Chapter 487: Brocade on the River

Traveling the jianghu is also a way to broaden one's horizons.

Being confined to one place inevitably limits one's vision, forever unaware of how high the sky is or how thick the earth.

Just like the martial art before me.

Li Yan did not know what this martial art was called, but he had never seen anyone fuse illusion and technique so perfectly.

Ancient lineages truly cannot be underestimated.

A single misjudgment means death and the collapse of one's Dao.

Though amazed, Li Yan was not afraid.

He stepped back with his knife in his right hand, dodging spear shadows, while his left hand gripped the Divine Tiger Talisman and whispered rapidly: "Nuogao, left bearing Three Stars, right bearing Three Bonds, heaven overturned, earth inverted, all nine paths sealed, make you lose your mind… Chi!"

This was the Northern Emperor's Protective Spell.

As his Dao cultivation rose, its power increased accordingly.

This technique was a form of spell, used to counterattack enemies who employed illusion, soul-distorting, or similar arts.

It was like a sudden burst of gangsha energy to shake the enemy's soul, though previously, due to insufficient Dao power, he had only used it to drive away beasts and yin spirits.

"Roar—!"

On the dock, everyone suddenly heard a tiger's roar.

The sound seemed to strike straight into their souls, making them shudder, pores open, beads of sweat breaking out.

Heaven overturned, earth inverted, all nine paths sealed, make you lose your mind.

The Northern Emperor's Protective Spell now revealed its true power.

Those around were merely affected by the ripple; Wang Han, at the center, bore the brunt of the spell.

Hum!

The dust whipped up by the wind suddenly trembled.

Several of the magical forms within vanished at once.

Wang Han's "Lotus Magical Form" was shattered; though unharmed, his spirit was shaken, and he forced back his discomfort, retreating swiftly.

Li Yan, however, pressed his advantage.

Shhh!

The Soul-Cutting Flying Knife screamed toward him again.

Wang Han barely raised his spear to deflect it.

But Li Yan was already upon him, his feet stomping through mud, leaping high, his Broken Dust Knife cleaving down like Mount Hua split asunder.

"Bold whelp!"

Wang Han's fury surged instantly.

"Power rises from the ground"—even in Daoist martial arts, this held true. Jumping mid-battle with feet off the ground was a grave taboo.

To play this game with him was to insult him.

The Yang family spear included not only his earlier "Flower-Spinning Spear, dazzling eyes," but also "Throat-Locking Spear, gods and demons cannot block," and "Rearward-Whipping Spear, immortals cannot evade."

These were his other two martial arts.

Had his soul not been shaken and his breath unsteady, he would have used the Soul-Locking Spear to impale this brat dead on the spot.

Thinking this, Wang Han shifted his spear to block, planning to regain his composure and stabilize his breath.

This brat was arrogant—perfect chance to finish him with the Rearward-Whipping Spear.

But he miscalculated again.

Clang!

The instant blade met spear shaft, sparks flew, lightning crackled, and then his head throbbed again, vision darkening.

It was Yin Thunder!

Wang Han's heart lurched in shock.

How could this brat use thunder magic without chanting a spell?

No good—this knife is cursed!

He guessed the truth, but it was too late.

His soul shaken by Yin Thunder, Wang Han fared worse than before; the incense scent clinging to his body began to unravel.

To be honest, at his age, though he too had reached Hua Jing, he was still outmatched by youth—his strength and endurance had already fallen behind Li Yan's.

Only the Divine Strike technique had given him a slight edge.

Now, with his Divine Strike unstable and struck by Yin Thunder, his strength plummeted, the spear nearly slipping from his grip.

Li Yan would not miss this opening—he spun his body, gripped the hilt with both hands, and slashed upward sharply.

"Not a chance!"

Wang Han, thinking he was about to use Yin Thunder again, bit his tongue in desperation, jolting his spirit back to clarity.

But this time, it was Yang Thunder.

Yang Thunder was fierce and brutal—the blade's electric arcs hissed, exploding on contact with the spear shaft.

Boom!

Thunder roared; Wang Han's spear flew from his hand, launched over ten meters into the air.

Li Yan stepped forward as if shrinking distance, reversed his grip, and dragged the blade past Wang Han's side.

Blood sprayed, head flew upward.

The twisted iron spear clattered to the ground.

The headless corpse crashed down heavily.

Li Yan did not look back—he spun the knife in a flourish, shook off the blood, sheathed it, and called out loudly: "Whoever seeks Li Yan's life, I await you at any time!"

With that, he waved to the crowd.

Several in the crowd tensed, thinking Li Yan had spotted them.

But another man stepped forward from the crowd—it was the inn's young servant, leading Li Yan's stubborn donkey, luggage already hung.

"Young Master, your donkey."

The servant's eyes sparkled with excitement, sweat beading on his forehead.

What he had just witnessed, he would never forget.

"Thank you."

Li Yan smiled faintly, tossed out two silver ingots—one large, one small—"The large one compensates the inn; the small one is your reward."

"This…"

The servant caught them, bewildered.

Among the crowd, some jianghu figures secretly praised him.

These two ingots, large and small, carried meaning.

If he'd given only one, no matter how many, problems would arise.

The innkeeper might greedily keep it all from the servant.

Or give too little, leaving the servant dissatisfied.

Inevitably, trouble would follow.

The servant had taken a risk—there could be no lingering threat.

By making it clear beforehand, the innkeeper could not tamper with it.

Strong fists were one thing; knowing how to handle people was rarer.

For a moment, no one paid attention to the dead Wang Han…

As for Li Yan, he bowed slightly to the crowd, took the donkey with its crooked eyes, and walked straight to the dock:

"Excuse me, is there a boat to Yibin?"

Several passenger boats still moored at the dock.

The boat captains had watched the fight.

Yet when Li Yan asked, they all lowered their heads in silence.

They had heard rumors.

This man before them was wanted by the Wang Fu with a bounty.

That money, they dared not even dream of.

They had no wish to invite trouble over a fare.

Li Yan did not mind—he stood quietly, holding the donkey.

The Wang Fu had prepared a boat rigged with explosives; he might as well destroy it today.

But unexpectedly, after waiting a long while, no one responded.

He did not know that "Ghost Flower Face" had already abandoned this plan and led his men ahead to lie in ambush.

"Young Master Li, are you taking a boat?"

As he wondered, a voice called from afar.

Li Yan looked up and saw a painted pleasure boat gliding slowly downriver; others' gazes were drawn as well.

The pleasure boat was extravagantly opulent.

Its hull flowed in elegant lines, painted vermilion red, the prow slightly upturned, the stern rising in redwood like a city wall.

The cabin was two stories tall, with upturned eaves and inlaid Liuli, shimmering colors dancing under sunlight, dazzlingly splendid.

The speaker was an old man, wearing a black turban, dressed in a silk robe with a front-opening collar, equally lavish in color; as he spoke, the pleasure boat drew nearer to the dock.

Li Yan narrowed his eyes. "We're leaving—but unfortunately."

"Oh?"

The robed elder asked, puzzled: "Unfortunately what?"

Li Yan replied: "Unfortunately, this boat is too precious. I'm uneasy—if I damage it, that would be a shame."

He had assumed the voice came from the Wang Fu people.

The boat was the same explosive vessel.

But his spiritual sense detected something amiss.

Inside the cabin, a faint scent of blood lingered, mingled with the aroma of silk, gold, and silver treasures; faint moans reached his ears.

Had they been attacked by bandits?

Li Yan felt puzzled but said nothing.

He already had enough troubles; traveling alone gave him greater freedom, and if danger arose, he could flee with his evasion technique.

!.

Though he had slain Wang Han, it had raised his guard.

Those who came to ambush him were all his equals—or even stronger—each with different lineages and unique arts.

One misstep, and he might be undone.

Thus, even as the boat drew near, Li Yan remained on the dock, refusing to board.

Seeing his stance, the robed elder on the boat showed a flicker of anxiety, then suddenly pushed off with his feet and leapt onto the dock.

"Young Master Li."

He lowered his voice, pleading: "Please board and speak in private. I've learned of a plot—someone is secretly trying to harm you."

Li Yan's pupils contracted slightly, and he nodded.

He had already sensed this.

Another faction was actively trying to destroy him through excessive praise.

Even the Wang Fu's plans had been disrupted.

Until he uncovered their origins, this would remain a threat.

Seeing Li Yan agree, the elder's face lit up; he hurriedly ordered his men to lay the gangplank and had Li Yan lead his donkey aboard.

Soon, the painted boat drifted away from shore.

Seeing the boat depart, the crowd on the dock dispersed.

As for the Wang Fu men, they had long vanished…

…………

"Water bandits?"

As soon as Li Yan entered the cabin, he frowned.

The interior was even more opulent.

The floor was made of premium teak—smooth, oily, water- and fire-resistant, insect- and damp-proof, ideal for shipbuilding, yet equally precious.

The furniture and beams were of golden-thread nanmu; the rafters and brackets featured gilded relief carvings from Lingnan, depicting vivid scenes from the Three Kingdoms, Investiture of the Gods, and The Western Chamber.

The curtains and drapes were all fine silk.

Simply this boat was worth a fortune.

Moreover, the cabin was piled high with wooden crates—unopened, but filled with precious Shu brocade and gold-silver wares.

Yet scattered across the cabin lay numerous wounded men, some groaning, others unconscious.

Several maids attended them, their eyes filled with confusion and fear.

Hearing Li Yan's question, the elder beside him smiled bitterly: "Yes and no. Young Master Li, please follow me—I'll reveal the full story."

Saying this, he led Li Yan upstairs.

The second floor was even more luxurious, divided into two rooms: a parlor and a bedroom.

The bedroom door was closed, but Li Yan could smell a woman lying on the canopy bed behind it—also wounded and unconscious.

The old man personally brewed tea, then bowed respectfully: "We are from the Luo family of Yibin. I am Luo An, the household steward."

"The Luo family has long operated in Shu brocade. These past years, with the opening of maritime trade, the price of Shu brocade doubled, and we accumulated considerable wealth, joining the Sichuan Merchants' Guild…"

Li Yan sipped his tea, expression unchanged: "Get to the point."

"Yes, yes."

The elder continued: "The Sichuan Merchants' Guild clashed with the Salt Guild in Chongqing, causing unrest and drawing imperial displeasure—both sides were punished with thirty lashes each."

"Others were spared, but our Luo family in Yibin faced open and covert suppression—all from officials aligned with the Shu Prince."

"We planned to relocate to Chongqing, closed our shops, and gathered resources—when we were attacked by disguised water bandits."

"The attackers were our sworn enemies, the Du family of Luzhou—the largest wine merchants in Shu—who gathered a gang, posed as bandits, and ambushed us near Deyang County."

"We fought our way out, but the Du family suddenly ceased their assault. Our mistress, relying on her martial skill, went to investigate—and learned they stopped because they were targeting Young Master Li."

"The Du family sent agents to tea houses and taverns across Sichuan, spreading exaggerated tales of your fame—this is a strategy of praise to destroy you."

"Without doubt, they have a follow-up plan!"

Li Yan narrowed his eyes. "What follow-up?"

The steward, Luo An, looked embarrassed. "This… I dare not conceal it from you, Young Master—I don't know. Our mistress only heard this news before she was attacked."

Hearing this, Li Yan finally understood.

The old man was desperate—heard rumors, learned he was here, and came seeking aid.

Seeing Li Yan remain silent, the elder hurried on: "Young Master Li, an enemy's enemy is a friend. No matter why the Du family wants you dead, they are our enemy. Once our mistress returns to Yibin, she will never let them off!"

"That's true."

Li Yan said calmly: "But I have my own troubles. Following you might be even more dangerous than before."

"Besides, I have urgent matters—I cannot escort you to Yibin."

"Young Master Li, rest assured!"

The elder beamed. "The Luo family has martial allies. Our mistress is a bloodline disciple of the Jade Emperor Sect—we've already sent word for help. If we reach Ziyang, reinforcements will arrive."

"Very well."

Li Yan shook his head. "If you're not afraid, carry me along."

The distance to Ziyang was only a day's journey.

These people were cornered; staying with him offered them a slim chance.

As they spoke, the Wufengxi dock vanished from view.

The painted boat cut through the water, moving at moderate speed.

Li Yan sat cross-legged on the bow, forming hand seals.

Lu San was gone; he had to scout threats himself.

The battle at Wang Han's dock was merely the beginning. The Wang Fu had roughly gauged his strength; the next attacks would be a storm.

At that moment, a soft female voice began singing nearby.

"Spring light in Shu glows through green windows, / Skilled embroiderers' hands, silk threads flying. / Woven into floral clusters, painted like clouds, / Shu brocade famed far and wide. / Each stitch, each thread, endless affection, / A thousand threads, ten thousand strands, hard to forget. / Day and night, labor never ceases, / Fingers weave the flow of years…"

Li Yan had no interest in interacting with the crew.

But hearing the voice, he immediately frowned.

The lyrics spoke of Shu embroiderers.

According to steward Luo An, the women aboard were not maids—they were the Luo family's finest embroiderers, far more valuable than the cargo.

Though the lyrics were melancholy, the voice was calm.

How could anyone sing like this now?

Worse, it interfered with his spiritual sensing.

Li Yan slowly opened his eyes—and immediately sensed something wrong.

As he stopped his hand seals, the singing ceased!

This was spirit-music.

Was there a treasure aboard?

Intrigued, Li Yan resumed his spiritual technique.

Sure enough, the singing returned.

He followed the sound, searching the boat carefully.

Soon, he found the source.

It was one of the wooden crates.

Beside it, his own clumsy donkey—one eye straight, one eye squinting—like a fool, licked the copper lock on the crate with its large tongue.

The singing came from inside the crate…

(End of Chapter)