Chapter 616: People Arrive, Sword Follows

No one in Wudi City dared to leave the city again, and Xu Fengnian did not press his advantage. Several times, he subtly curved his fingers, guiding various weapons to soar through the air. The Elm Pod Sword, for instance, embedded itself a few feet in front of Zhou Mu, the Ink Stain Sword. The Great Spear Dragon Wrapped Around the Beam slanted into the ground before a master spearman. A slender, crimson short saber named "Slender Waist" flew to the city wall and landed in the hand of a blade master. Scattered around, over a dozen sharp weapons found new owners. After a brief moment of shock, these dozen or so individuals all, without exception, clasped their hands and bowed to Xu Fengnian outside the city, showing their gratitude. This was not just joy over Xu Fengnian's gifts, but also a profound sense of recognition and appreciation. Among them, an unknown, thin young man attracted the most attention. He had actually obtained the sheathed Great Frost Long Blade. After receiving the blade, the young man momentarily lost control of the heavy, renowned saber, which felt like a living thing. He was dragged dozens of steps by the blade before falling to the ground, then he hugged the Frost Blade tightly and grinned foolishly. No one else could laugh. The young man was born in the city; his parents were a pair of top assassins who had retired from the jianghu. Some years ago, they died in a bloody ambush by unknown enemies. The young man ran out of the city with the saber on his shoulder, and facing the person who regarded all the city's masters as nothing, declared that from then on he would follow "the immortal" and, if taught how to wield a saber, Lü Yunchang would dedicate his life.

Xu Fengnian requested three spacious carriages to transport goods. One old Fushui Tower spy, who had been dormant in Wudi City for many years, surfaced and drove the first carriage. As he drove, old tears streamed down his face, uncontrollably. Lü Yunchang, having mingled with all sorts of people in Wudi City since childhood and being proficient in everything, was in charge of the second carriage. Wang Sheng, a disciple who had haphazardly learned to drive, brought up the rear. Xu Fengnian sat beside her, continuing to explain the essential basics of martial arts. Besides the carriages, the elderly spy also had to look after six extra steeds, as the carriage loads were unexpectedly heavy and required frequent changes of horses.

Four people, three carriages, twelve horses, plus over four hundred weapons, thus leisurely drove out of the East Sea. Then, along the southern fringes of the capital's defense barrier, they formed a subtle, almost imperceptible arc. When the procession reached the apex of the arc, Xu Fengnian stood on a mountaintop near an isolated city pass, gazing at the southern landscape for a long time.

Wang Sheng and Lü Yunchang, both of similar age, never quite got along. Wang Sheng disapproved of Lü Yunchang's jovial demeanor and his lack of seriousness even in front of her master. Lü Yunchang, conversely, disliked the sturdy "youth's" pedantry. The two were always at odds, constantly bickering and challenging each other whenever they met. However, the person Lü Yunchang feared most was not the divine figure who had bestowed the blade. In the clever young man's view, since he was a master of the Land Immortal realm, he naturally wouldn't bother with him. But the old man who always whispered to horses, the cunning Lü Yunchang was deathly afraid of him. It was simple: the old man was an extremely powerful figure within Wudi City. Rumor had it that he slept amidst mountains of gold and silver. Even Yu Xinlang had borrowed money from this old man named Liu, nicknamed "the Oil Peddler."

As Xu Fengnian stood at the highest point, looking south, not far away, Wang Sheng, in addition to the wooden sword at her waist, also carried the Zitan sword box on her back. Furthermore, four city-wall swords were haphazardly tied together with rope: the Bookworm Rapier, the three-inch "Cornel" sword personally forged by Cao Ye, a Confucian sage of the old Northern Han, the "Wild Crane" talisman sword of Huang Cishan, a Daoist immortal, and the "Pearl-holding" long sword that had once pierced the belly of the East Yue emperor. The sword aura was chillingly cold, seeping into her skin and turning Wang Sheng's lips blue-purple. Her master hadn't explained why she had to endure this hardship, only telling her that she would have to carry an additional sword every few days. In contrast, Lü Yunchang was far too relaxed and comfortable. He swaggered around all day carrying the Great Frost Long Blade, as if he had married a beautiful bride. He even hugged it in his sleep. At that moment, he sidled up to Wang Sheng. The young man, having absorbed many jianghu habits, also understood the importance of hierarchy within a sect. Although he often clashed with Wang Sheng, he ultimately didn't want their relationship to become too strained, given she was the disciple of an immortal.

Lü Yunchang whispered, "Wang Mudhead, what's our master looking at?"

Wang Sheng's lips were tightly pursed; she simply gazed at her master's profile, unwilling to respond to the young man beside her.

Lü Yunchang, accustomed to being ignored by this "wooden block," asked persistently, "Do you know who that elderly swordsman in green was earlier? Let me tell you, his identity is extraordinary. He's called Chai Qingshan, an old Sword Immortal from the East Yue Sword Pool, and the number one master in Guangling Dao. He served as a guest elder for Zhao Yi, and even Song Nianqing, the Sword Pool Sect Master, has to call him Martial Uncle. Otherwise, would our master have returned four swords to him, including Strangers' Grass? Of course, it's not that our master fears Chai Qingshan; this is simply the art of human relations among jianghu heroes, Wang Mudhead, you should learn from this..."

Wang Sheng finally couldn't help but turn and glare, saying, "Stop saying 'our master' all the time! My master never accepted you as a disciple!"

Lü Yunchang reached out and patted the scabbard of "Great Frost," chuckling, "Honestly, where are you going to find a disciple as talented as me? Look at you, carrying so many swords, but together they're not as famous as my saber."

Wang Sheng simply stopped bothering with him.

The old spy named Liu, probably having chattered enough with the horses, walked over to the two children, squatted down, picked up a handful of earth, and sniffed it.

One thing subdues another; Lü Yunchang immediately fell silent, as if his mouth had been sewn shut.

Wang Sheng wasn't afraid of this taciturn senior, but she couldn't bring herself to feel close to him either.

The old man didn't deliberately try to curry favor with the two children, who were originally destined to never cross paths in life. But deep down, he truly envied these incredibly lucky youngsters; perhaps they didn't yet realize the magnitude of this opportunity.

The most powerful vassal king of the Liyang Dynasty, the King of Beiliang.

And the martial artist who personally slew Wang Xianzhi.

The old man, for no apparent reason, sighed softly, "It's like sitting within a glass screen; though closely woven on all sides, the wind still finds its way through. These past years have truly been difficult for our Great General's eldest legitimate son."

Wang Sheng hadn't heard what the old man was muttering, but Lü Yunchang, with his sharp ears, couldn't help but squat down and ask, "Old Man Liu, what are you talking about? Tell me more!"

The old man, rubbing the earth between his hands, looked into the distance and said indifferently, "The most opportune encounters are the hardest to truly appreciate. Young man, remember to cherish your blessings. Such good fortune as yours is rare in this world."

Lü Yunchang remained silent, sitting cross-legged with the Great Frost Long Blade resting on his shoulder, his hands casually on the scabbard, and his gaze firm.

After that, they continued directly northwest. Along the way, no one dared to provoke them. Many leaders of local first-rate jianghu sects voluntarily escorted the three carriages, at most standing respectfully by the roadside. Upon seeing the young vassal king in the carriage, they clasped their hands and bowed, fulfilling all jianghu courtesies as juniors, regardless of whether they were sixty years old or older, merely hoping to gain a familiar face.

When the carriages entered Hezho, Wang Sheng was already strapped with eight swords, resembling a porcupine, which was quite comical.

Today, Xu Fengnian sat in the carriage with the spy named Liu, chatting about trivial matters concerning the Spring and Autumn Wars. The elderly spy, whose real name had been abandoned for half his life, now looked at the utterly unfamiliar northwestern landscape and chuckled softly, "I'm already old enough that two-thirds of my grave is filled with earth, and I never thought I'd live to come back and smell the sand here. As one ages, even if I dream of this place, the old people and things become blurred."

Xu Fengnian calmly said, "Wudi City is no longer the focus of intelligence gathering in the Southeast. Northern Mang will soon invade the south, and your services are more needed here."

The old man nodded, "Even if I take ten thousand steps back, to die here would be better than anything else."

Xu Fengnian smiled, "My master often spoke of you when he was alive."

The old man mused, "The Southeast has many green mountains and clear waters, and though it is warm-hearted, it can also be cold. But here in the Northwest, despite the freezing cold, one doesn't feel it."

Xu Fengnian smiled faintly, "No wonder my master always said you liked to show off your learning and privately called you 'the Sour Peddler'."

The old man froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.

The old man's expression suddenly turned solemn. Xu Fengnian waved his hand and said, "Keep going; you don't need to wait for me."

On the post road appeared a slender old man, empty-handed, yet his sword intent was so profound it almost rivaled Li Chungang, who had nearly re-entered the Land Immortal realm.

Xu Fengnian dismounted the carriage and slowly walked forward, while the three carriages passed by the inconspicuous old man.

When Xu Fengnian approached to about ten *zhang* away, the old man, intentionally or unintentionally, took a step back, and Xu Fengnian consequently stopped.

Xu Fengnian opened his mouth and asked, "The Tomb Lord didn't bring a sword?"

The placid-faced old man didn't speak, merely staring at the young man who had stirred up the jianghu.

The old man finally said slowly, "You are on a decline."

Xu Fengnian calmly replied, "That's to be expected. The Tomb Lord truly chose a good place and a good time."

The old man smiled, "And chose a good opponent too?"

Xu Fengnian remained silent, a cold sneer playing on his lips.

Wu Jian, the current patriarch of the Wu Family Sword Tomb, and the true owner of the second most renowned sword in the world, the Plain King Sword.

An old man who, despite almost never contending with masters outside his ancient tomb throughout his life, had become an undisputed grandmaster of the sword.

Strictly speaking, Xu Fengnian was still related to the old man. However, back then, his mother had abandoned her status as Sword Crown, violating the Wu family rules, and his Sword Maid aunt's face had been scarred by countless streaks of sword aura, forcing her to wear a mask. Xu Fengnian held no goodwill whatsoever for this old man, whom his mother had mentioned enjoyed counting, cleaning, and sharpening swords on the Sword Tomb mountain year after year.

Li Chungang once went to the Sword Tomb to retrieve his cherished sword, Wooden Ox.

Deng Taia was an illegitimate son of the Wu family who had also fended for himself on Sword Mountain, eventually establishing his own school, cultivating his own flying swords, and becoming the Peach Blossom Sword God.

Two generations of paramount swordsmen in the world had been unable to bypass that ancient tomb, which interred countless renowned swordsmen.

Perhaps because Li Chungang came before him and Deng Taia after him, the old man on the post road could not be called the foremost swordsman, but certainly few could afford to take him lightly.

Previously, only Wang Xianzhi could.

Xu Fengnian, who had once defeated Wang Xianzhi when the latter commanded immense power, naturally could have as well, but at present, he was no longer capable of it.

The old man's aura was restrained, showing no hint of a master's demeanor. Smiling, he asked genially, as if chatting casually with a junior, "You asked why I came without a sword?"

Xu Fengnian frowned slightly, then quickly relaxed.

The old man finally stepped forward.

His presence was his sword.