Chapter 16: Best Is Truly Best

High upon his horse, Xu Fengnian spotted a familiar, furtive figure hiding around the corner of Yuqing Palace, a head peeking out. The moment the person saw the Young Lord, he immediately ducked back. Xu Fengnian raised his horsewhip and roared, "You ox-rider! If you hide again, I'll bring men to level Taiqing Palace and throw you and that Turtle-Dragon Stele off Little Lotus Peak!"

The young Taoist, the most highly anticipated in Wudang Mountain for a century, timidly emerged into view. He stopped a considerable distance from the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry, offered a Taoist salute, and with a cheerful expression, said, "This humble Taoist greets the Young Lord."

Though the grand-uncle master offered a polite salute to Xu Fengnian, his gaze remained fixed on the old man with white hair and black robes. Wudang Mountain was renowned for its internal martial arts, claiming half of the world's internal cultivation originated from its Jade Pillar. Besides its esteemed swordplay, Wudang placed even greater importance on cultivating internal energy, serving as a prime example of both internal and external martial arts mastery.

The Taoist had encountered many senior brothers of his generation on Great Lotus Peak, having witnessed the formidable aura of internal energy reaching a profound state. The old man before him, with his peculiar saber techniques, was clearly of that caliber; his vital energy flowed ceaselessly, marking him as a formidable opponent.

The Wudang grand-uncle master, not yet thirty years old, subconsciously took two steps back. He shot a knowing glance at the Young Lord, a look that seemed to say, "You know, I know, but heaven and earth don't," implying the Young Lord's intention to flatten Wudang Mountain. Xu Fengnian returned the glance, the grand-uncle master reciprocated, and this silent exchange continued, leaving the bystanders utterly bewildered as to what secret understanding the two shared.

Ultimately, in the eyes of the Yuqing Palace Taoists, the grand-uncle master had undoubtedly prevailed, displaying the grandmaster's art of subduing without a fight. Everyone watched as he turned and walked away with an effortless grace, exuding an indescribable, ethereal aura. Meanwhile, the detestable Young Lord simply followed, leading the white-haired old man up the steps of Wudang Mountain.

The officiating Taoists breathed a sigh of relief. The grand-uncle master was truly a master, having made the Xu playboy compromise without uttering a single word. What the Taoists didn't know was that once the three reached a secluded spot, their esteemed grand-uncle master—whose status they considered second only to the Sect Leader, a figure said to sever oceans with an immortal's finger—was subjected to a thorough beating by Xu Fengnian. For the duration of an incense stick, Xu Fengnian, with rolled-up sleeves, punched and kicked him. Only the grand-uncle master's piteous pleas could be heard: "Don't hit my face, and don't kick my groin!"

After finishing his work, Xu Fengnian performed a movement to circulate qi in his Dantian, finally feeling refreshed. He tossed aside an erotic novel and swaggered off, not descending the mountain, but leading the old man along a winding path of bluestone slabs carved into the cliff face, ascending to Jingyue Palace, which clung precariously to the precipice.

The most extraordinary feature of this palace was a rain-praying altar built out from the cliff, designed to resemble the Big Dipper constellation. Taoist scriptures recorded that the Purple Cloud True Person of Wudang Mountain had once ascended to immortality from this very spot. Jingyue Palace was usually closed to the public, and even cultured scholars seeking hidden wonders could only turn back empty-handed from outside its gates. However, thanks to his father, the Grand Pillar State, Xu Fengnian was able to confidently lead the old man straight to the Seven Stars Altar.

The mountain wind was biting. The old man sat cross-legged, his robes flapping wildly, as he narrowed his eyes, gazing at the distant peaks and the sea of clouds. Xu Fengnian, unsteady on his feet, stood behind the old man with the saber, only then managing to steady himself. He could barely open his eyes and had no choice but to sit down, conveniently hiding in the old man's shadow.

Xu Fengnian shouted with effort, "Grandpa, how is that young Taoist's martial arts?"

The old man seemed a bit puzzled. "His martial arts are rather ordinary," he said. "He seems to be a lazy fellow, just like you. It's a pity about the excellent physique his parents gave him. As for his Taoist cultivation, there's no way to test it, so I can't say. I suppose it won't be too bad, but not too good either. Most difficult endeavors in this world are like sailing against the current—if you don't advance, you retreat. Without enduring hardship, how can one succeed? It's strange, why would Wudang Mountain take a liking to this individual? Is it like a Chan Buddhist monastery with its lineage of disciples? I can't figure it out, I really can't."

Even more puzzled, Xu Fengnian asked, "Can this Taoist magic and mysticism be eaten? Or can it kill people?"

The old man thought for a moment, then smiled. "Boy, you've asked the wrong person."

"But it can't kill people."

The young Wudang Taoist, who was of the same generation as the Sect Leader, stood with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his Taoist robe at the edge of the altar, yet he did not step onto the seven stars. He gave the answer with a smile. Observing his posture, he wasn't as unmoving as a mountain like the old man, nor did he stumble clumsily like Xu Fengnian. He simply swayed gently with the wind, moving neither too much nor too little, perfectly in sync with the breeze, exuding a subtle, profound sense of harmony between heaven and man.

Xu Fengnian, lacking discernment, failed to grasp the subtle meaning. He simply turned and stared intently at the ox-riding Taoist, who had caused his sister to leave Northern Liang with regret years ago. "Hong Xixiang," he asked grimly, "why won't you descend the mountain and pass through that 'Mystic Warrior Ascendant' archway?!"

The youngest Grand Patriarch in Wudang Taoism's thousand-year history grinned, an unrefined, embarrassed expression on his face. He began, "I came to the mountain at five, and by eight, I'd learned a bit of prophecy and divination. My master told me to make a small calculation every day, a medium one every month, and a large one every year, to determine when I could descend the mountain and when I needed to seclude myself here. But ever since I learned this art, there hasn't been a single day I haven't needed to seclude myself."

Xu Fengnian, of course, didn't take him seriously. "They say your master specifically set a rule for you before he died," he scoffed, "that you can't descend the mountain until you become the greatest in the world? Well, it looks like you'll never have to descend then."

The Taoist, whose name evoked an ethereal quality, remained unperturbed, hands still tucked into his sleeves. He chuckled, "Being the greatest in the world is true, but eating the most, reading the most—these are all 'greatest.' There are many such 'greatests.' My master didn't specify 'greatest in martial arts,' so there will always be a day when I descend the mountain."

Xu Fengnian struggled to his feet, his gaze drifting towards the Jiangnan region. He said softly, "But by then, everyone will be old. When we meet again, white hair greeting white hair, what good will that be?"

Hong Xixiang closed his eyes and said nothing.

Xu Fengnian let out a long breath, scoffed, and walked out of the altar. As he brushed past the Taoist, he paused slightly and asked, "What do you think of my sister?"

The Taoist, who had been in this ethereal world since he could remember, studying scriptures, riding an ox backward, and watching the clouds roll and unroll, softly replied, "The best."

Xu Fengnian walked out of Jingyue Palace expressionlessly. Behind him, the formidable saber-wielding old man seemed lost in thought.

Hong Xixiang waited until the Young Lord was far away, then squatted in an undignified posture, resting his chin in his hands, lost in thought. He murmured to himself, "Red beans grow in the southern lands; they sprout in spring and wither in winter. Better not to long than to long in vain."

Above the Taoist's head, over a dozen spiritual red-crowned cranes circled and cried out, making him appear like an immortal from the heavens.

He suddenly clutched his stomach and said with a distressed look, "I'm hungry again."

As they descended the mountain, the old man suddenly made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Interesting," he said, "that little ox-nosed Taoist has some true cultivation."

Xu Fengnian, not very interested, perfunctorily asked, "How so?"

The old man said uncertainly, "That child cultivates the Supreme Heavenly Way."

Xu Fengnian got a headache whenever he heard such nonsense about 'Tao.' He frowned and said, "People actually pursue such abstruse and ethereal things? Aren't they afraid of discovering in the end that it's all just drawing water with a bamboo basket?"

The old man burst out laughing. "I don't like these inscrutable things either."

Xu Fengnian reached the archway at the foot of the mountain. Ignoring the obsequious bows of the officiating Taoists, he looked back up the mountain and cursed, "This turtle hiding in its shell!"

The two hundred elite cavalry, who had been respectfully waiting at the foot of the steps, saw the Young Lord. They remounted their horses with swift, neat, and efficient movements.

The Northern Liang Iron Cavalry, uniformly equipped with spirited horses and bright armor, were annually led by the Grand Pillar State to the border for real combat training. Furthermore, the people of Liang were fierce, and many women were skilled in archery and horsemanship—this was their most unique advantage.

For instance, Xu Fengnian's elder sister, Xu Zhihu, was skilled in riding and archery from a young age. Not to mention his second sister, Xu Weixiong, whose horsemanship was exceptional and swordplay first-rate. She moved with the agility of a monkey and earned the reputation of being as elusive as an antelope's hanging horn. At thirteen, she took up a sword and killed, and her blade has since claimed nearly a hundred heads. The people of Liang had been warlike since ancient times, which is why, in the eyes of experts, the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry was far more formidable than the forces under Prince Yan La or Prince Jiaodong, truly earning the title of a hundred-battle-hardened lion.

The old man waited for Xu Fengnian to mount his horse, then smiled. "Boy," he said, "I'm not going back to the prince's manor. Without Old Huang Jiu, it's terribly dull."

Xu Fengnian blinked and tried to persuade him. "Why don't you wait until I've had my capping ceremony? If not for you, Grandpa, I would have died at the bottom of the lake long ago. There are about six more months. I'll prepare more delicious food and drinks for you. For your life-saving kindness, I'll repay as much as I can, alright?"

The old man thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

It was clear that this formidable saber master did not actually dislike the Northern Liang's most prominent young lord before him.

They galloped all the way back to the prince's manor. Just as they entered the city, large goose-feather snow began to fall out of nowhere, as if the heavens had gone mad. Xu Fengnian shivered from the cold. The moment he reached the manor gate, the observant doorman, who had been waiting anxiously, cleverly handed him a fine fox fur coat. He carefully draped it over the Young Lord, more diligently than he would serve his own parents.

Xu Fengnian muttered to himself, wondering if Old Huang had brought enough clothes.

After bidding farewell to the old man, he walked directly and alone towards the courtyard where Yu Youwei resided. For a beautiful woman to be neglected, admiring her own beauty all day, was a terrible waste of natural beauty and contrary to Xu Fengnian's nature, which was akin to watering a flower.

Along the way, he passed by Jiang Ni's humble abode, which could hardly be called a courtyard. He saw the thinly clad exiled princess half-crouched, building a snowman that was half her height. After she finished, she didn't look at the snowman with joy. Instead, she stared at it with a face full of resentment. Then she pulled out her cherished divine talisman dagger, swung it down, and lopped off the snowman's head. This sight sent shivers down Xu Fengnian's spine; he wondered if this crazy girl was seeing the snowman as herself.

Xu Fengnian coughed a few times, then walked over. Jiang Ni's expression was initially panicked, but upon seeing it was the Young Lord, she visibly relaxed. She slowly put away the "weapon." As Xu Fengnian approached, he saw her hands were red and covered in unsightly chilblains, making her look exactly like a poor, bullied maidservant in a laundry office. Xu Fengnian sighed, then squatted down and rebuilt the snowman's head. To Jiang Ni, this was, of course, a pretentious act, making him all the more detestable.

Xu Fengnian clapped his hands as he stood up, and asked gently, "Do you want me to get you some warmer clothes?"

Jiang Ni, with a cold face, said coldly, "Too dirty."

Xu Fengnian burst out laughing. "I just said it casually. Anyway, I've played the part of the good guy. Whether you appreciate it or not is none of my business. I just like you this way; you always let me take advantage. Doing business with you is the most profitable."

Before leaving, Xu Fengnian provoked the little maidservant. "No matter how shabbily dressed you are," he said, "aren't those still my things? If you're so capable, take them off. That would truly make you a heroine."

Jiang Ni pretended not to hear. In arguments with the thick-skinned rogue Xu Fengnian, she always lost more than she won. Thinking about it carefully, she might not have gained the upper hand even once.

Xu Fengnian, already in a good mood, felt even better upon seeing Yu Youwei. His mother had said that pretty girls, whether they possessed the heart of a Bodhisattva or the venom of a scorpion, should be treated with tenderness. In his nearly twenty years of life, Xu Fengnian had never engaged in the act of cruelly destroying flowers. On the contrary, he had directly and indirectly saved the lives of a dozen or two humble maidservants.

Yu Youwei lay lazily in the warm, spring-like bedroom, playing with her plump, snow-white furred cat, Wu Meiniang. Whenever it snowed, Xu Fengnian had wanted to throw Wu Meiniang into the snow to see if he could distinguish the white cat from the white snow. He had always resisted this mischievous urge, thinking that someday, when Yu Youwei and Wu Meiniang were separated, he definitely had to try it.

Xu Fengnian took off his boots and lay down next to Yu Youwei. Leaning against her graceful body, warm and gentle like jade, he closed his eyes to rest. He whispered, "I went to Wudang Mountain and gave a good beating to a Taoist of the same generation as the Sect Leader. Impressive, isn't it?"

Yu Youwei chuckled softly, "It's the Grand Pillar State who's impressive."

Xu Fengnian opened his eyes and turned her around. He playfully slapped her round, peachy bottom and admonished, "Your Lord will personally teach you how to flatter!"

Yu Youwei's pretty face flushed slightly. Just as Xu Fengnian was about to press his advantage, the clear voice of Green Ant, a second-rank maid from Wutong Courtyard, came from the yard, announcing that a letter from Longhu Mountain had arrived. Xu Fengnian couldn't bother to tease Yu Youwei further. He hastily pulled on his boots, ran out of the room, and took the letter. Seeing Green Ant's slender shoulders covered in snowflakes, he smiled and gently brushed them off for her, then walked alongside her.

Upon reaching his Wutong Courtyard, Xu Fengnian noted the underfloor heating was excellent; one could walk barefoot without it being too hot or too cold, a setup even better than Xu Xiao's own room. He enjoyed the kneading massage from his head maid Hongshu, then pulled out the letter. "Oh," he remarked, "that old Taoist from Longhu Mountain, surnamed Zhao, writes a fine hand."

Looking closely, his younger brother's cultivation at Longhu Mountain was described as "diligently vigorous, advancing a thousand li a day." Such effusive praise, to Xu Fengnian who was used to official platitudes, was remarkable even if half of it was exaggerated. It seemed Huang Man'er's trip hadn't been in vain. The letter cautiously mentioned at the end that Xu Longxiang was homesick, so the old Taoist pleaded with the Young Lord to write a family letter, allowing his disciple to cultivate with peace of mind. After Xu Fengnian put down the letter, he waved his hand and said, "Grind the ink."

Inside the room, delicate hands immediately began grinding ink, red sleeves added fragrance, and everyone became busy. After picking up the brush, however, Xu Fengnian hesitated, unsure how to begin writing for a moment, almost scratching his ears and cheeks in frustration. This perfectly illustrated the