Chapter 829: Bold Lü Dongxuan

If one could soar on the wind and look down upon the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, they would see what looked like a fine silver thread effortlessly slicing through a vast, thick piece of black cloth.

Xu Fengnian and the Dragon Tiger Mountain Patriarch, who had "graced the mortal world with his presence," together broke through the Li family's heavily armored infantry formation.

Li Shouguo, the Imperial Guard Captain of the Shooting Sound Cavalry, who was leading the charge, unfortunately found himself directly in front of the infantry formation. The general's chest seemed to have taken a direct hit from a battering ram, sending him sprawling some seventy to eighty feet away, surrounded by his sympathetic soldiers. Even in heavy armor, most of the armored soldiers had fallen unconscious. Occasionally, a faint, thread-like groan of pain could be heard. Dazed, Li Shouguo vigorously shook his head, bit his lip to clear his mind, and struggled to open his eyes wide. With difficulty, he turned to look at the two culprits who had pierced the formation: one was a figure with his back to him, dressed in plain white rather than a python robe, his saber already sheathed. With a light flick, he shook off the chaotic purple lightning from the tip of his blade. His back was drenched in crimson blood, starkly visible like blood on snow.

Next, Li Shouguo was horrified to discover a fist-sized hole in the chest of the sword-wielding immortal, a sudden, empty void. Even more astonishing was that the immortal still wore an expression of utter nonchalance, his body having been abruptly pierced by a large hole, as casually as a woman might prick her finger with an embroidery needle for a single drop of blood.

The old Daoist in the lotus crown stood beside the sword-wielding immortal. The latter gazed at the young vassal king, who was holding his breath in concentration, and smiled faintly, saying, "It's nothing. This fellow still hasn't used the fortune of Beiliang. Since he's being so overconfident, taking seven or eight more blows won't matter. With this method of trading blows, I'm not at a disadvantage."

Unlike the various auspicious auras of other immortals, the old Daoist in the lotus crown wore a simple, old-fashioned Daoist robe, lacking the purple and yellow colors typically seen on the Tianshi Mansion's Daoists, who resembled court officials. This was normal, as Dragon Tiger Mountain had not yet risen to prominence when he became the first National Protector of the old Liyang Dynasty. Although it declared itself the ancestral home of Taoism, the world's Daoist lineages still only recognized Wudang, which had produced true immortals during the Da Feng Dynasty. The Zhao family Daoists of the Tianshi Mansion had not yet set the precedent of wearing purple and yellow at that time.

Although the old Daoist's two strikes against Xu Fengnian could be described as thunderous, his demeanor from beginning to end was entirely different from the overbearing presence of most of the younger Zhao family immortals. At this moment, the old Daoist looked at the young vassal king, who had not yet recovered his breath, and sighed, "Why go to such trouble? Xu Fengnian, do you know how much you've abandoned on your journey? The True Martial Dharma Body, the Qi of the Qin Emperor—those are one thing, as matters of a hundred generations and a thousand years are too elusive. But now, you don't even care about your life in this current incarnation?"

Xu Fengnian ignored the old Daoist's question and looked up at the Heaven-Reaching Platform of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, which was a transgression of Liyang's established rites.

Both sides knew full well that the moment Xu Fengnian caught his breath would be when the sword-wielding immortal and the old Daoist in the lotus crown would unleash their full power. It was a test of who was stronger, with each demonstrating their unique abilities. The old Daoist's leisurely chat with the young vassal king was not out of goodwill; it was merely to prolong the encounter, as their chances of victory increased with time. Their immortal, pure bodies could be shattered, but they could not be injured. However, Xu Fengnian was different. What mortals called "land immortals" were, in the end, still human. Even Gao Shulu, the Celestial Being who had once suffered divine retribution, was physically incomparable to a true immortal. One thing that truly puzzled the two Dragon Tiger Mountain Patriarchs was that, given Xu Fengnian's understanding, he clearly knew that an immortal's purity meant no divine weapon could harm them in the slightest. But as long as there was a "stain," it would be fatal, directly diminishing the accumulated Daoist cultivation and good karma of several, even dozens, of lifetimes. Therefore, Xu Fengnian's true weapon was not the ordinary Beiliang saber, but the fortune of Beiliang itself!

Xu Fengnian withdrew his gaze and suddenly smiled. "Venerable Elder, I am immensely grateful for your previous 'Mountain-Opening' and 'Ascension' techniques. 'Courtesy demands reciprocity,' and..."

Before he could utter the word "reciprocity," Xu Fengnian vanished from his spot and, without warning, reappeared directly in front of the old Daoist in the lotus crown, his Beiliang saber sweeping horizontally towards the latter's head.

The old Daoist smiled nonchalantly, hands clasped behind his back. With light steps, he shifted several paces sideways and backward, each footfall seemingly blossoming a lotus beneath him. His movements were fluid and graceful, yet his robes remained perfectly still.

Celestial beings do not transgress boundaries.

The young vassal king seemed completely unaware of his futile efforts, and his Beiliang saber continued its sweeping motion.

But just as the old Daoist was about to settle into position, another Xu Fengnian appeared before him, shadowing his movements, maintaining the same posture, his Beiliang saber again sweeping horizontally towards the venerable head.

The old Daoist shifted another few paces sideways, moving with an unhurried ease, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of the Beiliang saber.

Although his body was pure and immaculate, akin to the "indestructible vajra" described in Buddhist scriptures, the old man did not believe that this young man, Xu, would truly not employ any cunning. He wouldn't foolishly hack at people with his Beiliang saber from beginning to end and simply exhaust himself to death. This young vassal king, who had already reached the pinnacle of the martial world in the Northwest, was originally a formidable opponent with an endless array of tactics, especially since he had even slain Wang Xianzhi. It was unlikely he wouldn't have some hidden ace up his sleeve. The old man was content to observe, preferring to meet all changes with no change. At this point, it should have been Xu Fengnian, burdened by injuries, who was in a state of exasperation. The old man only needed to patiently wait for that crucial moment when the young man could no longer bear it and would desperately lash out.

The old Daoist in the lotus crown performed the celestial stride, shrinking the world into a mere few inches. Each shift in position seemed to be just two or three simple steps, yet each time, the Beiliang saber missed its mark.

Because the two adversaries were moving too quickly, in an instant, no fewer than a hundred Xu Fengnians appeared in the Imperial Astronomical Bureau square. Meanwhile, the Zhao family immortal from Dragon Tiger Mountain remained serene, moving freely across the increasingly constricted square like a fish leisurely swimming in a river.

The Dragon Tiger Mountain First Patriarch, wielding his talismanic sword Yulei, was not in a hurry to intervene. Firstly, there was no need for him to gild the lily; secondly, every passing moment meant the rope around Xu Fengnian's neck, drawing him closer to his death, was tightening, and the one tightening it was Xu Fengnian himself.

Holding his sword upright in front of him with his right hand, he bent his left thumb, lightly pricked his index finger, and then began drawing talismans on the peach wood sword, which was rumored to have slain countless demons and monsters.

The blood flowing from his index finger was not crimson, but pure white and brilliantly luminous, as if a bright moon hung from his fingertip.

Several energy ley lines in Tai'an City, previously suppressed by their respective buildings, rapidly surged towards the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.

Once the talisman was complete, victory would be assured.

The serene immortal, whose face remained eternally youthful, subtly curved his lips. He was openly drawing talismans; could his opponent truly endure this?

To the ordinary Liyang armored soldiers, whose martial arts cultivation was not outstanding, it seemed that in the blink of an eye, dozens of Beiliang Kings appeared in the square, and in another blink, their number exceeded a hundred. The more than a thousand Li family armored soldiers who hadn't been knocked unconscious stood frozen, gaping blankly.

Deep down, the emotions of these Liyang elites were incredibly complex. They harbored more apprehension and fear towards the arrogant young vassal king and less actual hatred. This might seem absurd, but the reasoning was simple: in the early days of the martial world, how many beautiful women didn't admire Li Chungang? How many martial artists didn't revere Wang Xianzhi? To exist alongside them in the world, as long as there wasn't an irreconcilable personal vendetta, most people harbored a sense of admiration. Liyang honored martial prowess; its empire was forged with iron hooves and blades. Why was Qi Jiajie, a mere commoner, able to become the revered teacher of many imperial descendants in Tai'an City? Why was Lu Baijie, the Tangxi Sword Immortal, exceptionally brought into the capital to serve as Minister of War, met with widespread public acclaim? And with a recent astonishing rumor circulating that the young Beiliang King had single-handedly fought the Beiman Military God Tuoba Pusa across a thousand miles in the Western Regions, creating a chaotic, dark battlefield—no matter what the scholars and civil officials in Tai'an City thought, even the soldiers, who spoke of such things, mostly believed the young King Xu was exaggerating to build momentum for his trip to the capital. But regardless of the truth, military martial artists often felt a tinge of regret, wondering why Xu Fengnian hadn't just decisively killed Tuoba Pusa in the Western Regions. If he had truly brought back his head, they, as imperial soldiers, might simply be a little less harsh when cursing him in the future.

In contrast, the Li family armored soldiers rapidly developed hostility towards the immortal who treated human lives as mere grass, despite initially revering him as a deity. While it was true that Xu Fengnian had ruthlessly killed hundreds of armored cavalry in one swift street battle, the sudden transformation of that unknown heavy cavalry unit into golden-armored immortals was a divine feat that truly chilled them to the bone. Originally, when facing a powerful enemy, martial artists like them were expected to face battle, and death in battle was death. But to die so inexplicably? How frustrating! Where was the glory in that? Anyone would surely die with unclosed eyes.

On top of the high wall, Luoyang held a wine flask with two fingers, shaking it gently as she smiled. "Cao Changqing can't interfere, but you, Deng Tai'a, are at least somewhat related to him. Are you just going to watch the show?"

There was no one nearby, and Deng Tai'a was not the type to pretend to be a profound master. He squatted by Cao Changqing's feet and retorted irritably, "That tiny bit of connection was used up long ago in the East China Sea."

Cao Changqing joked, "Let's not make things difficult for our Taoist deity. As for this matter, I certainly can't interfere, but in truth, no one can easily intervene. It's like yesterday at the Xiamai Inn; it ended up looking like Deng Tai'a and I were two against one. But I'm sure you, Luoyang, also know that at our level, the number of people doesn't matter much. Of course, 'face' is also very important."

Deng Tai'a seemed to recall something. "Speaking of connections, shouldn't that elusive Patriarch Lü be the one to help?"

Luoyang hesitated for a moment, then revealed the hidden truth with a single remark: "That person back then was to Gao Tingshu as Wang Xianzhi was to Li Chungang, and as he is now to Wang Xianzhi. So, who is next?"

Even Deng Tai'a was dumbfounded, turning to glance at Cao Changqing, who subtly nodded.

Deng Tai'a suddenly felt a surge of anger and, for the first time, swore. "Damn it, how miserable is this situation? Was it meant to be subdued by that Patriarch Lü's reincarnation?!"

Luoyang retorted sarcastically, "What else did you think?"

Then Luoyang glanced at the sky. "The Heavenly Dao cycles; heavenly principles are clear for all to see."

Cao Changqing slowly said, "Since Patriarch Lü could even retreat from the Heavenly Gate, he might not necessarily act according to this principle."

Deng Tai'a sneered, "A fine 'might not necessarily' indeed!"

Luoyang smiled, "Not pleased?"

Deng Tai'a took a deep breath. "Forget it. Even if I were willing to help, he wouldn't be pleased."

Luoyang took a sip of wine, her expression becoming calm and unperturbed. "Precisely."

Deng Tai'a suddenly stood up, shook his wrist, and stated gravely, "The grievances at the Imperial Astronomical Bureau are Xu Fengnian's to resolve. If he dies here, it's his fate. Even if he survives today, who knows how 'well' things will turn out for him in the future. But that agile old fox, Xie Guanying—I, Deng Tai'a, am going to properly chase him down this time."

Past Xiangfan City in Qingzhou, the Guangling River reached its middle and lower reaches.

A young Daoist priest, accompanied by his young disciple, sat cross-legged by the riverside in meditation.

As the young disciple meditated, he gradually began to doze off.

The young Daoist did not scold him. Each time the nodding disciple was about to tip backward, he would reach out and steady him.

This simply robed young Daoist was none other than Li Yufu, the current Sect Leader of Wudang.

He was accompanying his disciple, Yu Fu, along the Guangling River, in order to escort the dragon fish to the sea.

Suddenly, Li Yufu's body trembled. Two soft words whispered in his ear: "Yufu."

Li Yufu slowly turned his head and saw a similarly young Daoist sitting beside him, with a warm, smiling face.

The Daoist and disciple Yu Fu sat one on either side of Li Yufu.

Tears welled up in Li Yufu's eyes, and he was about to stand and bow in greeting.

The person quickly waved his hand, saying, "No need. On our mountain, we don't stand on such ceremony."

But Li Yufu insisted on standing, showing the utmost respect, and choked out, "This humble Daoist, Li Yufu, greets Sect Leader 'Uncle Xiao'."

The young Daoist, whom Li Yufu called "Uncle Xiao," looked helpless. "Ah, you're just like Senior Brother Yu. I'm afraid of you. Back on the mountain, even the Senior Brother in charge of discipline wasn't as particular as Senior Brother Yu. Those books His Royal Highness would hand out after he'd beaten someone—you know, the kind with more pictures than words—Senior Brother would always rummage through boxes to confiscate them but could never bring himself to throw them away. Only Senior Brother Yu, when he found out, would grab my ear and scold me. So, Yufu, if you ever catch any of the junior Daoists on the mountain secretly hoarding such books, just scold them a bit; don't hit them. Well, you can hit them, but remember to tell them that once they achieve something in their cultivation, you'll return the books. That's what Senior Brother told me back then. See? Didn't I amount to something later?"

Li Yufu raised an arm to wipe his eyes, smiling knowingly.

Wudang Mountain's young grand-uncle, Li Yufu's "Uncle Xiao."

That could only be Hong Xiang, who rode a green ox and smiled at everyone he met.

The young grand-uncle gazed at the mighty Guangling River, surging across the Central Plains, for a moment in a trance. Then he said, "My previous departure was messy, but it couldn't be helped. This time, besides wanting to greet you in person, I also need to borrow a sword from you."

Li Yufu showed not the slightest hint of confusion, merely nodding gravely.

Hong Xiang looked up at the sky. "I didn't go back then, and I won't go in the future. So, for that matter, I'll have to trouble you."

Li Yufu's eyes were clear and resolute. "Uncle Xiao, please rest assured."

The two stood up together. Hong Xiang patted Li Yufu's shoulder and smiled. "You're much more responsible than I am. If only you had come up the mountain earlier. I definitely would have lent you the books."

Li Yufu smiled.

There was no thought of the imposing image of "Uncle Xiao" in his mind collapsing in the slightest.

This kind of "Uncle Xiao" was precisely his "Uncle Xiao."

Li Yufu unstrapped the peach wood sword from his back and handed it to "Uncle Xiao."

Hong Xiang took the peach wood sword, glanced down at the young Daoist disciple, and suddenly said to Li Yufu, "Yufu, when cultivating the Dao, don't be misled by the words 'immortality.' Practice shouldn't be about single-mindedly becoming an immortal at the expense of being human. Please help me tell myself this truth."

Li Yufu replied, "I will!"

Hong Xiang lightly tossed the Wudang peach wood sword, which had been tempered anew, into the Guangling River, and chuckled softly, "Eight hundred years of Daoist cultivation, yet I've never used a flying sword to take a head. Go!"

The moment Hong Xiang tossed the peach wood sword, thunder rolled across the sky, its might immediately overpowering the river's waves.

It seemed a Celestial Being sat high in the clouds, angrily roaring down at the mortal world, "Lü Dongxuan, how dare you!"

Hong Xiang threw his head back and laughed heartily, "This humble Daoist has been so daring for eight hundred years!"

The peach wood sword, still sheathed, hovered for a moment on the river's surface before vanishing in a flash.

The Celestial Being in the heavens instantly fell silent!

Li Yufu gazed at the river surface, not turning his head.

Uncle Xiao was gone.

A three-foot aura of grandeur.

An eternal grace.