Chapter 777: Jianghu See You Again, Battlefield See You

Northern Western Shu boasts nine continuous, sword-like mountains. Between the towering Greater and Lesser Sword Cliffs, the former Western Shu Emperor had an opening carved into the rock face, earning it the name Sword Gate from the populace. With its perilous flying bridges and plank paths, it was an extreme natural barrier. However, after Liyang unified the Central Plains and greatly expanded its post roads, the Jianmen mountain path fell into disuse. For many years, only petty merchants traveled through it. Regarding Jianmen, after Jian Jiuhuang’s fatal battle with Wang Xianzhi in Wudi City, some claimed his nickname came from his contemplation of the sword while observing the mountains there. Others even swore that before leaving Shu, Jian Jiuhuang carved a sword manual into a stone wall along the plank path, leading many young swordsmen from Western Shu to specifically seek their fortune there.

As peach blossoms gradually fell with the onset of summer, the narrow, winding path, embedded in the mountain face, felt somewhat dark and damp. A middle-aged man rode a donkey, led by a refined, scholarly-looking boy. The boy, carrying a large bamboo basket, muttered to himself. The unassuming man, accustomed to the boy’s complaints, paid no mind and dozed peacefully on the donkey’s back.

Suddenly, a group approached from ahead. Leading them was a local Western Shu woodsman, accompanying a group of finely dressed young men and women. The boy’s eyes lit up. He gently tossed a sprig of peach blossoms, which had been stuck in his bamboo basket, to the middle-aged man and urged in a low voice, “Master, Master, quickly! Turn around and ride the donkey backwards! And now’s the time for you to recite a poem loudly! Otherwise, with so many people nowadays riding donkeys just to imitate, you won’t stand out. You can’t just call yourself the Peach Blossom Sword God; no one would believe you.”

The middle-aged man replied helplessly, “We’ve met over a dozen groups of travelers on this journey, and every time you ask me to recite a poem, and it always has to include the word ‘peach blossom.’ Where am I supposed to find so many poems?”

The boy glared threateningly. “Then repeat the last one! That one, ‘Yanli Meeting an Immortal,’ sounds quite ethereal. Master, if you don’t recite it, I won’t lead the donkey for you.”

The middle-aged man was indeed good-natured and easygoing. He lazily turned around, straddled the donkey facing backward, held the peach branch, and began to recite loudly: “I have seen all the peach blossoms in Yanli; dusk deepens, the road lengthens. An elder bestowed upon me the Three Pure Scrolls, letting me live a thousand years and laugh at kings…”

The boy, who had been exhausted just moments before, instantly adopted the otherworldly demeanor of an immortal’s attendant, leading the donkey with large strides, eyes fixed straight ahead.

The young masters and ladies who had hired the woodsman to guide them were initially stunned by this sight. Then, one of them turned to a companion and rolled their eyes, scoffing, “Hmph, these two charlatans! They think we haven’t seen the world. Do they really believe having a donkey and a peach branch makes them Deng Tai’a? I could get a white horse and a saber and claim to be Xu Fengnian!”

The boy’s face flushed with anger, but the middle-aged man chuckled, turned back to his usual riding position, and tossed the peach branch into a crevice in the bamboo basket. The two groups passed each other indifferently. The boy’s carefully orchestrated encounter had only earned him countless eye-rolls. The man looked at the dejected boy’s back and chuckled, “Angry? Don’t be. Actually, I’ve long wanted to tell you, the martial world often says that true masters don’t show off, and those who show off aren’t true masters…”

The boy snorted, clearly still in a huff.

The middle-aged man tried to console him. “Alright, this trip to Shu, I’ll definitely take you to see all the beautiful scenery.”

The boy remained silent.

The man had no choice but to laugh. “How about I perform sword-riding for those people, to give them a real eye-opener?”

The boy sighed. “Forget it. Those guys are blind. It’s their loss anyway.”

A boy has his own sorrows. “Master, it’s not that I’m criticizing you, but among the Four Grandmasters of the martial world, even Cao Changqing admired you. Later, you fought Tuoba Pusa in a battle that shook heaven and earth. And even Xu Fengnian’s flying sword was given by you. But now, everyone talks about how domineering Cao Changqing was when he defeated that useless monk, or how Xu Fengnian and Tuoba Pusa fought for a thousand li in the Western Regions, unparalleled in history. Yet no one says good things about you. I’m worried!”

The man teased, “Then why do you always slack off, practicing swordplay for three days and resting for two, when I teach you?”

The boy, with an old-fashioned sigh, said, “Isn’t it because I know my limits? I have neither the bone structure nor the talent. Since I can’t excel as a disciple, I can only hope my master becomes more successful.”

The man laughed, exasperated. “You certainly have a way of looking at things!”

The boy suddenly turned and asked, “Master, why did you take me as your disciple back then? Look at Wang Xianzhi, Yu Xinlang, Lin Ya, and the others – they’re all top-tier martial grandmasters. So I’m telling you now, don’t expect me to help you make a name in the martial world.”

The man replied nonchalantly, “Why would I need fame, disciple? Besides, living freely and dying without regret is quite remarkable. Do you think Cao Changqing, Xu Fengnian, and Tuoba Pusa can achieve that? No, they can’t. If I were to die tomorrow, you, my disciple, could support yourself and live comfortably, so I have no significant worries about people or things. Xu Fengnian can’t let go of the family legacy left by his father. Cao Changqing can’t let go of the Great Chu’s imperial power. Tuoba Pusa can’t let go of fame and fortune. Don’t envy these Land Immortals who don’t live freely.”

The boy sighed. “That sounds exhausting.”

Deng Tai’a, the genuine Peach Blossom Sword God, smiled. “Does saying that make leading the donkey feel less tiring?”

The boy chuckled, not out of forced cheerfulness, but sincerely. “Master, it really does!”

A commotion arose behind the master and disciple. The boy turned to see the group of young masters and ladies, who had turned back, stopped not far away. Their woodsman guide ran up to them, seemingly embarrassed, and rubbed his hands as he smiled at Deng Tai’a on the donkey. “Can we discuss something?”

Deng Tai’a smiled. “Elder brother, speak your mind.”

The woodsman lowered his voice. “Brother, I’m sorry, but those children from wealthy families want to buy your donkey. I can’t afford to offend them, so I had no choice but to run this errand. If you’re willing to sell, I think you should ask for a high price, say twenty or thirty taels. I reckon they won’t mind a difference of ten or twenty taels.”

Before Deng Tai’a could speak, the boy erupted in anger, not at the woodsman, but turning to the rich youths and shouting, “We’re not selling our donkey! Not even for ten thousand taels!”

Deng Tai’a, who had turned the donkey around, stroked his chin and whispered, “If it’s gold, then we sell.”

The boy, ever eager to stir up trouble, added, “Consider yourselves lucky! Master said he’d sell it for ten thousand taels of gold!”

The woodsman shook his head. These two truly didn’t understand the dangers of the world. In this remote wilderness, if the angered youngsters harbored ill intentions, would he report it to the authorities after descending the mountain? During their journey, this group of young men and women had all expressed a desire to practice martial arts. Deng Tai’a had once jokingly asked the boy what he would do once he mastered martial arts, and the boy replied he hadn’t thought about it, he’d consider it after learning. Deng Tai’a, happy to be rid of this ‘burden,’ secretly arranged for him to join a small sect. The boy, who was thought to have extraordinary bone structure, became a direct disciple of that small sect. Before long, he could hold his own against a first-rank master and endure twenty to thirty moves under a second-rank Minor Grandmaster. Yet, he grew less and less inclined to engage in petty skirmishes. Deng Tai’a paid no attention to the wealthy youth, who wasn't truly bad. He walked up to his disciple, patted his head, and smiled languidly, “Disciple, even though you might not achieve much, I, your master, am very happy to have you as my disciple.”

The boy shivered. “Master, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Deng Tai’a chuckled, “Just happy.”

Among the crowd, a young master, his face showing signs of excessive indulgence, fanned himself. He paid no mind to the middle-aged man on the donkey, but the brat’s eyes were truly annoying. Just now, he dared to secretly glance at the young lady he admired. Did he think he hadn’t noticed?! The only daughter of the Vice General of Yizhou in Western Shu, was she someone a donkey-leading boy could covet?! With a practiced snap, he closed his fan and smiled at the boy, “Fifty taels of silver is not a small sum. If you yearn for the martial world, you can buy a decent weapon. If you aspire to the imperial examinations, it can buy you many books.”

Deng Tai’a merely smiled at these sarcastic words, which contained veiled threats. His disciple, however, rolled his eyes and said to Deng Tai’a, “Master, let’s go. Don’t pay them any mind.”

Deng Tai’a nodded, but then said, “Give me the bamboo basket.”

The boy frowned. “No, don’t. Though I’m afraid of being tired, I’m more afraid of tiring our donkey. If you carry it, it’s still essentially the donkey carrying it. It’s not young anymore.”

Deng Tai’a glared. “Just give it to me when I ask.”

Reluctantly, the boy took off the bamboo basket and handed it to Deng Tai’a, grumbling all the while.

The Greater and Lesser Sword Cliffs faced each other, and a great wind wailed between the mountains. Occasionally, a bird would sweep past.

Rarely carrying the basket himself, Deng Tai’a smiled at his disciple. “You go down the mountain first.”

In the next instant, Deng Tai’a performed a strange movement. He pulled the peach branch from the bamboo basket and tossed it high into the air. While everyone was puzzled, someone with sharp eyes was the first to realize with shock that the peach branch, once thrown, had actually suspended itself in mid-air!

As the boy also looked bewildered, Deng Tai’a gently pushed his shoulder sideways and commanded, “Sink your qi, raise your sword, and perform the Mountain-Treading Art!”

Upon hearing his master’s voice, the boy, pushed out onto the plank path between the cliffs, instinctively performed the sword-treading stance that controlled his qi to descend, even while suspended high between the two cliffs.

The boy landed precisely on the peach branch. This scene was like an immortal riding a sword.

After a brief moment of panic, the boy, who had been following this Sword God master and, though he hadn't "eaten pork," had at least "seen pigs run," burst into joyful laughter, shouting, “Going down the mountain!”

The boy rode his sword, stepping on the wind, and descended the mountain. His laughter echoed long in the cliffs. How many young men in the world dreamed of roaming the martial world with a sword? Yet, how many could be like that donkey-leading boy, flying through the martial world like a wind-riding immortal?

Deng Tai’a remounted his donkey and playfully said to the stunned youngsters, “Fifty taels of silver really isn’t enough to buy this donkey.”

Finally, Deng Tai’a glanced at the young lady his disciple fancied and smiled. “Girl, remember this: that boy, he once grumbled face-to-face with Wang Xianzhi about all the shortcomings of Wudi City. He drank wine at the same table as Cao Changqing, and he swore at Prince Zhao Biao of Guangling to his face. Of course, the most important thing is, this fellow gave me the nickname ‘Peach Blossom Sword God.’ Pretty amazing, isn’t he?”

The young woman was too astonished to speak.

The old donkey’s hooves gently tapped the ground, its sounds receding further and further.

The Peach Blossom Sword God on the donkey’s back suddenly felt a hint of regret. Among the Four Grandmasters, he had already fought Tuoba Pusa, and Cao Changqing was now beyond reach. He wondered if he, Deng Tai’a, would ever have a chance to spar with that young man named Xu in his lifetime.

*Young man, don’t die.**Wouldn’t it be pathetic to die under the hooves of the Northern Mang barbarians?*

After the death of Wang Laoguai, the "Sea-Calming Divine Needle," in Beiliang, Wudi City’s status in the martial world plummeted. Especially after Yu Xinlang and others successively left the Eastern Sea, this former martial holy land experienced a long period of unrest. Factions of various sizes emerged and vied for control within the city. With the lifting of the martial arts ban, duels and challenges between experts became so frequent that it was hard to find a high enough spot for a fight. Skirmishes between sects were countless. It was said that busybodies had calculated that over sixty sects suddenly rose and fell within just half a year, though many of these so-called gangs were just a few insignificant individuals. This chaos only began to stabilize when the young man named Jiang spent half a year "beating the tides" on the city wall. There were many speculations about his identity. Some said Jiang Fuding was Wang Xianzhi’s true reclusive disciple, others that he was a banished immortal like Qi Xuanzhen, possessing immense destiny, and was the one fated to counter the King of Beiliang in this generation.

Jiang Fuding, who kept to himself in Wudi City, paid no attention to worldly affairs, simply "beating the tides" on the city wall day after day. The handsome young man who once wore a "Crossing the River Soldier" saber at his waist and provoked the King of Beiliang had tanned to a fisherman’s bronze. Since the boxing grandmaster Lin Ya left Wudi City, Jiang Fuding had stopped drinking excessively. It wasn't really a usurpation; Wang Xianzhi’s residence had become ownerless territory. Jiang Fuding, relying on his fists, had solely occupied Wang Laoguai’s former abode, smashing anyone who dared to challenge him or was foolish enough to get in his way.

This night, a bright moon hung over the sea. Bathed in moonlight, Jiang Fuding uncharacteristically carried a flask of wine to the city wall, sat cross-legged, and slowly drank. This young man, whose identity was extremely mysterious, had once been young, arrogant, and incomparable. In the vast Tai’an City, among his peers, he found General Gu Jiantang’s two sons too rigid, the Fourth Prince of that time merely possessing an elegant reputation but lacking ambition, and the First Prince Zhao Wu crude and unbearable. He found the children of high-ranking officials to be good-for-nothings, ultimately only truly getting along with Zhao Kai, the former emperor’s illegitimate son. Before Zhao Kai returned to the capital from Shangyin Academy and before his death at Iron Gate Pass in the Western Regions, the two had a drunken night. One vowed to achieve unparalleled military feats for the Liyang Zhao imperial family, while the other jokingly said, “The empire is yours, the martial world is mine. If I help you, Zhao Kai, sit on the dragon throne, how about you make me, Jiang Fuding, a carefree prince?”

Jiang Fuding gazed at the bright moonlit sea, lost in thought. In terms of family background, Zhao Kai was the emperor’s son and a disciple of Grand Tutor Yang. But Jiang Fuding was no less. He was the son of Liyang’s Imperial Tutor. Though he had completely lived under an assumed name since childhood to evade endless revenge assassinations, not sharing his father’s surname Yuan, Jiang Fuding often wondered how such an easygoing couple could have raised such a peculiar, pedantic child, known as the most rigid child in Tai’an City.

The child, who shared the surname Gou with the old couple, handed a cage of steamed buns to Jiang Fuding and said earnestly, “Twenty cash. I’ll put it on your tab for now. If you forget, I’ll remind you.”

Jiang Fuding replied helplessly, “Gou Buli, it’s just twenty cash. I won’t shortchange you.”

The little boy widened his eyes. “My surname is Gou, and my given name is Youfang! Taken from the sage’s classic: ‘While your parents are alive, do not travel far; if you must travel, have a fixed direction.’”

Jiang Fuding, who had been quiet for so long in the Eastern Sea, would only reveal a hint of his former demeanor as a top noble scion from the capital when he met this interesting child. He smiled, “You don’t even know who your parents are, so why bother with ‘having a fixed direction’? I think the nickname your childhood sweetheart, that girl in green, gave you is more suitable. Gou Buli, ‘dog doesn’t care about it’ – it’s so catchy when you say it.”

The child’s face stiffened. “Speak no evil.”

Jiang Fuding burst out laughing. “What do you know about propriety, you little brat? Back in the day, the scholar who taught me that 'propriety is reason' was none other than the Duke Yansheng, the Sage of Zhang Mansion himself.”

The child frowned. “Whether that master was learned or not, I don’t know. But I do know his student didn’t learn well.”

Jiang Fuding, being teased and lectured by a child, didn’t get angry. He sat on the city wall, opened the slightly cool bamboo cage, delicately picked up a small, exquisite steamed bun with two fingers, and gently tossed it into his mouth, filling his mouth with fragrance, the aftertaste endless. In Tai’an City back then, he had eaten countless delicacies, said to be the world’s finest, but their tastes were long forgotten. Now, these small meat buns, costing only two cash each, would be sorely missed if he didn’t have a cage a day.

Jiang Fuding smacked his lips, eating six or seven buns in one go. Then, as if recalling something from the past, he chuckled, “A big rain fell in Tai’an City and drowned many fish.”

Gou Youfang sighed softly, “That’s not funny.”

Jiang Fuding looked down at the buns in the cage and sighed, “Yes, people eat from the earth their whole lives, and the earth eats people back, just once.”

The child didn’t speak, as at his young age, he likely didn’t have such feelings.

Jiang Fuding suddenly turned to look at the child standing beside him and smiled, “After the Minor Grandmaster stage, entering the Vajra realm relies on perseverance. The Profound Finger realm relies on talent and comprehension. To possess the grandeur of heaven and earth, one needs innate bone structure. As for Land Immortals, that depends on elusive destiny. Gou Buli, do you want to practice martial arts?”

The child shook his head without hesitation. “No.”

Jiang Fuding was surprised. “In Wudi City, dealing with martial artists every day, and you don’t want to practice martial arts?”

The child said softly, “I heard people say that practicing martial arts is a bottomless pit, no amount of silver can fill it. I don’t have money.”

Jiang Fuding suddenly stared intently at the last bun in the cage and asked in surprise, “Gou Buli, I remember I already ate ten buns. How is there one extra today?”

The child calmly replied, “Grandpa said that you martial artists need to strengthen your bodies, so you need to eat more. So I asked Grandpa for one extra. Only one extra, otherwise this cage of buns would lose money. It’s not easy for my grandpa to earn money.”

Jiang Fuding first gave a wry smile, then his face softened with a gentle smile, as if he was reluctant to immediately eat that eleventh small steamed bun.

Jiang Fuding finally picked up that bun and slowly ate it, gazing into the distance with a soft laugh. “What I give you, you may not want, and in the long run, it may not even be truly good for you. But I’m leaving this city soon, and I probably won’t come back. Still, I’ll miss you, little rascal, and I hope you live well. And I hope that someday, when you grow up, and I haven’t been 'eaten by the earth' yet, you’ll come find me. I’ll definitely treat you to a drink then.”

Hearing that Jiang Fuding was leaving Wudi City, the child felt a little disappointed, but he didn’t show it on his face. He just nodded and said, “Good.”

Jiang Fuding smiled, holding the bamboo cage in one hand, and looked out at the vast sea with its rising and falling tides. He laughed heartily, “Don’t you see the Three Mountains and Five Peaks high in the clouds? Don’t you see the boundless sand and wind of the northwest killing people with pain? Don’t you see the great river flowing to the sea, never to return! Listen, life is but a hundred years; if you seek immortality, it’s only in a cup of wine!”

The child, infected by Jiang Fuding’s heroic spirit, also beamed, and for once, joked, “When we meet again, you must treat me to good wine.”

Jiang Fuding fiercely threw the bamboo cage into the sea, then reached out and ruffled the child’s head. “It’s nothing!”

The child was stunned, then frantically cried out, “Jiang Fuding! Why did you throw away the bun cage?! I have to take it back to Grandpa!”

Jiang Fuding was speechless and felt quite in the wrong.

A long, long time later, in the martial world where the older generation of grandmasters had passed away, there would be a fascinating saying:

Yu Dilong was not truly peerless,Because Gou Youfang still existed in the world.

For the common people south of Liyang’s Guangling River, it was hard to imagine places where frost had not entirely ended even by early summer. This was Liangliao, a land of black mountains and white waters, where Liyang Dynasty’s first and last snows might fall, and where winter blizzards, known as "great whiteouts," could cover the sky and earth. In the bitter cold of last winter, two individuals, escorted personally by Qi Jiajie, entered Liangliao from north of the capital region. For the capital’s foremost swordsman to mobilize such an escort was naturally because one of the two, Yu Xinlang, was a martial grandmaster secretly courted by various powers. After Yu Xinlang politely declined the current Emperor Zhao Zhuan’s request for him to stay, the Emperor asked Qi Jiajie to accompany him all the way, to deter other factions’ covetous thoughts. Befriending Yu Xinlang, Wang Xianzhi’s eldest disciple, was almost equivalent to fully inheriting the mantle of Wudi City. Lou Huang, Lou Banque, Lin Ya, and the other three, even if they couldn’t be directly employed, could at least be allied with. Liangliao had confronted the Northern Mang barbarians for many years, but the flames of war had never spread there. Thus, even the middle-aged man had never witnessed battlefield carnage since childhood. His family, when exiled north for their crimes, brought a large box of books. Even though there was only one son per generation, fathers taught their sons to read and write, maintaining an unbroken literary tradition that many gentry families in the Central Plains could not.

Yu Xinlang chose to reside with this family precisely because he felt an affinity for the rare scholarly aura the middle-aged man possessed in the north. When he heard Yu Xinlang say he would leave the village for Jinzhou City tomorrow, the man, having lost a drinking companion, inevitably felt a tinge of regret. Perhaps after half a bowl of wine, the middle-aged man, with poor drinking capacity but excellent drinking etiquette, lost his inhibitions and chuckled softly, “Brother Yu, are you going to see the King of Beiliang’s ancestral home? To be honest, there’s nothing much to see. Firstly, ordinary people can’t get close; there are guards from the princely residence. Secondly, many say it’s just two or three dilapidated houses. It’s said that many who went to Jinzhou City for the excitement left disappointed.”

Yu Xinlang asked, “Many people go to Jinzhou?”

The man slurped down the remaining half-bowl of wine and laughed, “Indeed! There are many stories about that. We’re only about eighty li from Jinzhou. Any valuable things found in the village, like mink or fox furs, especially wild ginseng, which the government officially forbids private excavation of, are confidently entrusted to me, your ‘accountant’ who knows a few words, to secretly sell in Jinzhou City. So I’m no stranger to Jinzhou City…”

Although the woman had a great fondness for Yu Xinlang and the little girl, when her husband mentioned selling ginseng privately, she still subtly kicked him under the table. The man didn’t overtly criticize his wife but pretended nothing had happened and continued, “As for that infamous Butcher, even though he left Jinzhou over twenty years ago and died in Beiliang, the people of Jinzhou still talk about him with relish. Ten years ago was the liveliest time. It’s said that many fallen powerful families from the Central Plains, who had irreconcilable hatred for the Butcher, didn’t dare seek revenge in Beiliang, so they thought of digging up the Xu family’s ancestral graves. If our King of Jiaodong hadn’t always been on good terms with the Butcher, they probably would have suffered a disaster. I think our King of Jiaodong was also collaterally damaged by that Butcher; otherwise, with His Royal Highness’s abilities, he wouldn’t be in such a dismal state now. Last time, Brother Yu, you said that King of Huainan, Zhao Ying, also died heroically in battle. Our King, though not comparable to the Butcher or King Yan Che, is surely more than capable than that King of Huainan and the New King of Jing’an, isn’t he? Otherwise, he wouldn’t have become King of Jiaodong. Besides Beiliang, only here do the princely fiefdoms directly face the Northern Mang barbarians, right? If the late emperor hadn’t trusted our King’s capabilities, he wouldn’t have made such arrangements.”

Yu Xinlang nodded. The late Liyang emperor’s placement of the princes was painstakingly deliberate. Zhao Ying was confined under his watchful eye in Huainan Road, the ambitious Zhao Bing was exiled to the Southern Border, his full brother Zhao Yi was given control over the entire kingdom’s wealthiest Guangling Road, and the most unruly King of Jing’an was placed in Qingzhou and Xiangfan, surrounded by enemies. Only Xu Xiao and Zhao Sui were placed in the northern frontier regions. The middle-aged man, who was not a scholar and never claimed to be one, had unwittingly finished two bowls of wine. This was usually his limit, but perhaps due to the sentiment of "a thousand cups are too few when drinking with a kindred spirit," he poured himself another bowl. His wife couldn’t stop him. He raised the wine bowl, sniffed it, but didn't drink. He looked up at Yu Xinlang opposite him, his eyes somewhat unfocused. This middle-aged man, far from the smoke of war and the imperial court, seemed to start muttering to himself. “My ancestors’ home in Eastern Yue was destroyed by General Gu Jiantang. It might not have been the Butcher’s doing. Since my grandfather’s time, we’ve had no ill will towards the Butcher, and I’m no exception. I used to hear that Tai’an City was the fiercest place for slandering the Butcher, then Guangling Road, where ‘six out of ten scholars excelled,’ followed by Jiangnan with its countless renowned scholars. Now, even the New King of Beiliang is slandered, and it seems the more they slander, the higher their official positions. There’s even a Vice Minister of Rites who, I hear, is from Beiliang… Heh, so I really want to understand one thing: since those people have already become officials of the Liyang court, many of them haven’t even met the Butcher or the New King of Beiliang, and their families’ rise to prominence is even owed to the Butcher’s conquests. So why bother slandering? Brother Yu, you’re well-traveled, and judging by your demeanor, you must be a well-read man. Can you enlighten me, brother?”

Yu Xinlang hesitated, then chuckled, “Pick up the bowl to eat, put down the chopsticks to curse?”

The middle-aged man sighed, “Indeed! A country without heroes is like a house without pillars, and people without backbone.”

The man took a large gulp from his third bowl of wine and was truly drunk. Under his wife’s care, he lay down and slept, still mumbling that if the New King of Beiliang couldn’t defend the northwest, he would also curse him, along with the young prince’s father. The middle-aged man’s wife gave a wry smile, muttering, “He truly thinks he’s a high official. You haven’t put this much effort into farming all these years.” Despite her grumbling, the woman lowered her gaze to her husband’s face, which had grown much rougher than in his youth. A faint smile involuntarily appeared on her dark complexion. *Who made you so handsome? I had to compete with many other women to win you over back then. Even if your farming is mediocre, it doesn't matter.*

Upon hearing that remark, Yu Xinlang abruptly downed a bowl of wine and calmly said, “How sorrowful is a nation without heroes. And how much more sorrowful is a nation that has heroes but doesn’t know how to respect them.”

Yu Xinlang got off the heated kang bed and sat outside with the little girl on small stools. He turned to look at her, lost in thought with her chin resting in her hand, and smiled, “How about we go to another place to find your Grandpa Gao’s disciple?”

The little girl turned her head and rolled her eyes. “If you want to go to Beiliang, just say so. I don’t really care.”

Yu Xinlang immediately felt a bit awkward. Just as he was about to speak, the little girl said earnestly, “Go on, go on. Anyway, I miss Uncle Lou. That Uncle Lou, even when he was in Wudi City with us, didn’t really know how to take care of himself. I don’t feel at ease with him out there!”

Yu Xinlang ruffled her little head and laughed, “Yes, yes. Uncle Lou, Uncle Gong, and your Auntie Lin—they all need you.”

She hurriedly extended a finger and shushed him. “You have to call her Sister Lin! If you call her Auntie Lin, she’ll get angry.”

Yu Xinlang burst out laughing. “No wonder Master said you fear nothing but Lin Ya.”

The little girl suddenly sighed, then earnestly said to Yu Xinlang, “Little Yu, let’s agree first: when we get to Beiliang, no fighting with people. Just talk things out nicely, okay?”

Yu Xinlang feigned surprise. “Oh? Who was it that said if you can use your hands, don’t use your mouth to argue?”

The little girl lifted her chin and fiercely said, “I haven’t finished the second half of that sentence yet! When it’s time to use your mouth to argue, you should discuss things properly. Those who use their fists aren’t true heroes.”

Yu Xinlang narrowed his eyes and said gently, “If you ever roam the martial world, you’ll definitely become a first-rate heroine.”

The little girl nodded vigorously, then rested her head on Yu Xinlang’s lap, muffled. “Little Yu, I actually wanted to go to Beiliang a long time ago. I want to see the place where Grandpa Gao passed away.”

Yu Xinlang gently nodded, remaining silent.

The little girl quietly looked up, tear stains still visible, but a smile now graced her face. “Little Yu, Little Yu, Beiliang is in the northwest, so won’t we be drinking northwest wind every day then?”

Yu Xinlang smiled. “Indeed. That place is now a battlefield everywhere. We might even have to eat a lot of sand.”

Being an official in the capital was not easy. Even Fan Changhou, after being personally bestowed the title of "This Dynasty’s Foremost Chess Grandmaster" by the current emperor and becoming a rising star in the Hanlin Academy, couldn't help but feel this way. The Fan family was considered a scholarly household, but in Xiangzhou, they weren’t particularly prominent. When he was summoned to the capital, he traveled alone, bringing neither page boys nor servants. He had about seven or eight hundred taels in banknotes, thinking that while he might not live extravagantly in the capital, he wouldn’t be too destitute. He never expected to realize the immense expenses once he actually became a capital official. Fan Changhou, after all, had not been granted the emperor’s honor of a residence and wasn’t a proper imperial examination graduate. Thus, in Tai’an City, he had no influential patrons or fellow graduates to rely on, nor any financial assistance from compatriots. However, a capital official, especially one with a distinguished position like a Huangmen Attendant in the Hanlin Academy, required a residence that matched his official prestige. So, Fan Changhou gritted his teeth and rented the former residence of an elderly, retired Vice Minister of Works. It was a place with studies, gardens, and lush flowers and trees, though barely. This alone cost him two hundred taels of silver, and that was a generous price given by the old minister out of respect for the Huangmen Attendant. For other ordinary officials, let alone two hundred, even double that, four hundred taels, would not have been enough.

Moreover, the Liyang court was not entirely responsible for official attire. Aside from a few sets of ceremonial robes provided by the Ministry of Rites, officials had to purchase all others themselves. The diverse range of official uniforms also represented a significant expense. Fan Changhou only realized after serving in the Hanlin Academy for some time that many old-fashioned Hanlin scholars, who were not adept at generating wealth, were so poor that they had to borrow official robes year-round. To make matters worse, as a rising star in Tai’an City’s official circles, Fan Changhou faced numerous social engagements, banquets, and colleagues’ weddings and funerals, causing this solitary young man to spend money like water. Coupled with the dignity required of a Hanlin scholar, the daily stationery needed for writing, and various other expenses, it was fortunate that Fan Changhou had brought about twenty unique and rare imperial-edition books with him to the capital. Many of his Hanlin colleagues were avid bibliophiles, to the point of borrowing money to buy books even if penniless. After receiving these gifts, Fan Changhou began to establish himself in the Hanlin Academy. He also promised many literary figures and capital officials that he would purchase large, multi-volume sets of books locally printed in his hometown, which were relatively cheaper. This left a good impression of Fan Changhou. In truth, "purchasing" was merely an excuse; he was simply parting with cherished items from his family collection. He believed that the seasoned veterans who had served in government for half their lives were well aware of this, but both sides chose not to reveal it.

Officials from outside the capital usually gathered in the city’s southeast, an area with pleasant scenery. Southern scholars like Fan Changhou would enter the capital through this area. Thus, many successful and prominent Liyang officials, even those granted residences within the inner city and serving in the central government, still owned villas and residences here, making it convenient to mentor younger generations. Most of Tai’an City’s poetry gatherings were also held here. As spring turned to summer, approaching Mangzhong (Grain in Ear), an ancient saying goes, "Spring strives for days, summer strives for time." Historically, around Mangzhong, a large number of literati and refined scholars would hold gatherings near Xiran Pavilion. Interestingly, some wealthy family had specifically set aside over twenty acres of rice paddies, rarely seen in the north, south of Xiran Pavilion for people to admire. In summer, at night, one could truly hear the croaking of countless frogs. This year’s Xiran Pavilion gathering was particularly interesting. Perhaps the old ministers had reached a tacit agreement: from Grand Councillor Qi Yanglong to Tantang Weng of the Imperial Chancellery, and the prominent Zhao Youring and Yin Maochun from the Spring of Yonghui, none of them joined the festivities this year. However, almost all the most renowned young people in Tai’an City—from Chen Wang, Yan Jiexie, Jin Lanting, to Li Jifu, Gao Tingshu, and Sun Yin—attended the Xiran Pavilion banquet without exception. The rising Fan Changhou was naturally also among them.

This culturally rich gathering had no strict initiator; it was simply a matter of friends inviting friends, and people bringing people, making Xiran Pavilion unprecedentedly lively.

At that time, after Fan Changhou and the young official from the Imperial Astronomical Bureau played a game of Go in front of the Emperor and Empress, six people remained until the end. Among them, Chen Wang and the top scholar Li Jifu conversed happily, while Imperial Uncle Yan Chiji chatted with Song Keli. Fan Changhou, meanwhile, found himself quite compatible with the maverick Sun Yin regarding the art of Go. What was interesting was that their subsequent careers in the capital generally followed this trend: Li Jifu was often an esteemed guest at Chen Wang’s residence, and in the Hanlin Academy, Yan Chiji and the talented Song Keli collaborated on historical texts, reportedly getting along very well. Although Fan Changhou and Sun Yin were not yet bosom friends, they occasionally discussed the world’s situation. Today, Fan Changhou met with Sun Yin first, then they traveled together to Xiran Pavilion. Many officials in Tai’an City would jokingly say, “High officials ride skinny horses, so as not to appear rich.” But Sun Yin, who had once been demoted, was different. He openly bought a tall Northern Liang horse and rode it to and from every imperial audience and duty, attracting much attention. Fan Changhou was fortunate enough to get a ride today, sharing a horse with Sun Yin. Nearing Xiran Pavilion, where carriages were like dragons and people flowed like a river, Fan Changhou dismounted and couldn’t help but rub his backside. Sun Yin could truly ride a horse in Tai’an City as if galloping across the desert, making it quite a painful experience for Fan Changhou. Sun Yin, seeing Fan Changhou’s disheveled state, gloated.

An unassuming carriage arrived at Xiran Pavilion shortly after them, and two men in simple elegant blue robes stepped out. Fan Changhou recognized them as Chen Wang, Left Supervising Secretary of the Imperial Chancellery, and the top scholar Li Jifu. He expected Sun Yin, given his haughty nature, would at most glance at them and then ignore them. Unexpectedly, Sun Yin pulled him forward and actively greeted them. Li Jifu, who also saw them, was visibly surprised that Sun Yin would initiate a greeting, an incredulous look in his eyes. Chen Shaobao, however, whose official career in the entire Liyang Dynasty could rival Jin Sanlang's, showed no surprise at all and smiled warmly at them. “Brother Sun, Master Yuetian, let’s agree beforehand: I will not drink alcohol today; I can only substitute tea for wine. However, Jifu has already decided to drink until he drops, so feel free to ply him.”

Sun Yin snorted. “What if you drink tea? I’ll drink wine. One cup each, and I can still make Secretary Chen relieve himself four, five, six, seven times.”

Chen Wang gave a wry smile, cupped his hands, and pleaded, “Brother Sun, don’t bully a fellow countryman. I beg you, Brother Sun, to direct your fire at Jifu, or even Master Yuetian will do.”

Fan Changhou smiled. “Secretary Chen, you can’t rely on your high office to openly divert blame like that; it harms the court’s dignity.”

Li Jifu looked at the three uninhibited speakers, a hint of envy in his heart. Although he often met privately with this Vice Minister, who was both an imperial relative and a high-ranking official, he had never truly let his guard down. After every gathering, upon returning home, he would meticulously review whether his wording or conduct had been improper or rude. Li Jifu’s anxiety was understandable; everyone knew that Chen Shaobao, as the Emperor’s closest confidant, was on the verge of securing a seat in the minor court. Moreover, compared to ordinary capital officials, Li Jifu knew more reliable inside information: the Central Secretariat, which had been vacant for decades in the Liyang court, was brimming with new opportunities after Qi Yanglong took charge. Chen Wang, serving as Left Supervising Secretary in the Imperial Chancellery, was already a high-ranking third-rank official, but it was highly probable that he would transfer to the Central Secretariat within a year or two to assume the position of Vice Minister of the Central Secretariat, which no one had yet truly filled. While there were many vice ministers in the Three Departments and Six Ministries, the Vice Minister of the Central Secretariat was undoubtedly the most influential. It was a general trend for Hanlin scholars not to receive favorable posthumous titles, but these rules didn’t apply to Chen Shaobao. A Vice Minister of the Central Secretariat in his early thirties might not have been astonishing in the old Liyang dynasty, marred by military rule, but Li Jifu dared to assert that this would be an unprecedented achievement in officialdom.

Zhao Youring, Yin Maochun, and Jin Lanting, all meticulously calculating, eagerly eyed the Grand Councillor title. But only Chen Wang seemed so absent-minded and strolled with such ease.

Perhaps many present at the time did not realize that this Xiran Pavilion gathering in Xiangfu Year Two would leave behind many celebrated and elegant tales in later historical records. Dong Juran, the new star of calligraphy, praised by Tantang Weng himself for having “ghosts and gods in his wrist” and whose characters were like "bathing in a spring breeze," penned the timeless masterpiece "Xiran Pavilion." The young painter Huang Quan, who was exceptionally promoted by Qi Yanglong, after Jin Lanting, Vice Minister of Rites, personally unfurled a scroll for him, got thoroughly drunk and, with a flourish, painted “The Drunken Eight Immortals,” which His Majesty the Emperor hung in his imperial study that very day. And the long poem, “Knight-Errant Roams the Capital,” which spread throughout the capital almost overnight, began with Sun Yin and was co-written by sixty-four people, including Jin Lanting, Yan Chiji, Song Keli, Chen Wang, Fan Changhou, and Gao Tingshu, making it a globally renowned work.

Of course, Xiran Pavilion on that day was not only graced by talented gentlemen but also by captivating beauties. Three top courtesans of the capital, each with their unique charms, took the stage to dance or sing. In particular, the woman once listed on the Rouge List, Li Baishi, renowned for her double excellence in voice and beauty, performed a solo dance that astounded all present. What was even more remarkable was that after that day, Li Baishi completely vanished from Tai’an City without a trace, disappearing so decisively as if she had never existed in this world. Afterwards, some speculated from her scattered remarks at the banquet that she had fallen in love with an unnamed swordsman and wanderer, and they had gone off to live a carefree life as immortal companions in the martial world.

*No wind, no rain, yet the romance dissipates naturally.*

The crowd at the banquet gradually dispersed well into the night. Li Jifu was already dead drunk. Chen Wang, the highest-ranking official and the only one who hadn't drunk, originally intended to personally escort Li Jifu away, but he was held back and couldn’t escape. So, he had to ask someone else to take Li Jifu back. And that person turned out to be none other than the esteemed Jin Lanting, Vice Minister of Rites, who personally helped Li Jifu back to his carriage along with Gao Tingshu. Sun Yin also left late, but whereas two people had arrived, only one rode away, oblivious to his surroundings, galloping madly on his horse, reeking of alcohol, startling many refined young ladies from prominent families in the capital. Fan Changhou, at the urging of others, engaged in another game of Go with Wu Congxian. Both displayed brilliant moves. Although Wu Congxian lost the game, he did not lose his spirit, leaving onlookers thoroughly impressed. After this match, Wu Congxian implicitly established Fan Changhou’s position as second only to him in Liyang Go. Yan Chiji and Song Keli, along with their fellow townsman nicknamed Kong Wuchi (Martial Idiot Kong), left together. The poem “Xiran Pavilion,” the painting “The Drunken Eight Immortals,” and the poem “Knight-Errant Roams the Capital”—one literary work, one painting, and one poem—were entrusted to this young imperial relative, who would soon deliver them to the imperial palace.

The night deepened, and the lanterns still glowed brightly. Only about a dozen people remained at Xiran Pavilion. Everyone in the capital knew that Chen Wang, who famously never touched alcohol, stayed until the very end. Fan Changhou and Wu Congxian had finished their game, and the latter had left with a group of friends in high spirits. Those still lingering in the pavilion were all rising stars in Tai’an City’s officialdom, willing to set aside their pride to ingratiate themselves with Chen Wang, a central government official. However, as scholars with inherent grace, even when they had drunk too much, their conversations and demeanor remained refined, naturally exceptional. Chen Wang was never one to put on airs and got along harmoniously with them all. Finally, someone, still not having had enough, spent some silver to call for a musician, a singing girl who had been performing for money at the gathering. The woman held a pipa, unpainted with makeup. Though not exceptionally beautiful, in the flickering lamplight, she possessed a delicate charm. Clearly, her business had been slow at the banquet today; she hadn’t attracted much custom, unlike her peers who, though tired, already had bulging purses. This woman sat on a small stool prepared outside the pavilion. Before plucking the pipa, she quickly glanced at the group seated on prayer mats in front of the pavilion. There were about ten people, most seated on the steps. The steps had varying heights, with two young men seated side by side at the highest point. She could guess that since these people were present at Xiran Pavilion, and not far from it like most scholars, they must be the most prominent figures at today’s suburban capital banquet. They were truly important people in vast Tai’an City, and even if not today, they certainly would be in the future. She was momentarily lost in thought, curious about how these young gentlemen, waiting for her pipa music, would appear if they wore their official robes.

The gentleman who had hired her to sing, seated on a lower step, smiled and gently prompted, “Lady, it’s time to begin.”

Her pretty face flushed, and she said softly, a little flustered, “Please wait a moment, Young Master. Allow your humble servant to test the sound.”

Listening to the woman’s gentle plucking of the pipa strings, Fan Changhou, who was incidentally seated beside Chen Shaobao, smiled and said, “This is typical of the Wu family’s technique from our Xiangzhou region, excelling in rapid finger-plucking from below. The notes are not too high, the rhythm not too hurried; it’s graceful and measured. It doesn’t have the fullness of northern large bows, but it possesses a unique charm. Hence, the repertoire mostly consists of gentle, Southern-style melodies. After a night of drinking, listening to such a tune is indeed comforting.”

Chen Wang smiled and nodded, saying softly, “It wasn’t until I came to the capital that I realized the pipa in my hometown also had a saying of ‘horse drum.’ I was just a poor scholar back then and couldn’t travel to the border regions for studies. It’s shameful to admit, even if I wanted to pretend to be cultured, I was only destined to make a fool of myself. So for all these years, I’ve wisely avoided attending banquets and gatherings. People say I’m not good at seeking reputation, but that’s truly overpraising me.”

The song’s name, “Daughter’s Red,” speaks of the waters of Jiangnan, the wine of Jiangnan, and the women of Jiangnan…

Then, hearing the woman’s clear vocal prelude to the song, Fan Changhou exclaimed, “Oh!” and laughed. “What a coincidence! It speaks of Daughter’s Red wine. My hometown has had this custom since ancient times: when a daughter is born into the family, a jar of wine is buried. The day the wine is drunk is the day the girl marries. Besides that, there’s also ‘Zhuangyuan Red,’ which is only taken out to entertain guests when a man in the family achieves scholarly honors…”

Then Fan Changhou suddenly noticed that Chen Wang seemed somewhat lost in thought.

*A single grain of rice-whispers encircles the beam, two parts flowing water, the sky slightly cool, just as three parts apricot blossoms fragrant. A spring thunderclap buries a jar, eighteen years pass, Daughter’s Red, daughter’s smile, daughter’s charm, new wine becomes aged, the young lady waits for her red bridal dress…*

Fan Changhou, listening with closed eyes to the pipa music and the woman’s singing, finally sighed softly. It turned out the ending of this song was not as beautiful as its wine’s name. The woman in the song waited for many years, but still couldn’t wait for the young man who was far away, and she didn’t wear a red dress for any other man. She simply died. According to custom, if a daughter in the family dies unmarried, that jar of Daughter’s Red wine would be called “Flower Carving” and also had to be taken out and drunk. At the end of the song, it was said that the young man finally returned home, having achieved the top scholar rank, but could only drink that jar of wine alone at her grave.

When Fan Changhou opened his eyes, he could no longer discern any abnormality on Chen Wang’s face.

The music ended, and people gradually dispersed. Without Fan Changhou even having to ask, someone proactively lent this Huangmen Attendant a fine horse. As Fan Changhou mounted the horse, he inadvertently turned his head and saw Chen Wang standing outside the pavilion, seemingly saying something to the singing girl before heading to his carriage. Fan Changhou had no inclination to investigate whatsoever. Given Chen Wang’s widely praised character and Fan Changhou’s own understanding of this Chen Shaobao, he would never have believed that this Left Supervising Secretary harbored any frivolous intentions.

Fan Changhou rode slowly. In the past, he was far from the imperial court, living in the Jianghu. Now, he resided high in the imperial halls.

*My teacher, even Sun Yin now wants to be a good official. Although I, Fan Changhou, cannot play your game of Spring and Autumn, I will do my best to play my own game of Go well.*

In the distance, Chen Wang boarded his carriage. Before getting in, he asked the woman with the pipa a question: If the young man in the song returned late, would it have been better if he hadn’t returned at all?

The woman, timid, didn’t know how to answer. Chen Wang had merely spoken casually and then bid her farewell, departing.

Chen Wang slumped against the carriage wall. Even when he married the golden-branched, jade-leafed Zhao family lady, even with his father-in-law being a duke of the realm, Chen Wang never drank at the wedding feast. For this, many noble scions of the Zhao imperial family who attended the wedding had mocked him. But after all these years, Chen Wang had moved through various departments in the capital, repeatedly making great advancements. Not to mention those minor noble descendants, even the powerful dukes and princes now dared only to treat him as an equal.

This day, Chen Wang surprisingly brought back a small bottle of wine. Just yesterday, he had received a discreet verbal intelligence report. It contained only four words: “Deceased. Regrets.” The “regrets” belonged to Beiliang. It was like the pitiful woman in the song who waited for her Daughter’s Red wine to turn into Flower Carving, but still never saw her beloved return.

South of Jiangnan, every household rained during the plum season.North of the Northwest, catkins flew in the reed marshes.

Chen Wang drank the wine, sip by sip. Silently, he drank without stopping, and tears flowed continuously.

Chen Wang’s first thought was to direct his anger at that young prince, at all of Beiliang, to which he felt no attachment anymore. Everything he had done all these years, besides the silver and the kindness shown to him, was primarily because she was in Beiliang. He hoped Beiliang would be stable. In the end, he simply wished for her to be safe. For this, he had not feared serving a ruler like serving a tiger, nor the shifting tides of officialdom. This incredibly restrained man feared only that he might speak her name in his sleep.

But in the end, he, who could, with a single word, instigate changes in the empire’s land records, who could persuade the emperor to tighten restrictions on river transport, did nothing. On the official road, under the night sky, in the carriage, a man who might become the second Chief Grand Councillor Zhang of Liyang wept like a child.

If Xiangfu Year One was a year that astonished the Liyang orthodoxy yet left them confident, then Xiangfu Year Two was a year shrouded in gloom, gradually instilling unease. In the late spring of this year, under Cao Changqing’s personal command, the West Chu rebels gained overwhelming momentum. King of Jing’an Zhao Xun’s Qingzhou Navy failed to arrive in time for rescue, and Prince Zhao Yi’s Guangling Navy was utterly annihilated. This directly led to the fragile equilibrium that Song Li had painstakingly achieved on land in Guangling Road being easily shattered on the waters of the Guangling River. More worryingly, after the elite forces from the Southern Border, the most crucial reinforcements, had to avoid the less powerful Qingzhou Navy, they could only land at a few narrow crossings upstream on the Guangling River. Meanwhile, Prince Zhao Yi, having lost all his naval forces, suffered a crushing defeat. As Xie Xichui personally took charge of the eastern front, coordinating with the West Chu Navy advancing downstream, Zhao Yi’s remaining forces were forced to retreat further into a corner, effectively surrendering all territory they had retaken from Song Li. The battle on the river, affecting everything, also forced General Lu Shengxiang’s main army, commander of the southern campaign, to halt its advance and hold strategic points to prevent Xie Xichui’s West Chu forces from pushing north and counterattacking. This naturally turned the Liyang court’s planned grand strategy of a pincer attack from north and south, converging from east and west, to besiege the West Chu capital, into a mere fantasy.

Fortunately, at this time of national unrest, the capital still had the Xiran Pavilion gathering, which meant public sentiment remained stable. Furthermore, Chen Zhibao, having received an imperial decree, personally led ten thousand elite soldiers into Shu. On the eastern front of Liangliao and the border of Jibei, Grand Marshal Gu Jiantang and the new General of Jizhou, Yuan Tingshan, also achieved a series of brilliant victories.

At midday, on the Guangling River, several newly re-flagged large tower ships, now flying the Jiang family banner, sailed upstream. They did not stop on the river outside the West Chu capital but continued further upriver. These warships were captured from Prince Zhao Yi of Guangling during the river battle. Ironically, these tower ships, which should have exerted immense power in that battle, were almost completely intact before changing hands. Aboard a towering ship in the center, a group of people stood by the rail. There was a man with temples streaked with white, his blue robe exuding unparalleled elegance. A young woman with a purple sword case on her back displayed extraordinary grace. Armored generals stood, brimming with vigor and stern dignity. There was also a group of court officials in ceremonial robes who had temporarily boarded to enjoy the scenery, conversing and laughing. Among them, two young men were most conspicuous. If one disregarded their identities, one was plain-looking with a restrained demeanor; he drew attention simply by his position, standing beside the blue-robed middle-aged man, his brow subtly furrowed, a stark contrast to the relaxed ease of most generals and officials on board. The other young man, however, was truly eye-catching, making one marvel that such a divinely talented man could exist in the world. Dressed in white robes with a jade belt, standing against the wind, he was like a god or an immortal, enough to make others feel ashamed of themselves.

The four individuals closest to the bow were Cao Changqing, Jiang Ni, Xie Xichui, and Song Maolin.

Currently, Xie Xichui’s reputation in the Liyang court and among the populace was immense. Even common folk had heard that an astonishingly talented general had emerged among the West Chu rebels, almost possessing the same aura as Ye Baikui, the military strategist of the Spring and Autumn period. As for Song Maolin, though a rising star in the West Chu court, he was no less distinguished than the battle-hardened Xie Xichui. The two, one civil and one martial, were hailed as the “Two Jades of Great Chu.” Song Maolin, due to his outstanding appearance, resembling a banished immortal, and his brilliant literary talent, was also associated with the King of Beiliang in the saying “Northern Xu, Southern Song,” in addition to being one of the Two Jades of Chu. Song Maolin hailed from a powerful family; he was truly a favored son of heaven.

Cao Changqing, the cornerstone of West Chu, whose temples were now streaked with more white, suddenly turned to Xie Xichui and chuckled softly, “What, you finally drove away Song Li, but now Chen Zhibao has arrived with the Qingzhou Navy to the east, Wu Chongxuan to the south, and Lu Shengxiang has truly taken command of the northern forces? Do you feel the tough battles have just begun?”

Xie Xichui said softly, “If General Kou were still here, it would be much better.”

Cao Changqing casually laughed, “Don’t mind that fellow. He has a bad temper… and a big ambition too.”

Seemingly with some reservations, Xie Xichui remained silent.

Cao Changqing sighed, “Grand Tutor Sun said last year that West Chu dragged me, Cao Changqing, down. Now I also want to tell you, it is I, Cao Changqing, who has dragged you, my student, down.”

Xie Xichui shook his head. “Master must not think that way. My family has been citizens of Great Chu for generations. Great Chu gave birth to Xie Xichui, and I am willing to die for it.”

Cao Changqing suddenly laughed. “There’s a young man who really should meet you, so he can understand what a true scholar is. That fellow, back then, had quite a bit of resentment towards us scholars. The first time he met Tangxi Sword Immortal Lu Baixie on Jiangnan Road, he asked, ‘Sir, can you sell me a few catties of benevolence and righteousness?’ As for when he met me, he also didn’t give me a good look.”

Xie Xichui wondered, “But I observe Beiliang’s various actions, extensively promoting academies within its borders, and treating scholars who travel there exceptionally well. The New King of Beiliang doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

Cao Changqing smiled knowingly. “Perhaps when a man takes on responsibility, he can no longer act as he pleases. In any case, Xu Fengnian is indeed the most interesting young man I’ve ever met, without exception.”

Then Cao Changqing suddenly chuckled to himself, self-mockingly. “Even with such praise from me, Cao Changqing, Xu Fengnian probably wouldn’t feel the slightest bit honored, right? After all, he’s the foremost prince of Liyang, commanding three hundred thousand iron cavalry, and also a martial grandmaster on par with me, Official Cao. So, no matter how many good things I say, it can only be considered mutual appreciation? To be honest, a few years ago when I first met that young man, I could never have imagined the current situation. If I had known, I should have given him a good beating back then. Now, I could brag about it to you all.”

Xie Xichui felt a pang of sadness for no reason. His master, though always approachable, wasn't usually such a talkative elder.

Cao Changqing seemed to sense Xie Xichui’s thoughts and patted the young man’s shoulder, laughing. “Young people do young things. It’s fine to be reckless. It’s fine to force a sorrowful tone for a new poem. At thirty, one should take on responsibilities. As for me, being old, I should honestly act my age. Occasionally putting on airs as an old-timer is one of life’s few pleasures.”

Xie Xichui managed a strained smile. *Will even the most esteemed Master Cao of Great Chu grow old?*

Cao Changqing lowered his voice slightly. “That guest will arrive secretly by boat in the evening. You and Song Maolin stay by my side then; you won’t need to do anything.”

Xie Xichui asked, worried, “Why would the contemporary Duke Yansheng, from a sage family with an eight-hundred-year legacy, want to meet with Master? I don’t understand. At this point, what more is there to say?”

Cao Changqing did not immediately give an answer. Liu Songtao, who achieved Buddhahood at Rantuo Mountain in the Western Regions, came to him to persuade him to let go. Presumably, the Duke Yansheng would be much the same.

*Kings and nobles can dictate life and death with a single word. But where righteousness lies, we scholars of our generation are filled with passionate blood and gladly face death, fearing nothing.*

But if someone could, with a single word, determine whether a person would be remembered gloriously for centuries or forever be infamous, would they quiet their hearts and carefully consider?

Cao Changqing looked at the sky and murmured, “When family and country must be let go of, then they can only be let go of. The martial world is even more easily relinquished. But some things are desired yet cannot be let go of. Even with all the books I’ve read and all the truths I know, it’s still like this.”

Xie Xichui’s mind drifted far away. If he could someday, in this life, face the Beiliang iron cavalry squarely on the battlefield, he would die without regret. But such an opportunity would likely never arise.

Jiang Ni had, at some point, moved to a secluded spot, quietly gazing at the churning river surface. Song Maolin hesitated for a moment, then came to her side and softly said, “Princess.”

Jiang Ni, her back to this banished immortal, showed no reaction, clearly wanting to pretend she hadn’t heard, hoping Song Maolin would discreetly leave.

Song Maolin gave a wry smile. “Princess, I will only say one thing, then I’ll leave.”

Jiang Ni had no choice but to turn around. “Speak.”

Song Maolin’s voice was gentle and mellow. “This humble servant can guess where the princess went and whom she met a while ago. This humble servant dares not to criticize in the slightest, I only humbly beg the princess not to take such risks in the future. Many things in this world that should be borne by men have no reason to be helped by women.”

Jiang Ni said, “Oh,” but then there was no further reply.

Song Maolin smiled and bid farewell. But the next moment, Song Maolin felt a surge of pleasant surprise—the princess had actually called his name. He suppressed his excitement and slowly turned around.

Jiang Ni smiled. “Someone asked me to pass on a message to you. He said if he sees you again, he’ll beat you… until no one recognizes you.” Jiang Ni felt she had been quite considerate, changing “your parents” to the less offensive “no one.”

Song Maolin felt as if struck by lightning, his face rigid. *Poor banished immortal.*

Along a border line connecting Northern Mang and Liangliao, a cavalry army, heavily armored, galloped past almost under the very noses of the Liyang border guards. The commander of this army was the new supreme commander of Northern Mang’s Eastern Front, a legendary figure somewhat similar to, yet greatly different from, the Spring and Autumn period remnants who fled north to Northern Mang. This old man did not settle down in the Southern Dynasty but wandered alone across the Northern Court grasslands, much like Grand Councillor Taiping roaming Liyang’s lands. Though nearly fifty years old, the armored elder still showed no signs of aging, and one could vaguely discern that he must have been a top-tier handsome man in his youth. No wonder he had a constant stream of romantic affairs for over a decade; even the Northern Mang royal court heard of an old man of unknown background who seduced many noble ladies. It was only when this man suddenly became the Eastern Front commander that all of Northern Mang belatedly realized—it was him!

Wang Sui, known as one of the Four Famous Generals of the Spring and Autumn period alongside Ye Baikui, Xu Xiao, and Gu Jiantang, was the youngest and most unrestrained Prince Consort of Eastern Yue. Unlike Ye Baikui, who was victorious in a hundred battles but lost his entire kingdom in just one defeat, unlike the Butcher Xu Xiao, who became the ultimate winner but actually suffered many losses, and unlike Gu Jiantang, who was suspected of having an undeserved reputation, Wang Sui was truly undefeated on every battlefield he commanded. The fall of Eastern Yue was later attributed to the Eastern Yue court’s self-destruction, falling for Liyang’s stratagem of dissension, and removing Wang Sui from his command. Wang Sui himself also gracefully stepped down and then vanished without a trace.

After Wang Sui became the commanding general of another front in Northern Mang, following Dong Zhuo, Yang Yuanzan, and Liu Gui, he was different from the three who each had their own direct lineage of elite troops. Wang Sui went to his border post alone, casually riding an old horse. In Northern Mang’s easternmost front, where power factions abounded, Wang Sui neither drastically promoted nor demoted anyone, nor did he socialize with the various military leaders. He acted like an outsider watching a play, indifferent to everything, never interfering with military affairs, letting them do as they pleased. Wang Sui spent his days wandering aimlessly among the various armies, eyes narrowed, back bent, hands behind his back. This stunned the existing factions, who were either uneasy or resentful. Then, those Northern Mang military leaders became anxious. "Damn it! You’re idle all day; if His Majesty misunderstands that we’re conspiring to exclude you, surnamed Wang, where do we go to seek justice for this great injustice that we’ve suffered for no reason?" So, someone suggested that Wang Sui hold a large border review, at least to let him experience what it felt like to be the supreme commander of the Eastern Front army, as compensation for his tact.

Thus, today saw all the Eastern Front military commanders of Northern Mang assembled. However, many old Northern Mang border generals and seasoned commanders of ten thousand men looked askance at the man being surrounded, a sneer on their lips. *Your impressive show, Wang Sui, is just a grand facade.*

A grand facade was still a facade. Besides the mixed elite guards from various factions, Wang Sui was personally accompanied by Dazhuo Shiwei, the Autumn Nabao Commander, Wang Jingchong, the Winter Nabao Commander, and four or five robust commanders of ten thousand men. Northern Mang’s Eastern Front boasted three hundred thousand soldiers, but in reality, it was just over two hundred thousand. There were twenty-three commanders of ten thousand, and above them, two Northern Mang Grand Generals whose reputations were less prominent than Liu Gui and Yang Yuanzan. This was unavoidable. In the Southern Dynasty, there was the Beiliang iron cavalry to contend with, and occasionally, fierce, large-scale battles could be fought. But on the tranquil Eastern Front, they could only confront the two “big tortoises,” King of Jiaodong Zhao Sui and later Gu Jiantang. What military merits could be earned there? Their current situation was even worse; under Grand Councillor Taiping’s secret instructions, the Eastern Front suffered continuous defeats. The two Grand Generals felt they had brought shame upon themselves, even in Liyang.

Wang Sui suddenly reined in his horse, and the entire army was forced to halt their advance. The massive cavalry force of tens of thousands of men instantly transitioned from rapid movement to complete stillness. This caused Wang Sui, sitting high on his horse and surveying his surroundings, to utter a series of clicking sounds. However, his nonchalant, slick demeanor inevitably made one doubt if the old man was truly praising them. During this period, many commanders of a thousand, who had seen the supreme commander from a distance, were puzzled. *Could this old fellow truly be like the Butcher, the old King of Liang, a Central Plainsman who, having eaten his fill and having nothing better to do, muddled through the Jianghu, the small Jianghu? What if you are a match for ten thousand men? Can it compare to the clash of arms on the battlefield? Can it compare to the generous and tragic sacrifice of hundreds of thousands of armored men?*

*How can Xu Xiao’s son be so petty!*

*Xu Fengnian, your father’s entire foundation in Jinzhou was shattered by me, Wang Sui, back then. If you truly have the ability, come settle the score with me.*

*If you lose, then obediently accept your fate.*

*But if you can win even this, then this entire world should belong to you, Xu Fengnian.*