Ah Liang swung his blade downwards. Between him and the towering White Jade Capital, a slender, gleaming golden thread appeared, surging forward like a relentless tidal wave. Prince Song Changjing advanced without retreat, striding boldly ahead as his martial aura surged to its zenith. With a fierce roar, he crossed his arms to block the attack. Beneath his feet, the vast plaza cracked open like an enormous spiderweb under the heavy steps of the second supreme master of Dong Baoping Continent.
Tempering one's martial path through the crucible of life and death is no mere platitude. Once a prince of Dali, Song Changjing resolutely joined the army, spending over two decades in countless battles, victories, defeats, and desperate struggles. Ultimately, he emerged from among all the warriors of Dong Baoping Continent. His fearless advance this time was surely part of the reason.
The golden thread grazed Song Changjing's arm, instantly slicing through the sleeve of his white robe as if iron wire severing tender tofu with ease. Yet, this robe was no ordinary garment—it was the famed "Flowing Water Robe," a Daoist treasure from Dali's foremost immortal lineage, once belonging to a supreme terrestrial immortal of the fifth realm. It was said to withstand all spells and divine arts below the fifth realm. Yet against the condensed golden aura that had taken physical form, it proved fragile and vulnerable.
Though deprived of external protection, Song Changjing stubbornly refused to retreat. This man wished to test whether his legendary body—rumored to rival that of a golden-embodied arhat—could withstand a genuine immortal's strike. The answer quickly revealed itself: yes, but only for a fleeting instant.
Still unwilling to yield, Song Changjing roared with fury, his face glowing with an extraordinary golden radiance. His internal energy shifted abruptly—from a raging torrent to a moment of frozen water and an expansive icy landscape. The slender figure of the Dali prince was forced to retreat several paces. His arms bore narrow cuts, yet no blood flowed.
Meanwhile, the unstoppable golden thread pressed closer to carve into his bones.
"Stand aside!" A towering Daoist talisman general clad in azure armor charged forward, striking Song Changjing aside by several steps and taking his place. This talisman warrior, inscribed with countless golden Daoist symbols and cloud patterns, radiated a sacred aura. Clutching the golden thread tightly in its hands, it retreated step by step.
Eventually, this meticulously crafted talisman general of the Daoist mountain formation was cleaved in two. Yet the golden thread, only slightly dimmed, still pressed forward towards the White Jade Capital.
As the Daoist puppet general collapsed with a thunderous crash, an elderly man in simple hemp robes appeared behind it, raising one hand to block the slender thread.
Though exuding the aura of twilight decay, the old man's face was strangely youthful, resembling a child's, an uncanny juxtaposition. He smiled bitterly and, in the refined tongue of another land, hoarsely asked, "Ah Liang, can you cease now?"
Ah Liang frowned. "Luan Changye? Weren't you exiled north for failing to secure the position of great heir?"
The old man, bleeding faintly from his palm as he held back the golden thread, replied helplessly, "It's a long story."
Ah Liang's eyes brightened. "I always wondered who on Baoping Continent could construct such a crude imitation of White Jade Capital. So it was you."
Luan hesitated briefly, then whispered, "I once sought guidance from Master Qi on building this tower."
Ah Liang glanced sidelong at the restless Song Changjing, who, after a fierce inner struggle, chose to abandon further combat. Turning back to his acquaintance from the Mo family, Ah Liang lightly twitched his wrist; the slender dagger adorned with talismanic scripts trembled lazily, betraying his disdain.
In truth, after his initial strike, if Ah Liang had resolved to utterly crush his foes, Song Changjing would have perished; Luan would not have held the line; and the White Jade Capital would have collapsed, pushing Dali's power back by at least four or five decades. The benefits Master Qi Jingchun's cliffside academy brought to Dali would have been wiped away with a single additional slash.
Among the myriad schools of thought, the Mo family wielded considerable influence, divided into three branches. One branch consisted largely of wandering heroes—sword cultivators among the Qi practitioners. Ah Liang, a famed wanderer across several continents, knew Luan Changye by reputation. Luan, once on the brink of becoming a Mo family great heir, genuinely revered Ah Liang, though their acquaintance was limited.
However, Luan's mention of Qi Jingchun stirred Ah Liang's anger. Brandishing his talisman dagger, he pointed its tip at the Mo exile and sneered, "Qi Jingchun is dead—how can you still use him as a talisman for Dali and this White Jade Capital? Since when did you, Luan Changye, acquire thicker skin than me, Ah Liang?"
Luan's weathered face curled into a wry smile as he shook his head vigorously. "No match for you, Senior Ah Liang. When Master Qi spoke of you, it was exactly with the expression you wear now."
Ah Liang half-believed the first claim, but the latter statement rang true.
He gazed skyward and slowly sheathed his talisman dagger, casting a sharp glance at the old man. "Don't think your delaying tactics fool me."
Only then did the Dali emperor appear beside Luan Changye, escorted by the elder Lu. Attempting to advance, the emperor's sleeve was grasped gently by the high-crowned elder, who whispered, "Do not be rash."
The man in the official robe smiled, shook off the elder's hand, and proceeded forward several steps. Bowing respectfully, he said, "Song Zhengchun of Dali, pays respects to Senior Ah Liang."
Ah Liang narrowed his eyes, gripping his dagger tightly. In that instant, despair filled every heart. The Dali emperor closed his eyes with a serene smile, prepared to meet his fate.
Behind Ah Liang, a voice pleaded desperately, "Ah Liang! Do not kill him!"
Without turning, Ah Liang's anger intensified. "You good-for-nothing wretch! Always quarreling with Qi Jingchun since childhood. Losing is losing—what shame is there? Why resort to these petty tricks? Do you think I, Ah Liang, would spare you out of sentimentality?"
Behind him stood a lean, gaunt elder in blue robes, jade pendant hanging at his side, exuding the dignity of a Confucian sage. His expression was complex as he softly said, "Ah Liang, Qi Jingchun devoted his later years entirely to Dali."
Ah Liang turned, face darkening. "Cui Xuan, what nonsense! The cliffside academy is gone—how dare you say such things?"
The elder's gaze was steady. "I speak only truth. Qi Jingchun truly wished for Dali to follow a different path. Though ultimately disappointed, you cannot deny the ones he chose are the children of our Longquan County today."
He bowed his head. "Ah Liang, you once said with your own lips that Cui Xuan could walk his own way."
Ah Liang scoffed, "Trying to reason with a clever nitpicker like you is worse than arguing with that little bastard Li Huai."
He relaxed his grip on the dagger. "Old man's life was a tumultuous saga, ending in self-imprisonment at the Merit Forest—a lonely and pitiful fate. Yet he still radiated purity and gentleness, outwardly clean and inwardly mild. Qi Jingchun was the same. You, Cui Xuan, are not. Qi Jingchun was stubborn; you learned fast. Who would have thought Qi Jingchun could fight those old bastards to earth-shattering glory, while you've fallen to an unremarkable fate—neither man, ghost, deity, nor immortal? You brought this on yourself."
Ah Liang smiled faintly. "The last time I saw the old man, he said your ideas weren't wrong, but your methods were. He even complimented your calligraphy—the 'Little Garden Chive Script' and 'World's Chrysanthemum Script'—so beautiful. Had I known we'd part like this, I'd have taken a few more copies from you back then."
The elder's eyes reddened as he trembled, "Does the Master admit fault? That he wasn't always right?"
Ah Liang rolled his eyes. "Whose example did I follow for thick skin? The old man never admitted fault, and you disciples, freeloading all these years, can't pretend not to understand? Besides, no one but you, Cui Xuan, knows the full extent of his power and struggles. Enough, I won't waste words. Shut up and go away—I don't want to see your pathetic face."
The elder staggered away, emitting strange, sorrowful laughter that echoed desolately across the empty plaza.
Ah Liang looked to the sky, cursing like a scolding shrew, drawing eyes in astonishment. "Alright, alright, hurry up! Hurry, damn your haste! You're all like Cui Xuan, damn you! If you've got guts, come fight me!"
Despite the curses, the task remained. Ah Liang removed his talisman and, after a moment's thought, tossed it high to Song Changjing—his words addressed to the Dali emperor: "I'll leave this blade behind. You Dali owe it to a girl named Li Baoping. Be kind to her—she's my friend."
The emperor smiled and nodded, "No problem."
Ah Liang muttered to himself, "Tsk, tsk—riding horses, drinking wine, carrying swords instead of gourds. What a handsome scene, a
true spectacle in my life."
He turned and vanished into the golden clouds, leaving behind a sound of wings flapping faintly.