Chapter 470: The Last Journey in the Jianghu

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He Xinliang (Four chapters today, making up for two from yesterday.)

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***

Shenjiafang was one of the largest estates in Tianyuan, populous and influential, located deep in the mountains and far from water, diligently farming and studying to avoid warfare, with excellent feng shui. An old man and a young girl walked along the field paths. The ground, frozen by the winter frost, was not soft. On the field ridges were some shriveled eggplants, withered by the frost. The old man bent down to pick a few and tucked them into his embrace. Behind him, the young girl wore a cheap mink hat, occasionally looking back into the distance.

The old man muttered to himself, "Don't think these eggplants aren't fresh now; after being hit by frost, they become surprisingly sweet when eaten. Their taste is no worse than winter crucian carp, and they can even rival winter bamboo shoots. Later, I'll find a family and personally stir-fry a pot for you. Shenjiafang owes me a great favor; I was the one who chose this auspicious land for them back then. So, don't just talk about a few worthless eggplants; even a few lives could be taken at will. You, stop looking. Since I found Luoyang to help that boy, his life and death are now fifty-fifty. Don't glare at me; yes, I made him fall into this trap. But he caused my daughter such a great loss; if I don't scheme against him, who will I scheme against? Generally, I don't help anyone. The Emperor of Dongyue indulged in pleasures, yet I still preserved most of the Dongyue imperial family. The last king of Southern Tang, diligent and ambitious, could be called an enlightened ruler, but now everyone in Southern Tang is ashamed of the surname Hong. If you were to talk about common sense, what I've done makes no sense at all. When I asked you to assassinate that boy, I told you he had a short life and would die young sooner or later. Rather than dying in a woman's bed or at someone else's hands, wouldn't it be cleaner to die by yours? At least he'd have a complete corpse and a burial place. Compared to the millions of lonely souls and ghosts in the Spring and Autumn Period, how much worse could that be?"

It was better when the old man kept silent, but as soon as he started spouting these shriveled truths, even drier than the eggplants, the girl simply stopped, carrying a sunflower and looking towards the city dozens of miles away. The old man smiled sheepishly, reaching out to grab a handful of sunflower seeds. The girl defiantly twisted her body, spinning with the withered sunflower, preventing him from succeeding. The old man exclaimed in surprise, narrowing his eyes. He saw the distant city swaying in wind and rain, the Qi Sea rumbling downwards, as if heaven and earth were squeezing into a single line. He sighed, rubbed his daughter's mink hat, and whispered, "It is often the most indifferent who are the most devoted."

The old man received no verbal response, but he was accustomed to it. He weighed the eggplants in his pocket; it wasn't enough for lunch, so he picked a few more. Then he murmured to himself, "If the twenty or thirty thousand people in the city can't be evacuated in time, Luoyang's move will incur divine and human wrath. Among the Three Religions, Longhu Mountain will be too busy to care for itself, but according to Li Dangxin's nature from Liangchan Temple, he will definitely intervene. Worldly martial artists climb through ranks, ascending realms. Before reaching the first rank, especially below the second rank, there's a simple and clear method: how much armor can be broken. How many layers of armor can a punch's aura break? How many layers can a sword's energy pierce? It's all clear at a glance. But once one enters the second rank, especially the first, this concept no longer applies, because the method is too rigid, and people are dynamic. Deng Taia's sword strike is the pinnacle of swordsmanship; breaking thousands of armored suits with a single strike is effortless. But if the armored person also possesses martial arts, its effectiveness is greatly reduced. If Wang Xianzhi were armored, even Deng Taia would not easily pierce his armor. Does that mean Deng Taia is a novice swordsman?

The saints of the Three Religions are uniquely blessed. Li Dangxin intercepted the river to gift it to the Dao De Sect. If the river were released, it wouldn't be difficult to drown thousands of Northern Mang commoners with one move, but could it drown a few second-rank martial artists? This is the root cause of why the saints of the Three Religions are not included in martial arts rankings. They leverage the power of heaven and earth, thus they must act according to the will of the heavens. Figures like Wang Xianzhi and Tuoba Pusa do not need to. In the past two or three centuries, the most effective instances of a small force defeating a large one have only truly been three: one was the Wu family's Nine Swords breaking ten thousand cavalry, one was Li Chungang's single sword piercing two thousand six hundred layers of armor, and one was Luoyang's recent southward journey. This is because the opponents were not only armored but also highly skilled iron cavalry. Especially for the latter two, once they reached the Celestial Phenomenon realm, even if not as obvious as the Three Religions' saints, they would more or less be affected by destiny. Sometimes, killing an obscure nobody can have more far-reaching consequences than slaying a great general on the battlefield.

Led by Zhao Gou, the dispatch of elite iron cavalry to drive out the city's inhabitants is likely Liu Haoshi's doing. An old man who doesn't die is a thief; a thief is timid. Liu Haoshi fears Luoyang will act recklessly, and he'll be caught in the crossfire. When the heavenly tribulation's purple lightning descends, even if Luoyang bears seventy or eighty percent, and he's affected by twenty or thirty percent, because he's lingered in the Celestial Phenomenon realm for too many years and is suspected of 'attaching to the dragon' by aligning with the Son of Heaven, he will still suffer great retribution. It's important to know that the saying 'ignorance is bliss' applies best to those in the Celestial Phenomenon realm. People of the Three Religions, precisely because they know too many unrevealed heavenly secrets, are often constrained. Luoyang's time in this realm is relatively short, and he is not one of the Three Religions, so he can act with complete freedom."

The girl 'Hehe' squatted on the ground, silently kneading mud. Huang Longshi, who alone claimed the top three positions in the Spring and Autumn period, exhaled a cloud of mist and softly said, "Those who do not know me ask what I seek. Is there anyone who truly knows me? Xun Ping, 'Half-Tongue' of Taian City, knows, but our ambitions and paths diverge. Li Yishan, the poison scholar of Beiliang, knows, but one mountain cannot hold two tigers, and there is no longer a place for him in Liyang. Nalan Youci also knows, but unfortunately, he is naturally at odds with me. Scholars govern nations, scholars bring peace, scholars ruin states. These three each have their own desires, and this is likely the last brilliant era for strategists. Never again will we see scholars of our generation so spirited and capable of overturning heaven and earth. In the future, scholars will all be mere actors and entertainers for imperial families."

The old man, his arms full of eggplants, smiled slightly. "The spine of Spring and Autumn scholars has become crooked; I intend to straighten it. Martial artists of the Spring and Autumn period relied on their strength to violate prohibitions; I will destroy thousands of secret manuals, put reins on them, and turn wild dogs into domestic ones. I will ensure that for hundreds of years to come, the world will no longer see wandering swordsmen in green robes, nor earth immortals traveling to the North Sea in the morning and Cangwu in the evening, nor true immortals riding cranes to ascend past the Heavenly Gate."

The little girl Jia Jiajia chuckled.

Huang Longshi suddenly chuckled at himself. "Li Dangxin once cursed me, saying I thought even my farts were 'vast righteousness.' He was right to curse me like that."

The little girl was famished, her stomach rumbling. The old man laughed heartily and took her to the village. Shenjiafang did not know Huang Longshi's true identity, only regarding him as an elusive divine immortal and alchemist. It was Huang Longshi who had guided them out of confusion, allowing the Southern Tang Shen family to escape disaster and preserve their lineage. Even the family's vital genealogy was personally written by Huang Longshi. Several elders from the main branch of the clan in the village, upon hearing of their benefactor's visit, insisted on organizing a grand feast. However, Huang Longshi declined, only borrowing a kitchen and a jar of wine to be alone with his daughter, Jia Jiajia. The old man personally cooked a fried carp and a plate of eggplant. He didn't eat much, but after a few cups of wine, he became quite tipsy. The humble room was dim, the candlelight flickered, and the old man, blurry-eyed, rested his head on the table. As he closed his eyes, a faint tear gleam was visible, and he softly murmured, "A thousand years of worldly affairs are like the banana and the deer. Did I dream of a butterfly, or did a butterfly dream of me?"

The little girl took off her warm mink hat and gently placed it on the old man's head. Resting her chin on the tabletop, she gazed at the drowsy, sleeping old man, lost in thought.

***

Inside the city, both opposing sides were gaining momentum.

Heaven and earth narrowed into a single sword-like line. Luoyang, the world's foremost devil, unleashed an unprecedented Sword Immortal strike from the Celestial Phenomenon realm. Song Nianqing's six orifices—both ears, eyes, and nostrils—bled incessantly, yet he remained silent. The city streets fractured, and six broken sword blades, though shattered, retained their essence. Supported by a perfected sword embryo, six sword auras, thick as an adult man's thigh, stood between heaven and earth. The faint sound of bells and drums resonated, profound and stirring. The crack in heaven and earth, like a grinding mill, had narrowed to only a person's height. Sand and stones flew, and it was dim and lightless, yet it still failed to instantly destroy the six sword embryos.

The Sword Pool Master, who carried no airs of a grand master on this journey to the long-missed martial world, had only changed into a new pair of plain blue cloth shoes. By now, the soles, made of many layers of cloth stitched together and lined with white fabric, were largely worn out. This brought a hint of regret to Song Nianqing. His life had been dedicated to swordsmanship, devoid of romance, and his relationship with the serene woman who married into Sword Pool remained respectful, never going beyond. Yet, he didn't know why, with a formidable enemy before him and life hanging by a thread, he suddenly recalled the night in his youth when he lifted her veil, her shy face illuminated by candlelight. For so many years, their feelings were contained by propriety, and he hadn't realized when she slowly became a frost-haired old woman, nor when she personally made these shoes. When they parted, he took the luggage he considered a burden, simply viewing it as a woman's natural duty to manage the household. Only now did he realize how wonderful it would have been if he had taken the luggage back then, called her by her nickname, and said thank you.

Song Nianqing recalled many past events: in his prime, carrying twelve swords, he had spiritedly gone to Martial Emperor City to challenge the world's foremost expert.

When he left home, she also said little, just offered a graceful smile, helped him meticulously straighten his clothes, and saw him to the door, standing there alone, not waiting for him to look back. Later, when Song Nianqing returned home, he coldly brushed past her at the doorstep. She seemed about to speak but held back, simply forcing a clean smile, showing no trace of grievance or resentment.

In the past, Song Nianqing, indifferent as he was, couldn't help but feel a little gloomy, wondering why he had found such a quiet, uninteresting woman, and how she could possibly be worthy of his sword?

This unwanted, fatal moment of distraction should have disrupted Song Nianqing's momentum. Yet, in that daze, for the first time in his life, a feeling of guilt arose in his heart, and Song Nianqing felt his sword-heart become as clear as lapis lazuli in an instant.

Outside the city, over a hundred Sword Pool swordsmen, each carrying a massive sword box, had begun circling the city at full gallop before Luoyang made his move. Wherever they passed, flying swords emerged from their sheaths, hovering in the air outside the walls, stopping without falling. Outside the city, nearly a thousand swords were suspended, their formation majestic, their momentum vast.

But the Sword Pool swordsmen, reining in their horses, exchanged bewildered glances. The suspended swords outside the wall were all falling to the ground in unison, having lost their qi-pull. It seemed as if the Master had completely given up on using the sword formation. Yet, this formation was supposed to be Master Song Nianqing's hidden fourteenth sword, wasn't it? Given the Master's temperament, it was impossible for him to simply surrender and await death when facing a powerful enemy, right? Since the Master had always considered Emperor Wu Wang Xianzhi his ultimate rival in this life, even encountering a rare strong opponent in the city shouldn't have led to such a conclusion. For a moment, the halted swordsmen were at a loss, feeling a strong sense of crisis. But when the Sword Pool swordsmen, according to their cultivation levels, gradually perceived the continuously rising, intense sword intent within the city, their faces showed surprise and delight.

Song Nianqing lowered his head and took a deep look at the shoe's upper, smiling slightly. He allowed the six wisps of sword energy to vanish in the grinding mill, let the flying wood and rolling stones batter his face, and lightly stepped on the only intact part of the street beneath his feet. He heavily exhaled a breath of turbid air, finally unable to suppress the blood surging in his throat, spitting it out in front of him, where it was quickly obscured and disappeared by the dust.

Song Nianqing whispered, "It's time for me to take one journey through the martial world for you."

Song Nianqing stomped the ground and began to sprint madly.

His last sword, and his last journey through the martial world.

Song Nianqing himself was the sword.

Song Nianqing's single-line sword collided with Luoyang's single-line sword.

Song Nianqing's clothes and skin seemed as if they were being cut by a thousand knives, becoming bloody and disfigured, yet this grand master of the sword seemed oblivious, his laughter bold and unrestrained, soaring like a green rainbow.

He abandoned the grand thousand-sword formation for a single Sword Immortal strike, one that outsiders would inexplicably see as a life-for-a-life exchange.

This sword could be called unrivaled in the world, tearing open the heavens and earth that Luoyang had brought together. The world became dark, shrouded in clouds and mist. Song Nianqing's sword aura was like a painting of an immortal riding a dragon; Song Nianqing himself was unseen, only the sword aura snaking horizontally, accompanied by piercing lightning, and abundant clouds and rain.

Luoyang, who had not anticipated Song Nianqing's use of this sword, held her breath and concentrated. Her vital energy instantly flowed for eight hundred li, molding the three profound wonders—Vajra Finger, Profound Heaven, and Celestial Phenomenon—into one, clearly intending to powerfully prove that Song Nianqing's death-bound strike would not gravely wound her.

In reality, while they were still several yards apart, Song Nianqing was already on the verge of death, his vital energy nearly extinguished.

Yet, his dying breath surged to the heavens, and his sword aura continued to grow, becoming magnificent.

Luoyang pushed with both hands; her sleeves tore, and her black hair flew wildly, as if wrestling with a flood dragon, her feet continuously sliding backward.

In the nick of time.

Outside the city, a streak of rushing thunder exploded into the city.

Its speed was so great that where it entered the city, two Sword Pool riders were swept up, their horses lifted off the ground and flown into the city. The rushing thunder broke through the wall, but the two swordsmen, along with their horses, crashed directly into the human-height wall top. With two thuds, they turned into two pools of blood, utterly devoid of any ability to retaliate, dying instantly.

Luoyang struggled to turn her head to the east, a hint of unwilling anger in her eyes.

That streak of rushing thunder, deeply understanding the resonance of heaven and earth and thus perfectly concealed, arrived in an instant.

Luoyang had not anticipated that Song Nianqing would desperately use the Sword Immortal strike, nor that Liu Haoshi would initially target her instead of the one the Liyang court was eager to eliminate.

Luoyang gritted her teeth, and two large, mystical blue-red fish struggled to reveal a small portion of their ethereal bodies, attempting to use them to block Liu Haoshi's perfectly timed sneak attack.

A white shadow almost simultaneously rushed to Luoyang's side with Liu Haoshi, directly bearing the full force of a Celestial Phenomenon realm attack.

Even though this fool, oblivious to death, had only bought a blink of an eye, Liu Haoshi had already brushed past Luoyang and her sword energy.

Liu Haoshi flew into a rage. After weighing his options, he did not pursue the white-robed devil, whom he had lost the best chance to heavily injure, but instead rushed towards the little bastard who had ruined his plans.

From the city center to the west, a distance of four or five li, that figure had crashed through countless walls. Before the last city wall, Liu Haoshi's hand, with five fingers hooked, seemed to grasp an object from within the person's body. With his other hand, he punched, sending the person smashing from inside the city to outside.

Liu Haoshi, his face cold, crushed the faint wisps of qi in his hand, like a lotus swaying in the wind, and sneered, "Overestimating yourself! You dare to ruin my plan to kill two birds with one stone? Not only do I want you dead, I want you to have nothing before you die!"

From within the city came an ear-splitting, heaven-shaking shriek of a woman, utterly mournful, which inexplicably sent a shiver through Liu Haoshi's heart.

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Tragic female space escort leads to disaster; a rich second-generation's childhood trauma leads to anti-humanity and eventual demise. An unscrupulous professor deceives men and women and kills aliens; a naive woman's first job ends in sexual harassment; a military commissar lurks for two hundred years, seizes a ship, and escapes. An innocent woman destroys humanity, the solar system, and even the universe; a loser guy gives stars, brains, and fairy tales, only to be cuckolded. All the excitement is in the sci-fi novel *The Three-Body Problem*.

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