Atop Qidun Mountain, the rugged man, whose waist was once adorned with countless wine flasks, lay in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life. As the radiant arc of light departed northward from Hongzhu Town, among the secret masters participating in the hunt, the closest Qi practitioner of the Dali Empire was the woman drinking at the tavern near Pillow Post, the Grand Elder of Changchun Palace. Yet, she never had the chance to intervene; or rather, the moment the thought arose, it vanished like smoke—no time to act, no courage to resist. It was as simple as that. Her once pure, crystalline Dao heart became clouded with dust, truly drowning in silent sorrow.
The first to attempt to block A Liang was the man who had threatened the Earth Deity Wei Bo on Qidun Mountain. Resolutely, he charged into the arc of light, only to be casually swatted back to his original place. Wei Bo sighed, crouching to press on the man's chest to protect his vital pulse, sparing this reckless, fearless soul from being destroyed by his own chaotic Qi. Soon, an unremarkable young man appeared beside Wei Bo, kneeling to feed the bloodied comrade a vivid vermilion pill. Grasping the man's burning wrist, after a careful pulse diagnosis, the rhythm finally steadied. Exhaling a breath of stale air, he turned to Wei Bo and said,
"Wei Bo, you saved Old Liu's life. I am deeply grateful for this life-saving grace. How the Dali court chooses to reckon with you afterward is beyond my control. Regarding the matter of the divine seat, it is neither appropriate nor prudent for me to petition on your behalf—doing so might only breed resentment in the Dali emperor. Regardless, I owe both you and Qidun Mountain a debt of gratitude."
Wei Bo's expression remained impassive: "Merely a matter of convenience."
Rising slowly, Wei Bo noticed that this restrained young man—regarded as the supreme swordmaster and gatekeeper of the Dali capital—did not carry a saber at his side, but rather hung his inseparable longsword casually across his back. Hesitating briefly, Wei Bo could not help but ask,
"You reside in Hongzhu Town. Why did you not intervene to stop the swordsman A Liang?"
The young swordsman carefully lifted the injured man onto his back, rising with a smile:
"Swordsman? He is a true swordsman—the most graceful I have ever known. When I was young, I chose the path of sword cultivation precisely because I admired him so."
Wei Bo was left speechless. Though he had initially intended to depart with his subordinates after observing this youthful master, a rare smile of nostalgia crept upon his face, and an inexplicable urge to converse stayed him. Standing there, gazing toward the dazzling lights of Hongzhu Town, he softly said,
"Hm, among the continents where I once dwelled, your Baoping Continent is but a secluded, insular realm. Some taboo tales matter little here. Perhaps I might share something with you. You should know Confucianism has three great academies. This man once, in righteous indignation over Master Qi Jingchun's affair, single-handedly stormed through two of these academies, leaving chaos in his wake. A Liang, who roams the martial world of various continents, lives by his famous motto: 'Here, I only fight the strong and the venerable; I do not contend with the weak or the small.' Yet those two times, he did not hold back in the slightest. Reason and pleas fell on deaf ears. He shattered the entire Changsheng Bridge in battle without mercy. Do you know how many haughty, revered gentlemen and sages were reduced to powerless mortals by these incidents? But these tragedies are the sacred taboo of the Confucian ritual code—no one dares to speak of them."
Wei Bo swallowed nervously, timidly inquiring,
"Such arrogance from Senior A Liang? Then where was the true sage?"
The swordsman's face glowed with pride, chuckling:
"That is precisely why, in the end, one of the three most revered statues at the Confucian Temple silently descended and stood before A Liang. After that battle, A Liang ceased his rampage—no one knows the victor. That grand sage carved out a realm said to be a chessboard, or perhaps a book, as their duel's battlefield. Outsiders can only guess. Following this, A Liang left the academies, crossed two continents, passed the Inverted Suspension Mountain, and journeyed to the legendary Sword Qi Wall of another world. The Inverted Suspension Mountain, a Taoist sanctuary, is a forbidden land for Confucian disciples—thus, shocking news is completely sealed off."
Wei Bo's gaze grew distant, as if listening to an ancient scripture. Among warriors roaming the martial world, there is a saying: "If you are not a cultivator, you do not know what happens on the mountain." Yet along the cultivation path, another saying exists: "If you are already a mountain dweller, you do not know what lies beyond the heavens." Though the swordsman had many more tales to tell, he chose to end here, concluding:
"Your affairs are beyond my involvement. But that young lady—I will ensure Changchun Palace nurtures her wholeheartedly, provided you, Wei Bo, do not find this objectionable."
Wei Bo smiled: "I am no fool ungrateful to kindness. Thank you."
The swordsman relaxed, regarding this notorious deity listed in the Dali Ministry of Rites' confidential files, and smiled:
"Then I will return to the town and inform her that when she journeys back to the capital, she should cross Qidun Mountain by foot before flying north."
Wei Bo's expression darkened with complexity. He sighed softly, bowing his head:
"I am forever indebted. I can only thank you once more."
The swordsman from another continent whispered:
"I once doubted the records in the Ministry of Rites archives. Now, seeing with my own eyes, I have no choice but to believe. Wei Bo, for her sake, you have delayed immortal ascension for so many years. Will you not relent now?"
Wei Bo shook his head: "If it can be grasped, there is no reason to let go."
The swordsman shook his head in incomprehension: "I do not understand."
Wei Bo recalled one matter, hesitating, and asked:
"Per our pact with Senior A Liang, I intend to visit the destitute mountain of Longquan County soon and bring the black serpent there. Though I will follow your Dali Ministry of Rites' protocols and report upward, even if ultimately refused, I must go swiftly. Could you kindly inform the county magistrate on my behalf?"
The swordsman laughed heartily:
"A trivial matter, hardly worth mentioning. Moreover, this is your proactive gesture to ease relations with Dali. Rest assured, it is a positive development. The successive rulers of the Song family in Dali are ambitious and imposing, yet in genuine interaction, they are quite reasonable. Otherwise, neither Master Luan nor I would have remained in Dali so long."
Wei Bo suddenly inquired:
"Senior A Liang's fierce march north—is he seeking trouble with Dali?"
The swordsman nodded, a bitter smile curling his lips:
"Trouble indeed."
Wei Bo was stunned:
"If, as you say, Senior A Liang could provoke one of the top three Confucian saints before reaching Inverted Suspension Mountain, if he truly acts, might the Dali capital vanish from Baoping Continent's map?"
The swordsman considered briefly and spoke plainly:
"If it were me, the Dali dynasty, poised to become ruler of a continent, might well be doomed."
Wei Bo's face twisted into a strange expression, as if saying, "So this is why you refrain from intervening—the Dali's glory would be shattered, pushed back decades or centuries. Are you choosing to nest in a better tree?"
The swordsman, a man of genuine magnanimity, was unfazed by Wei Bo's suspicion of petty motives, shaking his head:
"You misunderstand. I am not A Liang. I could never become such a swordsman. His principles differ from others'. Curiously, to ordinary Qi practitioners, the so-called celestial magnates, once they clash with A Liang and learn his identity, they tremble in fear, expecting annihilation. Yet A Liang rarely fights to the death; he gives a lesson and departs. Legend says he enjoys teasing young, beautiful immortals—but I have never had the chance to ask him directly, and likely never will."
Using his cultivation, the swordsman gazed into the distance, accompanied by successive thunderous explosions and brilliant bursts. As a supporter of Dali, he sighed. As a fellow swordsman, he was entranced. He held one secret untold: A Liang had once sought him out in Hongzhu Town with questions about Dali—the true nature of the empire, the character of the emperor, and what Qi Jingchun had done over the years in the Cliffside Academy and Lizhu Wonderland. He wanted to know all, great and small. They sat drinking in an ordinary tavern, chatting. In the end, so engrossed in answering, the swordsman never had the chance to ask his own long-held questions: How advanced was A Liang's swordsmanship now? Had he ever inscribed a personal mark in that fortress wall defending against the demonic hordes? Were there any enchanting temptresses among the demons who stirred his heart? The man could only comfort himself: How many had invited A Liang to drink? That thought brought joy to the famed swordsman.
As the man prepared to leave, Wei Bo laughed heartily:
"Is it not a remarkable feat that I endured a strike from Senior A Liang's bamboo sword and lived? I care not if he held back or not. Next
time, I will surely retreat and hide more cleverly, lest I suffer fatal harm. For now, I must attend to the dying scholar on Qidun Mountain. Fate will decide."
The swordsman nodded, bidding farewell with a sword gesture, and disappeared swiftly into the black night of Hongzhu Town.
In the deep night, Qidun Mountain remained eerily silent. The bloodied body in the shadowy grove was shrouded with a tattered cloak. Though weakened, the man's spirit was firm, and his eyes sparkled with the flames of destiny yet to come.