Xu Fengnian woke at dawn. Even with eyes closed, he could feel the comfort brought by the brocade bedding. This made him quite content. Without having gone hungry or suffered from cold, it was difficult to know the tremendous blessing of warmth and satiety. The principle that hunger cures all ailments—no matter how earnestly the older generation explained it with sincere emotion, they could never quite convey that flavor.

When he’d told Li Hanlin and Yan Chiji about his three years of travels atop Yellow Crane Tower, those two dandy childhood friends had only been curious about jianghu anecdotes and martial world tales. They had no feeling whatsoever for going hungry or freezing. So Xu Fengnian, whose hands and feet were still covered in calluses that hadn’t yet faded, felt quite fortunate to have returned alive to Lingzhou. The moment he sat up, Hongshu, the head maid who slept on a small couch in the adjoining room, came in to help him dress and don his cap. Xu Fengnian didn’t refuse. Understanding the hardships of common life was good—overcorrecting would be inappropriate.

As Hongshu’s slender hands moved about, she softly reminded him there was a secret letter on the table. Xu Fengnian hummed acknowledgment.

Within great clans and aristocratic houses, overstepping rules was gravely taboo. Even the most favored maids and concubines dared not let down their guard. After Xu Fengnian got out of bed to rinse his mouth and wash his face, he gently opened the letter. Such things were uncommon—not just anyone could enter Wutong Courtyard. Written on the envelope’s exterior in small seal script was a single character: Yin.

Xu Fengnian wasn’t surprised by this. That his father had twelve Earthly Branch death warriors at his side was an open secret known to all—every one of them like demons and spirits that couldn’t bear sunlight, skilled in mystical arts and divination, walking crooked paths and side doors, killing without trace.

Xu Fengnian discovered this letter was something like an itinerary report. The writing was straightforward, all recording Old Huang’s journey to the East Sea, every detail meticulously noted.

At first it was all trivial matters. Xu Fengnian found it amusing, thinking that back then his own embarrassing incidents during travels must have been fully known to his father as well. When Xu Fengnian reached the part where Old Huang entered the territory of Martial Emperor City—where one could stand at Jieshi and gaze upon the vast sea—because this “Yin” had added some secrets beyond just Old Huang, he learned that several of the world’s most renowned sword masters had entered Martial Emperor City early. Besides the head of Yue King Sword Pool, there were even two members of the Wu Family Sword Tomb—who rarely entered the world—who’d come forth into the East Sea, waiting with bated breath for that peak battle atop the city wall. The next entry even mentioned that the long-renowned First Rank master Cao Guanzi had rented an entire Ocean-Viewing Tower within Martial Emperor City.

Though Xu Fengnian hadn’t personally experienced or witnessed it, he clearly felt a suffocating sense of dark clouds pressing on the city, wind and rain filling the tower. The second-to-last entry described how Old Huang had rested briefly at a wine shop not far from the main city tower, ordering two taels of wine, half a catty of meat, and a plate of peanuts.

This Old Huang—still the same mild-mannered old fellow.

Only the final entry of the “Yin” intelligence record remained.

Xu Fengnian didn’t rush to read on. He just remembered many things that had happened during those three years. The biggest incidents were nothing more than encountering bandits blocking roads for robbery. The smaller ones were countless—basically solving problems of warmth and food like fleeing refugees, through swindling, cheating, abducting, deceiving, and stealing. Every trick they could think of, they’d employed to the fullest, yet often without gaining a single grain, and still had to endure scornful looks and beatings.

From brazenly chatting up pretty ladies at first sight to eventually avoiding any passably attractive Read on Jormuntlgirl by taking detours. From being picky—this meat isn’t refined enough, this wine isn’t mellow enough—to later thanking heaven and earth for a mouthful of hot tea or a bit of meat flavor. A world of difference.

They’d borrowed tattered Daoist robes to pretend to be poor diviners, spouting nonsense fortunes for people.

They’d set up go boards with the not-yet-widespread nineteen-line variant in alleyways. As a result, they hadn’t earned much money and were instead cheated out of several copper coins by a few neighborhood scoundrels skilled at wooden fox tactics.

They’d sold calligraphy and paintings, and helped villagers write family letters.

Stealing chickens and snatching dogs—rarely had the good fortune of not being chased and beaten by villagers.

—Young Master, this cucumber was stolen from the village edge vegetable garden. You can eat it raw.

Ptui, ptui, ptui! This thing is edible?

The dust-covered Crown Prince sat on a small earthen mound, tossing away the cucumber he’d bitten into. After enduring for an incense stick’s worth of time, the Crown Prince weakly beckoned to Old Huang who squatted beside him frantically munching cucumber: Hey, Old Huang, help me pick up that cucumber. Really don’t have the strength to get up.

Young Master, this is a corn cob, roasted. Should be better than raw cucumber at least.

Cut the nonsense, eat!

—Old Huang, what’s this thing you dug from the ground?

Sweet potato.

Can you eat it raw?

You can!

Really damn crispy and sweet.

Young Master, may I say something?

Speak!

Actually it’s more fragrant roasted.

Your mother! Why didn’t you say so earlier?!

—Though we nearly lost our lives stealing this chicken, it was worth it! Not one bit worse than tender roe deer meat.

Fragrant indeed.

Old Huang, when we first entered the village, why’d you keep staring at that flirty woman’s ass? Last time you kept gawking at a village woman nursing her child. What, can you stare and stare and stare a baby into existence?

Don’t dare touch, only dare look.

Promising!

—Old Huang, I’m not about to die, am I? If I’d known, I wouldn’t ​noodles​have touched that box in your pack.

You won’t! Young Master, don’t think nonsense. People are scared by themselves. I just like thinking about good things. Young Master, think more about good wine, good meat, and pretty ladies. Keep thinking and you’ll get past this hurdle.

The more I think, the more I want to die.

No, no, no! Young Master still owes me several pots of yellow wine. When a great man gives his word, four oxen, five donkeys, and six horses can’t pull it back. Back in our hometown we say even a loud fart can smash out a crater.

Old Huang, that’s really not funny at all.

Then shall I tell Young Master another joke?

Don’t. Those few stale bawdy stories you heard secondhand—you’ve told them over and over eight hundred or a thousand times. My ears have calluses. Forget it, I’ll sleep a bit. Rest assured, I won’t die.

Alright.

—Old Huang, never married?

Nope. When I was young I only knew one hard labor—smithing all day long. Couldn’t save up any copper coins. Later when I got old, what girl would look at me favorably?

Then life is so boring, so incomplete.

Still okay, still okay. Like how I, Old Huang, never tasted bird’s nest or bear paw this whole life—I won’t crave their flavor. At most if I get a chance to look a few times, that’s satisfying enough. Young Master, isn’t that the logic?

Can’t tell you actually understand some principles, Old Huang.

Heh, just pondering randomly.

—Old Huang, you say this Wen Hua kid thinks about nothing but sword practice all day, but looking at his form, no matter how you look he doesn’t seem to have talent for wielding a sword.

Young Master, I think, just looking won’t tell you for sure. It’s like when I went up the mountain to gather firewood as a kid. Those with great strength would stop working after two hours chopping. My hands and feet were clumsy, but I’d sharpen the wood-cutting knife keener, then chop for six or seven hours. I’d always carry more firewood down the mountain than them. And gathering firewood on the mountain, staying up there long enough, you might just spot good timber. Chop off a section and you can sell it for quite a few copper coins.

That method is too stupid.

Stupid people have to use stupid methods, otherwise can’t survive. Finally managed to be reborn to walk this world once—I figure you can’t just do nothing.

Ugh, can’t stand your principles the most. By the way, Old Huang, if I learned the sword, would I have prospects?

Those prospects would reach the sky!

Old Huang, when praise comes from your mouth, it truly gives no sense of accomplishment at all. Hey, hey, hey! I’ve said it so many times—stop looking at me with that expression!

—The head maid Hongshu watched the Crown Prince’s expression, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly as well.

Xu Fengnian collected his thoughts and finally turned to the final entry.

“Sword Nine Huang, bearing his box, swept up to the wall top, halting twenty zhang from Wang Xianzhi. All five swords from the box emerged. All eight sword forms emerged. Wang Xianzhi responded with one hand. A total of sixty-eight moves. At the end, Sword Nine emerged. Wang Xianzhi moved his right hand. Sword Nine—like the Milky Way cascading a thousand li—completely destroyed the sleeve of Wang Xianzhi’s right arm. Wang Xianzhi fought with all his strength. Sword Nine Huang, with single hand and single sword, broke through forty-nine moves, until death.

Addendum One: Sword Nine Huang’s meridians were all severed. He sat cross-legged atop the city ​unauthorized copy​wall, head facing north, dead yet not fallen.

Addendum Two: After this battle, none under heaven dares say Sword Nine Huang was far inferior to Sword God Deng Tai’a. From within Ocean-Viewing Tower, Cao Guanzi praised that when the Sword Nine form emerged, the sword intent was magnificent—no more brilliant sword move exists under heaven.

Addendum Three: Sword Nine is named Six Thousand Li, as stated by Sword Nine Huang’s own mouth.

Addendum Four: Before death, Sword Nine Huang seemingly had final words, heard only by Wang Xianzhi.”

Xu Fengnian kept his head lowered looking at that letter. Judging from his profile alone, there was nothing unusual. After a long silence, he finally said softly, “Hongshu, heat some yellow wine.”

This wasn’t the season for heating yellow wine—the lake crabs and perch were still small. So the head maid said gently, “Your Highness, drink now?”

Xu Fengnian nodded. “Feel like drinking.”

Hongshu had a clever heart and liver. Without asking questions, she went to Wutong Courtyard’s cellar—which lacked no oddity and stored no treasure it didn’t possess—and fetched a pot of aged Huiji Mountain yellow wine. She heated a pot for the Crown Prince and brought it to the small sandalwood table by the window on the bamboo couch on Wutong Courtyard’s second floor.

Xu Fengnian asked for two wine cups and waved his hand, sending away all the maids including Hongshu and Lüyi. The entire second floor, filled with priceless antiques, calligraphy, and paintings, became even more tranquil. Xu Fengnian poured two cups of yellow wine and sat quietly for an entire day, never hanging joy or grief upon his face. Near dusk, he glimpsed that Embroidered Winter blade that had been neglected for so long, hung on the wall as pretty decoration.

Xu Fengnian descended from the bamboo couch and took down Embroidered Winter—refined in name, more beautiful as a blade. Drawing it from its sheath, cold air seeped into his skin.

That time he’d foolishly felt around Old Huang’s sword box, by that very day he was half-dead—showing how heavy the sword energy within the box was. Embroidered Winter and those several swords were all excellent things for severing heads, not to be mentioned in the same breath as the gold-inlaid, jade-adorned toys worn at the waists of Lingzhou dandies. Those stewards and servants who’d entered the household relatively late couldn’t possibly imagine that this Crown Prince who only knew how to seek pleasure all day long had first touched a blade extremely early—at only six years old.

Xu Fengnian carried the blade downstairs. Seeing a group of maids gathered in the courtyard with worried faces, Xu Fengnian smiled. “All of you go busy yourselves with your own tasks, even if just for show. Otherwise if Chief Steward Shen sees, he’ll mutter again about how Wutong Courtyard has no rules.”

Xu Fengnian quickly walked into his bedroom, moved out the mechanism box from under stolen contentthe bed, and found that stack of silk cloths with sword forms drawn in charcoal. Like the mechanism box, they’d all become relics.

Allowing no one to disturb him, Xu Fengnian studied them intently for an entire night. Placing the crude sword manual back in the box, Xu Fengnian looked up to see his father Xu Xiao sitting to one side—he didn’t know when he’d arrived.

Xu Xiao asked, “Can you understand it?”

Xu Fengnian shook his head. “Don’t understand. Old Huang’s drawing skill was too poor, my comprehension even worse.”

Xu Xiao smiled. “You want to learn the sword?”

Xu Fengnian nodded. “Learn.”

No one knows a son better than his father. Xu Xiao asked, “After learning the sword, will you go to Martial Emperor City to retrieve the six swords from the box?”

Xu Fengnian said calmly, “No reason to leave them there for people to mock Old Huang.”

Xu Xiao said indifferently, “Can you retrieve them before you’re fifty?”

Xu Fengnian sighed. “Heaven knows.”

Xu Xiao offered no comfort whatsoever. He merely rose to leave with a casual expression, leaving behind a bland remark: “Think it through clearly before telling Father.”

Xu Fengnian watched his father’s back, asking, “What did Old Huang say at the end?”

Xu Xiao stopped but didn’t turn around. He said, “When you’ve [noodles]mastered it, then we’ll talk.”

Actually, what Old Huang said wasn’t important.

The person was gone.

Six thousand li of wind and clouds, sword box standing upright atop the city wall.

Yet those dozen-some jars of yellow wine—they were still there.