The next day, everything came to light. The woman whose real name was Fan Xiaochai came from a once-prosperous family whose fortunes had declined due to the Grand Pillar of State’s machinations. She was a dead piece—doomed regardless of whether the plot succeeded or failed. However, she proved quite useful, capable of making moves, occupying territory, and investigating the root of problems.

That second young master of the Lin family was nothing but a fool being used. Half-dead from fright, this third-place scholar had been kept completely in the dark, lusting only after the allure of Miss Fan’s rouge and lips. He’d grown foolish from reading too much, unaware that the more beautiful a woman, the more trouble she brings. A clumsy chance encounter had made him infatuated, and he’d recklessly brought her into the Prince of Beiliang’s palace. Heaven knows how heartbroken the Hedong Qiaoguo Lin family was after learning of this calamity. Last night’s assassination attempt wasn’t meticulous but crude—a desperate act. Miss Fan, having entered the palace, took the opportunity to draw a map and a portrait of Crown Prince Xu Fengnian, then looked for a chance to assassinate him. But their calculations were far inferior to those of the Beiliang palace, and they all suffered. As for the mastermind behind Miss Fan and the Lin family’s fate, Xu Fengnian, sitting in Tide-Listening Pavilion warming wine, didn’t care. He just wanted to know if Fan Xiaochai regretted dying for a man she’d never met.

Xu Fengnian felt no pity for these people’s moth-to-flame mentality. Beautiful women in the world were like bamboo shoots after spring rain or night grass on the prairie—once one batch was gone, a new batch would sprout the following year. They could never be completely eradicated. If everyone pitied and cherished every beautiful woman, wouldn’t that be exhausting? Xu Fengnian simply didn’t have the leisure. Besides, after three years wandering like a stray dog, Xu Fengnian had learned plenty about the shallow ways of the world. He remembered meeting a low-class young swordsman on the road who shared his views. That guy always liked spouting grand principles like “showing mercy to enemies risks your own life.” Supposedly he’d learned these from some unsuccessful, unknown senior swordsmen. Every time he talked about it, he’d spit all over Xu Fengnian’s face.

Xu Fengnian still remembered that guy who couldn’t afford an iron sword and could only carry a wooden one. The way he looked at swordsmen on the street was exactly like a lecherous thief seeing a beautiful woman. If this guy knew that Old Huang—whom he was forced to listen to boast about the Great Ascension Sword Technique every day—was the same Sword Nine Huang who could fight even that old monster Wang of Martial Emperor City, and that the old man had five of the Ten Famous Swords hidden in his sword box, what would he think? That guy who was always thinking about finding a master to learn from—was he alright now? Had he ever truly mastered swordsmanship?

When they parted ways at the Southern Yan border, the man had said to Xu Fengnian with great pride, “When I make something of myself one day, I’ll treat you to the best braised beef. If one pound isn’t enough, I’ll make it three pounds, and you can eat your fill!”

Three pounds of beef seemed the limit of his imagination.

The true martial world was rarely home to unparalleled masters with strength to cleave rivers with a single sword stroke. It was mostly filled with nameless nobodies like that guy, indulging in far-fetched and laughable dreams of the martial world. Xu Fengnian rubbed his cheek hard. Seeing Yuan Zuozong standing quietly to the side waiting for him, Xu Fengnian quickly stood and moved an embroidered stool for the Third-Rank Dragon-Martial General. A flash of surprise crossed Yuan Zuozong’s eyes, but he sat still as a great bell and said solemnly, “Your Highness, the Prince has sent me to inquire how to deal with the woman surnamed Fan.”

Xu Fengnian smiled. “Do as you see fit.”

Yuan Zuozong nodded slightly at this unexpected reply and immediately stood to take his leave.

Xu Fengnian didn’t stop him. He sat briefly, then stolen content stood again, saying, “Brother Yuan, let’s have a drink together sometime. We won’t leave until we’re drunk.”

Yuan Zuozong smiled in surprise. “Alright.”

Xu Fengnian took a pot of wine he’d prepared beforehand from the tea table, carried it to Tide-Listening Pavilion, went straight up to the eighth floor, and met his master Li Yishan, who was engrossed in copying books. Li Yishan, courtesy name Yuanying, was a disheveled, emaciated man not well-known in the martial world or imperial court. However, in the Prince of Beiliang’s palace, no one dared show the slightest disrespect to this first scholar of the household. Xu Fengnian sat to the side, picked up the green gourd on the rosewood table with practiced ease, poured in the wine—the aroma filled the air. Only then did the man stop writing and chuckle softly. “Now your feminine air has finally faded somewhat. Three years wandering have still brought some benefits.”

Xu Fengnian chuckled, then asked worriedly, “Master, will Old Huang be able to retrieve the Huanglu sword from Martial Emperor City’s wall?”

Li Yishan took a sip of wine and shook his head slightly.

Xu Fengnian exclaimed in shock, “That old monster at the lake bottom is already incomparably powerful, and Old Huang is clearly a notch stronger. Could Wang Xianzhi, who proclaimed himself lord of that city in the East Sea, truly be invincible?”

Li Yishan held the green gourd, no longer drinking but merely sniffing it, and slowly said, “Invincible under heaven? There are still a few above First Rank. Wang Xianzhi has devoted his life to martial arts, nearly reaching the pinnacle, but he cannot be called invincible. Today’s martial world is divided among many heroes, each with their own strengths. The days of one person being absolute master are over—they won’t appear now, nor ever again. Moreover, the pinnacle of martial arts merely touches the threshold of the Dao. Furthermore, martial artists’ influence outside the court on the overall situation of the world is very small. Otherwise, your Beiliang iron cavalry wouldn’t have trampled the entire martial world back then. If you’re unwilling to learn martial arts, the Great Pillar of State won’t force you, and I don’t care either. That’s all. Even a million soldiers can be subdued; it’s better to be a fearsome traitor. Civil officials may disrupt government, but a commoner will never cause chaos in the country.”

Xu Fengnian chuckled. For over a decade, the Liyang Dynasty had tirelessly circulated this insidious, bloodless saying: “A million mighty soldiers can be subdued, but a single traitor is to be feared.” The first half flatteringly praised the Great Pillar of State’s martial prowess, bordering on sycophancy, while the second half was a blatant and deadly attack. This saying was quite sophisticated—even Xu Xiao clapped and laughed upon hearing it, though after the laughter subsided, he muttered, “Those idle, good-for-nothing charlatans from Shangyin Academy deserve to die.”

Li Yishan, carrying his wine pot, made room for Xu Fengnian to copy rare ancient texts. Xu Fengnian was already used to this. His handwriting was quite good, but he’d never cultivated any righteous spirit. Whenever Xu Fengnian’s marks weren’t done properly, Li Yishan would tap him with his green gourd. After having the Crown Prince copy for the time it takes to burn a lamp, Li Yishan sat down again. Xu Fengnian leaned beside him, gazing at his master—face aged, hair white, in a state of decline; yellowed scrolls and green lamp empty. He’d heard that the most bitter thing in the world was decline, the most difficult thing in cultivation was emptiness. What kind of experience could make his master so calm and composed? Li Yishan, without looking up, said softly, “Go, go see the guest you invited to Tide-Listening Pavilion. He’s almost up to the third floor.”

Xu Fengnian said “Oh” and quietly went downstairs.

On the second floor, Xu Fengnian saw White Fox Face with his obscure identity standing beneath an ancient bookshelf piled high, forming an entire wall of books. In his left hand he held a ​visit our site​yellowed martial arts manual, his right index finger rhythmically tapping his smooth forehead. The Embroidered Winter blade in its sheath was inserted into the bookshelf as a bookmark.

White Fox Face glanced at Xu Fengnian before lowering his head again.

Having made a fool of himself, Xu Fengnian had no choice but to retreat.

The vast Prince of Beiliang’s palace seemed inhabited only by the Crown Prince, a carefree and idle man so indifferent he was practically nonexistent.

Midyear, the Great Pillar of State chose an auspicious day to hold his son’s coming-of-age ceremony at the ancestral temple. Quite unusually, the ceremony for the Crown Prince of Beiliang was less grand than that of typical wealthy families. Not only were there very few invited guests, but even the Crown Prince’s two older sisters and younger brother were absent. Xu Fengnian, dressed simply and elegantly, was led into the ancestral temple by Xu Xiao. After offering sacrifices to Heaven, Earth, and ancestors, he was crowned three times: a black hemp cloth crown, a white deerskin cap, and a plain red and black crown. These three small crowns on Xu Fengnian’s head attracted much attention. The first crown was of great importance to all high-ranking officials of the Liyang Dynasty, as it signified the Crown Prince could enter court and assume power. The second crown had more practical and enduring meaning, as Beiliang’s 300,000 iron cavalry were watching closely. As for the third crown, it only had symbolic significance and was therefore largely ignored.

After a long day’s work, the newly capped Crown Prince, his face stiff with tension, finally managed to relax after exchanging greetings with high-ranking officials from the Beiliang border who’d come to the palace. He enjoyed tea and water served by his personal maids in Wutong Courtyard, along with shoulder massages, back rubs, and leg massages. Once he’d rested enough, Xu Fengnian personally straightened his headdress and robes. Finally, he and Xu Xiao arrived at the Princess’s tomb. A pair of tall, lifelike blue-white jade lions stood there, both depicting lively cubs. The right lion, a mother, protected three cubs, symbolizing the Princess and her three biological children: eldest daughter Xu Zhihu, second daughter Xu Weixiong, and youngest son Xu Longxiang. The left lion, however, was only kissing a single cub—testament to the Princess’s boundless doting and favoritism toward her eldest son Xu Fengnian, both in life and in death! Xu Fengnian stood before the stone lions, his eyes red. Great Pillar Xu Xiao sighed softly. Whenever young Fengnian felt wronged, he’d sneak to this place and stay the whole night. No matter how cold or hot the weather, he never got sick.

The Princess’s tomb was surrounded by two walls of white jade, forming a magnificent city-within-a-city. The main spirit path stretched sixty feet. According to regulations, the emperor’s spirit path was only decorated with nine types of stone beasts, but here there were as many as fourteen!

Nearly a hundred stone carvings, imbued with serene and profound spirit, flowed seamlessly together, their grandeur imposing as a rainbow. Additionally, the mausoleum dome’s height and underground palace’s scale far surpassed those of any other prince of the dynasty. Moreover, it featured a unique and unprecedented dressing table and two maidservant tombs. When the Princess’s tomb was first completed, it was criticized by countless people. The Emperor’s study was filled with impeachment memorials almost overnight, but they were all suppressed and ignored.

The hunchbacked and lame Great Pillar of State stood silently before the grave.

After Xu Fengnian finished paying his respects, he squatted before the grave and whispered, “Father, I’ll stay a little longer.”

The Great Pillar of State said gently, “Don’t catch cold—your moth[noodles]er will worry.”

Xu Fengnian hummed in agreement.

The Butcher, King of Beiliang, walked the main spirit path, silently counting in his mind—exactly three hundred and sixty-five steps.

This powerful and unique Great Pillar of State clearly remembered the first time he’d entered court to receive his title. When he walked from the red-lacquered gate to the Kunji Hall gate, he was young and vigorous and took 284 steps. Later, as he aged and his leg became lame, he took more and more steps, slower and longer, but never exceeded 365.

After forty years of military service, Xu Xiao had finally reached this position. He had a clear conscience and feared neither heaven nor earth, nor ghosts nor gods.

The Great Pillar of State walked out from the spirit path and turned to look. The child was definitely humming that little tune—”Spring God’s Ballad”—which his mother had taught him years ago.

Xu Xiao thought of the secret letter urgently delivered to his desk at midnight last night, and hesitated whether to hand it over. It was Fengnian’s great day of coming of age, and this letter had arrived at a very inopportune time.

The Prince of Beiliang walked the path to Qingliang Mountain’s summit. He appeared alone, but in reality had countless sentries along the way—not only carefully selected elite soldiers from his army, but also three First Rank experts only two levels below the Grandmaster realm. Xu Xiao believed his head was still worth some gold. In his youth, he’d felt it didn’t matter if he died on the battlefield and was taken by enemies—dying in battle was joyous. The higher his rank, the more he cherished it. This wasn’t simply fear of death, but Xu Xiao always insisted his current glory was earned by countless brothers who’d risked their lives. Going to the underworld too early would be unfair to the heroic souls hastily buried across the land, especially since most had families and clans needing his protection. A tall tree catches the wind, and a fallen tree faces even stronger storms. Powerful families and dynasties were no different—both fighting and defending were difficult. Xu Xiao had seen many family heads die young from exhaustion.

He entered Yellow Crane Tower, which was somewhat desolate and eerie. He climbed to the mountain top and then the tower top—much like the illustrious life of this prince of different surname. He stood with hands behind his back, not imitating the affected recitations of scholars, but simply gazing at the city’s night view. He had two sons and two daughters, commanded 300,000 iron cavalry, had six sworn sons, and his palace was filled with experts, countless advisors and strategists. His disciples and former officials spread throughout court and countryside. His moves were like hidden chess pieces, taking root in all directions. He was truly wealthy beyond measure. Of course, he also had countless political enemies and adversaries. Wasn’t that little girl surnamed Fan just a blind sparrow walking into his trap? However, Xu Xiao generally couldn’t be bothered with such minor characters. Beiliang’s military affairs were already busy enough. Every few years war broke out on the border, but he was the one who’d lit most of the fires. He also had to deal with the slightest disturbances in the capital. He’d long since stopped paying attention to martial world affairs. Xu Xiao rubbed his hands together and inadvertently remembered a poem he’d heard in his youth. Unfortunately, he could only remember fragments. He couldn’t recall what he saw in the imperial city, but always remembered the last line: “Fifty years of great achievements—tell the tale to the mountain spirit.”

Standing in Yellow Crane Tower’s empty corridor, Xu Xiao waited until first light before whispering, “Yin, deliver the letter to Fengnian. He has finally come of age.”

There was no response.

Xu Xiao patiently waited for sunrise.

The Great Pillar of State had twelve elite assassins, each named after one of the Twelve Earthly Branches. From the moment his eldest son Xu Fengnian was born, he’d begun training another group of assassins for his descendants, named after the Ten Heavenly Stems. Unfortunately, only four had been trained so far, and two more had died during his son’s travels, making it increasingly difficult to gather the full ten. Fortunately, two special agents besides the Heavenly Stem assassins had greatly pleased the Great Pillar of State. These children—the oldest no more than twenty-five, the youngest only twelve—were hidden agents cultivated with considerable resources. While their martial arts might not yet match First Rank masters, their killing methods were second to none. Only those who can kill can save lives—Xu Xiao was more certain of this than anyone.

As Xu Xiao came downstairs, he asked, “Chou. Yuan Zuozong can submit to my son, but what about Chen Zhibao?”

From the shadows came a hoarse voice, like a dull knife sharpening stone. “Reporting to my lord, it is impossible.”

Xu Xiao rubbed his temples and smiled. “If I remember correctly, Chen Zhibao saved your life during the battle at Princess’s Tomb in Luoyang. With such a relationship, don’t you know how to smooth things over for him? Aren’t you afraid he’ll suddenly die today?”

Silence.

Loyalty, filial piety, and righteousness.

In Beiliang, this order could not be disrupted. Whoever disrupted it died. If “Chou,” destined to forever remain behind the scenes, tried to cover for Chen Zhibao, it was merely a minor matter of losing another life.

Xu Xiao’s thoughts were unfathomable. He muttered to himself, “Little Butcher.”