dreamily against their windows, sighing, “Oh, you heartless one, you’ve finally come back. How I’ve missed you!”
Trailing behind the two hundred Liangzhou cavalry, a lone figure entered the city—tall, clad in white robes, with delicate brows, phoenix eyes, and a face so exquisitely beautiful it seemed otherworldly.
Were it not for the two sabers at the waist, the air of aloof pride, and the terror inspired by the young master’s return, the local ruffians and playboys would have long since tried their luck.
This woman—if she could be called one—was breathtaking, surpassing even the combined beauty of all the city’s courtesans. The fleeing noblewomen and wealthy misses, upon seeing her, first felt envy, then admiration, secretly wishing she were a man so they might elope with her.
The white-robed beauty, intrigued, hesitated before approaching an elderly fortune-teller. “Old sir,” she asked, “whose young master is that, escorted by the Northern Liang cavalry?”
The old man, lamenting his lost business, was momentarily stunned by her beauty. Collecting himself, he chuckled wryly. “You must be from out of town, miss. Here, there’s only one young master—the eldest son of the Prince of Northern Liang. No other wealthy or powerful family would dare call their sons ‘young master’ unless they wanted a beating. Even the scions of neighboring princes aren’t spared if they displease him.”
At the old man’s use of “miss,” the woman’s delicate brows twitched slightly, but she didn’t correct him. Gazing at the slow-moving cavalry ahead, she narrowed her phoenix eyes, a hint of killing intent flashing within. “So it really is a young master,” she murmured. “Xu the Beggar, is this what you meant by ‘nine lies and one truth’? Xu Xiao, the Butcher of Cities, who slaughtered hundreds of thousands—how could he have such a worthless son?”
—
**Northern Liang Palace.**
The young master’s courtyard was even more extravagant than that of Prince Xu Xiao himself. A glance at the massive purple sandalwood desk by the window, adorned with a four-foot-tall antique bronze tripod and a grand painting of a coiled dragon, spoke volumes.
A marble table held the finest stationery, wine cups, and stacks of rare calligraphy. Inkstones numbered in the dozens, each priceless. A giant celadon vase overflowed with crystal chrysanthemums, while a pair of gilded mythical beasts served as playthings.
The palace’s underground heating system ensured warmth even in early winter, allowing one to walk barefoot on the carpets without discomfort. Such was the luxury of a noble household.
At that moment, the young master Xu Fengnian lay asleep on a grand bed, covered in a golden python quilt, his face gaunt. By his bedside sat the Grand Pillar of the State, Xu Xiao, and the young prince Xu Longxiang. The only outsider was the Taoist master from Dragon-Tiger Mountain, Zhao Tianshi, while Old Huang sat at the door, a long bundle strapped to his back.
A gilded Xuande incense burner filled the room with the rare fragrance of ambergris.
“Master Zhao, is my son unharmed?” Xu Xiao asked for the umpteenth time, his tone far removed from the ruthless warlord of legend—now just a doting father.
“Unharmed, unharmed,” the old Taoist assured him. “The young master is merely exhausted from travel. Let him sleep half a day, then rest for two weeks, and he’ll be as lively as ever.”
He suppressed a wince. Earlier, upon seeing his son’s haggard state, the prince had ordered the palace steward to haul out all the elixirs from Mount Wudang and the palace’s treasured medicines, ready to force-feed them to the boy. Zhao Tianshi had nearly fainted at the sight, hastily explaining the dangers of overdosing and producing a precious Dragon-Tiger Mountain golden elixir to assuage the prince’s fears.
Xu Fengnian slept for two full days and nights before waking. His younger brother, Xu Longxiang, kept vigil the entire time without eating or drinking.
When servants rushed to inform the Grand Pillar of the State, Xu Xiao hurried over—only to be greeted by his son hurling the Xuande incense burner at his head.
“Xu Xiao, you damned old fool!” Xu Fengnian roared, leaping from the bed. “You kicked me out of the palace for three years! No wonder you always say I’m not your real son!”
Xu Xiao dodged the burner, grinning sheepishly. But Xu Fengnian wasn’t done. After smashing everything in sight, he chased his father outside, grabbed a brocade broom, and swung wildly.
The mighty Grand Pillar of the State endured the blows, still fretting, “Put on your shoes! It’s cold—don’t catch a chill!” The courtyard became a scene of hilarious chaos, with stewards—men more influential than provincial governors—tactfully looking skyward, pretending not to see.
Exhausted, Xu Fengnian finally stopped, panting, and glared at his father. Xu Xiao stood at a safe distance, smiling nervously. “Feeling better? How about some food first? You’ll need strength to keep hitting me.”
At the doorstep, Xu Longxiang and Old Huang sat grinning—one drooling, the other missing front teeth—both utterly foolish.
The young master, still breathing heavily, jabbed a finger at the man the world revered as the Prince of Northern Liang. “You bastard. I’ll deal with you later.”
Xu Xiao, unperturbed, chuckled. “Of course, of course. I’ll be waiting—no fighting back, no cursing. Let you vent properly.”
Barefoot, Xu Fengnian tossed aside the broom (worth dozens of taels of silver) and approached his brother. His expression softened at the sight of the boy’s drool-soaked chest. Without hesitation, he wiped it away gently.
“Foolish Huangman,” he murmured. “Stand up—let me see if you’ve grown taller or stronger.”
The boy stood solemnly. Xu Fengnian measured his height and sighed in mock disappointment. “No taller, no stronger.”
Then Xu Longxiang lifted him effortlessly into the air. Laughing, Xu Fengnian didn’t mind the drool now staining his robes. “But your strength has grown!”
Standing apart, the Grand Pillar of the State—a man who had slaughtered countless on the battlefield—felt his eyes moisten. He turned away, muttering, “The wind’s picked up. Must be sand in my eyes.”
—
**Three days later,** well-fed, well-rested, and thoroughly pampered, Xu Fengnian made his way to the palace’s famed Listening to the Tide Pavilion.
Carrying a purple bamboo fishing rod, he had his brother bring stools while servants prepared a lavish spread of delicacies and exotic fruits. Four or five young maids, all in the bloom of youth, were summoned to massage his shoulders and back.
*This* was the life befitting a young master.
The Listening to the Tide Pavilion, as its name suggested, overlooked an artificial lake expanded to resemble a sea. The towering nine-story pavilion housed countless rare books, including lost martial arts manuals.
Fifteen years ago, before being enfeoffed as Prince of Northern Liang, Xu Xiao had led imperial troops to crush dozens of martial sects across the realm. The once-proud Purple Forbidden Manor, a former pinnacle of martial arts, was reduced to ashes, its treasured manuals confiscated and stored in the pavilion’s sixth floor.
Fortunately, Xu Fengnian bore no resemblance to his father. Outside Northern Liang, he dared not reveal his identity—lest he be torn apart by the countless enemies of the Grand Pillar of the State.
The lake teemed with ten thousand koi. A handful of feed sent them leaping in a spectacle even the emperor had once admired, sighing in awe.
Reclining on a luxurious Shu brocade couch, Xu Fengnian idly fished while wiping away his brother’s drool.
His thoughts drifted to the “White Fox Face” he had lured to Liang—a beauty whose smile curved like a crescent moon. Privately, Xu Fengnian called this person the most beautiful in the world. Initially, he had said “most beautiful woman,” only to be beaten black and blue. So he amended it to “most beautiful person.”
The memory brought a smile. Ruffling his brother’s hair, Xu Fengnian said, “I promised to find you the most beautiful bride, didn’t I? Well, I’ve brought one back—a White Fox Face, stunning beyond words, with twin sabers named ‘Embroidered Winter’ and ‘Spring Thunder,’ both legendary blades.”
He sighed dramatically. “Pity, though. It’s a man.”
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