Chapter 127: Li Guanyi, Draw Your Sword!

Tai Ping Gong, Li Wanli.

Between twenty and ten years ago, one of the youngest most formidable divine generals in all under heaven.

Master Siming heard this name; his face first showed emotion, then turned to a sigh. The old man looked at the boy before him, his eyes carrying a faint pity, and reached out to stroke Li Guanyi's hair, saying only:

"You child… these years, you've suffered greatly, haven't you?"

The elder sighed: "But why did you come back?"

"Why not fly away like a bird, high and far?"

Why return to this whirlpool?

Master Siming did not press further. The old man's face no longer held his earlier jests or anger—only the quiet serenity left by years. He said: "Your aunt?"

"Tai Ping Gong's parents died early; he had no brothers."

"The aunt you speak of is likely of the compound surname Murong."

Li Guanyi recalled what his aunt had said: the white jade pendant given by his uncle—perhaps it had been sent by his mother. After all, what man would give a jade Guanyin as a token of love? The boy sighed and said:

"My aunt said beautiful women always lie; I must be careful."

Then Master Siming burst into laughter.

Laughing until his stomach hurt, he said: "So it seems she isn't your aunt. Her grandfather was your mother's maternal grandfather. They grew up together, as close as sisters. Your mother's parents—your maternal grandparents—died in a famous jianghu mystery back then."

"So your mother was raised from childhood by her maternal grandfather. The Murong clan governs both civil and martial affairs. Your mother was weak in Wu Gong, but in painting and calligraphy, she was peerless. She and your father knew each other since childhood."

Li Guanyi said: "Old man, how do you know all this?"

The elder fell silent for a moment, then said: "It's not that I know everything."

"It's that everything about Tai Ping Gong Li Wanli will be dug up by those with intent, hoping to find a way to bring down this divine general."

"Such a general, undefeated on the battlefield—three hundred years of chaotic warfare have taught every king that the only way to fell such a warrior is by a hidden arrow from behind."

Master Siming said: "Pity. Pity your mother's maternal grandfather was that prodigy who had been famed for a hundred years—the genius who lifted the entire Murong clan to its peak, the foremost of the Ten Great Masters. But he couldn't come here. He couldn't take you and your aunt away."

Li Guanyi asked: "Why?"

Master Siming said: "Because he did something that shook all under heaven."

"Twelve years ago, during the Eighteen Provinces of Jiangnan campaign, Murong Longtu blocked the charge of fully armored cavalry, becoming famed across the land and earning the title of First Master. After that, until ten years ago, Jingcheng burned. Your 'aunt' fled with you and went into hiding."

"She hid too well. That was good—but also bad."

"Because three days later,"

"Murong Longtu entered the imperial palace with his sword."

"He fought alone against countless elite warriors of the Chen royal clan."

"He didn't believe the royal excuses. He didn't believe the imperial physician's claim of a ruptured meridian. He stubbornly believed his granddaughter and granddaughter-in-law had died at the hands of the Chen royal house—and therefore, the Chen Huang must be guilty."

"He said his granddaughter, granddaughter-in-law, and grandson-in-law were all dead."

"He was an old man with few years left. He cared nothing for grand strategy or reason."

"He wanted the Emperor to die with them. He wanted all under heaven draped in mourning."

"He broke off a willow branch from before his granddaughter's memorial tomb and used it as a sword to storm inside."

"He charged straight in."

"The shattered tips of his Xuan weapons littered the imperial avenue."

"He fought for a day and night. But in the end, he could not single-handedly break through a nation's defenses. The willow branch shattered into dust. Murong Longtu laughed bitterly, then said, 'Fate,' and let out a long howl as he departed."

"The day he left, the Eighteen Provinces of Jiangnan…"

The elder paused, then whispered: "broke free from Chen."

Li Guanyi looked up at Master Siming.

The white-haired elder smiled: "Don't underestimate the old men of previous generations."

"They too were once young, once full of fire and spirit."

"Your heroes' bravery? Merely the roar of cubs."

"Murong Longtu once told me he still felt like a boy. All these years were merely a disguise—a facade of maturity. He still had the rage to rise in fury, the spirit to fight. He could still grip his sword, still remember the instinct of battle."

"Now, the Eighteen Provinces of Jiangnan are Murong clan territory—not Chen's, not Ying's. Any iron cavalry that enters will be slaughtered by Murong Longtu. A mere warrior, he stands between nations, commanding ninety-seven Xuan weapons."

"Some jianghu folk think him foolish—fighting two nations alone is certain defeat. Murong Longtu has fought his whole life, bearing countless hidden wounds. When he dies, the Murong clan will be ants before a boulder, crushed. But others believe such boldness and arrogance is worthy of a Great Master of all under heaven."

"Full of feeling and loyalty, lawless and boundless—Murong Longtu, his ambition rivals heaven."

"Chen and Ying both bear deep blood debts to the Murong clan. The Murong clan is defiant—he says he failed to kill the Chen Huang only because he is old, because he didn't bring his ninety-seven Xuan weapons."

"It wasn't the Chen Huang who abandoned the Eighteenth Province of Chen—it was they who abandoned Chen."

"A mere warrior achieved what armies and warlords could not."

"He seized the vital center between two great nations."

"Murong Longtu is still the Sword Madman who once roamed the land, crushing every major sword sect."

The elder sighed and said: "But because of this, Murong Longtu is effectively trapped there. He must protect the Murong clan and the others who chose to stay. If he leaves, the Eighteenth Province of Jiangnan will descend into chaos."

"And your aunt, why she never sent word—she feared interception. It would only expose herself. I know her injury: her Fa Xiang is sealed, yes? The other side has a master…"

Li Guanyi stared tightly at Master Siming: "Old man, can you fix it?"

Master Siming laughed: "I am Master Siming. A Fa Xiang? I can see it with my own eyes—how could I not break this seal?"

He paused, then added: "But as I said, it requires external aids."

"Many materials I can gather for you, and the Xue clan can obtain too. But one thing—equal in value to Mountain Marrow—is exceedingly rare."

"Your aunt's Fa Xiang governs music and the arts—it is a Phoenix, not suited for combat. To break the seal, you need the Roosting Wutong, where the Phoenix rests."

"This thing is as hard to find as Mountain Marrow, or the fruit born from Fire Qilin's blood, or the plants nourished by dragon blood."

Li Guanyi exhaled in relief: "As long as it can be fixed."

"Old man, where can I find this 【Roosting Wutong】?"

Master Siming stroked his beard and smiled without answering directly.

"How did you come by your mountain marrow?"

Li Guanyi said: "The Empress…"

A spark flashed in his eyes—he understood. The old man said:

"No matter how precious a treasure, it should still exist in the imperial treasuries of Chen and Ying. Moreover, creatures like dragons and phoenixes are mostly auspicious omens tied to royal authority; it is only natural that both royal houses would have seized them into their treasuries."

The imperial treasuries of Chen and Ying.

Li Guanyi suddenly remembered the coming Grand Sacrifice.

Princess Chen Qingyan said that if he won the martial contest of the Grand Sacrifice, he could ascend to the inner library of the Book Tower.

Could he use this privilege to exchange for a treasure?

The Grand Sacrifice martial contest…

Master Siming thought for a moment and said: "But retrieving this item from those two places would still be difficult. Outside these two, there is only one place in all under heaven that dares to trade in objects tied to royal power—and that is it."

Li Guanyi said: "Old man, stop teasing me."

The old man laughed and said: "You know the Xue family is one of the Three Great Merchant Houses of the world—do you know the other two?" Li Guanyi looked puzzled. The old man then said: "The Xue family is the openly recognized greatest merchant house, traveling far and wide without limit—but even so, in daylight, they still rely on royal houses and noble clans."

"Some things cannot be done."

"Some things can be done, but cannot be acknowledged."

"Things like phoenix perched on phoenix tree, or dragon blood pearls—Xue Lao would never touch them."

"For the Xue family, such things are too hot to handle."

"But there is one place that acts without restraint, unafraid of anything—as long as you pay, they will get you anything. Old man today will take you there—but remember this."

Master Siming looked at the boy's eager face, then sighed. "Fine."

"Come with me."

"Today, we shall meet the Night Marquis of Chen, under the Yin Son of Heaven of the Youming Ghost Market."

………………

An organization as top-tier as the Xue family, yet willing to do anything, is called the Youming Ghost Market.

Jiangzhou City is the capital of Chen.

Yet even here, a ghost market exists.

Its master bears the title Night Son of Heaven of the Ten Kingdoms—such audacity reveals his wealth and cunning.

The masters of the ghost markets in the capitals of the Ten Kingdoms are called Night Marquises.

The old man said: "They call it the Youming Ghost Market, but it has two meanings: first, this market has ghosts—fake goods, goods of unknown origin, and if you're careless, you'll fall prey to ghosts; second, this ghost market only opens at night and vanishes at dawn."

"But the place this old man takes you to is not the ghost market ordinary people speak of. The ghost market now talked about in Jiangzhou is merely an expansion around the true Youming Ghost Market—it is the latercomers."

"No matter what you see, don't speak."

Li Guanyi and the old man entered the ghost market's perimeter. The old man waved a token, and they were let in. Li Guanyi saw many living creatures tied to trees, even warhorses bearing military branding.

Military horses?!

The old man pulled Li Guanyi forward urgently, whispering: "Don't ask where the goods come from…" Li Guanyi nodded. He kept his hood low, walking fast—but his steps suddenly froze as his gaze shifted.

The ropes were no longer for horses—they were for people.

Boys, girls, elders, children.

Squatting there, among beasts and livestock, their eyes dull. Only one child still screamed, a iron chain around his neck.

The boy's feet felt nailed to the ground. He looked ahead and saw the old man's face twisted in sorrow, his beard trembling. In the old man's eyes lay something Li Guanyi could not comprehend—deep, heavy, and sorrowful.

Someone asked the price.

A man with a goatee swore:

"Ha! A fine girl! Pure, I guarantee it!"

"Safe? Absolutely safe!"

"Her parents are dead—hey, don't ask."

"Look at this—virgin flesh, so tender, barely thirteen…"

"Perfect material for a beauty basin."

The wealthy merchant, clearly an outsider, asked: "What is a beauty basin?"

The goatee man rubbed his hands and bowed, smiling: "What is a beauty basin, my lord? You know—when your noble body is unwell, and phlegm gathers in your throat."

"Then you spit—and the beauty catches it with her lips… hehe…"

Li Guanyi's hand gripped his sword hilt, tendons bulging. People flowed past him, all wearing black hoods and robes. He felt as if trapped in a chaotic river. The old man pulled him: "Go."

The old man's voice echoed in Li Guanyi's heart:

"What you intend to do… is useless."

"Kill him today, and tomorrow another takes his place. The world's chaos is like weeds—and worse, they will do even more…"

Li Guanyi wanted to argue—but he saw the old man's weathered eyes, overflowing with grief. He suddenly could not argue. He was certain: the old man had intervened before, and each time, the outcome was worse.

Master Siming whispered: "Do not forget what you must do."

Li Guanyi felt someone among the children lift their head and look at him—eyes full of hope, yet silent, too afraid to beg.

Li Guanyi turned his back to them.

The old man pulled Li Guanyi forward. The boy stepped forward—into the true ghost market.

The Three Great Merchant Houses of the world—the unseen emperors of the Ten Kingdoms.

Master Siming produced a token of Bai Yu. The servant's casual expression froze instantly. Recognizing the Bai Yu token, he hurriedly led Li Guanyi and Master Siming inside.

Li Guanyi noticed the scene outside the building and asked:

"Old man, why do they treat you with such respect?"

Master Siming said: "This Ghost Market is different from the spontaneous markets that form outside—it's forbidden to ordinary people. You need a guest badge, divided into five ranks: wood, stone, silver, gold, and jade, corresponding to the five tiers of nobility across the states."

"Mine is the highest rank."

Li Guanyi said: "You've got serious clout, sir."

Master Siming smiled proudly: "Can't be helped. When this Ghost Market first opened, I was its first guest—the original Night Son of Heaven. When we met, he was the same age you are now. In the end, he died before me."

Li Guanyi froze, hearing a trace of sorrow and grief in those words.

Soon, the Night Marquis of Jiangzhou rushed out, bowing with a loud laugh: "So it's a distinguished guest! I had no idea you were coming—my apologies for not greeting you sooner."

The old man cut straight to the point: he wanted the Phoenix Perches on the Phoenix Tree.

The Night Marquis blinked. "We do have one—but not here. A year ago, Jiangzhou's Phoenix Perches on the Phoenix Tree was bought by a wealthy merchant from Ying State. He said a friend's son bore the Phoenix Manifestation, and he intended to present it as a gift. It's probably already been used."

Li Guanyi immediately thought of Li Zhao Wen and lowered his eyes.

He said: "So there isn't one?"

The Night Marquis said: "No."

Li Guanyi pointed below: "These shops—none of them belong to you?"

The Night Marquis nodded readily. The old man suddenly understood something. He saw Li Guanyi pull out a piece of gold and place it on the table. The Night Marquis was startled, closed his golden-threaded folding fan, and tapped the gold piece with it, smiling: "Young brother, you haven't bought anything yet—why are you giving me money?"

"It's compensation."

"Oh?"

The Night Marquis was puzzled as he watched the boy turn. The boy spun around, smashing straight through the carved window. Splinters flew. His temple hairs fluttered. His right hand rested on his sword hilt—and he leapt from the third floor. Master Siming heard Li Guanyi say:

"Please, Elder, find my comrade Ye Bu Yi, of the Zhou Liu Camp."

The boy's gaze fixed on that spot. The wealthy merchant had ordered silk curtains drawn to conceal the goods—he was selecting children like merchandise. The crowd around him turned a blind eye. The darkness of this world had rotted to this depth—even Master Siming felt pain and sorrow.

Li Guanyi felt sick. He should have drawn his sword long ago—but he was afraid.

He feared that causing a scene would cost him the chance to obtain the item his aunt needed from the Ghost Market, and ruin his own mission. So he didn't draw his sword. He walked away from the children's longing gazes. Only now, once he confirmed the Phoenix Perches on the Phoenix Tree wasn't here, did he leap down.

He was no different from those people. He thought of Qian Zheng, the first deserter he'd killed. He thought of his own past. Zhao Da Bing's human trafficking black market.

And when Li Guanyi realized this—

A deep loathing and fury rose within him toward himself.

Yet he knew: this was who he truly was.

"Yao Guang, I'm sorry—I'm not the hero you longed for."

The boy thought, as he landed. He gripped his sword, then charged forward. The blade left its scabbard, slashed sideways, tearing through silk and severing the goatee merchant's neck. The boy's eyes blazed with rage; his strength erupted under the weight of emotion. The head fell.

A short, choked scream. The stench of blood hit his face.

He kicked the merchant, still unfastening his belt, flying backward. He turned, drew his sword, threw open his battle robe, and draped it over the girl whose clothes had been torn. Then he faced the people of the Ghost Market—who had frozen, staring at him with dead eyes.

I'm just an ordinary person with a shred of conscience.

That's all.

I'm not the great hero you speak of.

The boy raised his sword, stared ahead, stood before these people, held his blade horizontally, his brow blazing like fire, and said:

"Jinwu Guard, Li Guanyi!"