Chapter 930: The Peak of the Sword Dao Shall Arise from the Zheng Clan!

The cigarette between Zheng Fan’s fingers burned quietly.

He did not believe Old Tian could have failed.

In Zheng Fan’s understanding, Tian Wujing bordered on omnipotent.

For anything placed before Tian Wujing, there were probably only two categories: things he was willing to do... and things he was unwilling to do.

Whether he was capable of doing them did not seem to enter the equation.

Forget one young Barbarian prince fleeing in panic after the Royal Court had been trampled flat.

Even if the Royal Court still stood, even if the young prince could call the surrounding Barbarian tribes to gather beneath his banner... if Old Tian wanted to catch him... he probably still would not be able to escape.

And yet now... that young Barbarian prince had not only successfully fled all the way west.

He had even gathered the Barbarian tribes there and appeared ready to rise again.

Restore the Royal Court?

For some reason... a name surfaced inside Zheng Fan’s mind.

Yelü Dashi.

Back when news first came that Tian Wujing had gone west, the Blind Man had joked that perhaps Prince Jingnan planned to imitate Yelü Dashi and build another Western Liao.

Now... that possibility seemed the greatest.

The young Barbarian prince pushed to the front was probably nothing more than a puppet.

Zheng Fan trusted his own guess.

A man like Old Tian could not simply disappear without a sound.

By comparison, Zheng Fan did not truly resent him for refusing to return.

Perhaps this kind of self-exile was, for Tian Wujing himself, the best choice available right now.

Yelü Dashi had been forced west because his homeland was destroyed.

With no road left, he took a group of loyal followers and rebuilt a state elsewhere.

Great Yan still stood today.

More than that... it flourished.

But the day Old Tian returned would probably be the day he fulfilled the promise he had made to his granduncle during that bloody night of the Tian Clan... and cut his own throat before the ancestral graves.

That would be a release for him.

But from Zheng Fan’s position... he hoped that ending came later.

Once he and Ji Old Sixth unified All Xia... he could pack his things and launch a western expedition.

At that time, he genuinely looked forward to seeing what sort of situation Old Tian might have created in the West.

All men must die.

After living magnificently once more... returning home to atone and seek that final death would no longer feel quite so regretful.

At least... from Zheng Fan’s perspective as an outsider to Tian Wujing’s own guilt... that was the ending he could accept most easily.

The Prince’s thoughts drifted.

Wente and the husky remained prostrated there, not daring to disturb him.

Finally... the Prince sighed.

He looked toward Wente.

“In your opinion, which is stronger? The armies of the West... or the armies of Great Yan?”

Wente shook his head.

Then answered with complete sincerity:

“Great Yan’s armies are stronger.”

“Oh?”

Zheng Fan smiled.

“I don’t need you deliberately flattering me.”

“Your Highness, I am not flattering you. I am no general. During my years as a merchant, I have killed some bandits along the road, but I have never commanded a war. Still, I can compare the two from my own perspective.”

“Go on.”

“In terms of sheer military scale, the West can also gather armies comparable to Great Yan’s. Perhaps even larger armies. But Great Yan’s armies obey only Great Yan. Western armies nominally obey the Church, because the Church represents the will of God. But after that they obey their individual kings. Beneath those kings, they obey their separate lords...”

“That’s enough. I understand what you mean.”

“Yes. Your Highness is wise.”

In truth, Zheng Fan knew Wente’s explanation was not entirely correct.

Even Yan could be understood through the same framework.

After all...

Zheng Fan himself was the largest “king” inside Great Yan.

The armies beneath him obeyed him rather than the Emperor.

But that did not mean Wente was lying.

The reason an outsider like him developed that impression ultimately came down to... culture.

At its root, the West had never undergone the foundational cultural integration that Great Xia had given the East.

And the institution that should have shouldered that responsibility—the Church—was probably too busy suppressing and fragmenting the great secular powers within its sphere of influence, preventing kings from becoming powerful enough to threaten divine authority.

Ultimately... trying to force cultural cohesion through “God” was an unrealistic fantasy.

Sooner or later, it was all too easy for the arrangement to splinter into different versions of God and endless battles among old sects and new sects.

Human affairs... had to be settled by humans.

You could summon down as many gods as you wanted and it still would not mean shit.

What mattered was some heaven-sent savage of a man smashing the whole mess to pieces.

Of course... thinking about western expeditions right now was far too premature.

No matter what...

All Xia had to be unified first.

Once matters here were finished... he could row a boat along Chu’s southern frontier, enjoy the breeze in Qian’s Jiangnan, then hold a barbecue over the blue waves of the Eastern Sea.

Once he had played with everything worth playing with... once he had seen everything worth seeing...

Zheng Fan would not mind imitating the Mongols of another time and space.

Launch one western expedition.

Or several.

Play God for a while.

Raise a whip glowing with holy radiance and lash it down upon them.

Why not?

This life... was ultimately about enjoying himself.

Perhaps even Zheng Fan himself had not realized it.

Ever since he entered Fourth Grade—especially after Siniang and Fan Li advanced with him—the carefree quality in his state of mind had become increasingly pronounced.

Fourth Grade had arrived.

Third Grade... was the next target.

It would certainly be difficult.

Very difficult.

But there was still hope.

The road was long.

At least there was a destination.

And once he himself reached Third Grade... then spent whatever effort was necessary to make the Demon Kings catch up with him... seven Third Grade Demon Kings would stand beside him.

He would sit in the middle.

That... would be a genuine advent of demons.

His worldly power would already stand almost at the absolute summit.

At the same time, his personal force would reach its peak as well.

Look across every jianghu sect.

Even including whatever hidden sects or powers might exist that nobody knew about yet... which one could produce a summit-level battle team this extravagant?

That too was why Zheng Fan had never been especially enthusiastic about “rebellion.”

Sit on the dragon throne... and it was equivalent to locking shackles around his own body.

How could that compare with someday roaming freely, treating the whole world like the pleasure grounds behind his own house?

Enjoy everything for free.

Carry none of the responsibility.

That pleasure might even surpass the pleasure itself.

“Go find the Blind Man,” Zheng Fan said.

As for how to settle this illegitimate son from the West... better to let the Blind Man arrange it.

Zheng Fan did not know that this man and dog had originally been brought here by the Blind Man in the first place... only to be intercepted halfway by one idiot giant.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Wente rose and bowed respectfully.

The husky also got up and pressed its front paws together in imitation.

After man and dog left...

Zheng Fan silently rubbed the China-brand iron cigarette case resting beside his hand.

There were still many things to do.

Still a great deal of time needed for preparation.

And yet... deep inside... he did not feel tired.

Being busy was not frightening.

Being tired was not frightening either.

What was frightening... was being lost.

...

On the drill field outside Gourd Temple, the spar had already reached white heat.

The probing phase was over.

Both sides had begun fighting properly.

In truth, the match was unfair to the Sword Saint.

First, he could not open Second Grade.

Second, as a sword cultivator—the path with the most terrifying killing power—he could hardly truly chop his disciple’s chosen giant to death.

He could not even seriously injure him.

So the Sword Saint had to raise the intensity of his offense bit by bit, searching for exactly the right degree.

Fortunately, Fan Li seemed to understand what he was doing.

The early testing and exchanges between them felt less like opponents feeling each other out... and more like two people working in remarkable tacit understanding to locate a balance point.

Among the Brocade-Clad personal guards, there was no shortage of capable men.

Most followed the Martial Artist path.

Their Grades might not be very high.

But they were more than qualified to serve as knowledgeable spectators.

Years ago, one important reason Prince Jingnan had shown such disdain toward the so-called jianghu was that the fine sons of Yan considered joining the army an honor.

That naturally meant huge numbers of ranked warriors could be found inside Yan’s forces.

The Brocade-Clad personal guards watched in fascination, repeatedly shouting in delight.

Big Girl hugged Longyuan and watched just as intently.

Longyuan itself, however, was being drawn by the flow of qi.

It seemed instinctively eager to fly back to the Sword Saint and aid him.

Unfortunately... the Sword Saint showed no intention whatsoever of summoning it.

The sword had already changed masters.

Unless the situation left him no other choice, the Sword Saint would not take it back for his own use.

Otherwise, that bastard surnamed Zheng would definitely mock him:

You gave something to my daughter and still have the face to take it back?

As for what counted as “no other choice”... simple.

That would be the moment the bastard surnamed Zheng himself begged him to borrow the sword back for a while.

Fan Li’s skin had taken on an earthy yellow hue.

It did not look stiff or heavy.

Instead, it carried a strange sense of flowing movement.

Unfortunately, no true peak expert stood among the Brocade-Clad personal guards.

Otherwise, someone might have noticed that the huge man currently being beaten backward beneath the Sword Saint’s offense was using nearly every calculable and usable method imaginable... to cancel out damage.

Even the Sword Saint, despite appearing to hold every advantage, did not dare relax.

When ordinary people got beaten, it meant they were inferior.

The man before him... had decided from the beginning to build everything upon defense, then wait for a chance to strike back.

The Sword Saint himself had only understood this principle after losing to Tian Wujing years ago.

Yet this dull-looking giant before him... had understood it clearly from the start.

The Sword Saint deliberately exposed an opening and began changing his breath.

Fan Li’s eyes suddenly widened.

He charged directly toward the Sword Saint.

The ground around him seemed to tremble beneath every step.

A Fourth Grade Demon King, strengthened by bloodline power together with terrifying experience and awareness, possessed enough combat ability to rival a Third Grade expert.

So it was no exaggeration to say... the clash happening here right now was effectively a battle between two Third Grade powers.

Once the distance closed, Fan Li swung his axe straight down.

The Sword Saint met it with sword qi condensed at his fingertips.

At the same time... the Sword Saint actively moved even closer.

For a swordsman, that would normally be a grave taboo.

A swordsman’s physique could not compare with a Martial Artist’s.

But the Sword Saint trusted his sword techniques enough to carve a gulf within inches of his opponent.

Break the enemy’s offense.

Dismantle and consume the enemy’s defense.

This also meant that at the Sword Saint’s present level, even if an ordinary Third Grade Martial Artist closed into melee range... he no longer needed to fear him.

And how many monstrous Martial Artists like Tian Wujing could this world possibly contain?

In other words... the comparatively fragile physique of a sword cultivator had, for the Sword Saint, ceased to be a weakness.

Yet... after more than a hundred exchanges of axe and sword qi within the span of a few breaths... the Sword Saint suddenly realized the situation was not quite as simple as he had imagined.

It was not because Fan Li suddenly erupted with hidden potential.

Nor did he unleash some earth-shattering secret technique.

In truth, Fan Li remained heavily suppressed.

Even defending himself looked strained.

Experience and awareness might be monstrous.

But the Sword Saint was no longer lacking in either respect.

Faced with an absolute gap in power... even a Demon King had to lower his head.

Yet after fighting for a while... the Sword Saint discovered something strange.

The giant was holding an axe.

But the moves he swung... were sword techniques!

Using sword techniques without a sword was not especially bizarre.

For swordsmen, once one reached a high enough realm, all things could serve as a sword.

A tree branch.

A chopstick.

Anything could release sword intent.

The sword qi the Sword Saint himself was using right now was one example.

What shocked him... what left him helpless... what even made him slightly depressed... was that the sword techniques this giant used... belonged to him.

Yu Huaping!

Yu Huaping might have come from the Yu imperial clan, but in truth his origins were little different from those of a commoner.

He had possessed a master.

But his master had been no hidden supreme expert.

Merely a reasonably skilled swordsman who, in earlier years, had served as a retainer to a modestly wealthy household.

So for Yu Huaping, the old saying truly applied:

The master leads you through the door.

Cultivation depends entirely on yourself.

His sword was his own system.

His own techniques.

Far too distinct.

Far too obvious.

Even though the giant before him swung an axe... to Yu Huaping, the “founding ancestor” of this style... the flavor was far too pungent to mistake.

Why the hell did this giant know his sword techniques?

There was no need to think about the answer.

His female disciple, whose elbows always bent outward toward someone else, must have leaked the family secrets to him.

A grown daughter really could not be kept at home.

Could not be kept at all.

Yu Huaping was a man, yes.

But the girl had called him Master before his face for years.

For her to shake out the entire family fortune like this... then spend every day sitting openly on that man’s shoulder... wasn’t she betting a little too heavily?

In truth... the Sword Saint had wronged the Sword Maid.

She had never deliberately revealed her sect’s sword techniques to Fan Li.

Rather, for several years already, Fan Li had been helping her “review” what she learned from the Sword Saint.

The Sword Saint himself was not particularly skilled at teaching disciples.

He was a genius.

If not for Tian Wujing existing before him, Yu Huaping should have been the greatest natural genius Zheng Fan had ever encountered in this world.

The process by which geniuses understood and grasped things... was fundamentally different from that of ordinary people.

So sometimes at night, when Fan Li took the Sword Maid out walking or brought her somewhere for a late snack... she would ask him about the parts of her lessons she did not understand.

And Fan Li... the one who looked stupidest among all the gentlemen of Prince Pingxi Residence... would digest the matter first.

Then explain it back to the Sword Maid.

A private tutoring session.

The reason he used the Sword Saint’s own moves right now was not to show off how eagerly the man’s disciple had given herself away.

Fan Li simply understood what the Sword Saint was trying to do.

Using the Sword Saint’s own techniques was the best way to interfere with that intention.

So to the spectators... the drill field was filled with sweeping sword qi and tremendous clashes.

It was genuinely exhilarating.

After the deadlock continued for some time... both sides reached a certain threshold.

Fan Li began withdrawing his strength.

At the same moment... the Sword Saint dispersed the second strand of sword qi that had almost fully condensed in his other hand.

From here onward, if Fan Li wanted to break the situation, he would have to rely on vicious, underhanded moves.

Likewise, the Sword Saint had reached the point where he would need to use sharper methods to smash through the defense.

This was only a spar.

There was no need to continue until everyone became bloody and wounded.

They were not fighting to the death.

After one final exchange...

Fan Li retreated.

The Sword Saint stopped.

“Fun,” Fan Li said with a grin.

“Interesting,” the Sword Saint answered.

Then... the Sword Saint added:

“If your hands itch again later, come whenever you want.”

Fan Li shook his head.

“That isn’t up to me.”

At his present realm, he could naturally bring out essentially all the power this realm possessed.

There was basically no further potential to mine from it.

After all, he could not imitate A’Ming by grabbing some “Kashir” as a blood bag and forcibly releasing a forbidden spell.

So no matter how often he fought the Sword Saint, the result would remain the same.

There would be no further improvement.

Perhaps... the next time Master advanced, Fan Li would come find the Sword Saint for another round.

But Fourth Grade to Third Grade...

Fan Li did not hold much hope.

The Sword Saint did not ask Fan Li about the sword techniques.

A man capable of absorbing the essence—even the sword intent—of his techniques was not the kind of person who would deliberately steal from another school.

He had probably seen them... and learned them.

Still, the Sword Saint gave one warning.

“My disciple is grown now. Don’t fail her.”

Age... was not remotely a problem in this era.

Yao Zizhan of Qian could still marry a thirteen-year-old girl at his great age, and people could celebrate “an old pear tree pressing down upon crabapple blossoms” as a romantic tale.

As for later generations... strictly speaking, it still was not exactly unheard of.

Fan Li turned and looked toward the Sword Maid.

He did not know whether he truly liked her.

To some extent, the Demon Kings’ ideas and emotions were different from those of ordinary people.

But Fan Li felt that whenever the Sword Maid sat on his shoulder... he did not dislike it.

More than that... he had grown used to it.

So when the Sword Saint warned him with the posture of an elder...

Fan Li merely nodded.

“All right. Time to go home.”

The Sword Saint walked toward the two children.

Big Girl laughed in obvious excitement.

Zheng Lin, meanwhile, stared down at his own fingers.

The Sword Saint picked up both children.

Big Girl immediately reached out and wrapped one arm around his neck.

That left only one small hand holding Longyuan.

In reality, Longyuan floated by itself and remained pressed against her.

Girl and sword had long since begun understanding one another.

Zheng Lin turned his face away.

His fingers continued rubbing together.

The gesture looked rather cute.

It resembled the movement adults used when hinting for a red packet.

But a moment later... shhk.

The Sword Saint caught it.

A tiny strand of sword intent... had just been rubbed into existence at Zheng Lin’s fingertips.

For an instant... holding those two children in his arms... the Sword Saint felt tremendous heroic pride rise inside him.

By coincidence, the Prince Pingxi who should have arrived first but had been delayed until the very end finally hurried onto the field.

The instant the Prince appeared... he immediately offered up one perfect piece of flattery:

“Brilliant! Brother Yu truly deserves to be the foremost swordsman of All Xia!”

Yu Huaping smiled.

“I am merely shamelessly holding the seat warm for these disciples of mine until they are ready to take it.”

“Oh? Too modest. Too modest again. I’m saying, Old Yu, can you fix that habit? Jianghu has been repeating it for more than ten years already—you said one polite sentence back then and somehow pushed that Swordsmith straight into the ranks of the Four Great Swordsmen.”

Yu Huaping shook his head.

Then said:

“Twenty years from now, the peak of the sword dao beneath Heaven shall arise from the Zheng Clan.”

The Prince who had just warned the Sword Saint not to keep making empty polite remarks immediately clapped his hands.

“Not a damned thing wrong with that!”

...

In autumn of the second year of Ying’an, Prince Pingxi Residence submitted a memorial requesting permission to enter the capital and receive audience.

The Emperor approved.

[End of Chapter 930]