Chapter 295: Resentment

Xu Fengnian casually discarded the broken sword, once vaunted as capable of slicing jade like mud, and then asked, "Who gave you permission to say 'Sword, come'?"

Zhongli, the demonic leader accustomed to lording over Mount Liuyi, clung desperately to the young swordsman's hand. His legs twitched feebly, unable to push away. With that single grip, he realized his entire internal energy had disintegrated, and despite desperate attempts, he couldn't gather any strength. This was the true horror. Ordinarily, anyone so presumptuous and rude would have been chopped into mincemeat and fed to dogs, but this young man, more demonic than himself, held the upper hand. His face flushed, then turned a sickly bluish-purple as he gasped, "I heard that Li Chungang, the Sword Immortal of the Liyang Dynasty, once uttered 'Sword, come,' serving as a model for swordsmen of our generation. I merely presumed to borrow it. If you are in the least displeased, then I, this Immortal, no, no, I, Zhongli Handan, will never speak those words again, not for the rest of my life..."

Xu Fengnian uttered a soft "Oh," then casually raised his hand and seemingly lightly slapped the side of the Grass Hall Immortal Master's head. The head detached from the body, rolling far away like a watermelon. Xu Fengnian dropped the headless corpse and chuckled softly, "The words 'sword' and 'come' are so common. It would be hard for you to promise never to say them again. So, to save you from breaking your word, I had to help you out."

The sword attendant who had just handed Zhongli Handan his sword saw his master die suddenly. Ignoring everything else, and not pondering how his master could have been killed in a single move, he assumed it was due to trickery and carelessness. He snatched a famous sword from another servant, drew it with a clang, and with reddened eyes, furiously cursed, "You deranged country bumpkin! Do you know that Immortal Master Zhongli was the next Master of my Shenmen Grass Hall? I will ensure you are torn limb from limb and have no burial place!"

The enraged sword attendant's strike was formidable, even to seasoned martial artists like Han Fang and Zhang Xiucheng. With his left hand, Xu Fengnian conjured the blood-streaked head to fly back, where it was precisely cleaved in two by the attendant's sword. However, a mirage-like barrier deflected all the splattered blood, leaving the arrogant attendant's face covered in gore. His sword, which had sliced through his master's head as if through melons and vegetables, hovered three or four inches above the head of the sword-carrying scholar, unable to descend further no matter how much force he applied. Xu Fengnian slowly raised his arm, flicked his finger, and the sword blade swung away, slipping from the attendant's grasp. It then struck his pale cheek, instantly leaving a long red welt the width of the blade. After leaving his hand, the ancient sword, with a rare cat's-eye stone set in its hilt, strangely snapped back into Xu Fengnian's hand, cracking inch by inch with sharp reports. He smiled at the stunned attendant and said, "I've never even heard of Shenmen Grass Hall, so how would I know whose head, now resembling a blooming flower, is at my feet? Your master has just gone to the netherworld. Since you are so loyal, why not go accompany him? Otherwise, with your peerless swordsmanship, capable of splitting Mount Hua, I believe returning to the Grass Hall would only mean being buried alive with him."

Only then did the sword attendant realize the vast disparity between them. He managed to utter a single "no" before a kick sent him flying backward like a drawn bow, some fifty to sixty feet, where he landed, spitting blood, and died.

Only then did Xu Fengnian ask, "What were you trying to say?"

On the plaza, both factions, despite their differing stances, were utterly stunned.

Hong Qian quietly shifted, wanting to escape this perilous place. After cutting down the banner, he had completely severed ties with Zhongyi Stronghold, leaving no room for retreat. The powerful patron he had painstakingly ingratiated himself with had died on the spot. Leaving aside how this bloody-handed swordsman would deal with him, his master Zhang Xiucheng and the chieftain Han Fang alone would be more than he could handle. Just as he reached the edge of the plaza, Xu Fengnian turned and fixed his gaze on the bandit who had spared no effort to climb the ranks. He smiled slightly, "Chieftain Hong, don't be in such a hurry to leave. You cut down this apricot-yellow banner; that's your personal grievance with the stronghold, and it has nothing to do with me. However, I heard from Mother Qingzhu that when her husband's manor was destroyed back then, you were the one who went undercover, pretending to be a guest for several months, then orchestrated the attack from within. Afterwards, you speared that scholar to death, and many of the pretty maids who often joked with you were also butchered by you that night after you pulled up your trousers. Since Zhongli Handan is dead, come, come! If you are fortunate enough to defeat me, Mother Qingzhu will be your plaything."

Hong Qian's face was etched with bitter regret as he said, "You jest, Young Master Xu. How dare I disrespect you?"

The Taoist Zhang Xiucheng suddenly called out loudly, "I earnestly request, Young Master Xu, that you leave this man to me! Afterwards, whether you wish to kill or torture me, Zhang Xiucheng will not resist; I am at your disposal!"

Xu Fengnian retorted, "Didn't you try to cut off my head with a sword at the inn at the foot of the mountain that day?"

Zhang Xiucheng calmly replied, "As long as Young Master Xu is willing to spare Zhongyi Stronghold, Zhang Xiucheng will kill Hong Qian and then atone with my own death!"

Xu Fengnian smiled, spreading his hands to signal Zhang Xiucheng to fight freely and clean up his own house.

Xu Fengnian glanced at the apricot-yellow banner with vermilion characters, now limp and crumpled, and murmured to himself, "The officials forced the people to revolt, and there's nothing wrong with resisting. But afterward, once you tasted wine and meat, once you traded bare hands for weapons, you ended up killing mostly people just like yourselves. Who, in the end, is truly acting on behalf of whom?"

Xu Fengnian looked at the trembling Grass Hall servants, who were now merely relying on the prestige of others. Since even their king of the mountain was dead, what power did they still wield? Xu Fengnian turned to Han Fang and said, "Chieftain Han, lend me seven or eight horses. How about we ride together to Shenmen Grass Hall and witness this 'immortal paradise' for ourselves?"

Han Fang clasped his hands and declared loudly, "Han would not dare to disobey!"

Several trembling Zhongyi Stronghold bandits led out a dozen fine horses from the stables, terrified that this handsome young man, more demonic than any demon, might deem the horses insufficient and slaughter them as well, which would indeed be a grave injustice. Hong Qian was already entangled with Zhang Xiucheng. Several other burly men had taken up positions, forming a circle around the long-renowned unnamed disciple of the Dao De Sect, Zhang Xiucheng. Hong Qian already stood no chance, as much of his martial arts had been taught by Zhang Xiucheng, making his weaknesses evident and leaving him vulnerable everywhere. Seizing an opportunity, Fang Dayi, who had been watching intently, swung his broadaxe, carving a large gash across Hong Qian's back. Hong Qian no longer had the strength to curse the black ox for his disregard of rules. At that very moment, Xu Fengnian, who had just taken the reins and was about to mount his horse, swept past. He snatched the banner bearing the characters "Acting for Heaven, Enforcing Justice," darted behind Fang Dayi, and with one hand, smashed the man's back. The powerfully built man, like a bear, had not even fallen before his head was enveloped by the banner, like a dumpling, slowly suffocating him to death.

A cool breeze swept across the plaza, yet it sent a chilling dread through everyone present.

After Zhang Xiucheng's sword pierced his chest, Hong Qian burst into laughter, "Good! All of you, die a swift death! In my next life, I'll still be a man, but I only ask heaven to make you, Han Fang and Zhang Xiucheng, all women..."

Before he could finish his dying words, Zhang Xiucheng twisted his sword, mangling Hong Qian's heart and lungs.

Xu Fengnian glanced at the almond-eyed Taoist and calmly said, "Considering Mother Qingzhu said you possess some semblance of an immortal's demeanor, I will spare your life. What you do next, we will decide when Chieftain Han and I return."

Unexpectedly, the Taoist was also decisive. He flicked blood from his sword tip, held a peach-wood sword upside down, bowed his head, and said directly, "There's no need for such trouble. Zhang Xiucheng is willing to accompany Young Master Xu to the Grass Hall."

Xu Fengnian coldly instructed the Grass Hall attendants, "Bring Zhongli Handan's two head halves with you."

The group rode towards Mount Changle, an hour's gallop away. Outside Zhongyi Stronghold, there was actually a magnificent carriage, but since Xu Fengnian chose not to use it, no one dared to act presumptuously.

Sects and strongholds that could claim to be "kings of the mountain" were generally substantial and influential. Distant ones like Dragon Tiger Mountain and Mount Xuanyuan across the river, or closer ones like Qingyang Palace, all commanded thousands of followers. Not to mention the sect leaders, even minor figures held high positions, enjoying almost divine status. To ordinary people, they appeared veiled in mist and clouds, naturally inspiring awe. Shenmen Grass Hall was the undisputed king of Mount Liuyi, and this demonic figure, whose neck was now clutched like a wild duck's, liked to call himself an immortal master. His strength ranked him among the top five in the Grass Hall, and rumors years ago suggested he was approaching the second-rank. According to the scattered details Xu Fengnian gleaned from Mother Qingzhu, the Grass Hall likely had two second-rank experts, or "minor grandmasters," presiding. For a single prefecture like Juzi, this was quite impressive. The master of the Grass Hall was named Shen, and this Zhongli fellow was an illegitimate son of the master, though his martial talent was not bad, with a prospect of reaching the second-rank before forty. Whether he was illegitimate became irrelevant; the strong prevail—a timeless iron rule that held true everywhere, from court to common folk. Shenmen Grass Hall was labeled a demonic sect because it specialized in bedroom arts and Tantric dual cultivation. Ultimately, the Grass Hall was proficient in anything related to sexual intimacy. When Shen disciples descended the mountain, they would either murder parents and abduct young "furnaces" (referring to cultivation partners), or escort fully developed ones to high-ranking officials and nobles. They even conducted business with some related clans of the Beiliang imperial court, which was the source of the Grass Hall's wealth. In truth, while dual cultivation techniques have always been denounced as unorthodox and perverse, some legitimate divine abilities derived from Buddhist and Taoist scriptures have untainted roots. This was likely the key to the continuous emergence of martial arts prodigies within the Shen family through generations.

Han Fang rode silently beside the scholar in the night.

His mind was in turmoil. This scholar, who claimed to be traveling with a sword, hadn't even drawn it, yet he had slapped off Zhongli's head. Didn't that mean he was already at the second-rank? This young man, who called himself Xu Lang, had only recently come of age. To possess such unattainable and terrifying power made Han Fang feel envious to the point of death. However, he wasn't optimistic about Xu Lang's trip to Shenmen Grass Hall. He was compelled to go along, as he couldn't simply utter "no" and die on the spot like that sword attendant. But weighing the pros and cons once they arrived at the Grass Hall was a headache. Not to mention, the Grass Hall had two old Shen clan revered elders, who had long remained at the pinnacle of the second-rank. Was Young Master Xu, whose sword hadn't even left its scabbard, fearless of death? Or was he utterly confident?

Zhang Xiucheng followed behind, simply observing the scholar's intense malevolence.

It was like ink ground from a fine antique inkstone, exceptionally thick.

Xu Fengnian held the attendant's sword, an imitation of the bronze swords from the Eastern Yue Sword Pond, with a thick guard and black lacquer, possessing a grand and ancient aesthetic. Xu Fengnian released the reins, held the sword in one hand, and flicked it with a finger, producing a clear, melodious sound. He suddenly asked, "When people like Fang Dayi swing their broadaxes in a crowded market, indiscriminately hacking away, do they only feel exhilaration, without any shred of compunction?"

Han Fang gave a self-deprecating smile, about to speak. Zhang Xiucheng, however, spoke first, "Desperate men like Fang Dayi and Hong Qian were never soft-hearted philanthropists before they came to the mountain. They were ruthless killers, acting on impulse without distinguishing right from wrong. To their own brothers, they were, of course, exceptionally loyal. This is like those so-called 'killing one's child to feed one's mother' or 'lying on ice to catch carp' in the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars of the Central Plains – all acts of madness, ultimately against human nature and reason. Back then, the stronghold also had some well-born sons of officials. I used schemes to cause their families to be ruined, their wives and children separated, and pursued by government troops, forcing them to join the stronghold as bandits. These people were once very resentful, but the chieftain also had his difficulties. A stronghold is a mix of all sorts of people, and the loyalty of the brothers, in the end, depends on roughnecks like Fang Dayi. Those who are more educated and quick-witted are rarely willing to stick with one path. Later, when Zhongyi Stronghold was collectively ostracized by the other strongholds on Mount Liuyi, its members scattered like birds and beasts. The ones who left were precisely those educated and intelligent brothers. After joining other factions, they turned around and became the most relentless in harming Zhongyi Stronghold. Our third chieftain, Song Kui, was tricked into the city by a former brother, which led to his imprisonment. Of course, not everyone was so despicable. Many brothers who didn't form factions or create their own cliques on the mountain, after descending in despair, still maintained affection and loyalty towards Zhongyi Stronghold, considering it a clean break."

Xu Fengnian nodded and said, "I learned many methods of running a stronghold from Mother Qingzhu at the foot of the mountain, so I somewhat understand your difficulties."

Zhang Xiucheng secretly cursed him, thinking, "I beg you, great demon, please stop 'learning'! You already possess such formidable and unparalleled skills and supernatural powers. Are you going to build a stronghold just for fun like us?"

Zhang Xiucheng's heart warmed. Could it be that the sky over Mount Liuyi was about to change?

Han Fang also understood intuitively. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and everything was conveyed without words.

A sword attendant, who had retrieved the valuable, cat's-eye-studded sword from the plaza, galloped up, anxiously reporting, "Young Master, someone is sneaking away!"

Xu Fengnian had already discerned the truth from the sound of horse hooves but superfluously turned his head to look.

The sword attendant, having presumably learned seven or eight tenths of his master's ruthless cunning, used his sword like a dagger, seizing the opportunity to stab directly at Xu Fengnian's neck. Even Han Fang and Zhang Xiucheng had not anticipated such audacious courage and fierce temperament from him.

Xu Fengnian lightly tossed the bronze sword from his hand, and it embedded itself in the back of the fleeing Grass Hall servant, who then fell from his horse.

With two fingers, Xu Fengnian easily twisted the sword tip. The two horses continued to ride abreast. Xu Fengnian did not immediately kill him but merely retrieved the valuable sword, then smiled and said, "Go, retrieve that sword from the body. As for whether you escape or not, that's up to you."

The sword attendant stood frozen, then collapsed into loud sobs.

Xu Fengnian reversed the sword and delivered a kick. The attendant, who had just come to his senses and was about to retrieve the sword, flew like a kite, striking the mountain wall, his breath ceased, and he died.

Zhang Xiucheng was struck speechless with fear.

This demon's temperament was even more unpredictable and cunning than his methods.

Xu Fengnian, sitting as stable as a mountain on horseback, tossed the sword to Han Fang, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and narrowed his phoenix-like eyes, gazing at the path ahead.

He remembered those humble years when every scoundrel with a knife or club was a mortal enemy. Every time they crossed mountains, a little girl who aspired to be a female knight-errant would joyfully shout, "Great King, let me patrol the mountains, oh! Patrolling the South Mountain, patrolling the North Mountain, oh!" And at the end, she would always add a continuous, trembling "Oh, oh, oh!"

Xu Fengnian calmly said, "If your lady knight-errant knew that coming to the mountain was just for the pleasure of killing, would she still acknowledge me as her good friend?"

(One more chapter to be released around 2 AM.)