Chapter 290: Sheepskin Fur Opens the Mountain on Departure

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"Across the World" by Fenghuo Xizhuhou

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Heading Alone to Beiman

Parents might beat their children in a fit of rage, but they never harbor resentment for their children's mistakes. For the old master Zhao Dingxiu, Susu was like his own son, lacking only the blood relation. If that young man named Xu hadn't stepped into this alley, perhaps Susu would have lived and died in this town, his tombstone engraved with the five characters "Tomb of Zhao Dingxiu," and his grave, along with it, scattered by wind and rain, with no one remembering the Spring and Autumn Period's Book Sage Zhao of Western Shu, whose every word was worth a thousand gold. Zhao Dingxiu used to worry that Susu wouldn't be able to marry a gentle wife, that this child would be bullied by ruffians, or that without his scolding, Susu would stray, fail to achieve anything, and live a life of destitution. But now, things were different. Li Yishan had fulfilled his promise from years ago. He was taking the incognito Susu south, to the eighteen tribes of Nanzhao, to strategize and plan, just as Li Yishan had said on the cliff back then: "Western Shu may be gone, but there is still Later Shu!"

Today, the old master personally visited the families of the children he taught at the private school to apologize and distribute the potted orchids. Even the butcher who had once slashed his arm with a knife, upon hearing that the old teacher was leaving, immediately chopped off an entire fresh pork leg and insisted he take it. Later, fearing that the frail-looking scholar couldn't carry it, he had his burly son carry it to the courtyard gate. The young man, who would likely inherit his father's trade as a butcher, smiled innocently and said a few words, "Teacher, please remember to come back someday." The old master smiled, admonishing him, "Now that you can read, don't be careless when helping your father with the accounts. The key to being a good person and doing things well lies in the details." The simple-hearted young man scratched his head, unsure how to respond. The old master waved his hand, struggling to carry the pork leg into the courtyard. Xu Fengnian, who was contemplating something in the front yard, quickly took it onto his shoulder and helped place it in the kitchen.

As dusk approached, Susu stewed a large pot of food, and its aroma filled the entire courtyard. With him and Uncle Qi, two gourmands, present, there was no fear of not finishing it all. Xu Fengnian bought several sets of fitting clothes in the city and also acquired a small book box, just large enough to hold Chunlei. As for the sword "Spring Autumn," whose sword energy lay dormant, he planned to carry it on his back instead of wearing a saber, which served as a subtle form of disguise. This made him look truly like a scholar traveling with books and a sword. Unwilling to waste the six hundred catties of gold, Xu Fengnian instructed the "Demoness" Xue Songguan to escort the three of them to Nanzhao. Although the master swordsmith named Qi was accompanying them, ensuring no major mishaps, more escorts were always better. He also instructed the young sworn warrior, Wu, to go to Beiliang along the way. At first, Wu stubbornly refused, insisting on accompanying the Young Master from Juzi Province to Jinxi Province. Xu Fengnian had to assert his authority as the Young Master of Beiliang to make the reluctant youth obey and head south.

A large group of people ate the fragrant stewed meat together. Even the blind zither player was persuaded to stay, and the sworn warrior Wu was also called by Xu Fengnian to join for a meal. It was a rare lively scene in the courtyard.

After eating and drinking their fill, the young Wu went back to pack his belongings, and Susu took Xue Songguan to wander around the city. The old master secretly pulled out half a *diao* of money and slipped it to them, much like a parent trying to save face when their good-for-nothing son finally manages to coax a girl. Only the old master, the blacksmith, and Xu Fengnian remained in the courtyard, and they spoke without reservation. Xu Fengnian, as instructed by Li Yishan, gave Zhao Dingxiu several names of people in Nanzhao. The old master was in good spirits and silently memorized these very important individuals and their contact methods. Finally, he asked straightforwardly, "Is the Xu family planning a rebellion?"

For no reason, Xu Fengnian recalled Qingcheng Mountain and Qingyang Palace, wondering if six thousand armored soldiers had already been stationed there. He sighed and shook his head, saying, "Just a means of self-preservation."

The old master sighed with emotion, "Strategists during the Spring and Autumn Period were as numerous as carp crossing a river, but only a handful truly achieved fame and success. Zhao Changling, under your Xu family, died early, a pity for his talent as a king's advisor. Fortunately, Li Yishan is still alive; otherwise, like a 'cunning rabbit dying and its hounds being cooked,' your Xu family might not have achieved its current standing. Previously, I thought Li Yishan, though slightly superior to Zhao Changling in strategy, lacked his breadth of vision and spirit. Compared to Zhao Changling, who died young, and Nalan Youci, who still advises King Yanchi and manages his territories, Li Yishan seemed merely strong in tactics but weak in grand strategy. However, after slowly observing the scattered and fragmented news from Juzi Province over the past twenty years, I've realized that Li Yishan was actually concealing his true abilities back then, or perhaps he was overshadowed by Zhao Changling's brilliance and couldn't fully exert himself. After the Xu family took control of Beiliang, Li Yishan proved himself a top-tier statesman in every aspect—geography, insight, adaptability, diplomacy, and literary cultivation—aside from personally going to battle. To simply call him a 'poisonous strategist' truly undervalues Li Yishan."

Xu Fengnian leaned languidly against the doorframe, chuckling, "My master is truly a well-deserved polymath. Xu Xiao also said that Zhao Changling always felt guilty, believing that as long as he, Zhao Changling, was alive, Li Yishan couldn't exert his full potential. My master has truly reached a state of acting as he pleases; whether leading troops or governing, he handles it with ease. Over these past two decades, even I don't know how many brilliant moves Master has laid out. Perhaps in Master's eyes, within the entire dynasty, Zhang Julu is the only opponent worthy of his strategy."

The old master said with a regretful expression, "It's a pity I can't meet Li Yishan on this trip south. I have so much I want to chatter about with him; I won't feel at ease until I do. By the way, Young Master, how is your master's health?"

Xu Fengnian said softly, "Not very good."

The old master frowned. Xu Fengnian squinted at the sky and chuckled confidently, "Don't worry, how could he die!"

They left the city early the next morning, gathered near the dry moat outside, and then parted ways.

Susu had originally intended to shamelessly ask the old master to rent a carriage, just to show off, right? But waking up this morning to see the old master's stern face, he lost his nerve. Fortunately, upon hearing that Miss Xue was going south with him to unfamiliar lands, he didn't care whether they had a carriage or not. He glanced back at the dashing young man waving by the river, then gently tugged on the woman's sleeve and whispered, "Are you actually not very familiar with the one named Xu?"

The blind woman gently replied, "Not familiar."

Susu asked with a smile, "Then you don't like him, do you?"

Her lips curved upwards, and she shook her head.

While happy and relieved, Susu also felt a touch of melancholy. That young man was even likable to the old master; he was bound to achieve great things in the future. As for himself, living in such a muddled state, just a scoundrel drifting aimlessly through life, wouldn't she be even less likely to like him then?

The young Wu did not rush to catch up with the main group. His large bow and quiver were already hidden and entrusted to the burly blacksmith to carry. The youth simply stood beside his master, hesitating to speak.

Xu Fengnian smiled, "It's no use for you to follow me. You might even drag me down, and dying would be for nothing."

The young sworn warrior looked dejected.

Who says youth knows no sorrow?

Xu Fengnian patted his shoulder and consoled him, "Go on. When you reach the Prince of Beiliang's manor, tell Xu Xiao and my master Li Yishan that I am doing well. Consider this your achievement."

The youth's sorrow quickly vanished, and his face brightened with a smile as he said, "Alright!"

Xu Fengnian thought for a moment, then pulled out a bag of silver bits and tossed it to the youth, saying, "Don't let anyone think we're stingy."

The youth took the bag of silver money, then suddenly lowered his head and mumbled, "Young Master, how about I still go with you to Jinxi Province? I'm actually not that afraid of death."

Xu Fengnian turned his body, kicked him in the rear, and laughed, "Scram!"

The youth, whose name Wu (戊) echoed his master Xu (戌), stumbled for a moment, then turned to stare blankly at the receding figure. He vigorously rubbed his eyes before hastily running towards the old master's group.

Susu asked in surprise, "Oh, you cried, kid?"

The youth, who knew this person's nickname, angrily turned his head and retorted, "Dead crispy cake, none of your business!"

Susu chuckled, "Is that guy your older brother or something?"

The youth snapped angrily, "You old geezer!"

Susu paused for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.

The embarrassed and enraged youth, mimicking the Young Master, kicked Susu in the rear, proclaiming forcefully, "Scram!"

Even the old master was delighted to join in, stroking his beard and laughing, "Little Wu, well taught."

Susu patted his aching rear, grimaced, but wasn't angry.

Turning his head, Susu, though he didn't consider himself clever, wasn't foolish either. He probably understood that the man named Xu traveling north alone, without allowing Little Wu to accompany him, was an act of kindness. If it were him, he likely couldn't do it. Not to mention, being all alone with no one to talk to—how pathetic that would be.

Unaware that he had become a sight for others, Xu Fengnian headed north. He patted the sword "Spring Autumn" on his back and chuckled, "I originally intended to give this to that kid Wen Hua; always using a wooden sword isn't proper. But I'll have to wait until he achieves something. Otherwise, if he carries it for a day or two and it's stolen before he's had a chance to show off, that would be too embarrassing. If he's stubborn and refuses it, then I'll give it to Deng Tai'a, considering it a repayment for his gift of a sword. If I don't encounter him, no matter. When I return to Beiliang, I'll give it to 'White Fox Face.' If he doesn't want it, then, my friend 'Spring Autumn,' you'll just have to stick with me."

Xu Fengnian fell silent, then muttered to himself, "Actually, when it comes down to it, I most want to give it to the old man in the sheepskin robe."

In Honglu Cave, Jiangnan, rice paddies lay amidst green waters and verdant hills.

An old man in a sheepskin robe, after planting rice, sat barefoot on the field mound, resting. Beside him was a wooden waterwheel.

A sword-carrying youth, who had followed his elders into reclusion in the mountains, squatted beside the old man and asked, "Hey, old man Li, what exactly do you do? I asked my uncles, and they wouldn't say. Sister Jiang only said you practice swordsmanship. So, have you ever traveled the jianghu? Tell me about it!"

The old man in the sheepskin robe bent down, scooped water from the waterwheel, and poured it over his feet, washing off the mud from the paddy. He grumbled, "Go on, go on. Don't disturb this old man's enjoyment of the scenery."

The youth pestered, "Just tell me!"

The old man in the sheepskin robe scoffed at himself, "Where are so many great heroes in the jianghu? They're all just small fish and shrimp; nothing worth talking about."

The youth pouted, "Stubborn old man, do you know who my father is? He's a renowned great hero!"

The old man rolled his eyes and said, "Forget your father, I've even beaten your grandfather."

The youth's face flushed, and he retorted angrily, "You're talking nonsense! My father is a top-ranked great swordsman in Western Chu, and my grandfather's swordsmanship is even more extraordinary; he's the last surviving grandmaster of the sword in Western Chu!"

The old man picked at his toes and chuckled, "Grandmaster, you say? Go call your grandfather here and see if he blushes. Little Lu family kid, you see how carefully your father polishes that old sword every day, like he's caressing a young woman's skin. But when has he ever dared to wear his sword when coming to consult me about swordsmanship?"

Although the youth came from a noble family of the Spring and Autumn period, he inevitably carried some innate haughtiness in minor details. However, he wasn't overbearing and always observed proper etiquette when dealing with people. Yet, among the famous generals and literary giants who lived in seclusion on this mountain, he enjoyed chatting with this slovenly old man, who was the least refined of them all. After hearing the old man in the sheepskin robe's words, he pondered them carefully. It seemed there was some truth to it, and he said, half-believing, half-doubting, "So, that means you're also a great swordsman?"

The old man looked at the murmuring stream, like a ribbon of dark green silk, and asked in return, "What qualifies as 'great'?"

The youth grumbled, "I heard your surname is Li. Only a swordsman like Li Chungang could be considered remarkable! Although both of you have lost an arm, you're worlds apart! My grandmother used to say that Li Chungang was the most handsome and dashing man in the world, and she admired him greatly. Now look at you!"

The old man casually wiped his hand on his fur robe, then picked his ear and chuckled, "Kid, if you've talked enough, go amuse yourself. This old man isn't in the mood to listen to your flattery."

The youth, inherently intelligent, understood the principle of indirect approach. He chuckled and changed his tone, "Elder, since even my father consults you on swordsmanship, what do you think of my aptitude? How about you teach me your famous unique techniques? I'll consider it my loss and become your unofficial disciple!"

The old man in the sheepskin robe was amused. "Then you'd truly be taking a massive loss? You want to learn swordsmanship? Aptitude comes second, character comes first, understand? Your family has produced a whole brood of famous ministers and generals, so can you plant rice in the fields?"

The youth slapped his sword scabbard and huffed, "How can I do farm work? I barely have enough time to study military tactics and practice swordsmanship!"

The old man chuckled, "Exactly. That's why you can't learn my sword."

The old man, who shared Li Chungang's surname, dismissed it with a smile, then stood up and said, "Little Lu family kid, go tell your grandfathers and uncles that I'm going down the mountain. I won't be coming back. Oh, and give Sister Jiang a message: Killing and saving a life are separated by a fine line—they are also separated by the divine from the human."

Although the youth often argued with this old man, he actually liked the unpretentious, slovenly elder from the bottom of his heart. Hearing that he was leaving the mountain, wouldn't his life become incredibly dull? He quickly asked, "Old man Li, what are you going down the mountain for? You're already so old; you're not going to wander the jianghu again, are you? The jianghu belongs to us young people now. Why join the excitement? Wouldn't it be better to retire here? Don't go! At most, I won't call you a 'rotten old man' anymore, okay?"

The old man simply left.

The somewhat helpless youth could only turn and run to the mountainside. After informing his grandfather, the old man, once a famous general of Western Chu, looked shocked. He dropped his books and was about to rush out of the thatched hut to pursue him, but then he deflated and sat down, utterly dejected.

The youth asked curiously, "Grandfather, what's wrong?"

The old man stroked the child's head. Together, they walked out of the thatched hut and looked down the mountain. He said softly, "Now I can tell you. Your Grandpa Li not only shares the surname with Li Chungang, the Sword God, but actually has the same given name—because he is the very same person! When I was young, I was beaten by Senior Li. It's no laughing matter to say, I owe being able to marry your grandmother to that beating. And that young pageboy who led a donkey up the mountain a few days ago, about your age, whom you said spoke with a strange Western Chu accent—if your grandfather isn't mistaken, he's Deng Tai'a's sword page."

The youth was thunderstruck.

The waterwheel continued to draw water for irrigation, but the person was already far away.

A burly old man with white hair and a white beard left the city.

Anyone can leave a city. After all, if you enter, you eventually have to leave, don't you?

But this time, as he left the city and journeyed on, a full eight thousand armored cavalry were trailing him a hundred *li* behind! Three thousand armored soldiers followed him through Guangling Road, and upon reaching King Yanchi's territory further south, another three thousand cavalry joined. In between, an urgent secret imperial decree from the capital added two thousand more armored cavalry.

No matter what he intended to do, these eight thousand armored cavalry merely watched from afar, not interfering.

The entire eight thousand cavalry were like a shy young woman hesitant to speak, only daring to gaze from afar at the man they admired, yet not daring to approach.

The old man, clad in a coarse linen robe and wearing hemp sandals, led a seven or eight-year-old girl in a green dress. He moved with astonishing speed, faster than a galloping horse. What was terrifying was that the frail little girl, guided by the snow-haired old man, could also move as if gliding over grass.

The old man and the little girl, one old, one young, left people wide-eyed with astonishment.

The child, brought from the former Southern Tang territory, tilted her head and asked, "Grandpa, where are we going?"

The old man, who had likely been stern and unsmiling for sixty years, spoke more than usual around this child, saying, "We're going to meet an old friend. He is both a senior and a confidant."

The child hummed in response, not quite understanding, but pretended to by nodding and saying, "An old friend, huh."

The old man smiled, "An old friend means an old acquaintance. But if we go too late, then he will be departed, and meeting him or not will be meaningless."

The child in the green silk dress obediently said, "Grandpa, then let's hurry!"

The old man suddenly stopped. Seeing the little girl blinking with a puzzled expression, he chuckled, "Little Green Fish, wait a moment. In another three hundred *li*, we'll meet that old friend. I need to swat some flies."

The old man vanished in an instant and returned in an instant.

Then he took the little girl, nicknamed Little Green Fish, by the hand and continued forward.

Among the eight thousand cavalry, the leading three hundred vanguard riders were sent sprawling, horses and men tumbling over. They dared not cross even half a step further.

How could they not be terrified?

This old man was Wang Xianzhi, the foremost person in the world, who dominated Wudi City!

The old man in the sheepskin robe arrived before a dilapidated mud house. In front of the house was a pond that had long since dried up.

When he was young, he went down the mountain to travel the jianghu. He once bought a green fish and a red carp at the market and released them into the small pond in front of the house. Back then, he was extremely arrogant, believing he would be unrivalled in the world after only half a year in the jianghu, and would then return out of boredom. After he injured you, he went to Zhanmo Platform, then brought your ashes back home, only to find the house dilapidated.

The pond water had dried up, the lotus leaves were withered, and the two green and red fish in the pond were also gone without a trace.

Li Chungang ascended the overgrown mountain path. The mountaintop was where he practiced swordsmanship. The mountain peak looked as if it had been split in half by a sword immortal to fill the sea, and a smooth, sheer cliff face abruptly rose on the mountain plateau.

This cliff face, touched by the vibrant sword energy of a youthful Li Chungang, was crisscrossed with furrows and mottled with age.

Li Chungang came to the mountain plateau and squatted before a desolate grave. He pulled away the weeds. The tombstone was blank, bearing no inscription, only an unnamed sword from his youth, accompanying her.

The old man in the sheepskin robe looked at the cliff face and smiled, "How could I, Li Chungang, decay and die of old age? How could there be a day when I cannot lift my sword? And how could I be willing to abandon you to ascend to godhood? Is there anything more boring in this world than becoming an immortal?"

The old man looked back at the small, lonely grave and said softly, "In this world, I, Li Chungang, am the sole swordsman. In this world, the 'Wooden Horse Ox' is my unique famous sword. This was Li Chungang's path of the sword before he turned thirty."

"And after that, as you wished, and as that old fellow Qi Xuanzhen thought: if the mountain won't come to me, I won't go to the mountain. If a mountain blocks the way ahead, I will open a path for those who follow. This is Li Chungang's path of the sword!"

"Green Robe, how about this sword stroke?"

Li Chungang drew the ancient sword that had not left its scabbard for half a century. With a light stroke, he cleaved the entire cliff face.

Li Chungang looked up and declared loudly, "Deng Tai'a, I'll lend you a sword. Do you dare to receive it?!"

A voice boomed like thunder from the ninth heaven, "What would Deng Tai'a not dare? Thank you, Li Chungang, for opening the mountain for our generation of swordsmanship!"

With a gentle toss.

That sword soared into the heavens.

After the old man in the sheepskin robe tossed the sword, he did not look at the magnificent scene of the immortal's sword splitting the mountain peak. He simply sat before the grave.

The old man, who had never spoken a single word of love to a woman in his entire life, whispered softly, speaking only to her.

As dusk deepened, the old man in the sheepskin robe's vision blurred. Like an old man nearing the end of his life, he grew drowsy and began to doze off.

He opened his eyes with some difficulty and saw a figure in a green robe jogging towards him.

He whispered, "Green Robe."

The girl in green timidly stood before him and said softly, "My name is Little Green Fish."

The one-armed old man was already on the verge of death. He closed his eyelids, yet still tremblingly raised his hand, "Green Robe?"

For some unknown reason, the little figure in green, guided by intuition, extended her small hand, grasped the old man's, and nodded, "Mm!"