Chapter 181: The Master Jiankuang Emerges!

For some reason.

In an instant, all martial artists across the eighteen states of Jiangnan felt their swords uncontrollably ringing out, their weapon qi surging skyward, so fierce and deadly it nearly froze them into lifeless stillness.

In Jiangnan's eighteen states, the Master Jiankuang Murong Longtu holds court.

He resisted both the Ying and Chen states, making this place one of the sacred grounds for martial artists—countless outlaws and rogue heroes rejected by the two nations, if lucky enough to escape their pursuit, would come here; moreover, swordsmen from across the land came as if on pilgrimage.

The Murong family's Divine Weapon Hall houses ninety-seven mysterious weapons renowned throughout the world.

This is the only place in the martial world, alongside one other, capable of forging new mysterious weapons.

Aside from the mysterious weapons passed down through generations over the past thousand years, and the rare breakthroughs by reclusive smiths, all mysterious weapons in the world originate from the Murong family and Ying's Sword Valley; Sword Valley has long been under the control of the Ying Emperor, its weapons all issued to military officers.

Thus, the Murong family's prestige in the martial world grows ever greater.

With so many martial artists' weapons ringing in unison, it could not be hidden—everyone's gaze instinctively turned toward the very center of this mighty pass, their hearts surging like the swords ringing within their scabbards—

The world's foremost master, the Master Jiankuang, who had long sealed himself in seclusion.

Has he emerged?!

Is the martial world about to turn upside down?

The people in the city were already shaken—Master Siming, who had directly endured the ringing of ninety-six mysterious weapons, felt his vision darken, his blood surging violently; had the Great Array of Mysterious Weapons not been missing the Murong Qiushui sword, had this old killer not instantly reined in his aura—

Master Siming feared he might be shattered to death by the sword vibrations alone.

Even so, he felt his blood congeal as if every drop exploded simultaneously, his skull buzzing, staggering backward two steps, nearly collapsing to the ground, gasping for breath as he watched the Master Jiankuang slowly rise.

Murong Longtu had been in seclusion for years; his beard and hair had grown wildly long, his robes ancient and worn, like an old man on the verge of death—but Master Siming sensed the razor-sharp aura concealed within this elder, an aura that vanished in an instant as Murong Longtu's eyes softened like jade and he reached out to help Master Siming up.

"So it's you, Elder."

Master Siming grinned crookedly: "No, no Elder—you look older than I do."

"Just speak to me as an equal. Just don't call me 'old bastard' like you used to."

Master Siming grumbled: "Your old elder nearly got shaken to death by you."

Murong Longtu laughed loudly: "I'm at fault—but you, Master Siming, gave me news too shocking." He extended his gnarled hand, its palm as hard as forged mysterious weapon, gripping Master Siming's wrist tightly: "You say Murong Qiushui is still alive?"

"And my poor child?"

Master Siming exhaled: "Yes."

"That's why I came."

The Master Jiankuang said: "Let's go outside first."

Murong Longtu rose and pushed open the door; to him, the meaning of this long seclusion seemed less important than the identities of those two names. When the Murong family learned their patriarch had emerged, they immediately came, delivering all recent martial world news as ordered by Murong Longtu.

Master Siming had set out days before the Great Sacrifice, racing nonstop—he was no match for these old masters in martial skill, relying solely on the Turtle Spirit Form to force his way here, yet he deduced that Li Guanyi must have been drawn into the Great Sacrifice's vortex, and was certainly in trouble.

He knew his own strength was insufficient—he could save himself, but couldn't pull the boy out of the vortex—so he thought of this one last hope, racing without pause. Murong Longtu had studied the recent events of the martial world.

He saw the Chen state's Great Sacrifice.

He saw the boy slay the Chancellor, rescue Yue Pengwu, then break through the city walls and flee.

Li Guanyi had hidden his identity for ten years—this name was not his childhood or official name given at birth; logically, Murong Longtu should not have known his current name—but the moment the old man with wild hair and beard scanned those lines, he burst into laughter:

"Such audacity—this is my bloodline!"

"This Li Guanyi is my great-grandson."

Master Siming grinned crookedly: "You're that certain?"

The Master Jiankuang retorted: "Isn't he?"

Master Siming sighed: "... You're right. It's him."

Old Master Siming stared at the records, his temples twitching—he had intended to bring the Master Jiankuang to pull Li Guanyi out of the Great Sacrifice's vortex, but never imagined the boy had simply kicked over the Great Sacrifice's altar and fled outright.

He slashed through Dantai, rescued Yue Pengwu, and kicked a massive hole through Yicheng's gate.

Master Siming still remembered how he felt when he first heard the news.

Huh. This kid.

So the old man slowed his pace—he knew seeking out the Master Jiankuang meant asking him to retrieve Li Guanyi and bring him back to the eighteen states of Jiangnan—even though Xue Daoyong had suppressed the court, the great families still spread rumors: that the Fire Qilin had been lost, and that it was connected to Li Guanyi.

Though these people weren't entirely lying.

The martial world was full of lawless types.

Far less restrained than the nobility of the court, who still observed some rules.

Master Siming sighed.

The Master Jiankuang said: "Elder, why didn't you come sooner?"

Master Siming rolled his eyes and cursed: "Come sooner? Don't you know where you are? You old fool went mad years ago, chasing down the vanguards of two nations alone, until this state broke free from Chen and refused to submit to Ying, becoming the critical chokepoint between them."

"South lies Chen, north lies Ying, and up the Dajiang River lies the Central Plains."

"Both Chen and Ying want to devour this land—their armies watch from both sides, their iron cavalry ride through your eighteen states, clashing with your Murong family disciples time and again."

"Now, after ten years of refinement, Murong family disciples all wield the art of mounted swordplay, able to engage iron cavalry from a hundred paces away; dismount, and they fuse long iron staves with great swords into infantry weapons—seven-foot blades, total length ten feet, double-edged because they are swords."

"When they channel the Murong family's Heavy Sword Art, within ten paces, men and horses alike are cut down."

"No one can tell anymore whether they're martial disciples or soldiers."

"Both sides have military formations, fortresses, and strict checkpoints."

"If I hadn't had some skill, I couldn't have slipped through!"

The Master Jiankuang ignored Master Siming's complaints and said:

"Elder, can you find my two children?"

Master Siming grinned crookedly: "I'd like to—but Li Guanyi's still faintly detectable. That kid's slippery—he learned some kind of evasion technique, constantly weaving arcs, doubling back at random."

"Cross the river, then loop back from another direction."

"He leaves behind real and fake traces deliberately."

"He's done this multiple times."

"With Xue Lao's maneuvering, the First-Line elite troops of Chen State didn't move, and now the Second-Line pursuit units chasing him are being led around like dogs."

"As for your little granddaughter, her aura vanished completely. After thinking it over, I suspect the one best at escaping in all the world is right beside your granddaughter."

The Master Jiankuang asked: "Who?"

Master Siming replied:

"That girl is the youngest ever in the Shiwaisan Sect's lineage to receive a title, and she emerged into the world. She obtained the name Yao Guang a full decade before this generation's Po Jun. She is not skilled in Wu Gong, but her mastery of strange arts and arrays is extraordinarily high."

"Even I, an old man like me, cannot find her from this distance."

"Then let's find Guanyi first."

"No…"

Master Siming said: "I have a feeling that girl will soon go looking for your great-grandson."

"And then, like a sudden *pop*, she vanishes from the map like a black spot."

"It's not that I'm incapable—my abilities are known to you. But every generation produces a few utterly unreasonable geniuses. If she truly wants to hide, not even I, nor her master or her master's master, could find her…"

"It's truly not that I'm incapable!"

The Master Jiankuang asked: "You can't find her?"

Master Siming replied: "Only if she wishes to be found can someone discover her repeatedly."

The Master Jiankuang pondered: "So that's why you came—calm, unhurried."

Master Siming's face froze, then he coughed loudly: "What calm and unhurried?!"

"What calm and unhurried! Don't slander me!"

The Master Jiankuang smiled carefreely: "Is it really that serious? I understand."

Master Siming asked hesitantly: "Then… are you going?" He paused, then spoke: "The Eighteen Southern Provinces still exist—only because you are here. Your battle when you ascended to the Master rank left too deep an impression on Chen and Ying's iron cavalry."

"Thus, their offensive against the Eighteen Southern Provinces has always been restrained."

"But you know that once you leave, the same scenario from over a decade ago will return—Ying's forces ravaging this land while Chen flees. Worse, this time Chen will not retreat without fighting; they will join as aggressors."

"If you leave, the Eighteen Southern Provinces will be destroyed."

"This is a balance."

The Master Jiankuang, Murong Longtu, nodded: "You're right."

Master Siming was astonished—he hadn't expected Murong Longtu to agree so directly.

Master Siming probed: "Then you won't go find them?"

The Master Jiankuang said: "I must go."

Old Master Siming asked puzzled: "Then what about here?"

The Master Jiankuang rose and said calmly:

"I must save those two children. I must protect the Eighteen Southern Provinces."

"A true man in this world never chooses between them."

Master Siming was so stunned by his calm tone that he could not speak.

"Master, please wait a moment. Let me bathe and change clothes. I cannot appear before my grandchildren like this."

The Master Jiankuang rose. Without any visible motion, the swords of the Murong Clan disciples guarding the door suddenly sang out, then flew from their scabbards and landed before him, hovering and humming. He did not take the ninety-six mysterious weapons—only lightly brushed his finger across this hundred-fold forged iron sword.

The long sword sang, its scabbard separating from the blade.

The blade gleamed clear as autumn water; the scabbard was engraved with a pattern of an elder on Nanshan offering peaches.

Murong Longtu tapped his finger on the blade and said calmly:

"Go to Chen State."

He tapped again on the scabbard:

"Go to Ying State."

The ordinary hundred-fold forged iron sword sang twice, then instantly became a blade of light and departed—one south, one north. The white-haired Murong Longtu, whose beard and nails had grown long, stood there and said: "Master, please sit. I shall bathe and change."

Master Siming merely nodded.

Outside, the night watchman passed by, striking his wooden clapper.

Old Master Siming drank tea, then ate fruit. The produce of the Eighteen Southern Provinces was far from meager. Warriors traveling the world could eat and dress well just by entering a small county town. Any martial artist who reached this one of the Jianghu's holy places certainly had a full purse.

Old Master Siming stretched comfortably, reclining to eat snacks.

Outside, the night watchman passed again, striking his clapper once more.

It had passed the first watch.

The sword and scabbard returned.

Both blade and scabbard were drenched in blood, the stench of gore filling the entire room.

Master Siming's pupils contracted sharply.

What had that old killer made the sword do?

Footsteps approached. Old Master Siming felt a chill at his back—he leapt up instantly and turned.

Murong Longtu, bathed and changed, wore a green robe, his white hair neatly combed. He stepped out, tall and with clear features; his wrinkles did not make him look aged. His beard and hair stirred slightly. He looked at the sword and scabbard, sheathed the blade, placed it on the table, then turned to Master Siming and said:

"The message has been delivered."

"Master, come with me."

Message?

What message?

What did you do, boy?

Master Siming stared at Murong Longtu, his lips twitching: "Wait, I mean—"

"Are the commanding generals of Chen and Ying really that reasonable? I heard that over the past decade, both sides have treated this place as a training ground. Their commanders are young, aggressive generals from the rising generation—fierce and warlike."

"Especially their mouths are tightly sealed, like stone—you might convince them, but they could still renege…"

Master Siming didn't know what he was saying.

Elder Murong replied: "No need for such trouble."

"The commanding generals of both sides are dead."

"Within a month, he won't have time to attack me."

Master Siming's palm trembled slightly; Elder Murong added: "Though I can no longer sense my granddaughter's or great-grandson's qi, should they be in danger, you, Elder, will sense it…"

Master Siming looked at the old thing and said:

"What if, within a month, both sides bring in new commanding generals?"

Elder Murong said coolly:

"Then kill them again."

The Master Jiankuang of the World!

Master Siming's eyebrow twitched; he said nothing, but thought that the lot from the First Tower of Heaven were utterly correct—only when bestowing titles. Such a madly arrogant warrior could never humbly obey the rules of the kings of the warring states, play at balance?

The court's rule is balance; the temple's rule is power.

The Jianghu is different.

The Jianghu is chaotic yet pure: a long sword in hand, heroic spirit in heart, the vast world open to all—that is the Jianghu.

Master Siming suddenly noticed a problem and said: "Aren't you bringing those ninety-six Xuán Bīng?"

The Master Jiankuang answered:

"What are Xuán Bīng?"

Master Siming found the question ridiculous, then suddenly realized something—he looked at the aged Master Jiankuang and could no longer laugh.

"You've forgotten the sword?"

"No."

"To obtain the sword, forget the sword—grass, wood, bamboo, stone may all become swords; then pick up the sword again."

"I reached this path at thirty, but I was too lazy to pick it up."

The Master Jiankuang casually reached out, snapped a branch of willow, and hung it at his waist; he said calmly:

"This is enough."

Warriors of the Jianghu gathered outside the cities of the Eighteen States of Jiangnan—heroes, martialists, outlaws, and spies from Chen and Ying nations—all converged beyond the Murong family's gates, watching as the Murong ancestral door opened.

An old man with white hair, clad in a green robe, waist only adorned with a willow branch.

They all lost the ability to speak.

Ten days ago, the grand sacrifice ended.

Ten days later.

The Master Jiankuang emerged from seclusion.

The winds and clouds of this world have never ceased.

…………

Li Guanyi sat on an ox cart, which ambled slowly, swaying gently; the long-haired cat curled in his lap, warm and cozy. It was midsummer now—the fourteen-year-old boy's yang energy was strong, and this Fire Qilin, being fire-affiliated, nestled there like a burning coal.

The boy pushed it away, but the Fire Qilin long-haired cat stubbornly loved the feel of that spot.

Again and again it came back.

Eventually, the boy gave up and let it be, crossing his hands behind his head, lying atop the straw hiding the Tie Futu heavy armor, the ox cart moving slowly forward, he lived an idle life—these past several days had been remarkably calm.

Though in the Jianghu, a faint sense of rising storms lingered.

But Li Guanyi had finally shaken off the Chen army's pursuers.

The pursuers' morale seemed shattered.

That Mr.'s Four Crossings tactic—even its barest, thinnest shadow, combined with Xue Shen's techniques—had utterly broken the Chen second-tier troops' morale; they still thought Li Guanyi would turn back, but the boy vanished in that instant.

He extended a finger and pushed his wide-brimmed hat.

These past days, he'd felt more and more martialists appearing in the Jianghu.

What is the Jianghu?

Li Guanyi thought about it, but didn't know.

No logic, no rules—he bought a new ox cart, a new ox to pull it; his money pouch didn't grow thin, but swelled instead—people kept giving him money, and fights broke out for no reason.

Perhaps this is the Jianghu.

He arrived at a new city and needed to buy some dried rations.

This place was very near the spot marked by Yao Guang; Li Guanyi glanced over—and spotted a familiar place. He looked closer—

【Xue Family General Store】.

No—this emblem? This insignia?

Near the Chen border, this was a branch outpost established by Xue family loyalists.

Li Guanyi looked at those familiar items and thought Xue Lao was still chasing him.

He thought for a moment, then drove over.

The Shopkeeper of the Xue Family General Store was idly tapping his abacus; this was already a remote region of Chen, rich in goods, hence the Xue family's outpost. Suddenly, a knock came—he looked up and saw a young Daoist boy.

"Oh? It's the young Daoist. What would you like to buy?"

"We have many weapons, ancient herbs from deep mountains, bear paws and pelts, ginseng and lingzhi—anything you want. Also fine dusting brushes, brand-new Daoist robes. What might the young Daoist desire?"

Li Guanyi had used the 【Twelvefold Jiangnan Mist and Rain】 to alter his face—unless someone knew him intimately, they could never recognize him. He knew Xue Lao had become a powerful chancellor; he wanted to greet Xue Lao, to let him know he was still safe, yet had to be extremely cautious.

The young Daoist thought for a moment and said:

"I've heard the Xue family recruits heroes from across the world, welcoming disciples of all schools to submit petitions. I… this humble Daoist, wish to write a letter to the Xue family."

This was the Xue family's password; depending on the title, its importance varied, and this password belonged to the highest tier—the Shopkeeper blinked in surprise, seeing the jade pendant around the boy's neck.

Her eyes paused slightly, and her expression instantly grew three parts more respectful, saying:

"Very well, Daoist…"

He paused, changed his address, and said: "Young Master, please wait."

"Where exactly are you sending it?"

Li Guanyi extended his hand, unconsciously gripping the jade pendant around his neck, and smiled:

"To Yicheng."

The Shopkeeper's respectful demeanor deepened; he invited the boy into the inner chamber, brought paper and ink—both of the finest quality—and then stepped back, daring not to look, as the boy sat cross-legged, picked up the brush, and began writing his letter; along his journey through the martial world, he had many discoveries to report to Xue Lao.

But as the brush touched the paper, he unconsciously wrote:

"Young Lady…"

Li Guanyi paused, crumpled the paper into a ball, rubbed it between his hands, and from his shoulder, the cat opened its mouth and spat fire—the paper turned instantly to blue smoke. Li Guanyi found a new sheet of paper and wrote:

【192】 "Shuangtao"

His eyes paused slightly, his expression instantly becoming three parts more respectful, and he said:

?? New volume begins—hope you enjoy it~