Chapter 28: Big Character Poster of Vow to Kill

Xu Fengnian told the cow-riding man to shut up. He was about to ask him to get some paper from the hut, as he needed to write a letter to Xu Xiao about the events on the mountain. If Princess Sui Zhu, a person of noble birth, had come to Beiliang Wudang out of mere childishness, there was no need for much concern; it would just be adding new resentment to old grievances. Xu Fengnian was used to trouble and wasn't bothered by a little more, especially since he likely wouldn't visit the majestic capital city in his lifetime. However, if her visit was instigated by someone or a small group of people, he absolutely could not take it lightly. Even though Xu Xiao held a high position and enjoyed immense prestige, dark clouds could gather over the city and bring a sudden storm at any moment. When dealing with people, two types were most frightening: the exceptionally intelligent and the self-important fools. And in the capital, these two types were most abundant.

Xu Fengnian was just about to give an order to this grand-uncle-master when an anomaly occurred.

The massive, surging waterfall, cascading straight down, suddenly exploded!

Waves of water, like unbridled wild horses, surged towards them, drenching both Xu Fengnian and Hong Xixiang. Xu Fengnian paid little attention to the water. His eyes were fixed on the sight on the large rock in the center of the White Elephant Pond outside the waterfall. In the fleeting moment, he could vaguely make out Wang Xiaoping, a sword fanatic whose Wudang seniority was equal to that of the sect leader. Wang Xiaoping stood proudly, his peach wood sword, Shentu, pointed directly into the cave. This sword strike was incredibly domineering, serving as a warning to the Young Master. Wang Xiaoping, who had remained silent for over a decade, indeed said nothing. He simply drifted away, arriving and departing with equal elegance. This reminded Xu Fengnian of his own wandering days, when he saw young heroes who seemed to love such displays: noses tilted skyward, utterly arrogant. They would cross rivers by walking on water instead of taking a ferry. The problem was, if you're going to walk on water, don't splash water everywhere and soak the common folk on the boat! If Xu Fengnian were to encounter such behavior again in the Liang territory, he wouldn't just refuse to applaud or give a reward; he would drag those scoundrels out and beat them, then immerse them in water for a few months to see if they'd dare show off again.

Xu Fengnian, bewildered, glared at Hong Xixiang, who had been caught in the splash. Hong Xixiang replied with an innocent expression, "Junior Brother Wang was born in the Year of the Ox, so he has a stubborn temper. He used to practice swordplay here, and he's probably a bit annoyed. Young Master, please be magnanimous and don't hold it against Junior Brother Wang. He practices swordplay, and he might become the new Sword God in the future. If you, Young Master, then become the foremost blade wielder, effortlessly taking treasures from others, it would be a wonderful story for Wudang."

Xu Fengnian, annoyed, ordered, "Go to the hut and get me some paper and ink."

Hong Xixiang scurried off to fetch the items.

Xu Fengnian opened his lunchbox. Just as he picked up his bowl and was about to use his chopsticks to pick up some dried bamboo shoots and vegetarian dishes, he suddenly spat a mouthful of fresh blood into the bowl, mixing white and red. Xu Fengnian let out a long breath. Wudang's elixirs were indeed extraordinary; now that he had expelled the clotted blood, his qi channels felt much smoother. Xu Fengnian expressionlessly swallowed a bowl of rice, chewing slowly. After finishing it, it wasn't Hong Xixiang who brought him the items, but Jiang Ni, who had never set foot on Mount Xuanxian before. In her hands, she carried an ancient inkstone and a few sheets of blue sandalwood paper. The palm-sized inkstone had an astonishing history: in Western Chu, there was a man named Jiang Taiya, Jiang Ni's imperial uncle, who loved writing tools more than kingdoms or beauties. He had ranked this inkstone as the second finest ancient inkstone in the world. It was a top-grade "fire clay inkstone," with exceptional texture, warm in winter without freezing, cool in summer without drying, and capable of preserving ink for years without decay. Despite his royal status, Jiang Taiya had been reluctant to use it. Now in Xu Fengnian's hands, it was used every ten days, and Xu Fengnian insisted that Jiang Ni, with her delicate hands, grind the ink beside him. This was perfectly understandable, given Jiang Ni's deep-seated hatred for him.

Upon seeing Jiang Ni, Xu Fengnian still had her grind the ancient inkstone. He chose the best Liaowei brush from Guandong and patiently waited for the ink to become smooth under the princess's delicate hands, showing the unique reddish glow of fire clay, before picking up his brush to write. He meticulously recorded every detail of his encounter with Princess Sui Zhu that day. Xu Fengnian's small regular script was his most outstanding. The ancients said that one should learn regular script first, and begin with large characters, following the styles of Yan and Liu for structure, then imitate Ouyang for medium regular script, before finally narrowing down to tiny "mosquito-fly" script, learning from Zhong and Wang. This was the old teaching, and most scholars in the realm followed this progression. However, under Li Yishan's instruction, Xu Fengnian did the opposite: he started with small regular script, adhering to the remnants of ancient seal and clerical scripts. If he couldn't write small regular script well, he wasn't allowed to touch other styles. If caught, he'd be hit with a green gourd wine jug. Among contemporary calligraphy masters, only one old monk from Liangchan Temple, who was addicted to wine, had calligraphy that met Li Yishan's approval. This monk's work was described as: "When this monk is drunk, his brushwork only depicts the wrath of a Vajra, never the gentle gaze of a Bodhisattva." Consequently, the Young Master's calligraphy rarely showed delicate grace; instead, it was full of fierce, martial energy.

Speaking of which, among Xu Xiao's two daughters and two sons, only Xu Fengnian's calligraphy was presentable. Xu Longxiang, needless to say, couldn't recognize a single large character. Xu Zhihu's could be considered average. Even the astonishingly talented Xu Weixiong's calligraphy was pitiful; her poetry and essays were unparalleled in their time, but her handwriting was so bad that even Xu Xiao couldn't shamelessly praise it. This might be why the letters Xu Weixiong sent back to Beiliang were so few.

Xu Fengnian blew dry the last few drops of ink and folded the letter. Who would deliver it became a problem. He didn't want this confidential letter to pass through the hands of Wudang Taoists. As for people from the Beiliang Royal Mansion, Jiang Ni, the last imperial descendant of Western Chu by his side, was not only vastly different from his trusted confidantes, but her frail body was also unsuitable for delivering a letter. There was no guarantee that there wouldn't be deranged assassins endlessly lying in wait near Wudang. The Beiliang soldiers at the foot of the mountain had already "escorted" Princess Sui Zhu and her two companions away. Was he going to have to call on a few Wudang masters to accompany him? Xu Fengnian sighed. Fine, he would resort to his last trump card. He went out, used his sword Xiudong to cut a small section of green bamboo, and slipped the family letter inside. He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled, summoning the green-white luan from the peak of Wudang Mountain. He tied the bamboo tube to its claw with a piece of cloth. The phoenix flapped its wings and instantly vanished.

Xu Fengnian walked to the edge of the White Elephant Pond, gazing at the sparkling deep pool and the massive rock that emerged precariously like a dragon's horn.

Jiang Ni, who had remained standing behind Xu Fengnian, said stiffly, "I want to go down the mountain."

Xu Fengnian frowned. "You're not even going to tend to the vegetable patch? Are you just going to let that small garden go to waste?"

She repeated stubbornly, "I want to go down the mountain!"

Xu Fengnian retorted angrily, "Let's be clear: the moment you set foot down the mountain, I'll flatten it with my heel."

Unexpectedly, Jiang Ni remained completely unmoved. "As you wish," she said.

Xu Fengnian was at a complete loss. A thought struck him, and he smiled. "If you want to go down the mountain, then go down. Your feet are your own; I can't tie you up. However, before you go, do one thing for me. In return, I'll give you this fire clay inkstone you're holding. How about it?"

Without a word, Jiang Ni threw the ancient inkstone she held into the White Elephant Pond.

She did not want that ancient inkstone to be defiled by the man before her. The reason it held such immense significance for her, becoming almost an obsession, was not only its symbolism as a relic of Western Chu's former glory and prosperity, but also a deeply hidden secret. In the Beiliang Royal Mansion, there were only two people she dared to openly show hatred for: Xu Fengnian, who topped the list, and Xu Weixiong, who, apart from her calligraphy and appearance, seemed flawless. Years ago, after her failed assassination attempt on the Young Master in his bedchamber, Xu Fengnian merely slapped her and uttered a few harsh words. However, Xu Weixiong rushed back from Shangyin Academy thousands of miles away, threw her into a well. The well water wasn't deep enough to drown her, but it was pitch black. To make matters worse, that most malicious woman in the world covered the well with a stone slab, leaving her at the bottom for three full days and nights. After being pulled from the well, Jiang Ni accidentally learned that Xu Weixiong's calligraphy was terrible. From then on, Jiang Ni began to teach herself and practice diligently. No brush, no inkstone? No problem. Twigs served as brushes, and rainwater, melted snow, or any rootless water became ink. The memories of her calligraphy practice before the age of five were already blurry. Later, Jiang Ni simply vented her emotions through her writing. A single stroke could form several characters, and often, the ground would be covered in strange and abnormal handwriting, completely deviating from the orthodox calligraphy of the time.

Xu Fengnian glanced at the sky and said, "I'll call for you again tonight."

Jiang Ni asked nothing, simply went and squatted in front of the hut to take a final look at the vegetable patch. It was clear that despite her tough words, she was still a little reluctant to leave it.

Xu Fengnian called out, "Cow-rider, get out here!"

The young grand-uncle-master indeed scurried out.

Xu Fengnian, accustomed to the man's erratic appearances and disappearances, said, "Go prepare some wine and meat, a large brush for writing plaques – a broom will do if you can't find one – and a bucket of ink. Go now."

Hong Xixiang asked, puzzled, "What are you doing this for, Young Master?"

Xu Fengnian smiled. "Practicing calligraphy."

Hong Xixiang asked, alarmed, "You're not going to write on the walls of Ziyang Temple, are you?"

Xu Fengnian kindly reassured him, "How could I, your Young Master, do something so undignified?"

Hong Xixiang asked uncertainly, "Really?"

Xu Fengnian's reply was simply to tell him to scram.

Hong Xixiang, besides praying for himself, also offered prayers for Ziyang Temple. He hoped the Young Master wouldn't cause any more trouble. The hundred-plus Taoists at Ziyang Temple had been living in fear these past few days. It was said that their venerable abbot couldn't sleep well each night and constantly went to his senior brother to complain, pleading for the mischievous troublemaker to be invited elsewhere. Xu Fengnian waited for half an hour. Once Hong Xixiang had carried all the items, Xu Fengnian returned behind the waterfall to recuperate. The cow-rider had brought a pot of fragrant rice wine, two catties of cooked beef, a half-human-sized giant conical brush, and a bucket of ink—everything was complete.

Xu Fengnian truly didn't know what this cow-riding man did all day. When he wasn't running errands or delivering food, he was either staring blankly at the water or herding and riding cows. How did he cultivate the Heavenly Dao like this? If cultivating the Heavenly Dao was so comfortable and effortless, Xu Fengnian would have wanted to learn it himself.

It was the fifteenth, and the moon was perfectly round.

A large silver disk hung in the sky, making lanterns unnecessary for walking at night. Xu Fengnian had originally thought of using a luminous pearl to light the way, but it wasn't needed. He called out to Jiang Ni, who had been sitting like a mud figure in the vegetable patch, and together they walked towards the mountaintop.

Ziyang Temple had escaped, but poor Taixu Palace, the first of Wudang's thirty-six palaces, was about to suffer.

"The night is like tiny insects, the mountains like a resting ox. The bright moon, like raw silk, envelops me and Jiang Ni."

Xu Fengnian, suddenly inspired, composed a clumsy five-character poem with uneven rhythm. He declared proudly, "This poem is absolutely brilliant! Little Mud Figure, how do you think it compares to the groaning verses of those Liangzhou scholars?"

Jiang Ni, who was carrying and bearing almost all the heavy items, didn't even show a change in expression.

Xu Fengnian led Jiang Ni up the steps, heading directly for Taixu Palace atop the Great Lotus Peak. There was a white jade plaza there, perfect for wielding a brush and splashing ink.

Who among the refined literati would dare to use a giant conical brush to write huge characters in front of Wudang's Taixu Palace? Only the Young Master.

This was true profligacy.

Committing petty evils in the countryside, spending all day bullying men, assaulting women, and peeking over walls at blossoming apricots—that was far too small-minded.

Upon reaching the entrance of Taixu Palace, the mountain breeze caressed their faces, cooling them. Xu Fengnian told Jiang Ni to place the items on the steps. He tore off a piece of beef and sat down, pondering how he should begin writing: should it be regular script or running script, or perhaps the cursive script he had only practiced in secret? Should he emulate "The Futu Temple Stele," "The Cold Food Festival Observance at Huangzhou," or "Quick Cursive Script"?

Compared to the restrained regular script, Xu Fengnian actually preferred cursive script for its unrestrained expression. However, Li Yishan had said his skill wasn't yet sufficient, far from reaching the natural flow of mastery, and had forbidden the Young Master from touching it, which was a regrettable matter.

The roof of Taixu Palace's main hall was covered with peacock-blue glazed tiles, with its three main ridges adorned by grand, hollow carvings in yellow and green, creating a magnificent sight.

The large eaves swept upwards, forming the renowned Dageng corner eaves.

Xu Fengnian stood up, picked up the large conical brush, and dipped it into the bucket. He swished it around, still unable to decide what to write. He realized then that one always regrets having too little knowledge when it's time to use it, and too little practice when it's time to write. The ancients truly spoke the truth. Xu Fengnian held the large brush, sighing repeatedly. He finally decided to take a few sips of wine, hoping that the alcohol might inspire him to write something good. When he turned around, he was stunned to see Jiang Ni already tilting her head back and taking a big gulp of wine. Never having drunk before, her cheeks immediately flushed bright red, like the peach blossoms in the Western Chu imperial palace. Legend had it that the Emperor of Western Chu doted on Princess Taiping to an extreme degree. When the young princess asked the peach blossoms in the courtyard how much they weighed, the emperor had all the blossoms picked and weighed them pound by pound.

Xu Fengnian quietly sighed and inserted the large brush back into the ink bucket. He had actually intended to see her calligraphy today.

Although the cursive script of the present age had moved away from clerical cursive, it was still what Master Li Yishan referred to as *zhangcao*, far from reaching the realm Li Yishan advocated, where "all rules are abandoned, and at the end, the characters are unrecognizable." Only a handful of people in the world, like that eccentric monk from Liangchan Temple, could truly embody what the national scholar Li Yishan described: "Joy and sorrow, separation and reunion, wealth and poverty, longing, intoxication, injustice, and resentment—when these move the heart and take form in characters, only then can one truly merge with heaven and earth."

Jiang Ni, swaying unsteadily, walked towards the large brush and ink bucket.

After picking it up with both hands, she walked to the center of the plaza and began to write.

It was then that Xu Fengnian realized how captivating she was when she smiled, and even more so when she was on the verge of tears but held them back.

The brush in her embrace moved like a great dragon.

It was as if ghosts and spirits guided the tip of her brush.

Two hundred and forty-five characters in wild cursive, often with five or six characters written in a single stroke.

It began with: "Western Shu's moon, mountains and rivers perished. Eastern Yue's moon, mountains and rivers perished. At the head of the great river, people suffer; at the tail of the great river, people suffer."

It ended with: "Jiang Ni vows to kill Xu Fengnian."

Holding the large brush, she sat near the character for "Nian," covered in ink, lost in a daze, her face streaked with tears.

Xu Fengnian sat on the highest steps, murmuring to himself, "What a fine 'Oath to Kill under the Moon at Dageng Corner'."