Chapter 203: Ascension

**Across the Land, Beacon Fires Played with Princes**

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Walking up the mountain steps, flanked by green bamboo, a cool breeze rustled. Qing Niao draped an unseasonal fox fur coat over His Royal Highness, the Princely Heir. Xu Fengnian, already tall and handsome, appeared even more ethereal, like an unconventional hermit.

Princess Jing'an, Pei Nanwei, along with the Murong siblings, followed closely. Old Sword God Li Chungang remained at the foot of the mountain to guard the carriage and did not accompany them. This allowed Shu Xiu a rare chance to leave her post and discreetly observe the figure from up close while admiring the layered bamboo forest. When Pei Nanwei saw a small lake on the mountainside, clear as a mirror, she was quite astonished. Especially striking was a building constructed on an island in the middle of the lake, and a delicate raft made of nanmu bamboo moored by the shore. Green bamboo reflected in the water, and the wind stirred the bamboo, creating a rustling sound, like a paradise.

Xu Fengnian had no intention of disturbing the resident of the bamboo house in the lake. He walked directly towards a graceful, slender bamboo by the lake. With a gentle touch of his toe, the bamboo, which scholars traditionally likened to unwavering integrity, bent obediently under his foot, extending and curving gracefully towards the mirror-like lake. When Xu Fengnian stopped, the bamboo pole was still over two zhang above the water. Xu Fengnian inexplicably recalled Wang Chuxue's line, "Last night's sudden rain tapped the lone bamboo, but was it the people's suffering?" He wondered how this young girl, just awakening to love, was doing recently.

Standing on the bamboo, he looked out. Smoke curled from the bamboo house in the middle of the lake. After waking up outside Wudi City, he had received a secret letter from Chu Lushan. From it, Xu Fengnian learned that the fellow who rode a bull had finally descended the mountain, startling the world with his actions. He rode a crane to Jiangnan, not only rescuing his eldest sister from Yuan Tingshan but also wielding Lu Zu's treasured sword to fly to Longhu Mountain. There, he exchanged a few words with Zhao Huangchao from a thousand li away, causing nine lotuses of the Dragon Pool's spiritual essence to wither, an event that shocked the world. He was more divine than any immortal. Xu Fengnian wasn't sure what connection this person had with Lu Zu and Qi Xuanzhen. For the Princely Heir, as long as this "coward" was devoted to his eldest sister and was loved by her, it mattered little if Hong Xixiang was merely an obscure sweeping boy on Wudang Mountain. The Xu family dominated Beiliang, with an ambition that spanned thousands of miles and thirty thousand iron cavalry confronting the vast Northern Mang Dynasty, possessing a grandeur befitting their lineage.

After receiving this astonishing news, which was reportedly even debated within the imperial palace, the confusion surrounding why Zhao Xuansu had committed murder finally began to clear. Zhao Huangchao's astral projection from Kuanglu Mountain, Yuan Tingshan of Huishan, the assassination of his eldest sister in Jiangnan, the young sect leader Hong Xixiang's descent from Wudang, the changes in the Heavenly Master's Dragon Pool, Zhao Xuansu's emergence from Longhu Mountain, and the turmoil in Wudi City—all connected to form a single thread. While there were certainly many unknown secrets and schemes involved, the main sequence of events was now largely coherent.

As Xu Fengnian snapped back to reality, his peripheral vision caught Murong Wuzhu, her cheeks flushed, prettily standing by the lake and secretly observing him. He found it amusing and asked, "I've heard that Wang Xianzhi of Wudi City is a burly man with large, round eyes, a beard like a halberd, and hair white as snow. His presence is said to be fierce. He only wears linen clothes in summer and winter, and a straw rain cape in wet weather. He enjoys battling dragons and whales in the East Sea. Those with less courage are said to have their livers and gallbladders split just by looking at him."

This question stumped Murong Wuzhu. Her face flushed, she softly replied, "Wuzhu left the city with Your Highness in a hurry at that time and couldn't see clearly. I hope Your Highness will forgive me."

Xu Fengnian gently reassured her, "This princely heir was just speaking casually, don't be nervous."

Of the three others besides Murong Wuzhu, Pei Nanwei was quite sharp, showing no signs of being a 'caged bird'; she almost always retorted, seeming even more haughty than Princess Jing'an of Xiangfan City. However, with Shu Xiu constantly keeping her in check recently, she had finally become more adept at serving, albeit grudgingly. It was like slow simmering a dish until it absorbed the flavor—eventually, she came around. Murong Tonghuang had a sullen disposition and seemed to possess a twisted obsession with power. Xu Fengnian surmised that the established fact of his own hereditary succession as the King of Beiliang was far more intimidating than Murong Tonghuang's own words or actions. Xu Fengnian disliked Murong Tonghuang's cunning nature. As for Shu Xiu, she was a woman who had mastered the ways of the world. Having scrambled through the two great "dye vats" of the martial arts world and the princely manor, she had long ago discarded innocence and kindness, rendering them utterly irrelevant. This alluring woman with her ample bosom, being a princely attendant who regarded her life as less significant than her physical allure, could be summoned to bed with a mere snap of Xu Fengnian's fingers. However, it was uncertain who would benefit more in such an encounter, and Xu Fengnian was not yet that desperate.

Murong Wuzhu gazed at the Princely Heir standing on the green bamboo, her eyes overflowing with unconcealed admiration and reverence. Her emotions and thoughts were far simpler and purer than those of her younger brother, Murong Tonghuang. Xu Fengnian had once rescued them both from dire straits. Whether it was a spontaneous act of chivalry or a calculated move, she firmly held onto this immense gratitude. Throughout their journey from Guniu Ridge in Jianzhou, her joys and sorrows had risen and fallen with the young Princely Heir before her. Especially in Wudi City, when he walked with a bowl to the city wall and sat cross-legged, displaying an indescribable charisma, Murong Wuzhu felt utterly intoxicated, as if she had drunk a potent fine wine, and had yet to recover from the daze. Outside Wudi City, Xu Fengnian drew his blade and cleaved the physical body of the Longhu Mountain patriarch, a sight that filled her with even greater terror. At that moment, she had only one thought: if he were to die, she would not wish to live on. Murong Tonghuang glanced sideways at his sister, coldly observing her emotional state.

Xu Fengnian adjusted his fur coat, preparing to turn and descend the mountain, when he suddenly saw the bamboo door in the middle of the lake open slowly. A woman emerged, whose indistinct figure could only be vaguely discerned from afar by the lake. Yet, even with an unclear view, she was captivating. The women around Xu Fengnian—even Murong Tonghuang—were peerless beauties, not to mention Pei Nanwei, who was a beauty ranked on the Rouge List. However, that vibrant display of beauty, which would make any common man drool with envy, seemed to lose much of its luster the moment this new woman appeared. A beauty contest among women, much like a sparring match between martial arts masters, emphasized making the first striking impression. The woman from the bamboo house, adorned with a simple wooden hairpin and plain clothes, walked to the mossy stone steps by the lake, knelt down, cupped a handful of clear water in her hands, and gently moistened her cheeks. Only then did she turn her head and look towards Xu Fengnian from a distance.

She did not speak, simply gazing quietly at the uninvited guests. She remained like an ethereal orchid in a secluded valley, detached from the world. Xu Fengnian, in his brocade and fox fur, paused, a flicker of trance in his eyes, hesitating for the first time ever. Pei Nanwei frowned, faintly displeased. It wasn't that she was jealous of the unfamiliar woman she had never met; rather, she had always been confident in her own beauty, rarely encountering a rival. The sudden appearance of the woman from the bamboo house ultimately stirred a primal sense of crisis in Princess Jing'an. Indeed, wherever there are people, there is a martial world.

Xu Fengnian exhaled slowly, waving his hand to signal Shu Xiu and the others to remain still. He launched himself from the green bamboo pole beneath his feet towards the bamboo raft. Without needing to pole it, the small nanmu bamboo raft glided leisurely across the water towards the center of the lake. It stopped three zhang from the bamboo house. The woman stood up and met Xu Fengnian's gaze. Her temples were wet from the lake water, adhering to her cheeks, and a few drops of water slid down her flawless, snow-white skin. She reached up to wipe away the faint moisture from her chin, remaining silent.

Xu Fengnian took the initiative, chuckling, "I saw you three years ago by the Luo River. But back then, I was squeezed among a crowd of young swordsmen vying for your attention. It took me ages to carve out a path, and just as I finally surfaced, someone tripped me, and I fell flat on my face. I imagine you wouldn't have noticed me."

She thought for a moment, then calmly said, "I remember you were dressed quite... thinly then."

This unexpected answer made Xu Fengnian self-deprecatingly retort, "Not 'thinly dressed,' but clearly a ragged beggar. It's my immense fortune to have caught Miss's attention."

Seeing Xu Fengnian hesitate, she smiled and said, "My name is Chen Yu."

Indeed! The Rouge List featured a woman "no less than Nangong," a beauty on par with the 'White Fox-faced' one.

Xu Fengnian, with an expression of gentle humility and shyness, softly asked, "Miss Chen, do you live here alone?"

She smiled guilelessly and nodded.

Xu Fengnian murmured, "Oh," then lightly jumped ashore. The next sight left the onlookers by the lake utterly stunned: the Princely Heir bent down, scooped up the woman from the bamboo house, carried her onto the raft, and left the center of the lake.

She arched her slender waist, her head resting against the Princely Heir's chest. Xu Fengnian looked down, and their eyes met. She undoubtedly possessed a pair of exceptionally spirited eyes. The Princely Heir boasted of never having lost a romantic conquest in over twenty years of wandering among beauties, having seen countless stunning women. Yet, these eyes were the only ones that could rival those of his second sister, Xu Weixiong. The "White Fox-faced" one's gaze was too cold, like his old treasured blades, Embroidered Winter and Spring Thunder, unmatched in its heroic spirit, lacking in any delicate tenderness. At this moment, she looked up, gazing at the audacious Princely Heir. There was no hint of shock, fear, or shyness. Beneath her gaze lay a faint trace of indignation, enough to make any ordinary scoundrel feel so ashamed they might hang themselves with their own hair. Unfortunately, she had encountered Xu Fengnian, who was accustomed to being lawless.

Xu Fengnian lowered his head, narrowing his eyes, a brilliant, audacious, and roguish smile on his face. "I promised to snatch one of the best beauties for my younger brother as his wife! My sister-in-law, from now on, we're family!"

The woman, whose expression had remained as placid as an old well, finally revealed a look of astonishment. There were noble scions who openly seized women from the streets, and mountain bandits who abducted beautiful ladies to be their fortress wives—none of this was surprising. But was there truly a scoundrel in this world who would abduct a beauty to be his sister-in-law?

Shu Xiu, experienced in the ways of the world, blinked her eyes, a slight smile playing on her lips. To snatch a woman with such domineering flair—truly worthy of the Beiliang Princely Heir!

An unassuming carriage entered the capital city. The coachman was a young Taoist priest dressed in a simple robe, not particularly handsome. He carried an ancient longsword on his back and had a gentle demeanor, suggesting he was easy to talk to. The city gate, with its nine ridges and ten dragon seals, was majestic and grand. The carriage had only one passenger, draped in furs, leaning against the young Taoist's back. She listened as the young priest spoke of the various wonders of the capital, this "City of the Central Heaven"—how it was connected to Kunlun Mountain, how the Emperor, seated in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, faced south to govern the world, and how the six eastern and seven western palaces of the inner court were constructed according to trigrams. Though young in age, the Taoist priest spoke with profound wisdom, explaining to the beautiful woman that all cities in the world ultimately sought a state of interpenetration with heaven and earth.

The woman's face was thin. She was wrapped in a moderately priced mink fur coat, looking like a demure daughter from a well-off middle-class family. The mink fur was coarse, not as refined as fox fur; fashionable wealthy women in the capital, who enjoyed comparison, would disdain wearing such mink coats, unless they were made of prime Manchurian snow mink. The woman listened to the young Taoist's soft-spoken chatter, her eyes closed, a contented smile playing on her lips. Upon entering the city, she sniffed and murmured softly, "It smells so good." The Taoist priest turned and saw a restaurant, realizing she was hungry. He immediately stopped the carriage, got down, and helped her into the establishment. They chose a spacious window seat on the third floor. She ordered only one vegetarian dish for herself, and a pot of wine for the accompanying Taoist. This greatly disappointed the waiter, who rolled his eyes, thinking how meagerly this pair of outsiders spent. After all this trouble to come to the capital, they hadn't brought enough silver. The waiter regretted giving them the seat. The wine was served first, and the Taoist poured two cups. The vegetarian dish, braised eggplant, was the restaurant's specialty, and she had been drawn by its unique aroma.

She picked up a piece with her chopsticks, tasted it, and her eyes crinkled with a smile. She also placed a piece into the Taoist's bowl and chuckled, "Delicious! The eggplant is peeled and sliced once horizontally and once vertically into four wedges—the knife work is very fine. Half a head of garlic is crushed, not chopped, and slowly sautéed over low heat until translucent. Three eggplants go into the pot, and by the time it reaches the table, it's just this six-inch small plate. The key is for the soybean paste, garlic aroma, and eggplant flavor to complement each other perfectly, with none overpowering the others. That's why this eggplant dish sells for more than meat; we didn't waste our money."

The waiter, who had been somewhat annoyed, felt his mood improve slightly upon hearing the woman explain the culinary intricacies. He thought, "This beautiful yet sickly woman is quite an expert."

The young Taoist tasted it, said nothing, merely smiled, looking a bit naive.

The woman took one bite and then set down her chopsticks, looking out the window at the bustling street. Cupping her chin, she sighed regretfully, "According to your Taoist philosophy on diet, people are born of the qi of heaven and earth, so seasonality is very important. All dishes should be prepared according to the four seasons. I used to be a foodie who wasn't afraid of gaining weight. This season is perfect for putting on some 'autumn fat,' eating as much as you like, so you won't fear the cold in winter. It's a pity I have no appetite for anything now, alas."

The young Taoist remained silent, his gaze lowered. Throughout their long journey, he had taken her wherever she wished to go. Whether it was a thousand li away or across towering mountains and steep ridges, he would always bring her to admire the scenery, simply wishing for her to return content. In Old Western Shu, he took her to see the world's most magnificent bamboo forest. In Old Western Chu, they visited the ruins of Xilei Wall. Further south, he took her to a nunnery, where she drew an inauspicious lot. Heading to the far west, there were mountains so high they seemed to reach the heavens. Then, she said she wanted to see the capital city.

Most of the diners in the restaurant were locals from the capital, highly skilled in hearsay. The common people, living at the Emperor's feet, carried an air of superiority, as if there was nothing in the world they didn't know. The most exciting and noisy topic currently was the battle between Wang Xianzhi of Wudi City and the one-armed Li Chungang, hailed as the most breathtaking pinnacle battle in the martial world in fifty years. Following that, the young sect leader surnamed Hong from Wudang Mountain descended. It was rumored he possessed a divine ability to fly his sword a thousand li, and that he was an immortal figure, a reincarnation of Lu Zu, which instantly overshadowed Longhu Mountain, the ancestral home of Taoism. Most sensational of all was that this terrestrial immortal, shortly after descending the mountain, had taken a woman and visited several former Spring and Autumn kingdoms, one sword strike after another, collapsing the last remaining pillars of fortune in Old Western Shu and Eastern Yue. Later, heading west to Kunlun, hundreds of the world's top qi cultivators flocked there, hoping to witness firsthand the awe-inspiring might of this immortal as he severed fate with a single sword. Secret news quickly reached the capital: when the Taoist struck with his sword, pillars of fortune as thick as mountains shattered, leaving millions of listeners across the world dumbfounded and wondering if there truly existed such an immortal who, without ascending, was superior to an ascended one.

Inside the restaurant, someone excitedly spat, "That Wudang sect leader may look young, but he's actually several hundred years old—at least three hundred, a full five sixty-year cycles!"

Someone immediately questioned, "Wouldn't that make him far older than the old sect leader Wang Chonglou? If he's so ancient, why did he only descend recently? If he truly possesses divine abilities, how could Longhu Mountain have become the leading Taoist sect?"

The first speaker slapped the table indignantly, "This True Man is a truly deserving terrestrial immortal! How can we mere mortals comprehend his thoughts?!"

Countless people nodded in agreement: "Indeed." "It should be so!" "I heard that the great Taoist masters value their bodies and cherish simplicity, caring little for worldly fame."

Listening to all the chatter, the woman by the window, propping her chin, turned and cast a knowing glance at the young Taoist across the table. The young Taoist blushed.

Outside on the street, thunderous hooves pounded, shaking the ground as if an earthquake were striking. The diners at the tables near the window craned their necks to look, greatly startled. It was the rare sight of the Imperial City's elite Feathered Forest Army being deployed. And from the formation, it was clearly more than just a few dozen cavalrymen. The Feathered Forest Army had always been the imperial capital's guardian, renowned for its invincible combat strength. In an instant, the street was bristling with armored soldiers. The procession of cavalry seemed endless, soon occupying the entire main thoroughfare of the capital. Every Feathered Forest Guard was on high alert, swords drawn and bows ready. The leading generals were all powerful and prestigious military commanders in the capital. Besides the armored soldiers, countless imperial palace experts accompanied them, as if facing a formidable enemy. The scale of today's display was terrifyingly grand; even an imperial inspection might not be so immense. Some discerning individuals noticed a strong sense of preparedness for war, which sent chills down their spines. Could anyone in the world dare to cause trouble in the capital? How much bear gall and leopard courage, how many lives would that take?

Amateurs saw only the spectacle, but only true connoisseurs could see the real meaning: besides nearly a thousand Feathered Forest Guards and almost all the imperial palace's top experts, there were also dozens of the dynasty's foremost qi cultivators, holding their breath in anticipation.

The woman sighed, "Let's go back."

The young Taoist nodded and gently asked, "Where do you want to go?"

The woman smiled, "To Wudang Mountain, where we first met. If we don't go now, I'm afraid my body won't hold out much longer."

The young Taoist asked, "Ride a crane out of the city? Or take the carriage?"

The woman, with a childlike playfulness, blinked and said, "If we take the carriage, will it cause you trouble?"

The Taoist shook his head and softly said, "No, it won't."

The woman hesitated, then slowly stood up. The young Taoist blushed and spontaneously offered his hand. The woman took it.

They walked out of the restaurant together. When the sword-bearing Taoist appeared on the street, the most elite group of qi cultivators of the current age all instinctively took a step back. Even the Feathered Forest Army, known for their fearless bravery, dared not even breathe heavily.

The young Taoist gently lifted the woman into the carriage, then turned the horses towards the city gate, completely ignoring the armored soldiers filling the street. With one hand grasping the horsewhip and the other holding the woman's cool hand, he calmly stated, "Clear the way."

A military general, struggling to control his restless warhorse, angrily shouted, "Audacious Hong Xixiang of Wudang, how dare you disregard rules within the imperial capital?!"

The whole city erupted in an uproar.

The young Taoist calmly replied, "This humble Taoist does not know your rules. As for your king's law, no matter how great it is, it is not greater than the sword behind this humble Taoist."

Beside the middle-aged general who had spoken stood a young armored soldier, holding a silver spear. Upon hearing this, he was about to charge forward on his horse but was restrained by the general's outstretched hand.

The woman softly said, "Let's go."

The Taoist's expression immediately softened. He nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. In an instant, almost all the horses on the street knelt down, throwing their riders. It was utter chaos, with no order whatsoever.

On that day, Hong Xixiang of Wudang and Xu Zhihu left the city, and no one dared to stop them. On that day, the world came to know that the woman who loved to wear red was named Xu Zhihu.

Wudang's Small Lotus Peak. Enveloped in mist.

Chen Yao, Song Zhiming, and Yu Xingrui, the three most senior Taoist priests of Wudang, stood shoulder to shoulder from a distance, leaving the peak to the pair. The three old men exchanged glances, their faces a mixture of pride, regret, and sorrow—a multitude of emotions. Nearby, apart from the three elder brothers of the young sect leader, only Li Yufu, a "newcomer" to Wudang, was present. Yesterday, the sect leader had ascended the mountain and told them something that could truly be called the most incredible feat in the martial world in five hundred years. No matter how reluctant they felt, Chen Yao and the other senior disciples were unwilling to interfere.

The young Taoist and the woman in red sat shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the tortoise-borne stele's base. She dangled her feet. She didn't know what he was about to do, only gazing at the seventy-two peaks amidst the sea of clouds, sadly saying, "My bull-riding friend, I might not be able to grow old with you."

They had first met when he was fourteen. After their reunion in Jiangnan, she knew well that she wouldn't live much longer. Yet, when she rode the yellow crane, she felt that she had no regrets left in this life. He had taken her to travel across the north and south of the world. She saw no reaction from him, wrinkled her nose, turned her head, and tapped his forehead, asking, "What, are you still foolishly waiting to find me in the next life? Are you silly? Aren't you tired?" The young Taoist thought for a moment, then simply shook his head. Her eyes immediately reddened, and she bit her lip, asking, "Are you going to wait for me again?"

The bull-riding young sect leader reached out, gently rubbed the woman's cheek, wiping away her tears, and said with warm eyes, "If I told you to wait for me for three hundred years, would you?"

She replied without hesitation, "You waited seven hundred years for me; for me to wait three hundred for you? Of course, I will."

The young Taoist, who had only dared to hold her hand since their reunion, gathered his courage and gently embraced her, smiling, "Good."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "What a coward."

He asked, "Are you really not going to see the Great General and the Princely Heir?"

She smiled and shook her head, "No, I'm afraid they'll be sad. Afraid they'll cry."

The young Taoist took a deep breath. As the woman nestled into his embrace, the so-called Lu Zu's treasured sword, which had been laid across the edge of the tortoise-borne stele, unsheathed itself and shot straight up into the sky, seemingly determined not to stop until it reached the Heavenly Court. Clouds from the Nine Heavens rolled downwards. The entire Wudang Mountain was enveloped in a magnificent purple aura.

He proclaimed loudly, "This humble Taoist was Lu Dongxuan, the recluse, five hundred years ago. Fifty years ago, I was Qi Xuanzhen of Longhu Mountain. Now, I am Hong Xixiang of Wudang. I have accumulated seven hundred years of merit."

"This humble Taoist vows to cultivate for another three hundred years for the righteous path of Heaven and Earth!"

"I only ask that Heaven and Earth open a path for Xu Zhihu to ascend!"

The young Taoist's voice, like a great bell, resonated throughout heaven and earth.

"I beg for Xu Zhihu to ascend, riding a crane!"

Yellow cranes cried out in unison. A figure in red, riding a crane, entered the Heavenly Gate.

The young Taoist, reincarnation of Lu Zu, sat cross-legged. He looked at the descending sword that was destined to sever his spiritual body, then closed his eyes with a smile. Chen Yao and the others couldn't bear to watch further, their old tears streaming down. After the sword fell, a rainbow emerged above the young Taoist's head, spanning across the Small and Large Lotus Peaks, peerlessly brilliant.

A thousand years of cultivation, only to meet again.