Chapter 157: The Divine Weapon

Chixiao Sword.

Eight hundred years ago, the Red Emperor wielded this sword to chastise the world; it was a symbol of the imperial house.

But now, it is only a symbol left.

No one can lift this divine weapon anymore.

The ordinary officials and noble families averted their gazes, daring not to look upon this divine blade—as if the blade beneath its scabbard still gleamed sharp enough to blind them. Emperor Chen gazed at the sword, feigning calm, and smiled gently:

"To tour the realm with the Red Emperor's Sword is as if the Emperor himself were present."

"Chen is fortunate to behold the glory of this sword."

He had not the slightest desire to touch it.

Others' eyes still burned with fierce longing, unable to suppress the fantasy of stepping forward, before all, drawing this sword; but Emperor Chen, the Crown Prince of Ying, Yuwen Lie, Dantai Xianming, and Xue Daoyong understood at once: this sword was bait.

The world has been in chaos for over three hundred years.

Before Chen and Ying, the states of Wei and Liang had already usurped the Son of Heaven's rites.

Emperor Wu of Chen and the founding ancestor of Ying both claimed to cleanse the court and purge rebels to destroy these two states—yet they themselves adopted the Son of Heaven's rites. Each state held lands stretching tens of thousands of li, fielded hundreds of thousands of armored soldiers, commanded the strongest armies in the realm and its top-tier divine generals.

Yet the Great Emperor of Zhongzhou controls only eight hundred li.

And he is squeezed between two warring great states, each stretching tens of thousands of li with hundreds of thousands of armored soldiers.

The Son of Heaven's rites are no longer recognized by any state.

But the Academy still recognizes Chixiao Sword.

Chixiao Sword still carries symbolic weight.

A divine aura as if ordained by Heaven's Mandate.

A weight in the eyes of the common people.

But who dares to touch it?

If only one of Ying or Chen remained, Chixiao Sword would naturally belong to that state—but now, with both in balance, if the ruler of one state seized the sword, the ruler of the other would immediately issue a proclamation across the realm, condemning him as grossly disrespectful and ordering his annihilation.

This is bait. Whoever bites will be placed at a disadvantage in the world's struggle.

Unless one can awaken Chixiao Sword.

Otherwise, the Academy will instantly shift allegiance to the other state, aiding it to crush the one that seized Chixiao.

I know I disrespected the Son of Heaven; you know I disrespected the Son of Heaven.

But this matter cannot be laid bare.

Emperor Chen gazed at the sword, and could not help but envy and sigh for that hero—born of mere commoners and bandits—who had seized the realm. He sighed inwardly:

The lingering might of the Red Emperor is still fierce.

Even eight hundred years after his legend, today's people still call themselves subjects of the Red Emperor; should someone now steal the divine artifact, and one state mobilize to punish him, the people's hearts will tremble.

As Chixiao travels the realm, the world's heroes will revere it so deeply they will gladly hand it over, eager to be rid of it at once.

Virtue unfit for one's station invites disaster.

When one is already lord of the realm, Chixiao comes to him; but when the realm is not yet settled, Chixiao is the source of great calamity!

To take Chixiao brings no benefit.

But whoever kills the thief who stole Chixiao gains the title of "Legitimate Possessor of the Realm."

In short, Emperor Chen and the Emperor of Ying must not only refrain from taking this sword—they must protect it.

As this sword journeys through the realm, the world may find peace for years.

Moreover, given Si Wei's arrogance, this sword must be the true Chixiao—but it must also bear the array of the world's greatest master. Emperor Chen and Yuwen Lie knew the world's greatest madman's prowess: he was so supremely confident he believed he could activate the mother-child array in an instant.

Then teleport the sword from Jiangzhou City into his own hands.

Si Wei must be within Chen.

"One sword stirs two states; a ritual vessel kills the world."

"Such a scheme—unless born of utter chaos—must be to prolong the world's life by years. A perilous stratagem, yet one that grips the hearts of men with iron resolve…"

Si Wei, oh Si Wei.

What a madman!

Emperor Chen's eyes lowered slightly, and for a moment he seethed inwardly: those who left their names in the Academy were either extreme, reckless, or rigid—but none were ordinary men; all were extraordinary figures.

If only such people could be gathered under my command!

Emperor Chen sighed.

If I could win them over, I would spare no effort to win their loyalty—they would never betray me.

Yet there is another reason for all this: hearing Chixiao's cry, if in this chaotic age another rises like the ancient Red Emperor, drawing his sword to sweep the realm, the people's hearts will naturally turn to him—why not me?

I am here, and the sword comes to me—is this not Heaven's Mandate?

This thought flashed instantly, born of a primal, burning desire—but Emperor Chen looked at the sword and smiled.

He let the desire rise, and let it subside.

Then he turned his gaze away.

Calmly, he tore his eyes from the imperial sword, no trace of greed remaining.

Whether through conspiracy or open strategy, whether deep or decisive, an emperor is still an emperor.

He saw Crown Prince Jiang Gao of Ying staring at Chixiao Sword.

And Prince Jiang Yuan, carefree and unrestrained, sought beauties and wine, utterly indifferent to the sword.

Ji Yanzhong, uncle of the Great Emperor of Zhongzhou, observed all this with calm serenity: this was an open strategy to pacify the realm, hence the sword could be sent out—even if the Great Emperor had smashed a thousand-year-old jade in fury, he later accepted Si Wei's scheme with composure.

This can extend Zhongzhou's life by years.

Five years!

At least five years!

But this is also a double stratagem.

For even the furious and dejected Emperor of Zhongzhou knows that prolonging Zhongzhou's life is merely an appearance; Si Wei's true aim is to send this sword to seek its true master, and the imperial clan, in this matter, originally shared the same interests as the Emperor.

A disciple of the Academy's Diplomatists has come, and within a single incense stick's time, the imperial clan will betray the Emperor.

"What you need is the Ji bloodline, the glory of Zhongzhou."

"Once Chi Xiao finds its master, it will adopt him as a Ji clan member, and a daughter of the Zaiyi clan will marry him—thus the bloodline endures, and a ruler of revival emerges. You shall all leave your names in history. Why refuse such a great good fortune?"

"Will you be a decaying official, or a loyal minister who helped revive the throne?"

An incense stick ago, the venerable grandmasters were in an uproar, brandishing swords to fight the Academy to the death.

An incense stick later, they entered the Taihe Hall, bowed deeply, and requested Your Majesty to permit Chi Xiao to wander the world.

Ji Yanzhong closed his eyes; the elder sighed inwardly, filled with dejection, recalling what had happened then.

That boy was only seventeen, speaking and laughing with natural ease, yet already capable of shifting the great tide.

Yet that boy was merely the fifth-ranked among the Contemporary Five Diplomatists of the Diplomatists!

Si Wei, the Five Diplomatic Calculations, the Six Palace Lords, Gongyang Su Wang, the Shiwaisan Sect, the Jianghu Sect masters.

The Divine Generals wield Diplomacy; the Manifest Forms open and close; the legends of Martial Dao observe from beyond the mortal world.

Why has this world become as tumultuous as eight hundred years ago?

As Ji Yanzhong drank, he felt as if he had detached himself from this world.

He could sense that this scheme had merely placed a lid atop a pot about to boil—no one knew when it would explode. He had heard that the Shiwaisan Sect had also sent disciples into the world; among them, Po Jun of the Observing Stars lineage was a prodigy who, as a youth, had single-handedly made the Five Diplomatic Calculations weep.

No, the eldest among the Diplomatists surpassed Po Jun in strategy.

That boy, Po Jun, had never spoken of the past.

So he seized a bamboo pole and struck the Diplomatists' senior sister until she wept.

Then he tossed the pole down, clapped his hands, and said:

"Thus too is strategy."

"The Diplomatists are too weak—I did not enter your door, yet walked away with ease."

This is the strongest generation in eight hundred years.

The Red Emperor forged that glorious era amid such a proliferation of heroes—now, will his legend end in another glorious age? Ji Yanzhong drank, then suddenly said: "Tomorrow, I hear there is a grand sacrifice and martial finals?"

Emperor Chen smiled and nodded.

Ji Yanzhong tapped the sword case and said: "At Chen's grand sacrifice, Wu Gong is offered to the ancestors. I have come—I cannot fail to witness it."

"Tomorrow's grand sacrifice."

"I shall hold this ritual vessel and observe the martial contest!"

"Just as the Red Emperor himself came to watch the martial arts of his descendants!"

The lively atmosphere of the banquet instantly turned solemn.

……………………

Li Guanyi knew nothing of the banquet on the other side, for an unexpected guest had come to find him.

The Young Sword Saint, Xu Huiyang.

When Li Guanyi returned to his courtyard, the young Sword Saint sat quietly there, his expression gentle and serene, calmly watching a falling leaf—as if merged with the entire courtyard. Such foundation and inner stillness far surpassed Chen Yuyun's.

"Brother Li has come."

Xu Huiyang rose; Li Guanyi returned the greeting. After exchanging pleasantries and sitting, they chatted briefly before reaching the point. Xu Huiyang held his tea and said: "I am leaving this place."

Li Guanyi was slightly surprised.

The young Sword Saint smiled faintly and said: "I came to Chen only temporarily."

"At the Crown Prince's invitation, I stayed here to bolster his prestige, and I could study various sword manuals. Three years have passed—it is time for me to depart, as per my grandfather's agreement. But before I leave, I wish to ask you something, Brother Li."

"Brother Li, you shattered my Heart Sword—do you understand the Dao of the Sword?"

Li Guanyi thought a moment, then looked at the young Sword Saint and said: "I do not understand the Dao of the Sword."

"But during my 'travels,' I once heard a Mr. describe the sword as divided into three ranks: the Son of Heaven's Sword, the Wang Hou's Sword, and the commoner's Sword."

Xu Huiyang pondered and said: "Please elaborate, Brother Li."

Li Guanyi said: "The Son of Heaven's Sword has border cities as its tip, mountains and rivers as its edge, the state as its spine, Chen as its guard, Zhongzhou as its core, wrapped by the four barbarians, bound by the four seasons, encircled by the Bohai Sea, girded by Mount Changshan; forged by the Five Elements, judged by punishment and virtue; opened by Yin and Yang, held by Spring and Autumn, wielded by Winter and Autumn."

"This sword, when thrust forward, meets no obstacle; when raised, reaches no height; when pressed down, meets no depth; when moved, has no side. It cleaves floating clouds above, severs the earth's axis below. Once used, it subdues the Wang Hou, and all under heaven submits."

Xu Huiyang pondered long, then said: "Then the Wang Hou's Sword must center on Chen—or perhaps Ying."

Li Guanyi said: "Yes."

Xu Huiyang then said: "Then, Brother Li, you need not say more."

"Tell me of the commoner's Sword."

He was decisive.

Li Guanyi said: "That Mr. said the commoner's Sword has disheveled hair, tangled topknots, drooping caps, coarse cords, short-tailed robes, glaring eyes, and harsh speech. They strike before each other, cutting throats above, severing livers and lungs below. This commoner's Sword is no different from fighting roosters—once life ends, it serves no purpose in state affairs."

Xu Huiyang fell silent, then smiled faintly, hand resting on his sword: "These are the tactics used to persuade Wang Hou and kings—not the Dao of the Sword. In that light, it seems meant to convince rulers not to become obsessed with swords."

Li Guanyi saw him rise, thought a moment, and said: "Actually, I believe there is a fourth kind of sword."

Xu Huiyang, curious, asked: "What is it?"

Li Guanyi fell silent for a long while, then said: "I don't know how to explain it clearly to you…" Xu Huiyang looked at Li Guanyi, recalling what he had seen and felt during their Heart Sword clash, and said: "Perhaps… I understand."

"This sword cannot be spoken of to me—Brother Li's heart, I now comprehend."

"It is nothing but one sword to kill a Wang Hou."

"It is nothing but one sword to save all living beings."

The young Sword Saint voiced what Li Guanyi held within, then said: "That is why I feel the Mr.'s commoner's Sword is wrong. In truth, observing your inner state these past days, I have awakened a new sword. Brother Li, you wrote: 'Ten years honing one sword, frost-edged, never tested.'"

"Today I show it to you."

"Today, I'll let Brother Li see this sword."

He pressed his hand upon the scabbard but did not draw the blade, his back straight, speaking slowly:

"It is to lead the people, to serve the great tide of the world—to strike the Son of Heaven from above, to slay the feudal lords below. When a righteous man rages, the whole world dons white. To save the living, to aid the dying, the white rainbow pierces the sun, the comet strikes the moon—this is the great tide of the world, this is the spirit between men, all bound to this sword."

"With this sword, I treat Wang Hou as light as dust!"

"Even if this body perishes, it can still change the world."

"Besides, what does it matter if it serves no state affairs? I have devoted my life to the sword."

"This is the sword of the knight-errant."

A surge of sword intent, clear and brilliant, stronger than when he had clashed with Li Guanyi.

In just two days, he had transformed again.

And Xu Huiyang even directly revealed the transformation of his own sword intent to Li Guanyi, as if intending to teach him.

Li Guanyi looked at the young sword saint before him and thought: truly, the world holds many monsters.

The latter smiled and explained: "Observing Brother Li's heart, I gained insight. Previously, I cultivated the sword through Confucianism and Daoism; now, I wish to seek the Mohists, to find the Mohist sword. Before I leave, I pass this sword intent on to you, Brother Li."

"I come now to say farewell; when we meet again, who knows when it will be?"

"Then, let us use this sword intent to spar again, and see what each of us has understood."

"I believe it will surely advance our sword intents further, allowing us to see even farther horizons."

He was truly sincere to the sword.

Li Guanyi looked at this outstanding young swordsman and nodded in agreement:

"Good!"

"Thank you for entrusting me with this."

"No matter how distant the ends of the earth, we shall meet again."

Xu Huiyang, with a clear heart, openly revealed this matter: "Ah, by the way, Brother Li—if you secure the top rank and enter the Grand Secretariat, remember to retrieve something: a bronze slab as large as a stele, upon which a Wu Gong is recorded—but the Wu Gong is not the point."

"According to my knowledge, inside the bronze is a fist-sized piece of 【Western Primordial Geng Metal】."

"It is a material sufficient to forge Xuan Weapons and Divine Weapons."

"Consider this information my gift for your victory."

Xu Huiyang, with pure intent, revealed this outright.

With such insight and character, Li Guanyi suddenly understood why the Imperial Academy's Director favored him. He saw the young sword saint out the door; as he departed, Xu Huiyang said:

"After meeting the Mohist disciples, I shall go to Jiangnan. My grandfather, sixty years ago, dueled a third time with Elder Murong and Master Jiankuang. They found they knew each other too well—without life-or-death stakes, their duels became dull, as if fighting themselves."

"So they made a sixty-year pact: to train their disciples and descendants, then settle the outcome."

"I am nineteen, but I have an older brother who is twenty-nine. His innate talent is not much worse than mine, but he has ten more years of arduous cultivation—he is far stronger in martial arts than I am."

"My grandfather says the world will not tolerate Murong Longtu, yet he cares nothing for the world. If Chen or Ying come to interfere, he won't mind killing them all—sword saint and sword madman together—before he dies. Thus, this battle remains in the Eighteen States of Jiangnan."

"If Brother Li is interested, come then—Xu Huiyang will sweep the mats and await you."

"The road is long, I look forward to meeting you."

"Farewell."

Xu Huiyang bowed with a carefree smile and departed, calm and composed.

Li Guanyi was his rival, yet he could not summon even a trace of ill will toward such a rival.

Yet, the Eighteen States of Jiangnan—the duel between Sword Saint and Master Jiankuang…

Li Guanyi lowered his gaze; perhaps they would meet again.

He walked back, thinking of the fourth sword Xu Huiyang had firmly realized and awakened from the "Zhuang Zhou Speaks of Sword" chapter—the knight-errant sword. He fell silent for a long while, feeling Xu Huiyang's words were indeed exhilarating, yet not what he himself believed. The boy gripped a branch and slashed wildly at the air.

In the end, he mimicked only three-tenths of the knight-errant sword's spirit.

He could not replicate it further; a gloomy energy rose within him.

Li Guanyi held the branch and wrote in the courtyard. Even here, he faintly heard the music and songs from the imperial palace—thoughts of Chen Huang, Jiang Gao, and their ministers and generals, the myriad faces of the world.

Again he saw Xu Huiyang's knight-errant sword—its intent like rainbow mist, his chest filled with spirit, unable to hold it in.

So the boy swept his hand, slashing one sword—the pond churned.

"I have one sword…"

Li Guanyi brought down his sword, writing the words.

"Call upon all Wang Hou and heroes of the world to die!"

The nascent sword intent, exhilarating and unrestrained.

Li Guanyi exhaled, then erased the wild, unrestrained script. To speak such words now would be like a child's babble—better to keep them in his heart. Suddenly, he sensed a deliberately released aura.

The pond's ripples, stirred by sword qi, settled again.

A thin layer of frost now covered its surface; leaves falling in the wind seemed frozen, finally hanging like silver threads, tied to the trees—like a scene from the Moon Palace, breathtakingly beautiful—even Li Guanyi's nascent sword intent was frozen in place.

Such martial skill, such a method—yet without malice.

The young genius Li Guanyi, whose passion had just surged, paused, then turned.

He lifted his head.

His face wore a bright, pure, harmless, obedient smile.

"Auntie Chen Qingyan!"