Chapter 83: The Yuan Family Heir

Yuan Ziqi’s proposal was rejected, but he was not disheartened; though the Zheng family’s daughter was fine, she was not indispensable. After all, as the eldest grandson of Yuanjiawan, what kind of woman could he not marry? His father had once said that if this attempt failed, he planned to propose to Zhao Changlao of the Qingyu Sect, seeking to wed Zhao’s younger daughter—though her beauty did not match the Zheng girl, her status was even higher, and her physique was flawless.

He glanced again at the red envelope sent by the Zheng family—a single spirit stone, neither much nor little—but he had no intention of opening it. This was his first time venturing out to propose; he would keep this red envelope as a memento.

Under the hook-shaped moon overhead, he walked along the mountain path. The night breeze was light, carrying the chill of melting snow from both slopes, cold enough to sharpen his mind. This was his first time leaving home’s protection to travel the Jianghu alone. Though he had not gone far—only a hundred li from home—it held a unique charm.

He gazed curiously at the dark, looming mountains around him, letting his imagination wander: Would he encounter bandits lying in wait? Or some unexpected incident that would let him test his twin blades?

What one wishes for often comes: ahead, an unexpected event indeed arose—two people were dueling mid-path!

Yuan Ziqi hurried over eagerly, but upon recognizing them, he felt a faint disappointment: both duelists were familiar—he had seen them at the banquet just now, both labeled “Junyan.” One was the Baiyun Swordsman of Baiyun Shanzhuang; the other, the young Sect Master of Sanxuan Gate.

Yet their duel differed from others’. The young Sanxuan Sect Master sat cross-legged on the ground, beads of sweat continuously seeping from his forehead, faintly steaming into mist under the cold wind; the Baiyun Swordsman hovered unnaturally in midair, his legs tightly clenched, his buttocks shifting restlessly, his face flushed crimson, eyes vacant, staring blankly at some unseen point ahead.

Seeing this, Yuan Ziqi felt renewed admiration for Liu Xiaolou. He remembered clearly: Liu Xiaolou’s cultivation base was only Qi Refining Third Layer—three levels lower than the Baiyun Swordsman—and yet he had driven the swordsman to such a state. Even if he ultimately collapsed, he had already won in spirit. No wonder he could become a Sect Master; one could not help but respect him.

Yuan Ziqi sheathed his five-colored twin blades and stepped forward to mediate: “Gentlemen, what is this? Just moments ago you were fine—why fight here? On my account, let this end. Whatever dispute you have, can’t you settle it calmly?”

Liu Xiaolou was indeed at his limit; his true qi was far inferior. Seeing someone intervene, he gladly took the opening and withdrew the Linjian Xuan Shi Array.

He wiped his sweat and protested: “Young Master Yuan, this fight isn’t my doing—it’s that Yun guy being utterly unreasonable. He failed to propose, yet blames me for it.”

Yuan Ziqi turned to the Baiyun Swordsman: “Brother Yun… Brother Yun?”

The Baiyun Swordsman jolted awake as from a dream, exhaled a long breath, but ignored Yuan Ziqi entirely. Instead, he glared fiercely at Liu Xiaolou: “What kind of demonic art is this? Truly shameless!”

Liu Xiaolou sneered: “It’s merely an illusion array. What you see is what you think. Who is truly shameless—you know best.”

Yuan Ziqi scratched the back of his head: “Gentlemen, what does this mean? What’s wrong with an illusion array?”

The Baiyun Swordsman’s face flushed red. He refused to elaborate, spat once, and turned away: “Ashamed to be seen with a scoundrel like you!”

After he left, Liu Xiaolou told Yuan Ziqi how the swordsman had suddenly flown into a rage over nothing and drawn his sword. Yuan Ziqi sighed: “Young Master Liu, don’t be upset. I’ve heard a little about Brother Yun. His family is forcing him to marry a woman… well, one he doesn’t fancy. It’s common enough. He’s quarreled with them over it. In short, before leaving home, he agreed with his family: three months to find a suitable match, or return to the manor to wed.”

Liu Xiaolou nodded: “No wonder.”

Yuan Ziqi said: “As far as I know, this is already his second proposal attempt. Brother Yun… it’s not easy for him…”

Liu Xiaolou said: “But that’s none of my concern… Huh? Second? Is there a third?”

Yuan Ziqi replied: “The Li family of Daimu Mountain is also seeking a son-in-law. Lady Li is well-known. I hope Brother Yun succeeds this time.”

Liu Xiaolou pondered: “The Li family of Daimu Mountain? Very famous? Do they suit Baiyun Shanzhuang?”

Yuan Ziqi nodded: “They’re the main branch of Xunyang Sect. Haven’t you heard? It’s not just suitable—it’s a step up. If Brother Yun succeeds, he’ll be climbing higher than his station.”

Xunyang Sect was one of the great sects of the realm; Liu Xiaolou had heard of it. Its reputation was only slightly weaker than Qingyu Sect, yet far superior to Zhanglong and Dongyang Sects. The Li family of Daimu Mountain being a main branch meant they consistently held high positions in Xunyang Sect—even Elders or Sect Masters. Their lineage was beyond Liu Xiaolou’s reach. Though Baiyun Shanzhuang was a noble family, compared to them, it was truly a step up.

“Won’t you go, Young Master Yuan?” Liu Xiaolou asked.

“Daimu Mountain isn’t open to just anyone. My family wasn’t invited—it’s not something you can just show up for,” Yuan Ziqi replied frankly.

Liu Xiaolou still held a good impression of Yuan Ziqi, so he walked with him through the night, hoping to forge a good connection. Even if Yuan Ziqi could never help him, simply knowing a scion of a prominent family would bring him face.

Yuan Ziqi was a kind man, new to the Jianghu, with limited experience and little prejudice. Liu Xiaolou spoke openly with him about the dangers of the world, warned him how to stay cautious, and occasionally flattered him just enough to deeply move him. By the time they passed Luoshan, they had become nearly bosom friends, and Yuan Ziqi began calling him “Young Master Liu.”

At the mountain’s footpath, he sincerely invited Liu Xiaolou to visit Yuanjiawan for a night’s rest, but Liu Xiaolou politely declined.

Liu Xiaolou said earnestly: “Young Master Yuan, you’re a good man—you don’t look down on me for my humble origins. I’ll remember this in my heart. But your family’s status is high. If I went, I’d only cause discomfort and bring you unnecessary trouble. Let’s leave it. When you have time, please come to Wulong Mountain as my guest—I’ll sweep the bed and wait for you.”

Yuan Ziqi insisted a few more times, but still could not persuade Liu Xiaolou. He sighed: “You are truly sincere, always thinking of me. Then let me go to Wulong Mountain.”

Liu Xiaolou paused, thinking: Why are you so earnest? He said: “How about this? You said yourself you must return home to marry. Wait until you’re wed, then we’ll meet properly as brothers—wouldn’t that be better?”

Yuan Ziqi nodded: “It’s settled!”

And so the two parted with tears.

Once far away, Liu Xiaolou took a wide detour and headed straight east. Following the route he’d quietly gathered earlier, he pushed himself to the limit, and by noon the next day, he finally spotted the figure he’d been chasing.

It was the Baiyun Swordsman.

Liu Xiaolou slowed his pace, keeping a careful distance behind him, trailing him for three more days until they reached a vast, rolling range of mountains.

Daimu Mountain had arrived.

ps: The novel will be officially released tomorrow at 12:00 noon. An afterword follows this chapter.