The ox-rider hid in the bamboo grove, a bamboo leaf between his teeth, squatting to watch the show. Truth be told, this young Patriarch Uncle harbored no ill will toward the Crown Prince—especially after he’d come up the mountain to practice his blade. Every time he transported books to Wudang, there would always be one or two good books mixed in that had nothing to do with martial arts. The mountain scenery was certainly magnificent. Why else would the ancients have called it a glazed world? Among the realm’s Five Sacred Mountains, for over a thousand years before the previous dynasty, Wudang had always been praised as the Supreme Peak. The mountain’s buildings connected with heaven’s fortune and earth’s energy. Even taken individually, they surpassed that upstart Dragon-Tiger Mountain by far. The other three peaks could hardly contend with Wudang.

Yet after gazing upon this scenery for over twenty years, though Hong Xixiang hadn’t grown tired of it, he still hoped to see some fresh people and fresh events. The Crown Prince had said this was called “loving the new without tiring of the old”—a good thing. As for the mountain’s old people and old affairs, the young Patriarch Uncle cherished them from the bottom of his heart. Not to mention his eldest martial brother being like a loving father, or martial brother Chen who had read through all the Jade Pillar scriptures—though he was somewhat strict, every time he discovered forbidden books brought from down the mountain, he would sigh with heartfelt regret and pace in circles before Hong Xixiang like an ant, circle after circle. The most he’d ever done was thirty-some circles. Then there was little martial brother Wang who practiced sword in silent comprehension, his swordsmanship exceptional. While others wracked their brains studying sword techniques and forms—especially Wu Family Sword Tomb, wishing they could push their moves to the limits of human ability—little martial brother Wang walked the solitary path of sword intent, sharing a similar approach with that legendarily formidable Deng Tai’a. He’d once personally witnessed little martial brother Wang standing atop the great stone at White Elephant Pool, using sword energy to slash the waterfall until it exploded. There were also several even older martial brothers, each with distinct personalities, all good people with the bearing of ancient masters, showing Hong Xixiang particular care and protection.

But after the Crown Prince came up the mountain, things became even more interesting.

Hong Xixiang gazed at the tense standoff outside the thatched cottage, inevitably feeling somewhat anxious for the Crown Prince. Those people from the capital—aside from the wealthy woman disguised as a man—the other two were difficult opponents, especially that gloomy uncle who’d exchanged a move with his eldest martial brother. His internal cultivation was unfathomably deep. If sect leader martial brother hadn’t cultivated the Great Yellow Court barrier—rare in the Daoist tradition for a century—he wouldn’t have repelled the enemy so easily. The outside world only knew that the temple’s Final Prison barrier was extremely difficult to break through, but they didn’t know that emerging from Great Yellow Court was even harder. Those centenarian true masters of extremely high seniority on Dragon-Tiger Mountain who remained in eternal seclusion within blessed cave-heavens—most had cultivated Great Yellow Court but gotten stuck inside its maze and couldn’t find their way out.

The delicate stalemate was easily broken by one person approaching slowly from the waterfall, sword on his back.

Little martial brother Wang, known as Wudang’s number one blockhead!

Little martial brother Wang was past forty, his features refined and elegant, incomparably dashing. He bore a long peachwood sword the color of purple copper, named Shen Shu. Legend said an ancient immortal had once used this blade to slay a thousand-year fox spirit that brought ruin to kingdoms. Immortal aura and demonic miasma coexisted within the sword—without great force of will, one could not wield it.

The old Daoist Wang Chonglou said gently: [noodles]“This mountain is not suitable for conflict. Why don’t we all go to Purple Sun Temple nearby for some vegetarian dishes?”

Xu Fengnian laughed carelessly. “Got to eat your fill before you have the strength to fight.”

The woman whose appearance was merely moderately pretty but whose temperament was anxious sneered: “The Wudang sect leader personally coming out to protect wasn’t enough—even the mountain’s foremost swordsman Wang Xiaoping came with sword in hand to observe. Wudang’s hospitality is truly moving. I’ll remember this favor. Next time we meet, there will certainly be a generous gift in return.”

Xu Fengnian smiled heartlessly: “From the sound of it, little sparrow isn’t planning to continue entangling with her future husband? Then this Crown Prince will have these hundred crossbowmen escort you down the mountain, Miss. Once you reach the bottom, we’ll call up two or three hundred more cavalry to see you out of Beiliang territory.”

She ground her teeth with a hissing sound, saying “good” three times in succession. Laughing in extreme anger, she said: “Good, good, good! I’ll remember it all. Xu Fengnian, just you wait.”

Just as Xu Fengnian was about to speak, Jiang Ni had already interrupted, still untimely and ignorant of worldly matters: “The vegetable garden—compensate me.”

Xu Fengnian glared at her irritably. Jiang Ni glared back. Eyes wide staring at eyes, murderous intent rising—though in a certain woman’s eyes it looked like lovers’ quarreling. She snorted coldly, stomping hard on the filthy mud as if wanting to collapse all of Wudang Mountain to feel satisfied, then led her two attendants away with a grand flourish.

During the descent, she called out to rest multiple times from exhaustion. Heedless of her status, she sat on stone slabs, pounding her calves. When climbing up, she’d been single-mindedly intent on making that enemy she most wanted to grind to dust look bad, not noticing the terrible pain in the soles of her feet. Now removing her boots, she saw the shocking bloodstains and burst into tears with a wail, crying loudly with full vigor, her shrieks echoing mournfully across Wudang Mountain. Though the two attendants behind her held transcendent status, they walked on thin ice before this mistress. Hearing her cry, they grew even more anxious, not even daring to offer comfort. After crying for a while, the woman whose family standing was already the most exalted under heaven gradually quieted down. Steeling herself, she put on her boots of exquisite workmanship, wiped away her tears, and muttered to herself: “Sun Diaosi, you couldn’t beat Wang Chonglou. Zhang Huan couldn’t beat that Wang Xiaoping either. Ah, if only I’d brought more palace experts.”

Only the highest-ranking grand eunuchs in the palace would be called Diaosi or Taijian, their number countable on one’s fingers—no more than eight or nine in the entire dynasty. Even vassal princes with the most intimate personal relationships with His Majesty, or powerful ministers holding great authority, had to hold their noses and take detours when encountering these castrated eunuch leaders who couldn’t grow proper beards. Those on good terms with eunuchs might even proactively exchange pleasantries. [noodles]The Liyang Dynasty’s founding ancestor had established regulations—thirteen stone steles in a certain palace hall explicitly stipulated that eunuchs must not interfere in government and must not leave the capital without authorization. Since this Grand Eunuch Sun could travel incognito from the capital, the woman’s identity became crystal clear. Only the lawless Princess Suizhu could enjoy such heaven-defying treatment, only she could make the current Emperor turn a blind eye.

This Eunuch Sun had endured thorough humiliation from that Crown Prince on Wudang Mountain today. He’d already thought of a hundred ways to make life difficult for that cripple Xu upon returning to the capital. Never mind toppling the deep-rooted Xu family tree—disgusting the Great Pillar of State thousands of miles from the capital would suffice.

A towering tree reaches heaven. Reaches heaven? As tall as the Son of Heaven? Grand Eunuch Sun sneered inwardly.

Having lost her beloved matched luminous pearls, Princess Suizhu raised her head viciously: “Zhang Huan, I know you’ll write a secret report to my imperial father. Just write that this Xu Fengnian has actually been hiding his capabilities all these years, that his dissolute behavior was all pretense. Write that this Crown Prince harbors towering ambitions, and after meeting me in Beiliang, treated me with great enthusiasm.”

The former prince of the fallen kingdom of Eastern Yue was dumbstruck, unsure whether to agree or refuse. If he refused, he couldn’t pass this immediate trial. If he agreed, it would be the capital crime of deceiving the sovereign. The Eastern Yue imperial clan was already withered to near extinction—barely anyone remained.

Eunuch Sun Diaosi resolved the urgent crisis, saying in his shrill voice: “Princess, matters of state cannot be treated as child’s play. We need only report the truth. Won’t His Majesty vent your anger for you, Your Highness? If His Majesty mistakenly believes Xu Fengnian truly harbors wild ambitions, won’t he be even more determined to become in-laws with that cripple Xu? Then what about Your Highness?”

After serious contemplation, she frowned: “Mm, then this palace would lose enormous face. Living with such a wastrel, wouldn’t I be laughed at by everyone under heaven?”

Grand Eunuch Sun and Zhang Huan, who wore the Judang paired blades, exchanged a tacit glance, both seeing relief in the other’s eyes. These two who originally didn’t see eye to eye had gained some sympathetic understanding during this Wudang trip.

Princess Suizhu limped down the mountain, asking softly: “Sun Diaosi, what ​Read on Jormuntl​do you think of this Xu Fengnian?”

The grand eunuch laughed mockingly: “Utterly without morals or virtue. I used to think the gossip from the capital was somewhat exaggerated, but after arriving in Beiliang—which prefecture, which commandery isn’t cursing him? Seeing him with my own eyes today confirmed it completely.”

Princess Suizhu’s thoughts were complicated. Lowering her voice: “Zhang Huan, is his blade work acceptable? He actually made you draw both blades.”

The fallen Eastern Yue imperial clansman who’d sunk into the mud smiled: “To truly kill him, one Judang Brocade Blade would suffice. Ten moves at most.”

The princess made an “oh” sound, cursed “Xu the wastrel” once, then said no more.

Behind them, a hundred Beiliang soldiers followed at a distance, monitoring the three.

On the mountain, the sect leader old Daoist left with his martial brother Wang Xiaoping. Before departing, he gave Xu Fengnian a bottle of medicinal pills. Hong Xixiang went off in dispirited spirits to lead his ox. Only Xu Fengnian remained, standing at the edge of the trampled vegetable garden watching Jiang Ni as she stood dazed within it.

The Crown Prince smiled: “If she won’t compensate you, I will.”

Jiang Ni crouched to the ground, gently supporting a seedling, saying nothing.

Xu Fengnian crouched down too, wanting to help, but Jiang Ni pushed him away with one hand. He fell backward, sitting in the mud.

She looked up in puzzlement, seeing that even as Xu Fengnian covered his mouth, blood still seeped between his five fingers. He seemed unwilling to let Jiang Ni witness this wretched scene. Suddenly standing, he left the vegetable garden.

Xu Fengnian, his internal injuries serious, swallowed a fragrant dark green medicinal pill in the small cave within the waterfall, slowly regulating his energy circulation.

Fighting desperately with that Judang blade warrior hadn’t actually caused severe injury—only external wounds to his hands. For Xu Fengnian, this wasn’t troublesome. During this past half year of blade practice, which day hadn’t been like this? But when that person who was undoubtedly a grand palace eunuch struck—that was truly deadly. If Wang Chonglou hadn’t blocked most of it, forget staggering here—Xu Fengnian might not have even been able to crawl back.

After beginning blade training, Xu Fengnian placed greatest emphasis on breath regulation. Self-taught, he circulated the blood and energy within his body through several minor circuits following natural law. Slightly improved, he opened his eyes to see Hong Xixiang bringing some vegetarian food.

The young Patriarch Uncle said softly: “You’re actually a good person.”

Xu Fengnian shook his head with a smile: “She’s my maid. If I want to beat her, scold her, tease her—that’s my natural right. What business is it when others bully her? Slapping her face—isn’t that the same as slapping my face?”

The ox-rider said with feeling: “These things I don’t understand.”

Xu Fengnian mocked: “All you understand is shit.”

The fellow who’d kindly brought food didn’t argue back. Last time the Crown Prince came up the mountain and beat him up, he hadn’t struck his face or his bird. The easily contented Hong Xixiang felt quite fortunate. He suddenly seemed to think of something, asking carefully: “That woman was truly Princess Suizhu whom you refused in marriage?”

Xu Fengnian sneered: “Even you know about it?”

The young Patriarch Uncle who least resembled a Daoist master grinned foolishly: “I’ve heard some young Daoists and pilgrims talk about affairs down the mountain.”

Xu Fengnian leaned against the wall, his slender five fingers caressing Embroidered Winter’s ancient blade sheath. Changing the subject, his tone flat: “Back then, the old Emperor wanted to overturn the martial world that disrupted prohibitions with force, wanted all the realm’s martial men to submit with heartfelt admiration, prostrating themselves at the Son of Heaven’s feet to be obedient dogs. But several great vassal princes claimed illness or spoke directly that the matter was improper. Whether this directness was righteous or profitable, several great generals were equally reluctant to be such virtue-damaging villains. In the end, who became the scoundrel bearing the realm’s infamy? It was Xu Xiao. That dead cripple destroyed Western Shu, and carrying the Xu-character King’s Banner, turned his blade against all the realm’s martial artists—among them not a few had family roots among Beiliang soldiers, especially some officers. At that time, military morale was more chaotic than in any battle. Before the Beiliang army ever engaged, twenty thousand battle-hardened veterans requested discharge to return home, and countless fierce generals from martial backgrounds grew resentful of Xu Xiao, transferring to other forces. Did Xu Xiao ever complain?”

Hong Xixiang wasn’t surprised the Crown Prince called his own father “cripple Xu.” He’d heard that at the slightest disagreement, the Crown Prince would chase the Great Pillar of State with a broom. The young Patriarch Uncle already didn’t understand people down the mountain or affairs outside. This strangest of father-son pairs—he understood even less.

Xu Fengnian said calmly: “Later, the current Emperor grew dissatisfied with Shangyin Academy on various counts. The Academy said Western Shu must not be destroyed—it would harm the dynasty’s fortune. The Academy also said the Western Chu imperial clan needed kind treatment, otherwise it would chill the hearts of scholars throughout the realm. What could His Majesty do? He still made Xu Xiao be the one to stick his neck out. In one vigorous effort, in just two months, he swept irresistibly forward and destroyed Western Shu. As for the Western Chu imperial clan that won popular hearts—even their emperor was stabbed to death with a single sword by Xu Xiao. Nearly a hundred imperial clansmen were all hanged from the city walls. Western Chu was practically exterminated. Thus the Emperor could sleep soundly. Never mind how Xu Xiao has been these years—even I, this wastrel who at most ruins Beiliang’s respectable young ladies, have been targeted for assassination countless times using every trick imaginable. If not for my great fortune, I’d have died long ago. Jiang Ni being like this—I accept it. She’s a little girl who lost both parents at only five years old. Wanting to make things difficult for me—that’s understandable. But so many old foxes who’ve lived several decades, a full cycle—why don’t they follow reason either? Dragging groups of painstakingly cultivated outstanding young talents to their deaths? Wouldn’t living well be better?”

Xu Fengnian’s expression became oddly gentle, ​Read on Jormuntl​saying softly: “Dying is good too. They can go keep my mother company.”

The ox-rider didn’t dare speak anymore, afraid of being struck in the face or the bird.

Xu Fengnian recovered his calm, saying: “You probably won’t believe this, but I held a blade at six years old and killed someone at nine. Back then my wish was to become the realm’s greatest master, ride the fiercest horses, wield the fastest, largest Mo Blade. Whenever I saw injustice, I’d draw my blade to help. Later I’d marry a woman as gentle and kind as my mother—that would be a satisfying life. What did Beiliang’s several hundred thousand iron cavalry have to do with me? But after growing up, I learned that many things aren’t as you wish them to be. Many people—you try to reason with them, but they refuse to be reasonable. So when Xu Xiao wanted me not to touch a blade for ten years, then made me travel for three years after—I complied with everything. Last year, gap-toothed Old Huang died. I didn’t ask Xu Xiao whether he’d arranged for Old Huang to die atop that Martial Emperor City wall. Didn’t dare ask. Today I practice blade. Later I’ll practice sword. Even if I can’t master either, even if I give up halfway—I still must…”

The young Patriarch Uncle broke out in cold sweat, silent as a winter cicada.

Xu Fengnian’s head rested against the stone wall. He didn’t voice his final thought, only gazed at the luminous pearl on the opposite wall, mocking himself: “You begged me—if my sister isn’t doing well in Jiangnan, I’ll be impolite to you. This unreasonableness—I learned it from everyone under heaven.”

Hong Xixiang said with a bitter expression: “But this humble Daoist is most reasonable.”

Xu Fengnian recalled that during his three years of travels, beside the Luo River, he’d glimpsed from afar a graceful silhouette. Lost in a daze, he murmured: “The blade of longing—the most deadly.”

Hong Xixiang had just opened his mouth to flatter him, saying the Crown Prince’s words showed great learning and significance, when Xu Fengnian preemptively said: “Shut up.”