Chapter 167: Chapter Thirty-Four: The Sword Immortal Li Bai of the Green Lotus

When Brother Qian Chen saw this city, revered by merchants from myriad nations as the "Divine Capital," it was the fifth watch, third watchmark, of the eighth day of the eighth month in Chang'an.

From the Chengtian Gate tower of Primordial Taiji Palace, a single drumbeat shattered the stillness of dawn. The drum tower on Zhu Que Street echoed the sound, as Zhenjiang Jin Yu Guards ascended to strike their drums, each boom reverberating in sequence along the fourteen north-south streets.

The drumbeats spread outward, wave after wave.

When the sound reached the caravans waiting outside Jingyao Gate, the solemn, disciplined rhythm inspired awe, echoing through Chang'an like thunder—each beat shook blood and qi, jolting the mind into sudden clarity.

These street drums were all consecrated magical artifacts: starting with the Chengtian Drum at Primordial Taiji Palace, nearly a treasure-level artifact, their beats traveled along fourteen north-south and eleven east-west streets, passing through the hundred and eight wards, their Chengu rhythm purging all darkness and filth.

The entire city of Chang'an pulsed with pure yang energy; weaker spirits, upon hearing the daily drumbeats, would scatter and dissolve.

After the first drumbeat, the city gates of the outer suburbs, inner city, and imperial palace, as well as the ward gates, began opening in sequence.

From outside to inside, the first to open were the twelve outer city gates of Chang'an.

At the command of the City Gate Officer, the massive, towering gates slowly creaked open. To Brother Qian Chen's magical sight, beneath the vermilion lacquer, the gates were inscribed with countless talismans and divine scripts, radiating thick spiritual light, with divine guardians stationed upon them as Gate Gods. After mentally reviewing his own arsenal, Brother Qian Chen realized that, save for his primordial flying sword and the self-destructive Thunder Marsh Sand within his Magnetic Light Vial, none of his other artifacts could breach these gates in a few strikes.

Within Chang'an, over a hundred temples followed the second drumbeat.

Hundreds of Buddhist and Daoist bells began to ring, their stirring, resonant tones intertwining with the deep, lingering morning chimes, welcoming the faint eastern light and awakening the great "Divine Capital."

The potent spiritual radiance of these magic artifacts purified the Divine Capital, leaving not a trace of impurity.

Among the caravan's practitioners of esoteric arts, only Brother Qian Chen's Thunder Core pulsed faintly in rhythm with the drums, even receiving subtle reinforcement; all others were utterly unable to channel magic. Hu merchant Shi Shi Potuo's expression remained calm, but many first-time Hu travelers turned pale, their awe for the city and its imperial power deepening instantly.

Brother Qian Chen nodded slightly: "No wonder Chang'an draws nations from afar—hidden within are countless extraordinary souls, yet no one dares use magic to cause chaos. Forget the divine radiance rising into the heavens; even the city gates alone harbor twelve Gate Gods equivalent to Core Formation cultivators. Merely these morning drums and evening bells are enough to suppress any cultivator below Core Formation, forcing their magic to unravel into mundane nothingness."

Soldiers and Xuanqi cavalry poured out from the Jingyao Gate tower. The gate stood fully open…

The caravan had traveled day and night from Xiao Pass to reach Chang'an today; tomorrow was the Thousand Autumns Festival of the Xiao Xie Xuan Emperor, one of the rare days when night curfew was lifted. They obediently lined up and presented their travel permits for the Inspector's inspection. When the Inspector examined Brother Qian Chen's credentials, he looked up in surprise: "You're a Metropolitan Graduate? It's not examination season—why are you coming to the capital?"

Brother Qian Chen smiled: "To make a name for myself!"

The Inspector burst into laughter: "Scholar… Chang'an is hard to settle in. Do you know how many scholars I see come here daily, and how many leave in ruin? Countless die of poverty within these walls. What talent do you possess to make your name in the Divine Capital?"

"I am a man of letters, come to present my poems and essays. I shall surely rise among Chang'an's nobility!" Brother Qian Chen joked.

The Inspector chuckled: "I hold the rank of Sixth Rank Junior, City Gate Officer—not insignificant; I'm practically a person of status. Do you have a composition for me?"

Brother Qian Chen remembered his reckless scholar persona, shook his head: "Your rank is too low to be called noble. I have but one lyric to share with you…" He gripped his Youqing Sword, retrieved his credentials, led his camel away, and chanted: "Street drums stir, imperial gates open, heavenly envoys return. Phoenix bears golden scrolls from clouds, thunder cracks the earth. Orioles have flown, dragons transformed, one night fills the city with carriages and horses. Each rooftop crowns with immortals, all gaze as cranes soar to heaven."

The Inspector listened behind him, roaring with laughter: "Hilarious! Hilarious!"

"This scholar has grand ambition—just entered the city and already calls himself a Metropolitan Graduate. Metropolitans—I wish you a brilliant future!"

Brother Qian Chen did not turn back, calling out loudly: "I, Brother Qian Chen, don't need your wishes…"

The Inspector chewed over the lyric's lingering resonance. Though poetry and prose were currently dominant, a well-crafted ci was still respectable. He grinned: "Truth be told, this man has real talent. If not for Chang'an's overwhelming pool of scholars, he might actually rise."

After entering from the outer suburbs, the streets held no pedestrians—it was still the second drum, and ward gates had yet to open. The caravan trod upon streets paved with blue stone and yellow sand, flanked by rows of towering elm and locust trees, each trunk thick as two arms could encircle. The road could accommodate sixteen carts side by side, with open and concealed drainage ditches and towering ward walls lining both sides.

Chang'an's layout bore a striking resemblance to the residential compounds of Brother Qian Chen's own era.

Each district was enclosed by walls—Brother Qian Chen observed them to be two or three zhang high. Grand mansions, shops, eateries, common homes, even temples and Daoist abodes, all lay within the wards; occasionally, one could glimpse over the walls at soaring eaves, ornate pavilions, and painted beams.

When Shi Shi Potuo passed households with doors facing the street, he carefully muffled his camel bells, lest he disturb these residents.

They were officials of Third Rank or higher—this lowly Hu merchant dared not provoke them.

"The East and West Markets open only at noon…" Shi Shi Potuo called to Brother Qian Chen. "Do you have a place to stay? Though we'll only remain in Chang'an a few months, we have kin-connected inns—owned by the great merchant Cao Wulang. If you can't find lodging, you may stay with us for now!"

Brother Qian Chen bowed: "I have relatives in the city I can visit. Farewell, all of you!"

After parting from the caravan, Brother Qian Chen slowly headed toward Banzheng Ward. Before arriving in Chang'an, he had sent a spirit-charm to Si Si Qingguo; though Chang'an's magical restrictions were strict, they couldn't block his spiritual sense from locking onto her location. Chang'an was vast—hundreds of li across, ten million souls—but Banzheng Ward lay just before Jingyao Gate, the second ward to the left, even closer than Shi Shi Potuo's destination, the West Market.

Brother Qian Chen had walked only a few steps when he arrived.

Before reaching Banzheng Ward's gate, he saw the soaring eaves within the high walls—the pavilions and temples grand and elegant, with upturned corners, vermilion balustrades, and carved railings. The fifth drum had not yet ceased; temple bells rang throughout the ward—Brother Qian Chen counted roughly thirty to forty consecrated bells. Peering inside, he confirmed: the ward teemed with temples and monasteries.

The gatekeeper glanced at Brother Qian Chen's travel pass and called out: "Another Metropolitan Graduate come to take the exams…" then waved him through.

Brother Qian Chen wandered through the ward's winding alleys. Buildings on both sides were mostly white walls with red tiles, tall eaves and stories; Buddhist pagodas and Daoist shrines dotted the landscape. Some monks and Daoist acolytes passed by, but mostly scholars like himself—sword in hand, practicing swordplay, reading at dawn. Brother Qian Chen puzzled: why were there so many scholars in these temples?

Following Si Si Qingguo's aura, he arrived at a Daoist shrine bearing the sign "Princess Yuzhen Shrine," its fine nanmu plaque inscribed with characters radiating spiritual light—clearly written by a cultivator of deep attainment who had grasped the true essence of the art. The strokes were elegant and fluid, as if they might dissolve into blue smoke and rise into the heavens.

Yet the shrine's gates were tightly shut; the courtyard within appeared deep and silent.

As Brother Qian Chen raised his hand to knock, a scholar nearby, sword in hand, hurried to stop him: "Brother, be cautious… Princess Yuzhen Shrine is no ordinary temple that welcomes scholars to stay and study. This is the imperial residence granted by the Emperor to Princess Princess Yuzhen for her Daoist retreat—it dislikes outsiders. If you seek lodging, try Longxing Temple—I live there, and you may join me."

Brother Qian Chen thanked the kind scholar and smiled: "I have an old acquaintance inside—perhaps I may stay."

"An old acquaintance…" the scholar frowned. "The General Pei who arrived the other day?"

He glanced at Brother Qian Chen's long sword and chuckled: "If you're General Pei's acquaintance, you must be skilled with the blade. When General Pei first came to this ward, he dueled over a dozen scholars, their swords clattering to the ground in a continuous din—only then did Princess Princess Yuzhen take notice and invite him inside."

Brother Qian Chen, sensing a shift in tone, asked quickly: "Brother, were you…?"

The scholar replied coolly: "I was defeated in three exchanges."

"I returned home furious, and began training at dawn ever since."

Brother Qian Chen had just seen his swordplay—it was disciplined, formidable, far from empty showmanship, forged in real combat. The scholar still bristled: "I served seven years in the army, once as Chief Secretary to General Gao Wang Xianzhi, Commander of the Four Garrisons of Anxi. I campaigned beyond the frontier for two years and slew dozens myself."

"Yet even I dare not call myself General. That Pei is a commoner, never served in the army, yet calls himself General. Even Princess Princess Yuzhen honors him as General Pei—it infuriates me!"

Brother Qian Chen felt awkward: "Is this… my fault?"

He could understand the man's resentment. After all, he had once called Seeing Yan Shu "General," partly out of mischief—he'd even considered calling him "Left Battalion Commander." But the Tang had no such title…

So Seeing Yan Shu's surname was Pei. Brother Qian Chen had assumed everyone used their real surnames.

"How is your swordplay?" the scholar asked. "I was bested by General Pei. I still wish to challenge him again—if you wield a sword, let us test our skills?"

"My sword art was learned from General Pei," Brother Qian Chen sighed, hand resting on his blade. The scholar was bold, generous, and sincere—Brother Qian Chen had genuinely liked him. But the legacy of Elder Yan stood between them…

The scholar lowered his sword tip to his right arm and bowed respectfully: "I am Cen Shen of Jinzhou."

Brother Qian Chen returned the salute with his sword: "I am Li Bai of Jiannan."