Chapter 23: Little Puppy and Little Clay Man

"A sage points the way to sever a great river?"

The Canglan River—that was the largest river within Beiliang territory.

Xu Fengnian spat a mouthful of tea onto the face of the Daoist elder opposite him. The old Daoist, who had been the Wudang sect leader for thirty years, simply wiped it away, then turned to glare at his talkative junior apprentice. Xu Fengnian quickly apologized several times. Wang Chonglou, good-natured as he was, didn't mind and continued sipping his tea. Xu Fengnian secretly observed the foremost figure of Wudang: a prominent red mark on his forehead resembled a vertically-set eyebrow. Though his hair was white as a crane's feathers, his face showed no signs of age. Xu Fengnian suddenly recalled a Daoist apocryphal text, *Three Thousand Phenomena*, which he had casually flipped through in the Listening Tide Pavilion during his youth. It mentioned a mysterious Wudang internal art, "Supreme Jade Liquid Body Refinement," which first forms a "dan-infant" that travels through the five viscera, then permeates the four limbs, turning red blood white and making one's appearance youthful, impervious to heat and cold. This was referred to as the initial stage of the "longevity realm." Xu Fengnian had never taken such fleeting written accounts seriously, but hearing about those two fingers and personally witnessing Wang Chonglou's subtly manifest, imposing aura, he had no choice but to believe.

After the old Daoist finished his tea and departed, Xu Fengnian saw Hong Xiangxi still squatting nearby, lost in thought. Frowning, he asked, "You on the ox, aren't you leaving yet?"

Hong Xiangxi hummed in acknowledgment and slowly walked back to Little Lotus Peak. As he passed the Three Palaces and Six Temples, countless Daoists, young and old, respectfully greeted him as "Martial Uncle Ancestor" or "Grand Martial Uncle Ancestor." He acknowledged them all, even stopping to chat with some familiar juniors. He leisurely made his way to Ascending Immortal Cliff, where he found his Senior Martial Brother, the sect leader, standing beneath the Tortoise-borne Stele. Hong Xiangxi quickened his pace and called out, "Elder Senior Brother Wang!" On the mountain, their generation was the highest, unlike Dragon Tiger Mountain where there were reclusive Immortals, so ancient they no longer concerned themselves with worldly affairs, even above the sect leader. Wudang also had another Senior Brother named Wang, who was Wudang's foremost swordsman, whom Hong Xiangxi habitually called "Little Senior Brother Wang." He had been quietly meditating on the sword at Great Lotus Peak for sixteen years.

Wang Chonglou, nearly a head taller than Hong Xiangxi, turned to see his glum junior apprentice. He teased, "Did Senior Brother Chen confiscate your secret stash again?"

Hong Xiangxi shook his head, looking as if he wanted to speak but stopped himself. Wang Chonglou patted his junior apprentice's shoulder and walked away under the moonlight.

Xu Fengnian practiced a set of "Rolling Blade" techniques. There was no fixed sequence; the most crucial elements were the angle and trajectory of the first strike. The subsequent dozens, even hundreds, of moves flowed naturally from that initial strike, focusing on the fastest and most efficient way to deliver them, aiming for seamless execution without any pauses, using the least strength to achieve the swiftest blade. This wasn't taught by Old Kui; it was a simple blade technique Xu Fengnian had devised himself, aptly named "Rolling Blade." It seemed slightly different from what Sect Leader Wang had described regarding "standing sword" and "walking sword." Back in the hut, he lay down on a hard plank bed, as unyielding as Wudang Mountain itself. Xu Fengnian didn't mind this at all, attributing it to his long habit of roughing it with Old Huang in the wilderness. On the table, besides an oil lamp, were two stacks of yellowed books: two sword manuals, a *Primordial Extraction Manual*, and at the bottom, *Sixty Years of Sword Practice at Green Water Pavilion*. Xu Fengnian had no pajamas, so he simply stayed up all night, memorizing these texts. Wudang's internal cultivation formulas were widely circulated in the martial arts world, mostly forgeries, but even those falsely claiming the name of "Jade Pillar Internal Arts" were highly sought after. However, there were indeed some genuine, albeit lower-tier, Jade Pillar cultivation methods known to martial artists. Wudang Mountain never deliberately suppressed or obstructed their spread, because while the Jade Pillar method was indeed profound, it was only "one half of the Yang fish"—it required the complementary, unique body-refinement techniques practiced by Wudang Daoists to be complete.

Xu Fengnian had no interest in the sword manuals, nor did he find the *Primordial Extraction Manual* beneficial. He only cherished *Sixty Years of Sword Practice*, a culmination of sixty years of sword-wielding insights from a Wudang ancestral master. Its language was abstruse, however, making it difficult to grasp. Xu Fengnian glanced at the dim light outside the window, put down *Sixty Years of Sword Practice*, and, clutching his Embroidery Winter saber, walked towards White Elephant Pool. The closer he got, the louder the sound of the waterfall hitting the rocks became, and the cool, damp mist washed over him. A large, prominent rock jutted out from the pool. Xu Fengnian walked along the edge of White Elephant Pool and, to his surprise, followed a path of bluestone slabs directly into the waterfall. It turned out that the Hanging Immortal Peak, which bore the Ivory Falls, had been hollowed out by Wudang ancestors with masterful craftsmanship. Legend had it that a true immortal had ascended to the heavens on a rainbow there, leaving behind an ancient sword in the pool.

Xu Fengnian stopped, standing just two arm lengths from the white silk-like waterfall. His upper garment gradually grew damp.

Xu Fengnian exerted all his strength to cleave horizontally with his saber.

That old Daoist severed rivers with two fingers; what about my full-strength strike?

Xu Fengnian felt a bone-chilling pain. The Embroidery Winter saber had barely touched the waterfall, plunging "three thousand feet straight down," before it flew from his hand, drawing a clumsy arc in the air before falling to the ground. Xu Fengnian raised his hand and saw a large, bloody gash had opened. Xu Fengnian grimaced into a smile and went to pick up the Embroidery Winter saber, which seemed destined to remain obscure in his hands for a long time. He exhaled a long breath and struck again. The Embroidery Winter still flew from his grip. Xu Fengnian sharply inhaled, tore off a strip of cloth from his shirt, wrapped it around his hand, and sat on the ground, picking up the Embroidery Winter saber. He no longer hoped to cleave a clean horizontal gap with one strike; he simply wished to keep hold of the saber.

He tried again with his left hand, with even worse results: he and the saber were both thrown back.

The young Martial Uncle Ancestor had entered the cave unnoticed. He exclaimed, "You're just like Senior Brother Chen when he practiced sword back then!"

Xu Fengnian, making light of his predicament, replied, "That's how all masters start."

Hong Xiangxi gently added, "Only, I heard that when Senior Brother Chen was your age, he could cleave a gap several inches wide with a single sword strike."

Xu Fengnian said irritably, "Help me deliver a message to the Prince's Manor. There's a 'White Fox Face' in seclusion there. Tell him to pick out forty or fifty martial arts secret techniques first, and then find someone to bring them up the mountain."

Hong Xiangxi asked curiously, "What's that for?"

Xu Fengnian lowered his head and used his mouth to tighten the cloth strip around his left hand's wound, ignoring Hong Xiangxi.

The young Martial Uncle Ancestor obediently went out to run the errand for the heir. There was a Ziyang Daoist Temple about a *li* away, and he planned to ask the juniors for help; a Martial Uncle Ancestor, of course, wouldn't descend the mountain himself.

A few days later, a slender woman, burdened by a heavy rucksack, struggled to ascend the mountain.

What is the heaviest thing in the world? Righteousness? Loyalty and filial piety? Nonsense, books are the heaviest.

Jiang Ni sat on a step halfway up the mountain, her back aching as if it would break. The several Daoists who had been anxiously watching her sway, fearing she might tumble down the mountain at any moment, finally breathed a sigh of relief. This exquisitely beautiful young woman had been escorted to the foot of the mountain by Beiliang's cavalry, then proceeded to climb the steps alone. Initially, the Wudang Daoists offered to help, but she gave no response, only maintaining a cold expression. The Daoists had no choice but to follow cautiously, afraid she and her luggage might meet with misfortune; a woman from the Prince of Beiliang's Manor was not someone to provoke. Jiang Ni looked up at the seemingly endless mountain peak and mumbled to herself. The Daoists couldn't hear, but her words were harsh curses, wishing Xu Fengnian a terrible death. Yet, compared to her usual habit of sticking pins into straw effigies, this was quite mild. If that bastard heir dared stand before her now, she was absolutely certain she'd draw out the talisman sword and take him down with her.

Jiang Ni rubbed her already crimson shoulders, gritted her teeth, and hoisted the heavy, seemingly thousand-pound rucksack onto her back again. In this serene, clear world, it was a pitiful sight of a solitary figure. The idle Hong Xiangxi was wandering the mountain when he happened upon this scene and hurried over to help. But before he could speak, Jiang Ni, though her voice was weak, retorted, "Good dogs don't block the path." Her eyes, however, glared like an enraged Bodhisattva, utterly unlike a lowly maid from a prince's manor. Hong Xiangxi smiled and said, "I'll lead the way for you, Miss."

Seeing the hut, Jiang Ni paused in surprise.

This was the bastard heir's sleeping quarters? Wouldn't he be stomping his feet and cursing, kicking all the thousands of "ox-nosed" Daoists off Wudang Mountain?

She plopped down onto the ground, panting, feeling as if she were truly about to die.

Just as Hong Xiangxi was about to offer a reminder, Jiang Ni shot him a glare, forcing him to swallow his words. The young Martial Uncle Ancestor thought to himself, "The women brought by this heir are certainly different. Or perhaps it's true, as Senior Brother said so candidly, that all women down the mountain are tigresses?" Although his good intentions were taken for ill, Hong Xiangxi still managed to seize the opportunity to pick up the rucksack and carry it into the hut. This time, Jiang Ni didn't utter a rebuke, for she truly had no energy left. She now wished she could fall asleep right where she sat. As for the pain in her shoulders and back, it had become numb, manageable as long as it wasn't touched. As if on cue, Jiang Ni's back was struck a few times by a hard object. The force wasn't great, but for Jiang Ni in her current state, it was like pouring oil on a small fire, or layering thick frost on light snow. At the peak of her endurance, Jiang Ni turned around with a sob. Looking up, she saw that detestable, loathsome, hateful, and utterly despicable face, and somehow, a surge of strength appeared. She opened her mouth and bit down, sinking her teeth into the calf of the heir, who stood barefoot with his saber.

Xu Fengnian used his saber sheath to smack Jiang Ni on the cheek, unceremoniously sending the former princess flying. The force was just right, neither too light nor too heavy, not enough to injure her. Xu Fengnian frowned and cursed, "Are you a dog?"

Paralyzed more by indignation than pain, Jiang Ni, unable to move, could only scoop up dirt from the ground and hurl it at Xu Fengnian.

Xu Fengnian wasn't annoyed. He simply used Embroidery Winter to bat the dirt back, one by one, instantly turning Jiang Ni into a small mud statue.

"Xu Fengnian, may you die a horrible death!"

"Come on, little doggy Jiang Ni, bite me to death!"

"You're not human!"

"Oh, Jiang Ni, you look so fresh and lively now, absolutely adorable. If you're so fierce, why don't you throw the talisman sword at me?"

"I'll stab you to death one day!"

"How about right now? I absolutely won't fight back. Why are you still sitting there? Little doggy Jiang Ni, you can't be so unreasonable as to expect me to hold my neck against the talisman sword and slice it myself, can you? That's too overbearing a way to die."

One sat on the ground, one stood; one cried, one laughed.

Who could have imagined that these two young people, of similar age, were a fallen kingdom's eldest princess and the Prince of Beiliang's eldest son?

Witnessing this scene, the young Martial Uncle Ancestor, who found it harder to comprehend than a heavenly scripture, said helplessly, "I think I'll just go ride my ox."