Chapter 68: Rumors Rise in Jiangnan, the Sword Master Shall Ascend the Throne

Hei Xuan's second blade came from Jiangnan.

It was a rumor.

"Jiang Che does not ascend the throne—he merely cultivates reputation."

"The Human Assembly Hall is nothing but a puppet."

"Wenxin Hall at Tian Duan Cliff is in truth a place of brainwashing."

"All who defy Jiang Che are branded as Heart Demons."

"Jiang Che will proclaim himself emperor in the Northern Border, with the kingdom's name Sword."

The rumor spread swiftly.

Jiangnan's waterways were dense, trade routes thriving, teahouses and taverns abundant, and Scholars plentiful.

A storyteller slammed his wooden tablet and told a tale of "The Sword Master's Three Refusals of the Dragon Throne," only for it to turn overnight into "Jiang Che secretly forged the Nine Dragon Sword Seat."

A failed scholar wrote an essay arguing the Council Hall was chaotic and that a virtuous ruler should be installed instead.

The next day, someone added an ending line:

"The virtuous ruler? Jiang Che."

The third day, it became:

"Jiang Che intends to proclaim himself emperor; ministers urge him to ascend."

The fourth day, even the so-called petition of urging appeared.

It bore forged signatures of Gu Chongming, Xie Wuya, Chen Shanhe, Shen Wanjin, and others.

When Shen Wanjin saw his "signature," he flew into a rage.

"My handwriting isn't that ugly!"

Chen Shanhe sneered: "Is that the point?"

Shen Wanjin coughed: "Of course not. The point is I'd never dare urge the Young Master to become emperor!"

When the rumor reached the Capital City, the Council Hall grew tense.

Someone suggested immediate censorship.

But Gu Chongming shook his head: "The more you suppress it, the more real it seems."

Qin Su said: "Then issue a public denial."

Gu Chongming smiled bitterly: "A denial may not help. People prefer to believe the sensational."

When the message reached Tian Duan Cliff, Jiang Che was listening in Wenxin Hall as a Sword Pavilion Disciple recounted his dream of Ascension.

After reading the letter, he did not anger—he laughed.

Xie Tingxue asked: "Not angry?"

Jiang Che said: "This blade was bound to come."

"What will you do?"

Jiang Che said: "Go to Jiangnan."

Xie Tingxue frowned: "If you go yourself, won't it look like you're trying to suppress them?"

Jiang Che nodded: "So I won't bring troops."

Chen Shanhe firmly opposed.

"Young Master, Jiangnan clearly has someone laying a trap. If you go without troops, what if there's an assassination…"

Jiang Che said: "An assassination would be perfect."

Chen Shanhe's face darkened.

Jiang Che smiled: "I'm joking."

"That's not funny."

In the end, Jiang Che took only Xie Tingxue, Lin Xiaoman, Zhou Buqi, and ten Green Blade Camp Sword Cultivators southward.

Zhou Buqi was deliberately brought along.

Because Wenxin Hall cannot remain forever fixed at Tian Duan Cliff.

Jiangnan needs one too.

As they traveled south, Jiang Che used no Sword Master's procession.

They disguised themselves as ordinary travelers and entered Jiangnan's largest city—Jinling.

Jinling was prosperous.

Dancing pavilions, painted boats, misty long streets, Scholars with flowing sleeves, merchant ships lit up along the river.

Vastly different from Han Zhou, Luo'an, and the Western Desert.

Here, no Blood Sacrifice had destroyed the land, no war at White Bone Pass had scarred it.

So its people spoke of Heavenly Gate, the Questioning Ruler, and the Council Hall as if discussing a distant play.

When Jiang Che sat down in a teahouse, the storyteller was recounting "The Sword Master's Dream of the Nine Dragon Chair."

"It is said that Jiang Che dreamed of nine golden dragons coiling around him; upon waking, he knew his Heavenly Fate was his, awaiting only three pleas and three refusals before ascending the throne…"

The teahouse patrons listened with rapt attention.

Xie Tingxue's face was expressionless.

Lin Xiaoman clenched his pen in anger.

Zhou Buqi whispered: "Sword Master, shall I go and…"

Jiang Che shook his head.

He listened to the entire tale.

Then he called the waiter and gave the storyteller a silver ingot as reward.

The storyteller beamed: "Does the honored guest find my tale pleasing?"

Jiang Che said, "It is certainly lively enough."

"It is just false."

The storyteller's face froze.

Everyone in the teahouse turned to look.

Jiang Che removed his bamboo hat.

Someone recognized him.

"Jiang... Jiang Che?"

The teahouse erupted into chaos.

The storyteller was so frightened he dropped straight to his knees.

Jiang Che helped him up.

"No need to kneel."

The storyteller's legs turned to jelly: "Sword Master, spare my life! This humble one only heard it from others!"

Jiang Che said, "I know."

He turned to face the teahouse full of patrons.

"Since everyone loves listening to stories, perhaps today I will tell one myself."

The teahouse fell so silent a falling needle could be heard.

Jiang Che sat before the storyteller's platform and picked up the wooden clapper.

Crack.

A soft sound.

"Today I will not speak of the Nine Dragon Chair."

"I will speak of the Luo'an Altar."