Chapter 597: A Reed Floats Down the River, Jingxiang Drops the Sword

Beyond the gorge, a pinnacle battle of martial artists raged. Meanwhile, a dozen miles upstream on the Guangling River, the thatched hut was empty of the Taoist priest who still owed the villagers a dozen peach wood swords, leaving only a dazed monk. As Wang Xiaoping sat with his hands folded on his knees, quietly watching the water pass until his death, the mad monk shed the tattered kasaya that had accompanied him from Nalanda Mountain. He changed into the clean clothes he had asked Wang Xiaoping to purchase from the market just two days earlier. The usually somber middle-aged Taoist priest even uncharacteristically smiled and said it would serve as payment for burying him, no need to repay.

The monk touched his bald head, then extended a hand, using his qi to pluck a reed leaf from the riverside reeds. It floated down onto the river. He then stepped onto the water's surface, treading lightly on the reed.

He set off down the river on a single reed.

Several boats traveling upstream, witnessing one astonishing event after another, had just seen a fierce battle between two god-like figures, and now coincidentally saw this scene. They were all so stunned they felt numb, wondering what incredible luck had befallen them that day. It was as if immortals were appearing en masse. But with so many emerging all at once, they mused, had hidden masters become so commonplace?

The reed leaf exited the gorge and drifted to the river's center. The useless monk, now without his kasaya, calmly glanced left and right, first at Wang Xiaoping, then at the old Taoist priest. With a tranquil expression, he took a horizontal step, and his body rapidly sank to the riverbed.

The Guangling Riverbed was murky and dimly lit, making it akin to finding a needle in a haystack to search for anything. Yet, he landed precisely a few yards in front of the purple-clad figure. The Huishan woman's six senses and seven orifices were all sealed, her body curled up like an unborn infant, with Heaven and Earth serving as her parents.

Liu Songtao stared blankly at the woman.

The old Taoist priest on the bank, who had stubbornly cultivated in isolation, had left Longhu Mountain primarily to see her one last time before her death. Looking back even further, his reason for cultivating at Longhu Mountain also involved an unspeakable secret known to only a handful of people.

A century ago, the three of them roamed the martial world together. At that time, he was not yet a Nalanda monk, but the Ninth Generation Leader of Zhulu Mountain—a figure so unconventional that he was the least like a typical demon sect master among all previous leaders. The Taoist priest was not yet a resident of Longhu Mountain; he was the Fourth Imperial Prince, acknowledged by the Liyang imperial family as superior to the Crown Prince, excelling in achievements, scholarship, martial arts, and talent. As for the simple-minded woman, whose eventual fate was utterly tragic, she possessed neither world-shaking beauty nor an invincible powerful family background. Yet, Liu Songtao, who traveled the martial world incognito, found himself deeply in love with her. However, she fell for the handsome young master named Zhao Huangchao. Liu Songtao did not mind this; with the three of them traveling together, and those two by her side, there was no place in the world she could not go. Observing the woman he loved smiling charmingly at another man during that time, Liu Songtao felt no great sorrow. But when he returned to Zhulu Mountain and emerged from seclusion, he received the terrible news caused by Zhao Huangchao. He silently descended the mountain, just as he did today, to collect her body, dress her, and carry her back to the mountain.

The last time Liu Songtao descended from Zhulu Mountain, he slaughtered countless martial arts figures who sought fame and powerful princes, dukes, and noble officials. After each killing, every time he turned, he felt as if she were standing there, smiling.

Liu Songtao gazed at the purple-clad woman, who was both her and not her, tears streaming down his face.

Liu Songtao reached out a hand, attempting to grasp the large purple garment corner gently drifting with the riverbed currents, then slowly withdrew his hand. His body began to ascend, breaking through the water's surface. He skimmed across the river like a dragonfly, bursting into loud laughter and song.

The river surface, like a drumhead, resounded with thudding sounds.

"Heaven and Earth are useless, unworthy of my sight. Sun and Moon are useless, they cannot coexist. Kunlun is useless, it will not come to me. Compassion is useless, merely righteous appearances. Purity is useless, leaving one with empty sleeves. The Great River is useless, it flows east and never returns. Wind and snow are useless, they provide no warmth or sustenance. Green grass is useless, withering every year. Karma is useless, all is predetermined. The martial world is useless, everyone forgets each other..."

Liu Songtao chanted like a Buddhist monk, head bowed, like a madman beating a jar in a tragic song. He skimmed to the riverbank, lowering his head to gaze at the Wudang sword fanatic who smiled as he faced death. He shed his arrogant disdain for the world, his lips moving slightly, his hands clasped together, as he chanted sutras to see the swordsman off.

Liu Songtao opened his eyes, surveyed his surroundings, then looked up at the sky and laughed loudly, "Meditating is useless! What kind of Buddha can you become?!"

At the same time, Liu Songtao's shoulders swayed, his pale complexion vanishing in a flash. He then radiated a purple-gold aura, the kind described in Buddhist texts as appearing only when enlightened monks achieve Bodhi.

With that sway of his shoulders, the Zhulu Mountain leader seemed to be shaking off a heavy burden he had carried for a long time.

The old Taoist priest Zhao Huangchao squinted, his face grim. He had already calculated that Wang Xiaoping's peach wood sword, which had remained unsheathed, seemed to carry a heavy burden and was now headed west with a single strike towards Wudang Mountain in Beiliang.

"Are you, Liu Songtao, who hid in Nalanda Mountain for a century, also going to meddle in these troubled waters?"

Zhao Huangchao hesitated. In the end, he did not immediately move to obstruct the intangible thing Liu Songtao had forcefully shaken off.

Before proceeding, Liu Songtao looked back at Zhao Huangchao, with whom he shared a century of entangled grievances.

The two men met each other's gaze.

Liu Songtao sneered, "You're not even as good as a woman! It was like this a hundred years ago, and it's even more so now. Old thief Zhao, what's the point of you not dying?!"

Zhao Huangchao, who once ascended to Mount Kuanglu by riding a dragon after his celestial soul left his body, remained silent.

Back then, Liu Songtao had gone on a killing spree, sweeping through both the court and common society unopposed. It was Zhao Huangchao who half-begged and half-forced the Celestial Master's Mansion at Longhu Mountain to set up an altar and summon three modern patriarchs to strike down this devil with thunderbolts from ten thousand miles away. Although they did not kill Liu Songtao, they successfully forced this demon sect leader into a century of silence.

Liu Songtao no longer paid attention to this old ancestor, whom the current Zhao emperor secretly knew but dared not acknowledge. He took off at a run, chasing after Wang Xianzhi, who was walking along the bank.

When he left Nalanda Mountain and entered the Central Plains martial world, Li Dangxin of Liangchan Temple had blocked his path, as had White-robed Luoyang, and Zhao Ningshen, the reincarnation of Longhu Mountain's first patriarch. Countless other top martial arts heroes had tried to stop him too.

This time, it was his turn to block someone else's path.

Wang Xianzhi continued to walk unhurriedly. Liu Songtao quickly caught up with the City Lord of Wudi City, who was more than forty years his junior. Though they appeared to walk side by side, Liu Songtao was actually moving with the wind, his feet not touching the ground.

Wang Xianzhi did not turn his head, saying calmly, "Things are different now. A hundred years ago, Liu Songtao could have been the undisputed number one in the martial world. A century later, not to mention a certain person's sword dao, even Deng Tai'a's living sword art is slightly superior to yours. Do you truly intend to stop me?"

Liu Songtao smiled, "Isn't it a good thing for both the country and the martial world that new talents and new dynamics emerge with each generation?"

Wang Xianzhi neither affirmed nor denied.

Liu Songtao looked into the distance and continued, "As for what you hope for in your heart—that the martial world we stand upon will flourish for a hundred years, and never die—I am not unaware. However, each generation has its own destiny, which cannot be forced. Consider the wandering persuaders who wielded influence during the Great Qin Dynasty, like stray dogs far from home. How could they have foreseen the later rise of powerful clans, destined to become chronic maladies in the eyes of subsequent generations? What you, Wang Xianzhi, consider good might be a great evil to others. You have, by your own power, dominated the martial world for several generations; are you still not satisfied? Honestly ascend and become your celestial immortal, allowing future generations to forge their own paths—that is certainly not a bad thing. You might argue that Wudang's Li Yufu is even more meddlesome than you, but he is, after all, a man of the Three Teachings and only recently entered the world. As for Xu Fengnian, his identity is even more unique and vastly different from yours, so how can you generalize?"

Wang Xianzhi sneered, "Eating Huang Sanjia's leftovers, acting as Huang Longshi's accomplice, and relying on your identity as a reincarnated celestial being—does that truly make you righteous? Wang Xianzhi doesn't believe in that principle. If there's any heavenly principle, I'll only be in the mood to listen after I've ascended."

Liu Songtao smiled slightly, "I've heard many rumors about you these days. Unlike me and Gao Shulu from four hundred years ago, who would ruthlessly kill any master we encountered, you rarely kill, regardless of whether they are righteous or evil. Indeed, our paths differ, so we cannot conspire together."

Wang Xianzhi snorted coldly, "Xu Fengnian's considerable and painstakingly accumulated cultivation, rather than being wasted under the iron hooves of Beiliang, would be better utilized in an honorable battle with me. At least then, people of the martial world would remember him as the King of Beiliang. Otherwise, with the Liyang Zhao imperial family's corrupt virtues, not to mention being recorded in official history for eternity, even privately compiled unofficial histories wouldn't dare mention a single word."

Liu Songtao frowned and asked, "Aren't you worried about how many people will die once the Beiliang iron cavalry breaks through the northwest gate and invades the Central Plains in force? Even if the war only lasts ten years, it won't be much less devastating than the Spring and Autumn Wars, will it?"

Wang Xianzhi said indifferently, "The rise and fall of the world, what does it have to do with me?"

Liu Songtao sighed with emotion, "Didn't Huang Longshi say, 'Every man is responsible for the rise and fall of the world'?"

Wang Xianzhi scoffed, "Wagging your tongue and saying a few nice words—others might not challenge him, but do you, Liu Songtao, truly believe it's useful? If you had been ranked among the immortals a hundred years ago, I would have been the first to knock you back down to the human world after my ascension."

Liu Songtao, however, did not get angry. After a moment of silence, he was filled with amazement, elation, and admiration, a rush of emotions that made him forget he was moving with the wind. He dared not speak aloud, only thinking to himself, "Wang Xianzhi, I understand what you seek."

"After ascending, I, Wang Xianzhi, will personally guard the Heavenly Gate, preventing celestial beings from interfering with the human world. However, martial artists in the human world can still ascend."

"So you, Li Yufu, are simply adding feet to a snake!"

Wang Xianzhi did not stop, his words drifting to Liu Songtao's ears from a distance: "Since you've already prepared your stance, if you want to block my path, you don't need to worry about the injury from that sword strike."

Liu Songtao silently thought "Good." He gracefully moved forward again, passing Wang Xianzhi, then stopping and turning dozens of yards in front of him.

He lowered his head, hands clasped together.

Liu Songtao's expression was carefree, truly as if a great burden had been lifted. He murmured to himself, "Hiding in Nalanda Mountain, barely surviving, only to see the one I thought of again a century later. It's time for Liu Songtao to sincerely offer incense to the orthodox Buddhist school."

One after another, the Dharmakayas of Bodhisattvas thundered down from the clouds.

They lay horizontally between Liu Songtao and Wang Xianzhi.

This was Liu Songtao's blocking move.

The Falling Sword Style.

Offer an incense stick, unleash the Bodhisattva Sword.

Wang Xiaoping, Liu Songtao: two sword immortals, one after another.

Wang Xianzhi subconsciously looked up at the sky, seemingly remembering that the only person he owed in his life was not there. He then turned his head to look at the place where someone was buried upon their death.

Liu Songtao kept his hands clasped together.

Thus, solemn Dharmakayas of great Buddhas and Bodhisattvas descended from the sky without pause.

Wang Xianzhi clenched his fists, crossing them over his chest, and took a deep, heavy breath.

The Dharmakayas descended, from far to near, continuously and with increasing intensity, already forming an inescapable net around the linen-clad old man.

Wang Xianzhi successively stepped down with his left foot, then his right.