Chapter 59: Small Umbrella, Big Tornado

Shu Xiu stood frozen, unable to move. The water sword had shot directly over her head, disheveling her dark hair. The purple silk scarf that held her bun fell into the mud, and her long gown, which accentuated her graceful figure, fluttered forward. The water sword was a fine line, yet it carried astonishing sword energy, leaving a prolonged ringing in Shu Xiu's ears.

Shu Xiu, pale-faced and not even a swordsman, was already so stunned. Lu Qiantang, who had studied swordsmanship for thirty years, gaped slightly. True swordsmanship was always about the 'Dao' of the sword, not mere technique. The strength or weakness of sword intent had no direct relation to the scale of sword energy. The old man's finger strike from the carriage was strikingly similar to the one-line tide of the Guangling River in his hometown. The tide on the eighteenth day of the eighth lunar month was unparalleled in its grandeur. Lu Qiantang had built a thatched hut near the Haiyan Pavilion, the best place to witness the "midnight tide with the sound of a hundred thousand soldiers," and had spent years observing the tides and practicing his sword, which explained his current heavy sword prowess.

Lu Qiantang looked towards the carriage, the old man in the sheepskin robe a blurry figure. He mumbled to himself, wondering if there was such a dominant sword master among the six guard-slaves of the martial arsenal, as he had never heard of one. Despite his musings, Lu Qiantang remained cautious, keeping a close eye on the fallen red-armored figure along with Yang Qingfeng. Lu Qiantang noticed that the weak-looking middle-aged man's hands were seeping blood, and blood-drawn talismans on his hands, which the heavy rain surprisingly couldn't wash away. Lu Qiantang, not being knowledgeable in this field, couldn't tell if they were Dragon-Tiger Heavenly Master talismans or Maoshan ghost-exorcism spells. Yang Qingfeng, meanwhile, squatted on the ground, his fingers digging into the mud, causing the mud to churn. More surprisingly, a dozen silver-white mole crickets emerged from Yang Qingfeng's withered arms.

Xu Fengnian frowned and asked, "Is this Water Armor completely dead?"

The old man, with a divine talisman tucked into his hair bun, took the oil-paper umbrella from Qingniao and sneered, "Easier said than done. Although these five red armored talismans are far inferior to Ye Hongting's armor imbued with yellow-purple destiny, there's no way they'd die from a mere finger flick. Ye Hongting, fighting at the Vajra realm, always exhausted his opponents over days and nights of entanglement. Unless he was peeled off, armor and skin together, like Han Shengxuan, no matter how severely wounded or slain, Ye Hongting would remain unharmed. Condensing yellow-purple destiny into armor was a great divine ability. Now that these red armors have been created according to the Five Elements, the real show begins when all five talismans gather. Since I've made my move, I don't mind finishing the job. No matter how troublesome, they are still not as disgusting as Ye Hongting was back then."

"Found it," the old man said, looking towards the east.

Qingniao shot out.

"Since you're hiding and won't come out, I'll destroy one of the armors first to see if you still have such good patience. With the Five Elements lacking water, let's see how you use your best water-grinding technique." The old man merely stepped out, umbrella in hand, sweeping over Shu Xiu's head. He brought his foot down, stepping precisely into the mouth of the talisman-bound Water Armor that was trying to rise, exactly where the water-bead sword had blasted a hole. Lu Qiantang's Red Cloud Sword and Yang Qingfeng's carefully arranged spirit-nourishing and ghost-exorcising spells were both vibrated and sent flying by the old man's move. To call him unreasonable would be an understatement, yet neither Lu Qiantang nor Yang Qingfeng showed any resentment, simply retreating with the momentum.

The old man, still holding the umbrella, followed one footfall with another, stomping the Water Armor's head into a deep muddy pit. Not stopping there, he instantly closed the umbrella and used it as a sword. This time, the sword intent was far more boundless than the water beads forming the Azure Dragon Water Sword. The torrential rain was enveloped by the umbrella, forming a colossal rain vortex around the old man. Holding the umbrella as a sword, the old man softly murmured, "One sword, immortals kneel."

A single umbrella, along with a swirling vortex like a silver river, plunged into the head of the talisman-bound Water Armor. The downpour on the small path abruptly ceased; raindrops, instead of falling, bounced upwards, as if the natural order had been forcibly reversed and blocked by human power.

With a soft *snap*.

The old man slowly reopened his oil-paper umbrella and leisurely returned to the carriage.

Qingniao returned lightly, shaking her head, "The enemy retreated."

Xu Fengnian, still seated on his horse, closed his eyes and concentrated. "This must be a sword strike only a Land Immortal could perform, right?"

He mused that it was indeed correct for him to practice the blade before the sword. If he had learned the sword early and then witnessed today's two profound finger-swords, he would undoubtedly be left with an indelible psychological shadow. Although he was currently far from the sword heart, sword energy, or sword intent, he feared he would never again have the courage or confidence to wield a sword. In the rivalry between blades and swords, if one spoke of the number of first-rate experts, they were evenly matched. However, among the absolute top echelon, when pitted against each other, sword masters consistently surpassed great blade practitioners, especially the immortals revered as Sword Gods throughout history – which one of them wasn't a master who had almost reached the peak of martial arts? Li Chungang of the previous generation was invincible with his wooden horse and ox sword. As for this generation's foremost swordsman, Deng Tai'a, no one dared to fight him when he wielded merely a peach branch. Even a magnificent talent like Cao Guanzi, with his arrogant demeanor, claimed to be superior to eight other individuals, feeling only shame when compared to Deng Tai'a. These words drew a clear line, separating Wang Xianzhi and Deng Tai'a from the other eight great masters, including Cao Guanzi. As for Wang Xianzhi, people in the martial world already regarded him as a celestial figure from the Heavenly Pavilion, a rare prodigy appearing only once every five hundred years. Deng Tai'a, however, was different; he still possessed some human and earthly aura. The Peach Sword God, even within the imperial palace, was a legendary figure people often thought about.

Xu Fengnian quietly asked, "Is the Water Armor dead? Has the mastermind retreated?"

The old man, having just displayed two non-sword sword techniques, was feeling rather smug. He ignored His Royal Highness and instead smiled at Jiang Ni, who hadn't actually seen anything clearly, and asked, "Little girl, do I still have some fight left in me?"

Jiang Ni had only vaguely seen the colossal rain vortex that appeared out of nowhere, but she was quite far away, and as an amateur, she only understood how to watch the excitement. Her level of shock was thus far less than that of Lu Qiantang and Shu Xiu. Besides, she had seen much grander spectacles! Back then, Bai Huerlian's twin blades, swirling with wind and snow, had been much more beautiful – the blades were beautiful, and the person was even prettier! So, the old Sword God's display this time probably amounted to casting pearls before swine. Seeing the little girl's bewildered and rather dull expression, Li Chungang laughed heartily, reached out to touch the divine talisman, and felt quite pleased. During the years his wooden horse and ox sword hadn't broken, he had grown tired of flattery, praise, and gasps of awe. This little girl's cluelessness was far more comforting.

The old man handed the oil-paper umbrella back to Qingniao. As he climbed into the carriage, he casually said, "Perhaps the other side doesn't want to completely break ties with you yet, so they were willing to leave a Water Armor behind. If you act quickly, you might still glimpse some of the mysteries of this talisman-bound red armor. If you wait until the puppet inside the armor loses all vitality, the runic inscriptions on the red armor will be useless."

Xu Fengnian's expression was complex. After a moment of hesitation, he bowed to the old man and spurred his horse towards the spot where the talisman-bound red armor had been fatally struck by the umbrella-sword.

Waving Lu Qiantang and Yang Qingfeng away, His Royal Highness knelt before the talisman-bound red armored figure. The armor on its head had been shattered by the sword, but the inscribed patterns and characters on the red armor were exquisitely intricate. What was Xu Fengnian most proud of? Certainly not his nascent blade techniques, but his memory. The red armor bore Taoist Three Pure Ones talismans and Buddhist Sanskrit incantations, which Xu Fengnian recognized to some extent, thanks to his mother, the Princess, being a devout Buddhist, and his early years of listening to Wei Shuyang recount the grievances between the three Taoist talisman schools. Shu Xiu bravely attempted to shield His Royal Highness, who was drenched in rain, but Xu Fengnian, facing the red armored figure, coldly commanded, "Get out!"

Shu Xiu's face stiffened.

The Great Swordsman Lu Qiantang's lips twitched slightly.

Yang Qingfeng stopped at an appropriate distance, neither too close nor too far from His Royal Highness and the talisman-bound red armor, and respectfully asked, "Your Royal Highness, I have some knowledge of talismans and mechanisms. May I take a closer look?"

Xu Fengnian did not raise his head, merely asking brusquely, "Can you preserve the 'po' energy longer?"

Yang Qingfeng bowed slightly, confidently stating, "I can."

"Don't disappoint me." Xu Fengnian drew his Chunlei blade and lifted one of the red-armored figure's arms, examining every detail of the arm's armor. The mouth had been blasted open by the old man's finger, making most of it indistinguishable, but the hands and feet remained intact.

After Yang Qingfeng carefully knelt down, he first showed surprise, then offered a wry smile. "Your Royal Highness, this armored figure seems to have been dead for a long time."

Xu Fengnian's movements as he manipulated the corpse were fluid and unhindered, showing no alarm at Yang Qingfeng's revelation. He frowned and asked, "Seems?"

Yang Qingfeng's heart skipped a beat. He said in a deep voice, "I am certain."

Xu Fengnian didn't dwell on the question, asking instead, "What have you discovered?"

Yang Qingfeng stared intently at the red armored figure and slowly said, "Indeed, most of it is the work of a great Qi Cultivator from the Dragon-Tiger Mountain Celestial Master sect. As the saying goes, 'water need not be deep to have dragons, for where there are dragons, there is spirit.' The difference between the Dragon-Tiger Mountain talismans and those of the Gezao Mountain school lies here: Dragon-Tiger Mountain never concerns itself with the formal appearance of talismans, only seeking a continuous flow of qi; where there is qi, there is spirit. Your Royal Highness, observe the cloud patterns and pine纹s on this arm, crafted in ancient Seal Script and large Seal Script—these are the most famous Cloud Inscriptions of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, layered one upon another, up to seven layers. It's a pity it's not the eight-layered Purple Cloud Inscription that connects to the netherworld. As for the most profound nine-layered Heavenly Book, it only exists in Dragon-Tiger Mountain's historical records, with no true examples seen. This nine-palace grid talisman, however, is different; it comes from Gezao Mountain's 'Scripture of Lingbao Mountain Moving.' One can also see differences in the Qi Cultivator's brushwork. As for the image of the Celestial Venerable in the upper left, that is clearly an advanced talisman from Maoshan, excellent in both form and intent, just a hair's breadth away from immortal grade. As for the Buddhist sutras and Sanskrit, I dare not make a rash judgment. But I suspect there are always clues leading back to the Tianji Tower of the Imperial Academy."

Xu Fengnian tapped the armor with his Chunlei blade; the sound was clear. He then pricked it with the blade's tip, leaving no mark. He asked, "What is the material of this red armor?"

Yang Qingfeng shook his head and said, "I don't know, this is the first time I've seen it."

The corpse inside the red armor gradually turned to ashes, which were then washed into the mud by the raindrops. The knowledge on the armor truly blurred and faded away as the old man had predicted, leaving only an incomplete piece of armor.

Xu Fengnian stood up and sheathed his Chunlei blade. Just then, Wei Shuyang and Ning Emei, wielding a halberd, simultaneously dismounted behind him. Xu Fengnian noticed that Ning Emei's hand, gripping the halberd, was constantly oozing blood, and his satchel only held a few short halberds. This General of the Martial Code knelt heavily in the mud, his eyes red, and loudly declared, "This subordinate is incompetent! Over forty soldiers of the Phoenix Battalion are dead or wounded, and we couldn't stop that red-armored man; we only managed to sever one of his arms! Ning Emei only asks Your Royal Highness for thirty light cavalrymen to pursue him! If I fail to capture that assassin, Ning Emei will bring his head to you!"

Xu Fengnian exclaimed in surprise, "General Ning severed one of the armored man's arms?"

Wei Shuyang, standing nearby, nodded gently.

It had truly been a bloody, fierce battle. Although the Phoenix Battalion consisted of light cavalry, facing the unfathomable talisman-bound red armored man, none of them feared death or injury. In particular, their battle formation, honed over years, displayed strength far beyond Wei Shuyang's imagination, who was observing the fight. Ning Emei led the charge, his iron halberd sweeping through armies, and the short halberds from his back pouch whistled through the air with every throw. Ning Emei actually managed to cleave off one of the red-armored man's arms. Even Wei Shuyang, a Taoist recluse, was still part of the martial world and had inevitably underestimated battlefield warriors in the past. Witnessing it firsthand today, he finally understood how invincible a formation of fierce warriors, led by a great general, could be.

Xu Fengnian smiled faintly and said, "General Ning, take this Phoenix Battalion back to Beiliang. I won't need you to worry so much here. It makes no sense for Beiliang's finest to suffer losses in the martial world."

The burly Ning Emei lowered his head, thrust his great halberd into the road to stand upright, and gritted his teeth, "Ning Emei refuses! The Phoenix Battalion refuses!"

Xu Fengnian, expressionless, said, "You're not afraid of death?"

Ning Emei's voice boomed like thunder, "When have Beiliang's iron cavalry ever feared death? We only seek death on the battlefield!"

Xu Fengnian mounted the white horse and said nonchalantly, "Then follow along. Ning Emei, first send the fallen soldiers back to Liang, and I will slow down and wait for you."

Ning Emei pulled out his halberd and departed to carry out the order.

The heavy rain continued to pour generously from the dark sky onto the land. The horse troop fell silent. Ning Emei went back to handle the aftermath. Lu Qiantang carried the red armor he had taken as spoils, while Shu Xiu sat on her horse, lost in thought. Yang Qingfeng, who had been solitary since childhood, wore a rare, faint smile on his stern face. When Shu Xiu, riding alongside him, came to her senses and saw it, her mood became even more depressed.

Xu Fengnian chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Phoenix Battalion, for whom do you seek death?"

The officials of Yingchuan, who had traveled thirty *li* out of the city in the rain to greet Beiliang's second most important dignitary, waited in anxious apprehension, only to receive a message from a courier that made them look at each other in dismay: His Royal Highness had already arrived in the city by a shortcut.

Zheng Han Hai wore a bitter smile, shook his head, and said to Jin Lantong, "Let's go then."

Tang Shan, the Deputy Commander of the Eastern Forbidden Army, spat on the ground and angrily declared as he left the pavilion, "Back to the city!"

Led by a humble and fearful city official, Xu Fengnian arrived at the private residence of the refined scholar Jin Lantong. It was a spacious estate with deep courtyards, where geese were kept, lotuses cultivated, and banana trees planted—truly a picturesque and serene retreat. It was remarkable that a small place like Yingchuan could boast such an elegant and auspicious location. From start to finish, the Yingchuan official dared not utter an extra word. It was no wonder he feared His Royal Highness like a jackal, wolf, tiger, or leopard. In official circles, there was a world of difference between "officials" and "clerks." Even among officials, there were countless thresholds: sixth rank was one hurdle, and third rank was a major one. Apart from powerful provincial governors, anyone below the third rank was considered a small carp yet to leap over the dragon gate, merely a bit plumper than other fish and shrimp. Only by donning the official robe with the third-rank peacock or tiger-leopard insignia did one truly achieve prominence as an official. If a civil official could upgrade their third-rank peacock insignia to a second-rank golden pheasant, and finally to a first-rank crane, ah, that was truly bringing glory to one's ancestors.

Xu Fengnian changed into a fresh set of clothes in the room, with Qingniao helping him comb his hair.

Xu Fengnian pulled out "Yu Gong's Geographical Records," spread it on the table, pointed to a few prefectures and counties, and chuckled, "Look, in Yong and Quan Prefectures, bordering Beiliang, a dozen or so individuals holding real power, both civil and military, are all hostile towards Xu Xiao. One-third of Grand General Gu Jiantang's former troops are stationed in these two prefectures. Within Yong Prefecture, except for Yingchuan here, I'm afraid we won't see many friendly faces. However, once we leave Yong Prefecture, the situation will improve. Lu Qiuer has made arrangements over the past two years, and some old Beiliang generals now hold significant power in various prefectures and counties. At that time, there will undoubtedly be many rounds of feasting and drinking, and perhaps countless concubines vying to warm my bed. Recalling how Old Huang and I were robbed of our horses in central Yong Prefecture back then, and then utterly penniless when we reached Ji Prefecture, it's truly incomparable."

Qingniao glanced out the window and said, "Jiang Ni is waiting in the courtyard with a book and an umbrella."

Xu Fengnian chuckled, "She's got money on her mind. Let her in."

Qingniao led Jiang Ni into the room. Xu Fengnian pointed to a satchel on the table, which Qingniao was responsible for, and instructed Jiang Ni, "No need to rush with reading. First, grind some ink; I want to draw something."

There was fine, aged Xuan paper in the room, but Xu Fengnian was particular about his writing brush. Jiang Ni opened the satchel and first picked out a Guandong Liaowei brush. However, when she saw the incredibly familiar ancient fired-clay inkstone—the very one that Western Chu's Imperial Uncle Jiang Taiya had ranked as the second-best ancient inkstone in the world, which she had traded away on Mount Wudang and then thrown into the Elephant Washing Pond—she was stunned to see it reappear. Jiang Ni carefully examined and caressed it, turning it over to read the poem inscribed on its bottom: "Who dares contend with Western Chu's million halberdiers?" Jiang Ni clutched the ancient inkstone tightly; it was warm in winter and cool in summer. She couldn't bring herself to smash it at the deceitful, shameless Royal Highness, so she just cursed with red eyes, "What is going on?!"

Xu Fengnian grinned mischievously, "I gave it to you, and you threw it away. I'm a petty person, so I went to the bottom of the Elephant Washing Pond and picked it back up."

Jiang Ni's eyes welled up, and her lips trembled.

Xu Fengnian mimicked her tone perfectly, "The divine talisman is mine! Mine! The ancient fired-clay inkstone is mine, still mine!"

Jiang Ni lunged at the scoundrel, crying, "I'll kill you!"

Xu Fengnian turned his head to look at "Yu Gong's Geographical Records," extended a hand to block the charging little mud-figure, and gently said, "Alright, stop messing around. Consider this ancient inkstone a gift to you."

Jiang Ni cried resentfully, "It was mine to begin with! You scoundrel! I'm going to learn swordsmanship from Li Chungang and stab you to death with one sword!"

Xu Fengnian narrowed his eyes, falling into thought.

Ignoring the little mud-figure who, unable to master swordsmanship for now, resorted to smashing his knees with the ancient inkstone, Xu Fengnian clicked his tongue, "Li Chungang? With that old man's demeanor, he really doesn't seem like a Sword God..."