Chapter 613: New Invincible (Middle)

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Daoist masters soar through the sky and burrow into the earth, taking heads from a thousand miles away. Buddhist Bodhisattvas, with downcast brows and furious gazes, can shake the Kunlun Mountains with a single raise of their hand. Who says scholars lack spirit? In a rage, they can make the Emperor show distress. Stepping across rivers, lakes, and melodies, I wield a sword that makes immortals kneel. Wielding sabers, swords, and wine, three hundred thousand iron cavalry conquer the heavens. Welcome to the Feng Huo Xi Zhu Hou Readers' Forum.

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Gong ZhuluShouldering Heavenly Dao 15

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Shouldering Heavenly Dao 15

Feng Huo Xi Zhu Hou

Perhaps unable to bear the presumptuous chatter of those laymen, the young man rolled his eyes fiercely. He carried a Guangling saber wrapped with green silk, a replica of the third-generation Xu family saber from Beiliang. Its sharpness was inferior to the first-generation Xu saber, and its lightness to the second. It most resembled the third-generation, giving it a mediocre impression. However, military experts knew there was no single "best" war saber, only the one most suitable for a specific army's soldiers. For example, the troops from the northwest of the dynasty were often tall, long-armed, and exceptionally strong, whereas those from Guangling Road were inherently less so—a disadvantage that could not be overcome by human effort or wealth. Regardless of Zhao Yi's reputation or how he cultivated his men, his methods for training soldiers were certainly among the best of any vassal king. Otherwise, this "fat pig," no matter how thick-skinned, wouldn't shamelessly contend with Beiliang for the title of "finest elite troops in the world." Guangling Road boasted the Liyang Dynasty's newest armor and warhorses. Quietly, the latest Guangling saber had also been forged, though not yet widely distributed. The saber worn by the young man was one of these new, unreleased blades. It would be named either "Spring Snow Saber" or "Yi Lou Saber," indicating the high hopes Zhao Yi and the top Guangling Road generals placed on it. As the young man was about to speak, a glare from the man who neither carried a saber nor affected elegance silenced him immediately. He sullenly lifted his bowl and drank, unable to express himself, feeling truly miserable.

A retainer hurried into the inn and whispered something to the unremarkable-looking man. The man nodded, then rose and walked directly to Xu Fengnian's table. With a warm and gentle expression, he said, "Young master, do you hold any official titles? If you don't mind taking on more, perhaps you could work for me. Besides the women who are with me, whom I cannot part with, there is nothing else I, Song, am unwilling to offer."

Xu Fengnian asked, "Are you General Song Li of Spring Snow Manor, the 'River-Crossing General'?"

The man paused, seemingly surprised that his identity had been recognized so quickly. The richly dressed elder beside him had just remarked that this young man possessed an extraordinary aura—either a hidden first-rank master or a qi-cultivator who focused on internal spirit rather than external techniques. This left the man marveling, for the elder, renowned for his discerning eye in Guangling Road, was on par with Chai Qingshan, once the foremost martial artist in the Southeast. Grandmaster Chai Qingshan's swordsmanship was godlike, and by seniority, he was also the martial uncle of Song Nianqing, the Sect Master of the Dongyue Sword Pool. Previously, he had affiliated himself with vassal king Zhao Yi, but due to his sect's reputation, the Dongyue Sword Pool had regrettably "expelled" him. Now, with Song Nianqing's unexpected death, Chai Qingshan had been respectfully invited back to the Sword Pool to oversee its affairs. Thus, the old retainer by his side was undoubtedly Guangling Road's top master. The elder's name was common, Wang Fu, but his mastery of the saber had reached perfection, even gaining renown before Gu Jiantang. It could be said that Gu Jiantang's rise into the ranks of the world's top ten, from which he never fell out of the martial arts rankings, was built on the shoulders of this very elder. The elder treasured his renowned saber, "Coughing Pearl," nicknamed "Ghost Beneath the Wrist." Across several martial arts rankings, the consensus among experts on saber users worldwide was similar: truly accomplished saber masters were few and far between. Gu Jiantang ranked first. Mao Shulang, a southerner who, even after reaching sixty years of age, remained robust for nearly twenty more years, had completely retired his saber. With no successor, he now occupied himself with cultivating plants, fish, and insects. Wang Fu had thus implicitly risen one rank, surpassing Yuan Zuozong of Beiliang, who had abandoned his saber years ago. The reason this martial arts titan had not entered the martial arts rankings was only partly due to slightly inferior skill. More significantly, in his youth, his martial ethics were exceptionally poor. He would avoid and shirk battles against masters, and in fights against peers, he never showed any courtesy, resorting to any underhanded trick imaginable. To disrupt an enemy's state of mind before a major battle, he once had that opponent's wife and children kidnapped. Upon revealing himself, he threw the enemy's young son's thumb at him. The enemy, whose saber intent had always been upright and peaceful, lost his mental composure and ultimately died by Wang Fu's saber. Even in old age, he remained disrespectful, with an extremely perverse nature. His saber techniques followed a dark, treacherous path, and he was particularly diligent in slaughtering talented young martial artists, almost killing every one he encountered.

Wang Fu hadn't had a chance to draw his Coughing Pearl saber for some years. His original intention just now was to kill someone, simply for amusement. If he misjudged and truly encountered a formidable master, with Song Li, one of Guangling Road's foremost dignitaries, backed by three thousand iron cavalry, a lone wanderer from out of town couldn't stir up trouble. Such a person could be captured and slowly 'sharpened' (tormented). In his years of serving the court, Wang Fu had engaged in many such malicious deeds. However, Song Li, recently appointed River-Crossing General by the court, had his own plans. He didn't follow the saber master's inclination, but instead developed an interest in recruiting Xu Fengnian. It wasn't that he lacked fierce generals for charging into battle, but Song Li had a strong collector's habit for two types of "items": stunning women and martial arts masters. He regarded them as "flowers on brocade" rather than "coal in snow" (i.e., luxuries, not necessities). Once acquired, he was content just to glance at them whenever he remembered them. For instance, when Wang Xianzhi declared he wouldn't return after leaving the city, and Martial Emperor City lost its last life-saving talisman, many obscure martial arts masters were drawn into Song Li's grasp due to his proximity. Song Li never concerned himself with their character or morality.

Song Li conversed with smiles and laughter, but Wang Fu dared not lower his guard. The Jianghu was rife with unorthodox sects and dubious characters, and who knew if the Western Chu remnants were targeting this newly appointed River-Crossing General? If Song Li were to fall victim to a plot, Spring Snow Manor, currently in need of talent, would lose a valuable general before the war even began. Vassal King Zhao Yi would surely flay Wang Fu alive. Everyone in Spring Snow Manor understood that Song Li's current influential position was partly due to his own abilities. However, it was even more crucial that Zhao Yi considered Song Li someone who would share both fortune and hardship with him. Lu Shengxiang, an old veteran of Spring Snow Manor with deep cunning, might not be without resentment regarding this.

Xu Fengnian glanced at Wang Fu, the "Ghost Beneath the Wrist," who was holding his breath, then quickly averted his gaze. Song Li waited for a moment, and receiving no reply, gave a self-deprecating smile, not hiding his regret. He slowly said, "I, Song, am but a minor general. Since I have not caught your esteemed eye, I hope that we may meet again someday and have a good drink together. I currently have urgent matters to attend to, so I shall not disturb your enjoyment of tea. Young master, should you ever travel the Jianghu within Guangling Road in the future, regardless of the matter, big or small, simply send a message to my residence, and I, Song, will come at once."

Song Li lightly cupped his fist and departed with a smile, showing remarkable grace. Far from being overbearing due to his position, he humbly acknowledged his own limited background, rather than implying the young man present was blind to a true master. Had it been any other Jianghu hero, being treated with such deference by a general with real power would undoubtedly inspire goodwill, even if not outright gratitude. As Song Li cupped his fist in farewell, Xu Fengnian also set down his teacup, stood up, and watched the man leave. Nearby diners, who had overheard the unconcealed conversation between the two, were greatly startled. Their gaze upon Xu Fengnian was no different from looking at a fool who had no idea what was good for him.

Stepping outside, as Song Li descended the steps, he quietly asked, "Old Wang, were you able to ascertain the young man's cultivation level clearly?"

Wang Fu pulled a small porcelain spice bottle from his sleeve, twisted open the lid, sniffed at it, and sinisterly remarked, "How strange. I deliberately leaked some killing intent, and the young man didn't pretend to be foolish or oblivious. He immediately paused his action of twirling the cup after noticing it, but then there was no further reaction. Perhaps he apprenticed with a Daoist master from a young age, otherwise he wouldn't possess such composure. Ordinary masters, when affected by a sudden surge of killing intent, might maintain their posture and feign stability like Mount Tai, but subtle changes in their pupils and the speed of their qi circulation are very difficult to conceal. However, I can confirm one thing: observing his continuous hand gestures as he lifted, held, and set down the cup, this young man must be a saber user."

Song Li smiled. "Normally, Old Wang, you kill whoever you wish. But now is not like usual; many things could trigger a chain reaction. It's better to avoid unnecessary trouble."

Wang Fu grunted reluctantly, put away the bottle, and, as if refraining from killing equated to accumulating good karma, chuckled, "That boy likely has no idea he just had a brush with death."

Song Li swung onto his horse, and seven or eight riders accompanied him to a military town a few miles away. A scout had sent back military intelligence: a pair of women there were exceedingly interesting. Not only had they provoked his own soldiers, but they also showed no self-awareness. One of them even declared she would make him, the River-Crossing General, pay dearly. Song Li wasn't angered; he merely found it amusing. Song Li naturally understood the temperament of his "tiger-wolf" army. He trained his soldiers to be like jackals; if they didn't devour people, how could they kill on the battlefield? The mountains north of Guangling Road were rife with bandits. Among them, six or seven groups of over a hundred horse thieves not only committed murder and arson with impunity but also toyed with local soldiers as easily as a cat plays with a mouse. Song Li had even more ruthless methods: after some of his own armored soldiers became extremely difficult-to-suppress, cunning horse thieves, he would send batches of unsuspecting new recruits to fight them. This "fed" their combat power, and if they died, their deaths were considered meaningless.

Riding through the streets, Song Li suddenly sighed, "Who would believe Wang Xianzhi died by that man's hand?"

Wang Fu, who was always arrogant, had a grim expression. "If not for someone recognizing Lou Huang carrying the old monster Wang's corpse, indeed no one would believe it."

Song Li asked with a laugh, "Isn't that fellow named Xu the new 'Number One Under Heaven' then?"

Wang Fu, who could never stand to see others do well, sneered, "Even if that young vassal king survived, he'd be half-dead. He'd probably have to rely on several furnaces of miraculous elixirs from Wudang every year just to cling to life. What 'Number One Under Heaven' would he be then? In my opinion, Wang Xianzhi is probably dead, but it was only through the deployment of all Beiliang's elites, along with some unknown hidden assassins, that they luckily managed to kill him."

Song Li smiled faintly, noncommittal.

Back at the inn, having nothing else to do, Xu Fengnian allowed nine flying swords to emerge from his sleeve. He didn't merely control them with his qi; he didn't even "reassure" them in the slightest—a subtle term often found in the secret manuals of the Wu Family Sword Mound, used to explain a higher realm of qi-driven swordsmanship: "where the heart is focused, the sword tip points." The latter was clearly a superior state, requiring years of meticulous sword cultivation to nurture a "sword embryo" with complete spiritual essence. However, the nine flying swords swirling and hovering autonomously in the room were not just living entities that had achieved the "sword embryo" stage; they were more like enlightened children, bestowed with intelligence by an immortal's touch.

In terms of physical resilience, after his battle with Wang Xianzhi, Xu Fengnian was severely weakened and deeply affected. He was far inferior to the Vajra Realm masters of the Jianghu. As for the profoundness of his qi, Wang Fu, the "Ghost Beneath the Wrist," was also not mistaken: Xu Fengnian could not compare to those Profound Finger Realm cultivators, each with their unique strengths. However, the current Xu Fengnian could not be judged by conventional wisdom. After killing Zhao Huangchao, he felt an intuitive pull to go to Martial Emperor City. Initially, out of caution, he considered seeking out Xuanyuan Qingfeng, the Martial Alliance Leader, to be his bodyguard. Of course, he intended to conduct a major transaction with her simultaneously; otherwise, he wouldn't have brought it up. However, Xuanyuan Qingfeng was unwilling to be "tainted" by him or Beiliang, so Xu Fengnian didn't force the issue. But while in close proximity and subtly confronting this top master, Xuanyuan Qingfeng, Xu Fengnian was surprised to discover something: not only did his flying swords spontaneously stir, but he also felt an inexplicable surge of heroic spirit. Xu Fengnian was no stranger to this feeling; it was the same spirit possessed by his "self" from eight hundred years ago, and by Wang Xianzhi—a spirit that allowed one to be an enemy of the world yet remain invincible.

Previously, Xu Fengnian understood this state of mind, but he was either willing but unable, or willing but lacked the strength. After the battle, however, especially after leaving Huishan alone, and the closer he got to the East Sea, he frequently found himself unable to suppress certain "unintentional actions." Just like now, his flying swords playfully roamed without a trace, as if in their element. Xu Fengnian could clearly perceive their joy and even felt he could converse with them.

Xu Fengnian murmured to himself, "Neither the Buddhist 'mustard seed containing Mount Sumeru' nor the Daoist 'universe in a sleeve' seems quite like this."

The Bifu flying sword suddenly spun playfully in front of Xu Fengnian's eyes, as if greeting him, then vanished in a flash, flying out the window.

Xu Fengnian walked out of the room, descended the stairs with a normal expression, left the inn, and continued until he was outside the town.

From a distance, he saw Song Li, high on horseback. On the post road, two young women seemed to be in trouble. One was tall and spirited, her sword already drawn. By her stance, she was clearly from a renowned school, though still a bit shy of the realm where her sword tip could emit qi. She was protecting a graceful woman behind her, who resembled a lady from Jiangnan. However, it seemed she had lost a sparring match, as one arm hung limp and trembled slightly, forcing her to switch hands to grip her sword.

Song Li remained silent. The young retainer with the green-silk-wrapped saber rode slowly and confidently, his saber drawn and gently spinning. His warhorse calmly circled the two desperate women.

Xu Fengnian stood unnoticed in the shaded part of the post road, listening as the swordswoman, clearly from the north, mockingly declared, "I thought Guangling Road wasn't entirely a den of vipers. After all, even the capital knows of a fellow named Song Li, who loudly proclaims that once he gains power, he'll exterminate all those who harm the common people. Unexpectedly, seeing is not as good as hearing; he's just a filthy scoundrel who forcibly seizes women."

Song Li chuckled lightly upon hearing this, and finally spoke. "Heroine, you've wounded twenty of my soldiers with your skill, and I have nothing to say about that. However, Master Liang Mei then engaged you in a fair wagered duel. If he lost, we would let you go. If you lost, you were to hand over the woman behind you. To honor a bet lost is only right and proper. Your swordsmanship is excellent, Heroine, but your gambling ethics seem rather poor."

Hearing this, Xu Fengnian prepared to turn and leave.

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