Chapter 751: Boundless Heaven and Earth

Yao Zizhan's head was buzzing.

He did not even remember to wipe away the blood that had just been sprayed across his face, because the instant he heard those words, one person appeared in his mind.

He knew exactly who the second figure inside the lotus dust was.

Goddamn it!

Great Qian's literary sage cursed inwardly.

Weren't they supposed to have invited Marquis Pingxi here?

How had this turned into buying the small one and getting the big one free?

Whatever mockery Yao Zizhan might attract for being a figurehead Chancellor, his access to information still ranked among the very highest in all of Qian. He knew far more about Tian Wujing than ordinary people did, or even most ordinary Qian officials.

Tian Wujing was not merely a peak Third Grade Martial Artist.

He also excelled in mystic arts.

Unlike Qian's armies, which generally inspired little confidence, the Silver-Armored Guard was unquestionably one of the most formidable intelligence yamen in the entire eastern world. In the shadow war of spies and assassins, it had genuinely crushed the corresponding institutions of neighboring states.

When Great Yan's armies had marched south against Qian years ago, the armies of Qian's Three Frontiers had remained fixed in place, while the various forces sent from the rear had practically been fed to the Yan army batch by batch.

But the Silver-Armored Guard had learned of Great Yan's movements early and sent warning after warning to the rear. In the killings carried out through alleys, shadows, and hidden channels, the Silver-Armored Guard had even outperformed Great Yan's Secret Intelligence Department.

Unfortunately...

Qian's collapse on the open battlefield had been so disastrous that it could not match the brilliance of its intelligence service.

The Silver-Armored Guard had long since investigated the Great Yan Southern Prince thoroughly.

His realm as a Martial Artist went without saying.

But there was also one particular entry:

His attainment in mystic arts was immeasurable.

And deliberately... the report did not include the word "deep."

Among Yan people, the Southern Prince inspired reverence.

Among people of other states... he inspired genuine fear.

Yao Zizhan was only a scholar.

He did not know martial arts.

He did not cultivate qi.

And now Great Yan's Southern Prince had suddenly appeared before him like this.

His entire face almost went numb from fright.

This was completely different from the days in Shengle City, when Yao Zizhan had still been able to sit at the same table as the Prince of Jingnan, eat a meal, and exchange a few words.

Right now... he had been sitting here drinking tea.

They had only just "invited" Marquis Pingxi up the mountain.

And everyone beneath Heaven knew exactly how highly Great Yan's Southern Prince regarded Marquis Pingxi.

It was the equivalent of kicking a tiger cub... turning around with a smile... and discovering the tiger king standing behind you, staring.

A numbness rose from the soles of the feet, climbed the spine, and spread all the way through the skull.

A fear beyond even death.

Unlike Master Yao, who had been frightened senseless purely by the weight of Tian Wujing's name, Li Xundao could "see" far more clearly at this moment.

And precisely because he could see clearly... he understood exactly what this scene meant.

He raised one hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

Seeing Master Yao's expression, he said:

"Tian Wujing didn't come."

Yao Zizhan swallowed instinctively.

"Then why are you vomiting blood?"

Li Xundao gave a bitter smile.

"But whether he came or not... makes almost no difference."

Everything that had happened today had begun with one casual stroke.

Li Xundao did not know why Great Yan's Marquis Pingxi had suddenly entered the gate, nor why the Marquis had made himself so bright and conspicuous without any concealment.

But Li Xundao had been unwilling to abandon such an opportunity.

So he forcibly "invited" him here.

By all logic...

Marquis Pingxi should already have fallen into a muddled state.

The momentum should then have carried him naturally into becoming another classic case of "Heaven envied his talent," the sort of death that could never be openly described in official history.

Unfortunately...

Great Yan's Southern Prince had once left a brand inside Marquis Pingxi's heart.

The path of a Qi Refiner could be described politely as "walking against Heaven."

Less politely... it meant blindly stumbling around inside a miasma.

Most of the time, Heaven itself could not even be bothered to look at you.

And yet you could still get yourself lost... wander into some dead end... and die there.

By "inviting" Marquis Pingxi here, Li Xundao had effectively pushed him into exactly that condition.

His soul and consciousness were separated.

His mind would inevitably suffer.

Li Xundao had deliberately helped Marquis Pingxi's spirit wander through the Great Void because he had been certain of one thing:

Once the man was brought here... he would not remember the road back.

A pity.

A true pity.

Someone... long ago... seemed to have anticipated a day like this.

Someone had planted this stroke in advance.

Li Xundao understood that the arrangement had not been placed specifically to trap him.

It had been meant to guard against people like him.

What kind of relationship could make Great Yan's Southern Prince care this much about another man?

Enough to arrange even this step long in advance?

It was a lamp.

Something that allowed a lost traveler to see.

At the critical moment... it could pour clarity directly into the crown of one's head.

It was also like a thunderous shout... waking a man from numbness and confusion.

"Someone may point out the road, but that doesn't necessarily mean it will help. As the saying goes, good advice can't save a ghost determined to die," Li Xundao said.

"I don't believe that."

Only now did Master Yao finally remember to wipe the blood from his face.

Then he added:

"I suspect you don't believe it either."

"Heh."

Li Xundao nodded.

He accepted the point.

One of these two men was Great Qian's literary sage.

The other had only just pacified the southwest and was about to enter the Bureau of Military Affairs.

Both were among the most intelligent men in the mortal world.

And precisely because they were intelligent... they understood this even more clearly.

Forget ancient history.

Among the famous men of the present age... how many were truly stupid?

Marquis Pingxi was supposed to be some talentless fool?

Who would believe that?

Sure enough... at the center of the pond... once Zheng Fan remembered that descent from Mount Tianhu years ago... once Tian Wujing's figure appeared... the confusion around Marquis Zheng seemed to settle immediately.

Fearlessness returned.

So did courage.

The light before him became clear.

The colors became clear.

Everything before him... became clear.

And naturally... once you turned your head... you could see the road you had come by as well.

Zheng Fan did not understand the rules followed by Qi Refiners.

But even a pig, once placed high enough, could display a certain grand bearing.

And Marquis Zheng... was still considerably better than a pig.

"Heh-heh-heh..."

Marquis Zheng looked toward Master Yao and laughed.

"Heh-heh-heh."

Master Yao laughed awkwardly in return.

...

"Why are you laughing?"

On the frozen Wang River... the Sword Saint stared at Zheng Fan, who had suddenly begun grinning foolishly.

After half a lifetime wandering the jianghu, Yu Huaping felt his heart tighten.

Don't tell me... he really became an idiot?

They had finally survived a sudden assassination.

Marquis Pingxi had not been killed... but had he instead gone stupid?

The Sword Saint turned his head and looked at Kong Shanyang, who was still kneeling on the ice and raving.

His palm was covered in sweat.

But very soon... the Sword Saint noticed that the earlier confusion inside Zheng Fan's eyes had begun to fade.

Replacing it... was the depth and authority the Marquis normally displayed whenever he became serious.

"Master Yao. What a coincidence."

Zheng Fan spoke.

"Master Yao?"

The Sword Saint frowned slightly.

Then realization appeared on his face.

"Yao Zizhan? Qian... Back Mountain!"

...

"Greetings, Marquis Pingxi."

Yao Zizhan rose and saluted Zheng Fan.

The Zheng Fan standing at the center of the pond shifted his gaze toward the man in white gauze seated opposite Yao Zizhan.

"You brought me here?"

Zheng Fan knew exactly what kind of person Master Yao was.

But more importantly... he knew what Master Yao was capable of.

Why had Yao Zizhan been able to travel through the various states without encountering much danger?

Because his literary reputation stood at an astonishing height... but rulers of other states did not truly fear him.

In simple terms... killing him would dirty your hands and damage your reputation.

And killing him would bring little practical benefit.

So Yao Zizhan had been free to keep bouncing around all these years.

Yao Zizhan answered:

"Xundao and I were drinking tea and discussing heroes beneath Heaven. As chance would have it, we had just reached you, Marquis Zheng. So we thought we might invite you as well and share the tea."

Hearing this...

Zheng Fan nodded.

He began walking.

Slowly, he reached the edge of the pond.

Then walked out onto the bank and approached the tea table.

He was only a shadow.

He had no physical body.

It resembled the state the Demon Child took after leaving the stone... except thinner.

Purer.

Zheng Fan lowered his head.

He looked directly at Li Xundao seated before him.

"I am Li Xundao. Greetings to Great Yan's Marquis Pingxi."

Li Xundao saluted.

Men of their stature and refinement never neglected courtesy.

Even now... even knowing he had lost.

And lost badly.

Not only had he emptied away his own cultivation... he had also caused the single white lotus left behind by his master to wither for nothing.

Still... he had to maintain his dignity.

"Li Xundao? Oh. I know you. Last time I heard of you, you'd gone to the southwest to suppress the rebellion there?"

"I have embarrassed myself before the Marquis. Great Qian's southwestern rebellion has already been pacified again. The native chieftains of the southwest have once more submitted to Great Qian's court and will continue to serve us."

"Oh? Pacified?"

"Yes."

"Only just?"

"Yes."

"Let me count. Nearly a year?"

"Yes."

"They were only native tribes. Native soldiers too. A scattered rabble besides. And you still needed almost a year to pacify them. Aiyo. Truly worthy of Qian."

The contempt on Marquis Zheng's face was perfectly obvious.

He had dug the hole from the very beginning.

At first, one might have thought he was praising them for being quick.

What he really meant was:

You were this damned slow?

And Li Xundao could not even argue.

He had pacified the southwestern native chieftains.

Marquis Zheng... had pacified the tribes of the snowfields.

Which of those was harder to deal with?

Li Xundao was not the kind of man who would reverse black and white merely to preserve face.

"Master Yao."

"Hm?"

"You Qian people really are fascinating."

Zheng Fan straightened and shook his head.

"Can't you people ever do something proper? Why do you always like hiding behind others and playing these kinds of tricks?"

The contempt could not have been clearer.

Yao Zizhan answered:

"What if it had worked?"

"There. That's the greatest problem with you Qian people. Even one of Great Qian's Chancellors thinks this way. That alone shows how badly the blood and vigor of your state have decayed."

"Marquis, isn't that rather excessive?" Li Xundao said. "A scholar absent three days must be viewed with new eyes. The Qian of today is no longer the Qian of years ago. And the Qian of the future will not be the Qian of today."

"Useless. All useless. Until your generation of people dies off, Qian can shed as many skins as it likes and it will still be the same Qian underneath."

Was Marquis Zheng angry?

Naturally.

He had been minding his own business when an assassination suddenly struck him on the Wang River.

That storm had only just passed... and in the blink of an eye... he had found himself staring at the scenery of Back Mountain.

What?

Did everyone really think Zheng Fan was some soft persimmon?

Anyone could come pinch him?

Marquis Zheng treasured his life more than almost anything.

And within one day... he had twice encountered a crisis where his life genuinely stood in danger.

How could he not be furious?

And when he became angry... he did not believe in swallowing it.

He believed in letting it out.

That had always been Marquis Zheng's creed.

And right now... nothing would humiliate these men more... or soothe his own anger more... than standing in front of them and tearing down the state for which they had struggled.

"Qian is still the same Qian. And Yan is still the same Yan. The late Emperor is gone, so all of you think you can finally catch your breath? This isn't even informing on anyone, because before long you'll discover it yourselves. The new sovereign is simply another late Emperor... a younger Emperor of Yan. Wait slowly. Wait properly."

Zheng Fan turned.

He had finished speaking.

It was time to leave.

At the center of the pond... another shadow still lingered.

Old Tian's shadow.

Old Tian had not come.

Because Old Tian had left.

Old Tian had come.

Because Old Tian had always been there.

Zheng Fan turned his back to the others and began walking toward the center of the pond.

Li Xundao did not stop him.

There was no way to stop him.

Li Xundao had paid an enormous price merely to "invite" Zheng Fan here.

But once Zheng Fan wanted to leave... once he had remembered clearly the road "down the mountain"... he could simply leave.

The spirit wandering through the Great Void was like a dream.

Saying one's soul had been divided was only a way of explaining it.

From thousands upon thousands of li away... could you really stop someone from waking out of a dream?

Obviously not.

The price paid... seemed completely disproportionate to the result.

But it was like a tower built from wooden blocks.

You could spend half a year carefully stacking the whole thing together.

Someone else only needed one finger... to knock it down in an instant.

That... was the scenery inside the gate.

As Marquis Zheng walked toward the center of the pond, he lifted one hand.

He waved.

"Years ago, I was fortunate enough to witness the splendor of Shangjing and deeply admired the grace of Qian's Emperor. Tell your Emperor this: One day... I, Zheng Fan, will certainly come knocking again. And when I do... we'll have a proper reunion!"

Li Xundao answered:

"Great Qian will be waiting."

"Hahahaha! Qian is already fat enough. There really is no need to slap your own face any more than you already do. And one more thing. Today, I, Zheng Fan, ascended Back Mountain. Here and now... I swear this oath: In this lifetime... I will flatten this entire Back Mountain beneath my feet... to properly repay today's invitation to come here as a guest!"

With those words...

Marquis Zheng reached the center of the pond.

His figure... completely dispersed.

...

"Zheng Fan. Zheng Fan?"

"Hoo..."

Marquis Zheng's vision slowly came back into focus.

He saw the Sword Saint standing before him.

At this moment... all the arrogant swagger Zheng Fan had displayed while mocking Yao Zizhan and Li Xundao on Back Mountain disappeared.

Instead, he immediately stretched out both arms... and hugged Yu Huaping.

"Fuck his uncle! Fuck his uncle! Fuck his ancestors! Motherfucker!"

At this moment... only a long string of curses could vent the feelings inside him.

The Sword Saint was held tightly.

He did not pull away.

He could feel the genuine terror still radiating from this Great Yan Marquis.

A long time passed.

Only then did Marquis Zheng release him.

There was no embarrassment on his face.

Before Yu Huaping... he had never feared showing weakness.

Nor did he bother hiding the times when he genuinely felt fragile.

"What exactly happened just now?"

Zheng Fan drew several deep breaths.

Then gritted his teeth.

"It felt like my soul was hooked all the way to Back Mountain. I almost... couldn't come back."

"I don't understand it," the Sword Saint said. "But I could see that you almost became the same as him."

The Sword Saint pointed toward Kong Shanyang, still raving nearby.

Marquis Zheng nodded.

"Old Yu. This time really was too damned dangerous."

"It won't happen like this next time."

"What about the time after next?"

"That won't happen either."

"And the time after the time after next?"

The Sword Saint looked at Zheng Fan.

He said nothing.

Zheng Fan chuckled.

He tried to stand... only to discover his body had gone somewhat stiff.

The Sword Saint bent down and lifted Zheng Fan onto his back.

Then... he pointed toward the woman lying on the ice.

Zheng Fan said:

"Kill her."

"Good."

Longyuan left its sheath.

The sword pierced the woman's throat.

She died.

After what had happened with Back Mountain, Marquis Zheng no longer had the patience to keep playing games with the rest of this.

As for the woman's three children... let them survive or perish on their own.

Of course, Zheng Fan would still notify the Blind Man and the Secret Intelligence Department.

They could take responsibility for hunting them down.

Whether the children escaped being "weeded out by the roots"... would depend on their own fortune.

As for whether this might someday create some classic protagonist revenge template...

Marquis Zheng genuinely could not be bothered to care right now.

The Sword Saint pointed toward Kong Shanyang next.

"He really is insane."

"Mm."

If he truly had gone mad... then leaving him alive amounted to letting him remain inside torment.

Every time he slept, the man would relive the impact of hundreds of thousands of resentful remnants charging through him.

That was not something ordinary people could endure.

"Earlier, I sensed many different auras coming from the direction of Yingdu," the Sword Saint said.

"Once we get back, send Xu Wenzu an official letter and have him investigate. He'll give me an explanation."

Then... nothing else remained.

Their horses had long since fallen through holes in the ice.

At this moment... the Sword Saint held his sword in his left hand.

His right hand supported Zheng Fan on his back.

He searched for stretches of ice that had not been destroyed... and began walking toward the opposite bank.

"Old Yu. Once we cross the river, find a scout patrol and call some troops over to escort us for the rest of the journey."

"Scared now?"

"Yes."

Marquis Zheng admitted it immediately.

"I know."

"Mm."

"You suffered because of me this time."

"I already told you there'll still be a next-next-next-next time. It's fine."

The Sword Saint could no longer be bothered counting how many "nexts" there were.

There had never really been any need.

Somehow... whenever Zheng Fan wanted it... he could always find a way to make Yu Huaping come along with him.

The Sword Saint carried Marquis Pingxi across the river.

The moment they reached the far bank... great flakes of snow began falling from the sky.

"Quite the fitting scenery," Marquis Zheng murmured from the Sword Saint's back.

The Sword Saint did not answer.

Using scenery to express emotion had never been his strength.

Marquis Zheng continued:

"Old Yu. I'm sleepy. I'll sleep for a while."

"Sleep."

The Sword Saint continued walking with Marquis Pingxi on his back.

Marquis Pingxi... fell asleep there.

Marquis Zheng dreamed.

In his dream... he climbed the mountain again.

Then descended again.

After reaching the bottom... he turned around... and climbed back up once more.

Only because... he wanted that man... to walk another stretch of road with him.

"Brother..."

The Sword Saint heard the murmur from the man sleeping on his back.

Then he looked at the snow falling thicker and thicker around them.

And suddenly remembered another winter... years ago... when he had carried his feverish younger brother on his back while searching for a physician.

His little brother too had lain there in a feverish haze... murmuring:

"Brother."

At this moment... the wind of Jin wrapped itself in snow and swept toward them.

Longyuan slid from its sheath.

A faint curtain of sword qi spread outward... just enough to shield the sleeping man on his back from the wind and snow.

The Sword Saint shifted Zheng Fan slightly higher... making him more comfortable.

His steps never stopped.

He continued forward.

The Sword Saint shook his head.

And thought:

My little brother... is gone.

Your brother... is gone too.

At this moment... between boundless Heaven and Earth... it almost feels... as though only the two of us brothers remain.

[End of Chapter 751]