Chapter 268: Little Tuoba

The young master, dressed in a fox fur robe and a wolf fur hat, casually discarded the eagle-catching sparrow. His thumb and finger rubbed together, the blood thick. He brought it to his nose and sniffed, revealing a cruel and intense nature, typical of someone from the city's highest echelons. He wiped his fingers on his fox fur robe.

The middle-aged man said in a deep voice, "That old bald donkey Longshu, though a saint, belongs to the Three Religions, and their cultivation levels are too inconsistent to be taken seriously. Our dynasty's martial arts list has gathered over thirty people across the four realms of the first rank. In this world, only these individuals are likely to catch the young master's eye. Although the Vajra realm has distinctions of genuine and false, with the Buddhist 'Indestructible Vajra Body' being supreme, it ultimately comes down to one's ability to take a beating. When it comes to killing, perhaps not only us cultivators of the demonic path, but even compared to the Confucian and Taoist schools, they are far inferior. These bald monks of the Two Zen Temple are most suitable as targets for the young master's blade practice. He can hack away at them eight hundred or a thousand times in one go, to test whether the Buddhas truly possess an indestructible Vajra body."

The old man in the brocade robe sneered, "Duangboer Huihui, are you truly foolish or just pretending? A saint is a saint; how could their Vajra body be so easily shattered? Be careful, you might not get to eat the lamb, but only end up smelling fishy. You and I both know our own limitations. Besides, no matter how talented the young master is, he's not yet twenty. He's been clashing and fighting with cattle herds all this way, but still hasn't entered the Vajra realm. Will the three of us gain anything by going to intercept the monk Longshu?"

The man sneered, "What's so difficult about that? The old bald donkey's entry into our dynasty is a secret. We can have the young master casually find a few Grand Sitids, gather one or two thousand cavalry, and use a 'wheel battle' strategy to wear down and exhaust the old bald donkey to death. Then, when the young master beheads him, he will be the only powerful figure in the world today to have killed a Land Immortal. Who would dare not submit?"

The old man scoffed, "If a saint is determined to leave and avoids battle, even with one or two thousand cavalry, could you catch him?"

The burly middle-aged man interlocked his fingers, his joints crackling all over his body, and he smiled sinisterly. "The old bald donkey abstains from meat, recites Buddhist scriptures, and is compassionate. At that time, we'll threaten him with the lives of several hundred herdsmen. If he dares to flee, we'll kill one person for every step he takes. Let's see how many steps he can take? If several hundred people die because of his cowardice in battle, and that news spreads, then that old bald donkey Longshu will be a saintly monk worth nothing. What face will he have left to speak of Buddhism with our dynasty's Imperial Advisor, True Man Qilin?"

The old man in the brocade robe, surnamed Tuoba, had a feminine and sinister demeanor, like a water snake, making anyone who saw him uncomfortable. The burly middle-aged man, by contrast, seemed more upright. However, it was the latter whose words were more obsequious, fitting the role of a wicked servant or accomplice.

The young master raised a hand, stopping the snarky remark that was about to escape the brocade-robed attendant's lips. He took a jet-black iron plaque from his waist and commanded, "Huihui, go to the camps of the nearby Grand Sitids and relay my order. Within three days, assemble 1,200 archer cavalry. We will rendezvous in Yellow Eagle Valley at that time and intercept the monk Longshu together. Anyone who dares to disobey, I grant you permission to execute first and report later. I refuse to believe there are any eagles on the prairie who aren't afraid of my Tuoba clan."

Duangboer Huihui accepted the order and left.

To have two of the Ten Great Demonic Masters willingly act as household servants, in the Northern Mang Dynasty, only the imperial family and the young man's own clan possessed such power.

A standard Mang saber and a famous sword hung crossed at his side. The young man in the fox fur robe and wolf fur hat fell into deep thought. This time, he left home not only out of anger that his father wouldn't let him lead troops alone to the Gu'sai Prefecture border, but also with the intention of honing his martial arts. His father, an invincible martial artist who had risen to the royal court's pinnacle through brilliant military achievements, surprisingly valued his elder brother, who constantly read Central Plains scriptures, so highly, showing obvious favoritism, which truly infuriated him. However, although he disapproved of his elder brother's actions, their fraternal bond had never weakened. Especially in recent years, when he caused countless troubles, it was always his kind-hearted elder brother who stepped forward to resolve them, even at the cost of falling out with many Yelü Murong disciples. For this, he was deeply grateful. Moreover, earlier in the year, when his seductive sister-in-law actively tried to ensnare him, even his father flew into a rage and wanted to cripple his martial arts without listening to explanations, it was still his elder brother who quelled their father's anger. Afterwards, the brothers had a heart-to-heart talk, bringing in the woman who was nominally his sister-in-law. His brother, chuckling, said that he was often ill and would sooner or later die before him, and that it was only natural for a brother to marry his sister-in-law after the brother's death. Seeing his brother's gentleness and the woman's shame, even with his innate gloomy and cold-blooded nature inherited from his father, he was deeply moved. He remembered that when they were young, before their father's military achievements were recognized, the two brothers had relied on each other. His elder brother was truly like a father to him, never allowing him to suffer any bullying from the clan.

This favored son of the great northern plains murmured, "As long as you don't live past forty and don't contend with me, I will always regard you as my elder brother."

The brocade-robed Demonic Master, originally from the Eagle Division, ignored the young master's heart-piercing words.

The young man touched the hilt of his saber and asked, "Who is the nearest Sitid?"

The old man replied with a smile, "It's Qinchao'er of the Uyghur tribe. He commands twenty to thirty thousand people. His tribesmen are skilled in hunting leopards and lions. Qinchao'er was originally a minor official in the hawk-catching division, and he only became a Sitid after presenting several good falcons to a few Uyghur chieftains. I hear the women in his tribe are very graceful."

The young master said indifferently, "We'll rest at Qinchao'er's place. As for women, you can pick whichever you like."

The brocade-robed Demonic Master, in the company of this young man from the highest echelons of nobility, was far from being as servile as the middle-aged man. He chuckled, "Knowing that the young master has high standards and disdains such common things, this old servant wouldn't presume to refuse them."

The young man simply smiled. For him, Northern Mang women, with only a handful of exceptions – for example, the princess who is the current dynasty's master of the pipa, renowned for her exquisite drumming on horseback with her delicate hands, and rumored to have had an affair with Chen Zhibao of Northern Liang; plus the princess from the Murong family in Jinchan Prefecture who enjoys keeping male favorites; and one female zither player among the Ten Great Demonic Masters – other than these, there were truly few others who could pique his interest.

He suddenly asked, "I heard that Xie Ling, the tenth-ranked Demonic Master, died?"

The brocade-robed old man said calmly, "When Xie Ling was at his peak, he fought Luoyang. He was lucky to survive, but he must have been severely wounded. This old servant suspects he fell from the Zhixuan realm to the Vajra realm. It's not surprising he was killed if he encountered an extraordinary individual. The ranking of the Ten Demonic Masters, unlike the martial arts list, is based on reputation and doesn't truly convince people. The top three are fine, but the seven after this old servant and Duangboer Huihui are a complete mess. For example, the Dragon King beside Princess Hongyan is only ranked ninth, but against the fifth-ranked zither player, he definitely has a sixty percent chance of winning. Ultimately, in the path of martial arts, when it comes to combat prowess and killing, those who have steadily progressed from second rank to first rank, then through Vajra, Zhixuan, and Heavenly Elephant realms step by step, thus achieving the Land Immortal realm, are the most formidable. Some seemingly extraordinarily talented young people, who are currently dazzling and rumored to achieve extraordinary things in the future, are, in this old servant's opinion, not worth mentioning. Therefore, while Hong Jingyan is indeed fierce, his future achievements will likely be far inferior to Luoyang, the top Demonic Master. This old servant has surveyed the martial world of both Northern Mang and Liyang over the past century, and there are only five individuals: Longhu Qixuanzhen and Wudang Hong Xixiang are considered the same person, followed by Wang Xianzhi, Master, Li Chungang, and Luoyang. The latter four, young master, all advanced cautiously and steadily. So, don't mind that Yelü Dongchuang and Murong Shilong's realms are higher than yours right now. Only you have the potential to join these ranks and stand at the pinnacle alongside these five. This old servant eagerly awaits it, which is why I'm reluctant to die, haha."

The brocade-robed Demonic Master's laughter was sinister and chilling, like a ghoul laughing at people while roaming at night.

The young man stretched lazily and slowly said, "After hearing you say that, I feel like killing someone again."

As the sun set, the nomadic herdsmen's camp by the lake, bathed in the afterglow, felt the fading heat replaced by a refreshing breeze, ushering in a long-awaited peace and tranquility. The prairie herdsmen primarily subsisted on meat and dairy products. Their meat came from cattle, horses, sheep, and alpacas that died naturally, as well as wolves, foxes, deer, and rabbits hunted. If cattle or horses died, their meat would be cut into strips and hung in a sunny, ventilated place to dry, while their offal would be made into sausages for raw consumption. Freshly slaughtered lamb was a rare feast. Thin slices were soaked in brine, pierced with a sharp knife, and accompanied by strong tea to remove the gamey smell, making it very delicious. Xu Fengnian squatted nearby, observing how the herdsmen milked horses. The method was peculiar: first, two wooden stakes were driven into the ground, and a long rope was strung between them. The mare and foal were tied together for a period. The mare would then gradually move closer to the foal, becoming unusually quiet, which made the milking process much smoother. Fresh mare's milk was very sweet, not at all inferior to cow's milk. Xu Fengnian watched Huyan Guanyin and the old chieftain's granddaughter, among other girls, skillfully milking. After the mare's milk was poured into large leather bags, it was given to the young men of the tribe to stir and beat with sticks. He heard that after this "mare's milk" fermented and soured, the dregs settled at the bottom of the leather bags were used to feed livestock and slaves, while the pure upper portion was for the elite herdsmen of the tribe. Some exceptionally good mare's milk was even offered as tribute to the Sitids.

A child with the given name Aboji squatted beside Xu Fengnian, not speaking, just constantly following his idol, this "immortal Bodhisattva," seemingly never tiring of watching him from any angle.

Xu Fengnian suppressed his restless emotions. Looking in that direction, he could just make out the details of Huyan Guanyin's milking technique, and he clicked his tongue in admiration, "Her technique is really good."

At the subsequent formal dinner, Chieftain Huyan Anbao not only entertained this living Bodhisattva, the entire tribe's benefactor, with a roasted whole lamb, but also brought out his treasured tiger bone wine and rehmannia wine. The main dish was a soup meticulously brewed with barley and lamb, which was nearly the entire wealth of the tribe. Xu Fengnian devoured his food, and particularly, he never refused a toast, further increasing the goodwill of the dozen or so forthright herdsmen who represented their respective camps at the banquet. Most people drank their fill, becoming completely drunk and sprawled in various directions; the old chieftain was no exception. Xu Fengnian, however, possessing the cultivation of the Great Yellow Court and an immense capacity for drink, only had a flushed face. After the banquet dispersed, he walked out of the tent filled with the scent of wine and meat. The herdsmen held more awe than familiarity for this young man of profound martial power, and dared not disturb him. Xu Fengnian went to the lakeside to nurture his Huangtong Sword Embryo. After putting his flying sword back into his sleeve, he saw Huyan Guanyin approaching, leading a shy and dodging Aboji.

The girl mustered her courage and said, "Aboji wishes to acknowledge you as his master and learn skills from you."

Xu Fengnian shook his head. "Impossible."

Although the child couldn't understand the Southern Dynasty's language, he clearly saw the Bodhisattva's negative gesture and immediately drooped his head.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then softly said, "Please, Master, teach him one or two moves of a fist technique, any fist technique will do."

Xu Fengnian chuckled, "Am I very familiar with you? Do I owe you money?"

Huyan Guanyin bit her lip, her eyes filled with dejection. Xu Fengnian ignored her, plucked a blade of aquatic grass, and flicked it with his finger. It tore through the mirror-like surface of the lake, not moving in a straight line, but twisting and gliding like a fish or snake. Aboji watched, dumbfounded. This was far more impressive than the wrestling masters in his tribe. It wasn't that Xu Fengnian intentionally showed off his prowess in front of them; he was simply doing it casually. The sixth page of his saber manual, the "Open Shu Style," seemed grand and expansive but was actually complex and obscure. The seventh page, the "Swimming Fish Style," was still a clever technique, lacking the sharp aggression of the "Rolling Dragon Sword Qi Wall" but gaining a certain fluidity. The latest eighth page, called the "Green Silk Knot," was like a tangled mess, leaving Xu Fengnian at a loss for how to approach it. With nothing else to do, he simply entertained himself, treating it as practice to gain proficiency, continuously plucking leaves and flicking them to tear the lake's surface. "Wealth in martial arts, poverty in literature." Apart from family background, the path of martial arts ultimately requires diligent and unceasing practice; this is the biggest obstacle. Otherwise, wealthy aristocratic clans, richer than kings and nobles, who lack neither secret manuals, weapons, nor expensive tonics to strengthen their bodies, should theoretically produce a constant stream of masters. Yet, in reality, powerful martial artists from ordinary commoner backgrounds still constitute the majority. Be it Li Chungang or Old Huang, both came from humble, common urban backgrounds. This is likely the root cause of why the martial arts world is far more vibrant and spirited than the literary world.

Aside from the fairness and impartiality of its top ten rankings, the Northern Mang Martial Arts List's most attractive feature was that it "netted" all masters who had advanced to the first rank across the two dynasties and their respective martial worlds, totaling thirty-two people. Even if there were omissions, it was an unprecedented grand undertaking.

Xu Fengnian knew that among the first-rank masters on the Northern Mang list, there were several young experts of similar age. Among them, Yelü Dongchuang and Murong Shilong were both imperial family members. The former was a rising military noble in the royal court's imperial tent, echoing Dong Zhuo from north to south. The latter was a woman, but unfortunately, she was as corpulent as a fat pig, and her appearance was worrying.

On the Northern Liang side, Chen Zhibao and Yuan Zuozong were both on the list. The former was even regarded as the new generation's Spear Immortal.

Xu Fengnian narrowed his eyes, recalling the situation where "blue robes almost killed white robes" had nearly occurred.

Then he remembered her dimples.