Chapter 85: Carp Leaps Over the Dragon Gate

It was said that the sword, capable of splitting rivers and slaying dragons, returned as swiftly as it departed, as if it happened twice at once. In reality, such a feat required no time at all.

Old man Li inexplicably unleashed a sword strike that shattered the celestial phenomenon, hinting at his return to the pinnacle of martial arts. Showing no surprise, he drifted back to the bow, tossed the Xiudong sword back to Xu Fengnian, and gazed at the vast river and stone cliffs. A bitter smile touched his lips, as if a long-held burden had been lifted, before he silently walked into the cabin.

Lu Qiantang, who trained his heavy sword by observing the tides, was utterly stunned by the display. He finally recalled the legendary senior who, long ago, had walked atop the tidal currents at Guangling River. Not only was a seasoned swordsman like Lu Qiantang astonished, but even Wei Shuyang, who had abandoned his sword for cultivation in his old age, found his hair and beard bristling with excitement. What young person wouldn't aspire to emulate the carefree swordsmanship of the original Sword God, Li Chungang, as he roamed the jianghu? While Deng Tai'a was undeniably a Sword God of his generation, he was nowhere near as impactful or convincing as Li Chungang. Deng Tai'a was too much of an ethereal, half-immortal, half-demon figure, like someone dwelling millions of miles above the mortal world. After his emergence, he rarely made a move, engaging only in a few brief encounters with figures like Wang Xianzhi and Cao Guanzi, with only fragmented rumors of these events circulating afterwards for people to ponder.

The elder Sword God, Li Chungang, however, forged an immense reputation in the jianghu, one sword stroke at a time. His various love-hate entanglements with women, in particular, sparked countless fantasies and aspirations among future generations. For instance, the elderly Daoist Wei Shuyang of Jiudoumi clearly remembered that at the peak of Li Chungang's martial arts, a female poet, captivated by his otherworldly charm, had fallen deeply in love and penned countless verses. She praised Li Chungang's flying sword for demolishing the First Peak of Zhongnan, described him as having the courage of a green snake in his sleeve, and compared his three-foot blade's prowess to that of Lü Zu, wielding it to bring justice for heaven against the unjust. All of that was in the past. She had long since aged, her beauty faded, her hair turned white, and she was buried in a solitary grave, having requested before her death that all her poetic manuscripts be burned.

In that jianghu, where the Sword God Li Chungang still existed, countless women admired him, like three thousand strands of a weak river, yet he never chose a single one. Many people and events from the jianghu of that era, like those women, had faded from their former glory.

Shu Xiu, who was typically fearless, felt sweat bead on the tip of her nose. As she watched the river surface close back together and the boat gradually steady, she turned to Lu Qiantang beside her and asked in a trembling voice, "Is that old man truly a senior capable of rivaling Immortal Qi?"

Even though Qi Xuanzhen had ascended to immortality decades ago, and despite not being a Daoist from Longhu Mountain, all later generations, when speaking of him, dared not utter his given name, always respectfully referring to him as "Immortal Qi." This reverence alone demonstrated a power surpassing the Celestial Phenomenon realm.

Lu Qiantang, whose soul had been nearly scattered by that sword, said in a deep voice, "You still don't know who he is?"

Although Shu Xiu was nearing thirty, whether due to her mastery of seductive arts or simply her natural disposition, she always displayed certain innocent and girlish traits. She habitually pouted charmingly and said, "How would I know? The senior couldn't possibly be Deng Tai'a, could he?"

Lu Qiantang was vexed that the sword strike had been so profound he hadn't discerned a single clue. Coupled with his long-standing dislike for Shu Xiu's affected mannerisms, his tone became sharper. "A mere barbarian from the south," he scoffed, "nothing more than a frog in a well."

Shu Xiu reached up to brush the dark hair from her temples, then tilted her head and smiled coquettishly. "Oh, so Eastern Yue isn't a barbarian land, then?" she purred. "If that old senior is so extraordinary, can he make our 'Sword God Lu' hold him in such high regard?"

Lu Qiantang turned his head, his expression dark. "What kind of 'Sword God' am I?" he thought. Did this woman, who had emerged from the barbaric southern frontier, truly wish to experience the edge of the Crimson Cloud Sword?

Wei Shuyang, who happened to be nearby, shook his head and, without a word of intervention, walked directly towards the Prince. Xu Fengnian sat at the bow, his two sabers unbuckled and set aside, as he reached out to playfully tease Jingang and Pusa. The two young creatures had tongues naturally covered in barbs, and a gentle lick would leave a dense pattern of scratches on his hand. Xu Fengnian, unable to endure the siblings' endless antics, and with his ivory silk cuffs already torn to shreds despite the minor injuries, picked up the Spring Thunder saber. He let the young Kui, Jingang, grasp it with its four claws and dangle it in the air, clearly showing the male Kui's lively nature. Wei Shuyang, unable to remain standing while speaking to the seated Prince, sat down cross-legged. Filled with emotion, he said, "Your Highness, this old Daoist, in his old age, has been fortunate enough to read Wudang's 'Cantong Qi.' And today, to witness the old Sword God Li's heaven-defying ability to cleave the river for two hundred zhang—I shall have no regrets in this life or death."

Xu Fengnian smiled and asked, "Grandpa Wei, can you tell me, was Old Man Li's sword strike from the Finger Profound realm or the Celestial Phenomenon realm?"

Wei Shuyang shook his head. "It carries the essence of a Land Immortal," he said. "This old Daoist truly wouldn't dare speak rashly about the old Sword God Li."

Leaning against the wooden wall, Xu Fengnian joked, "Wouldn't a single sword strike like that be able to pierce hundreds of armors? If two armies were to face off, and we had three or four Old Li's leading the charge and cutting down enemies, how could anyone possibly fight that war?"

Wei Shuyang smiled faintly. "Your Highness," he said, "may I ask, in a hundred years of the jianghu, how many Li Sword Gods have emerged? And how many masters of the Finger Profound or Celestial Phenomenon realms would willingly be bound by military law? Being entangled in the military is hardly conducive to cultivation."

Xu Fengnian nodded. "Indeed," he said, "who could possibly compel Wang Xianzhi or Deng Tai'a to charge into battle? During the Spring and Autumn Wars, I only heard that the imperial uncle from Western Shu, a master swordsman, fought to the death against the enemy, single-handedly cutting down six hundred armored cavalry. Yet, he ultimately couldn't withstand the subsequent waves of elite cavalry and iron-clad soldiers, perishing in a battle formation of bows and crossbows. The jianghu, for martial artists, is like that Yanzi River we just passed: its depths are filled with hidden reefs and jagged protrusions, while its surface boasts countless competing peaks, with no one hindering another's rise. As for those who, like Lü Dongxuan, can reach insurmountable heights, that's their individual prowess. But the military, where every consideration is for war, becomes the vast ocean we inhabit, where hundreds of rivers, thousands of streams, and countless currents converge. Unless a renowned general like Xu Xiao becomes an isolated island standing against the tide, then no matter how capable you are, you will fall beneath the might of a thousand armies and ten thousand horses. Before Xu Xiao led his army to subdue the jianghu, martial artists and soldiers alike held each other in disdain, making it difficult to say who was superior. Now, however, the jianghu truly lacks the confidence to challenge the army. Longhu Mountain has been granted the leadership of all Daoist sects under heaven, and Two Zen Temple produced a black-robed monk who befriended His Majesty the Emperor, only then managing to reverse Buddhism's decline. Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism continue their tripartite standoff, with the high masters of these three traditions striving for reclusion. When they do occasionally emerge, they turn the tide and stir up immense storms, but they too often retreat into Xu Xiao's army. Few jianghu figures who support Beiliang actually hold military tallies."

Wei Shuyang appeared lost in thought, immersed in the lingering afterglow of the old Sword God's magnificent strike. Yet, one could see the old Daoist's face was alight with pure joy, like a child who had just received a string of candied haws—simple and unburdened by grand philosophies. It was hard to imagine that Wei Shuyang, with his venerable age and high standing within the Jiudoumi Dao, could still possess such childlike innocence. Regardless of Li Chungang's current disheveled appearance, Wei Shuyang's mind was solely fixed on those three legendary sword moves: the water droplets forming a line to pierce water armor, the small umbrella becoming a sword that made immortals kneel, and now, today's immortal sword. In the old Daoist's eyes, these truly lived up to the poetic description: "a green snake in his sleeve, with guts so coarse." No wonder the world was never truly at peace, nor the jianghu calm, for everyone yearned to be like Lü Dongxuan and Li Chungang—to find their own peace by confronting injustice.

Jiang Ni, lacking the confidence to defeat the two young exotic beasts, suddenly found the previously captivating river scenery unappealing. Disheartened, she returned to the cabin, where she saw Old Man Li sitting silently in a chair, half-asleep. Jiang Ni picked up a secret manual and idly looked through it for a while before quietly asking, "Are you planning to teach him how to use the saber?"

Li Chungang lifted his eyelids and chuckled. "Teaching him a few trivial tricks won't hurt," he said. "This old man is being kind to him, isn't it so you'll be bullied less? It's still the same principle: as long as you're willing to train with me in swordsmanship, even if young Xu masters the saber to perfection, you'll still be able to defeat him."

Jiang Ni hesitated for a moment, then changed the subject. "Your swordsmanship seems truly terrifying," she said.

Old Man Li burst into laughter. "Jiang girl," he said, "will you stop calling this old man a braggart now? But honestly, that sword strike just now was a rare occurrence, achieved only when all conditions—heavenly timing, geographical advantage, and human harmony—were perfectly aligned, allowing for such power. Unfavorable things in this world are as numerous as ox hairs; how many can truly be spoken of? So, while people may draw their swords millions of times, a Sword Immortal's 'immortal sword' should be pitifully rare. Furthermore, the realm this old man reached with that sword, which the jianghu calls 'Sword Immortal,' cannot be sustained indefinitely. This old man is quite enlightened now; I don't aspire to be a Land Immortal. I only wish to impart everything I know to you. If I teach you swordsmanship, I hope to cultivate a female Sword Immortal, and that would certainly be good for this old man's reputation, wouldn't it?"

Jiang Ni replied flatly, "Then you should still teach him how to use the saber."

The old man paid her no mind, muttering to himself, "Lü Zu left a cautionary verse for future sword practitioners: 'The three-foot blade in its scabbard sings not often; unless a kindred spirit is met, I vow not to pass it on.' I deeply agree with this. In my life, I've encountered countless younger generations who practice the sword, and there's no shortage of prodigious talents with extraordinary comprehension and innate abilities. However, they simply didn't suit my temperament. Even if you were Deng Tai'a, you wouldn't dream of learning my 'Two Sleeves Green Snakes.' The Wu family's Sword Tomb abandoned sword intent in pursuit of 'heavenly crafted' sword techniques, showing considerable disdain for all other sword moves in the world. Yet, my own unique art, not only unparalleled in its sword intent, but also reaching the pinnacle in its actual moves, once made those half-dead individuals from the Wu family sigh in inferiority..."

Jiang Ni frowned deeply, let out a heavy sigh, put down her book, and glared. "Not this again?" she said.

Li Chungang scratched the divine talisman dagger tucked into his hair bun, a hint of awkwardness on his face. Anyone outside the cabin, upon hearing his words, would have treated them as an imperial decree. Yet, this stubborn girl, always fixated on minor details, truly wasn't swayed by the old Sword God's grand pronouncements. Li Chungang, however, wasn't annoyed. He picked up a handful of walnuts from the table and walked out of the cabin, completely ignoring the boatman who almost knelt, treating him like a Dragon King, as well as the reverence of martial artists like Lu Qiantang and the fear of some Beiliang light cavalry. He walked up to Xu Fengnian and Wei Shuyang, casually plopped down, and stretched out a leg to kick away the young Kui that had just fallen from the Spring Thunder saber. The sister, Pusa, intent on avenging her brother, dug four small holes instantly with her sharp claws as she crouched and roared. Xu Fengnian reached out to gently restrain the fiercely protective little creature. The young female Kui turned her head, a remarkably human-like expression of grievance on her face. Xu Fengnian smiled and shook his head; the young Kui, full of spirit, trotted off to comfort her brother.

The old Sword God mused, "Did this boy step in dog shit? Where did you find these creatures? They're no less impressive than Qi Xuanzhen's black tiger. In a few more years, these two alone could match a first-rank master. Too bad you can't live two or three hundred years like them."

Xu Fengnian, puzzled, asked, "Are you looking for me for something?"

The old man casually tossed the walnuts from his hand onto the boat deck and said sternly, "Boy, watching your clumsy saber technique that morning at Qingyang Palace was truly an eyesore."

"Draw out the thin-bladed Xiudong saber and follow my instructions."

Xu Fengnian did not hesitate. He straightened his posture, recalling how Du Sicong, the sword master who authored *The Compendium of A Thousand Swords*, had once stood in the snow for three days to seek Li Chungang's guidance. Xu Fengnian, being far from a pretentious individual, immediately drew the Xiudong saber, whose blade was as thin as a cicada's wing. The Xiudong was more slender and elongated than the Spring Thunder, and training with it required a precise mastery of saber force; even a hair's breadth of error could lead to a massive deviation in the blade's trajectory. Later, when White Fox Face lent him the Spring Thunder, it was likely half because he had discerned Xu Fengnian's deliberately concealed left-handed saber technique, and half because the Spring Thunder was suited for powerful, heavy saber styles. Xu Fengnian possessed a profound foundation from the *Grand Yellow Court*, and his year of saber training was certainly not wasted, nor was his extensive reading of martial arts manuals. He could almost be considered to have truly entered the inner sanctum of martial arts. To then wield the Spring Thunder could only enhance his abilities. White Fox Face's thoughtful gesture was tantamount to implicitly recognizing Xu Fengnian as a friend and confidant, a rare friendship Xu Fengnian naturally cherished even more.

Xu Fengnian drew the Xiudong, and seeing the old Sword God remain silent, he felt a bit confused. "And then?" he asked softly.

Wei Shuyang was cautious; the person beside him was none other than the venerable Sword God Li. Although Li Chungang had once been defeated by Wang Xianzhi, which had prompted Wei Shuyang to abandon his sword and retreat to the mountains to cultivate the Dao in a fit of pique, in the eyes of Wei's generation, no matter how formidable or renowned Deng Tai'a might be now, he simply couldn't command the same profound respect as the elder Sword God Li. "You, Deng Tai'a, defeated the Sword God Li?" they would argue. "You never even fought him, so how can you claim the title of Sword God?"

Li Chungang yawned, then, with impatience, instructed Xu Fengnian to suspend the saber at a fixed height. "Boy," he said, "flick the saber's blade with your finger and see if you can shatter the walnuts on the floor."

Xu Fengnian adjusted his breathing, squinted, and extended his finger. With a crisp 'ding,' Wei Shuyang, observing intently, saw the Xiudong saber's blade arc, but it unfortunately still fell a finger's breadth short of the walnuts on the floor. Xu Fengnian was not discouraged. He lightly brushed his finger across the blade, pinpointed a spot, and flicked again. The Xiudong instantly curved into a full moon arc. With a 'ding' followed by a 'thud,' a walnut was instantly shattered, leaving an indentation on the boat deck as well.

Wei Shuyang instinctively reached to stroke his beard, but suddenly realized the old Sword God Li was present and restrained himself from acting presumptuously. Nevertheless, the old Daoist greatly admired the Prince's technique of flicking the saber. Despite the Xiudong's thin blade, not just anyone could casually produce such resilience from it.

Old Man Li propped his chin with one hand and continued, "Next, try to crush the walnuts, but without leaving any marks on the floor."

Xu Fengnian frowned slightly. He didn't rush to flick his finger, but instead ran it along the Xiudong saber's blade, recalling how his insights from studying the essence of swordsmanship in *The Green Water Pavilion's Sixty-Year Cycle of Sword Practice* on Wudang Mountain had greatly benefited him when carving chess pieces. This had made Xu Fengnian aware, at a very early stage, of how to control the fundamental flow of internal qi that powered his saber. Crushing a walnut without affecting the boat deck was no longer a simple matter of merely adjusting the force. It was akin to how a sword master could seemingly effortlessly thrust a single sword, yet it contained countless intricate moves, achieving the same goal through different paths. Sweeping the saber to accumulate power, emphasizing precisely when and where to unleash it, and even specifying the exact magnitude of the explosion—whether it be a few catties or thousands—was all profound, mind-numbing knowledge. As Xu Fengnian didn't flick his finger, the old man remained at ease, his chin still propped in his hand. He pinched a walnut between two fingers, tossed it in front of him, and lightly inhaled it into his mouth. "Boy, hurry up," he mumbled indistinctly. "This old man doesn't have time to watch you zone out."

Xu Fengnian offered a wry smile, composed himself, and flicked his finger. The arc was still full, possessing a mysterious beauty. The walnut shattered, but faint marks remained on the floor.

He flicked the saber several more times, each attempt yielding the same result.

The old Sword God said with a look of disdain, "You read *The Compendium of A Thousand Swords* for nothing. Is that how you listen to a book? You're just wasting Jiang girl's breath."

Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, recalling the scene where water droplets transformed into a sword.

The old man stood up, patted his rear, and sneered, "Once you've mastered this, try stacking two walnuts and aiming to crush only the bottom one, leaving both the boat deck and the top walnut completely unharmed. However, given your poor comprehension, I doubt you'll even manage this current minor task, let alone the more advanced one. In that case, don't bother training the saber with Lu Qiantang anymore."

Xu Fengnian remained silent, lost in deep thought. The old Sword God, perhaps feeling that Xu Fengnian's posture too closely resembled the "seated sword" style of the Wu family, grew increasingly displeased and walked back into the cabin without looking back.

Wei Shuyang quietly departed from the bow, ensuring no one disturbed him.

He sat motionless until dusk, and then into the moonlit night.

Late that night, Yu Youwei brought Xu Fengnian a piece of clothing to drape over himself.

Xu Fengnian simply pointed to the walnuts shattered across the floor. Yu Youwei immediately went to retrieve another handful and piled them before him.

In the early morning, the old man, still groggy with sleep, came to the bow. He saw Xu Fengnian imitating his pose of propping his chin and staring blankly. He walked closer for a look and exclaimed, "Eh? This boy switched the Xiudong for the Spring Thunder? And on the floor in front of him, there are exactly three walnuts stacked?"

On the river, several large red carp leaped out of the water.

This is a common sight in large rivers.

The old Sword God turned and walked away, only muttering to himself once he was out of earshot, "Good boy, the carp has leaped over the dragon's gate. I misjudged him this time. But I'll be watching to see how many more times you can leap in the next ten years."