Lijing Town.
Lijing Town was now the largest town along the lakeside, surpassing even Milin Town at the center of Milin Commandery. That region had been battered and riddled with wounds during the war, and because the Li family had chosen not to restore the commandery system, Milin was split into several towns for administration. With its population scattered, it could no longer rival Lijing Town.
Beside the tavern, voices buzzed with lively chatter. People came and went along the pale red wooden steps. On the highest floor sat a monk, his head cleanly shaven, his eyes quietly fixed upon a cup of wine.
Those who could drink and make merry here were no ordinary folk, mostly scions of prominent surnames. Several guests kept casting sideways glances in fear and apprehension. After a quarter of an hour, they hastily and disjointedly brought their banquets to an end, scattering in a hurry.
Soon, not a soul remained on the tavern's upper floor, and pedestrians in the surrounding streets thinned out. Cultivators in white armor began appearing among the crowd below.
Li Chenghuai arrived with a detachment of men. Reaching the foot of the tavern, he did not hesitate and strode briskly upstairs.
With so many reassignments underway in the Li family at present, numerous posts had fallen vacant. As his cultivation and age had grown sufficient, he had begun serving under his clan brother Li Chengliao. Being the biological son of Li Xizhi, Li Chengliao often relied on him in family matters.
Yet no sooner had he stepped into the building than a middle-aged man in white stopped him. Handsome, carrying the calm composure typical of middle age and an imposing aura, the man said solemnly in a hushed tone, "The Young Master is of Qingdu bloodline and should not put himself forward in person. I shall go up and meet him."
This man was none other than An Siwei. Behind him stood Chen Yang in black robes, his brow slightly narrow, harboring faint anxiety and suspicion in his eyes. Li Chenghuai cupped his hands and nodded, whereupon the two men stepped forward.
Ascending the vermilion stairs, they found the monk sitting before a table laden with fine wine and good meats, seemingly gathered from the hastily abandoned neighboring tables, looking somewhat disheveled.
Nor did he eat, merely picking and poking with his chopsticks, staring blankly in a daze.
Seeing the two men come up, An Siwei cupped his hands and said politely, "Greetings, Master. I am An Siwei, a guest elder of the Li family. May I ask what brings Master..."
The monk's two eyebrows were rather short. Though his face was clean and his hair completely shaven, a steadfast demeanor still faintly showed through. He gently clicked a pair of jade chopsticks together and looked closely at An Siwei's brow and eyes, studying them for a breath as if searching his memory, before they finally overlapped with a cultivator from the past. "What relation are you to An Jingming?"
"He was my late elder brother," An Siwei replied with an arch of his brow.
"In my youth, I also crossed swords with him. Back then, this old monk had a secular name."
The monk poured a cup of wine and said in a low voice, "Back then, people claimed that An Jingming and Li Tongya harbored wild, treacherous ambitions. I never believed it, but seeing the outcome today, perhaps it wasn't untrue. I heard of An Jingming's name even in the north, doing such great deeds... only to perish later. In the end, all the grievances and debts turned to naught, did they not?"
"It seems Master has heard rumors," An Siwei answered, his tone stiffening. "Yet times change and destiny has its course. It is not something a single passing judgment can decide."
Hearing the word 'destiny,' the monk chuckled mockingly.
An Siwei's expression sank. After pausing for a breath, he said in a deepened tone, "Siwei is dull-witted and cannot fathom Zen riddles. What does Master mean?"
"Merely trivial tricks," the monk sighed.
The wine sloshed crisply in the jade cup. An Siwei could hear the irreverence in the monk's tone, and irritation flared in his chest.
In an instant, the tavern fell so silent that a dropping needle could be heard, the atmosphere turning eerily tense. Chen Yang stood to the side, feeling the hairs all over his body stand on end, as if teetering on the edge of a blade, caught in a dilemma where he could neither advance nor retreat.
Dense black qi erupted from the monk's seven orifices, sweeping violently through the tavern! The wooden stairs sprouted tender green shoots only to rot away an instant later. A roasted chicken on the table twitched, sprouted feathers, let out two muffled clucks in the black qi, and dissolved into dust.
As the surging black qi lunged forward, a sword swept out to parry it away. An arm caught the two men and tossed them safely out of the tavern. Chen Yang was a bit farther away and only brushed the fringe of the black qi, yet several threads shredded away from the hem of his gray robe.
A biting wind swept past with a rustling hiss. A young man in white manifested in the building, his brow slightly raised, and his hand resting on his hilt. The presence felt familiar to Li Xijun; a few days earlier, two people had been captured and brought back, and the old Daoist Fuyuan of Mount Dashi had been influenced by the Seven Lianmin, deliberately released by this Master to probe for information.
"Xijun, sit down first," the monk said, remaining seated.
Li Xijun kept his hand firmly on his sword and did not move, replying coldly, "I am Li Xijun. Greetings, Master."
"Xu Mu of Qimu Temple greets you, Fellow Daoist."
Although the Li family did not follow the Buddhist path, one could still estimate an opponent's strength. Li Xijun felt the monk's oppressive, menacing aura, and his guard rose several degrees.
Xu Mu continued, taking a bronze sword from his sleeve. The chilling light reflected brightly upon his clean face as he murmured in a raspy voice, "In my youth, I relied heavily on sharpness in all things. In fury, I left my clan and headed to the northern borders, slaying demonic cultivators, forging my swordsmanship, walking ten thousand li, and crossing the Taihang Mountains.
"What Senior Tongya said—Xu Mu has pondered it for so many years. Now, believing I have finally understood, I have returned to retrieve the sword.
"He who advances too sharply retreats just as fast; before a sharp blade is unsheathed, its essence lies in concealment.
"This sword is called Tongzang. It was cast from copper of Mount Yan, water of the Northern Sea's Mount Ming, and fire of Mount Cituo in Yinghua Commandery..."
He flipped the sword over and whispered, "All passions entrusted to the sword, all worldly affairs reduced to vanity. Looking back a hundred years: my eldest brother exhausted heart and soul, only for his life to end and the clan to be exterminated; my second brother, seeking to halt a vicious foe, was exposed and burned himself to ashes; my youngest brother sought immortality to preserve his life, only to be murdered by enemies... Yu Mujian."
Hair began slowly sprouting atop Xu Mu's scalp, and his frame broadened into a burly build, seeming to revert to the demeanor of the Yu Mujian of old—yet in his eyes, there remained only the sword in his hand.
Li Xijun narrowed his sword-like brows, watching him closely, his heart sinking slightly. 'What astonishing methods this Master has, to be able to project his consciousness and observe through another cultivator's body... This sword is peculiar, and I do not know if I can match it. Mount Qingdu is protected by a Foundation Establishment formation, so however mad he goes, at least the younger generations will be safe.'
Just then, an elderly man rushed upstairs in a flurry. Li Xuanxuan held an artifact axe that he had not used in decades, his robes somewhat disheveled, his eyes fixed on the two men.
"Long time no see... Daoist Xuanxuan," the monk said, his voice raspy.
Li Xuanxuan was stunned. He stared closely at the monk's features for two breaths, his lips trembling as terror seized him. "You... you actually returned!"
*Clang!* Li Xijun drew his sword, the slender blade pointing obliquely toward the floor to shield the elder behind him. His other hand had already crushed a piece of jade, his eyes locked onto the monk.
Li Xijun waved a hand at Li Xuanxuan, signaling him to retreat toward Mount Qingdu. Then he addressed the monk, "There are many mortals here. Master, please step out onto the lake to spar with me."
Yu Mujian narrowed his eyes slightly. Stepping forward with sword in hand, he appeared above the lake in an instant. Li Xijun followed with a single step, manifesting over the water as frost and snow drifted down from the sky.
Li Xijun sheathed his sword, formed an incantation with one hand, and calmly locked down the billowing black qi. Finishing his spell, he did not wait for the outcome and immediately drew his sword again. The slender blade danced with a fierce, snow-white radiance. The surrounding scene, which had just been washed bare, began to drift with falling snow once more.
Yu Mujian inverted the bronze sword and rested it at his waist. That bronze sword was rounded and unpolished, devoid of edge or point, gleaming with a dull yellowish hue. Black qi swarmed toward the blade, coalescing into a rolling, vast expanse like flowing water. He murmured, "Splendid skill from the Li family..."
Yu Mujian drew his sword with a sudden sweep. In an instant, black qi surged like an ocean tide, rolling across the lake like a dark curtain. The chilling light flashed like blades, hissing with heavy, crushing momentum.
The dark blade swept across the lake, seemingly slow yet impossibly fast, churning the lake waters into explosive plumes and suffocating the chest. The Tujun Sunflower Light, long prepared in Li Xijun's hands, discharged immediately.
Li Xijun brought two fingers together, unleashing dozens of streaks of white qi. The sunflower light rippled, condensing with biting wind into fine, needle-like frost that surged against the black qi.
Breaking free from the dark miasma, Li Xijun kicked up a sheet of pure white. Snow whirled fiercely as his long sword flicked back, throwing out three nimble, cunning arcs of white light that plunged straight into the black qi.
Yu Mujian barely had time to react before another twist of his hand swept aside one streak of light, allowing him to brandish the bronze sword at his waist. The erupting black qi blasted the remaining two streaks aside. When he withdrew his hand, a small puncture had appeared on the back of it. Unfazed, Yu Mujian casually wiped his hand, sealing the bloody wound.
Rather than being angered, he rejoiced. Seeing this set of sword moves, a look of shocked delight erupted in his eyes. Full of genuine pleasure, he marveled, "Splendid sword art! What an extraordinary technique! Truly ingenious, unfettered by rigid form, as if descending from beyond the heavens... You have yet to grasp its true essence. Had its creator wielded this sword, those three streams of light would have run circles around me!"
A crescent sword arc flashed brightly, carving a path through the surging sea of black qi. Seeing it clearly, Yu Mujian's eyes flared with excitement, and he stepped forward to swing his sword once more.
*Rumble!*
At that very moment, a dazzling brilliance abruptly erupted overhead! Blinding, radiant light streamed downward as glowing white stone bricks coalesced one after another, fitting tightly together to manifest the towering gate of a colossal mountain pass.
The gate loomed high, its two white gateposts etched with numerous runes and mysterious Shamanic incantations. Its upturned eaves soared into the air, and atop it stood a young man in Daoist robes, cursing in furious alarm.
"Where did this scoundrel come from? What sheer audacity!"
Li Ximing was truly shocked and enraged. Over the years, he had been in secluded cultivation, fully aware that the family faced hardships under Qingchi's drafts. He had remained constantly vigilant, and Li Xijun had long prepared means to summon him.
Now, awakened for the first time by Li Xijun's emergency talisman, he rushed out, only to find black qi churning across the lake and a Shakya cultivator drawing a sword to strike down his younger brother. Fury rushed to his head, filling him with murderous intent.
He channeled the surging cultivation within his qi ocean, driving it relentlessly regardless of expenditure. Every pristine white brick of Huangyuan Pass blazed with light, and the brilliant white radiance within the gate shone with scorching intensity, illuminating the entire lake!
Attacked without warning, Yu Mujian did not panic. He reached out and snatched a long strip of cloth from his sleeve, shaking it in midair. A flurry of golden runes poured out, each resembling a tadpole, hovering eerily in the air before assembling into a golden dome that shielded him within.
The brilliant white pass descended with a thunderous crash. Yu Mujian dodged twice but found no escape. Huangyuan Pass slammed directly atop the golden dome, its radiant light swirling as the crushing power took effect. Gold and dark light collided, sputtering with sizzling black mist.
Yu Mujian knew his own art best. This golden-script barrier was no ordinary spell; it was one of the premier techniques of Qimu Temple, nurtured for decades. Ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivators could barely shake it, yet after enduring the pass for only a few breaths, it began to buckle.
Huangyuan Pass specialized in suppression and grinding wear. Within a single breath, it could reduce solid gold to sand, possessing terrifying might.
Though Li Ximing lacked exceptional combat experience and offensive spells, his cultivation method was an authentic Grade Five art. When a late Foundation Establishment cultivator struck with all his might, the sheer suppressive power of his immortal foundation was on par with the prominent direct disciples of the Three Sects. Even Yu Mujian was forced to rein in his wandering thoughts, a look of surprise crossing his face.
Yu Mujian was compelled to look up and raise his sword. The gate blazed with shimmering light, as though facing a blazing sun, siphoning away the black qi in the air and scorching his face with painful heat.
He freed one hand to manifest dark radiance, propping up the pass with one palm while plucking a golden rune with the other. Forming a hand seal, he chanted an incantation: "Empty hell exhausts all human sentiment..."
Finishing the spell, the hand supporting the pass gave a strenuous heave, shaking the massive fortification just enough for him to take a heavy stride, slipping out from underneath and reappearing ten paces away.
Having barely repelled Li Ximing's Huangyuan Pass, Yu Mujian paused to catch his breath. The runes around his body clanged sharply as he freed a hand to resist the grinding force. The golden dome around him dimmed rapidly, struggling to restore its original luster. Yet behind him, snow drifted down all around; the pure white snowflakes shifted an inch in unison, bringing forth a fierce, snow-white brilliance as a gleaming, crystal-clear sword light flew up, thrusting straight toward his back!
Midway through forming his seal, Yu Mujian was forced to frown and stop.
With every breath he took, black qi billowed outward. Though the dark fumes from his seven orifices had gradually subsided, black qi still poured from beneath his robes. He said coldly, "I wonder how much of Tongya's true teachings Xijun has inherited."
Chapter 549