Chapter 182

Almost the instant he wrote down that name, Li Guanyi paused again.

The young man lightly tapped his forehead with the pen's shaft.

Li Guanyi, Li Guanyi, you came here to assure Xue Lao of your safety—don't keep thinking about Young Lady, Young Lady—how could you be so careless?

He crumpled the paper again.

The Fire Qilin, impatient, scratched its head with its front paw, then opened its mouth and spat a weakened version of Fire Qilin flame, reducing the ashes to blue smoke; only then did Li Guanyi write "Xue Lao."

He described his experiences and observations during this period.

It had been eight days since he left Yicheng; he had successfully evaded all pursuers, and thanks to Grand Elder's gift, every city and checkpoint he passed offered no obstruction—overall, it had been remarkably calm.

He encountered three highway bandits and five inexplicable duels between martial artists.

Thus Li Guanyi's money pouch grew heavy.

But recently, Li Guanyi noticed that martial artists in the Jianghu were growing ever more numerous; as he rode his ox cart leisurely along the road, the number of men carrying swords and knives by the roadside increased daily—the court and the Jianghu had never truly been separate.

Major events had occurred in the court, and the legend of the Fire Qilin had spread.

Naturally, the Jianghu was in turmoil.

Li Guanyi found that these martial artists were gathering near Zhenbei City, the largest city in the northeast of Chen State; Yao Guang had also agreed to meet him there; in his letter, he informed Xue Lao of these changes in the Jianghu, hoping Xue Lao could rest easy in court.

"The unrest in the Jianghu—at least across the vast regions near Jiangzhou in Chen State—seems tied to me, so I will conceal my trail, keep my blade at hand, and proceed with caution; I hope to weather these Jianghu storms."

"Xue Lao must also be careful—the court's intrigues and hidden daggers are no less dangerous than those of the Jianghu."

"Please give my regards to Aunt Xue."

One letter filled an entire page.

Li Guanyi had planned to fold it away.

But after hesitating, he took out another sheet of paper and wrote:

"Shuangtao, as if seeing you face to face."

"I've been terribly bored—extremely bored."

"Thanks to Xue Lao's help, elite frontline units like Chen's Night Riders did not participate in pursuing me."

"Perhaps under the court's upheavals—the Chancellor's death, the change of Prime Minister, the replacement of the Crown Prince—I, a mere individual, is not the most urgent matter for the vast Chen State."

"So you can rest easy."

"The Jianghu is strange—I spent ten years fleeing with Auntie; she kept me cautious, never letting me near Jianghu affairs; I only occasionally noticed many large men with swords and knives arriving in town, looking very imposing; or sometimes doors were tightly shut at night."

"I didn't understand then—I thought life was simple; now that I realize what those signs meant, perhaps it means I've already stepped into the Jianghu."

"The ox cart moves slowly but steadily; I've seen many landscapes, and each city has its own cuisine—most cheaper than Jiangzhou City; sometimes they speak dialects instead of official speech, and I often can't understand them—that's troublesome."

"What is the Jianghu? I really don't understand. Along the way, I still see martial artists dueling, dressed all in white—I think it's a waste; such clothes get dirty too easily, and after a fight, they're covered in blood and dust—washing them costs either money or effort."

"And something strange: some mountain folk combine farming with banditry, yet they're far poorer than those near Jiangzhou City."

"Martial artists are richer than bandits—what a strange world."

Li Guanyi wrote unconsciously until he ran out of paper; he came back to himself as wind rustled the trees, the Fire Qilin yawned on his shoulder, a falling leaf drifted onto the boy's shoulder—he reached out, plucked the leaf, and slipped it between the letter's pages.

This, perhaps, is the Jianghu.

He sealed both letters, then drew the Nine Palaces Turtle Shell Pattern from their first meeting on the letter to Young Lady, to distinguish it from the letter to Xue Lao, before handing them to the Shopkeeper of the Xue family here.

The Shopkeeper bowed respectfully: "Young Master, we did not touch your ox cart—only replaced the ox with a faster one; the water, dried rations, fire-starters, short knives, oil, and all other items you requested are prepared."

He then took out a whisk, a bow, and a quiver of arrows and handed them over, saying:

"Young Master, traveling the Jianghu—take these for protection."

"Our place is small, we only have these; if you go to Zhenbei City, there is a Xue family bank and corresponding equipment there."

Li Guanyi accepted the bow and arrows without ceremony but declined the whisk.

The young man lifted his Song-Wen Ancient Sword, smiling carefree: "These are enough."

"Thank you, Shopkeeper, for these two letters."

The Shopkeeper replied: "It is our duty."

The Shopkeeper seemed to recall something and added: "Please extend your hand."

Li Guanyi extended his hand; the Shopkeeper placed an object in his palm.

Golden, radiant, perfectly round.

It was a gold bean.

The Shopkeeper smiled: "Young Lady previously sent word that if you came to deliver a letter, we were to give you one gold bean."

He added: "One each time."

The young man held the gold bean and suddenly understood the girl's meaning.

You must write to me often!

Li Guanyi couldn't help laughing—he could almost see the girl glaring at him; he thought Young Lady was strange: sometimes simple and innocent, sometimes with such decisive calm.

Whether in Yicheng, when she shattered her jade pendant to quiet everyone,

or at the Xue residence, when she ordered Li Guanyi to take her hostage—

both showed extraordinary decisiveness.

Yet the idea of giving one gold bean per letter seemed like something she had pondered for ages before thinking of it; Li Guanyi recalled when he was still a Gold Guard, how the girl slipped gold beans through the window crack, one by one, clinking as they fell to the ground,

luring him over.

Back then, the young Gold Guard sat there, looking up; the girl in palace robes crouched there, her skirt trailing on the ground, smiling as she tilted her head, strands of hair falling beside her temples, sunlight bathing her, even the tips of her hair glowing faintly gold.

Memories are the most painful.

Li Guanyi tossed the gold bean in his hand, teasingly smiling:

"But, Shopkeeper—isn't there a problem?"

"I wrote two letters."

"Two letters."

The Shopkeeper froze, then stammered, "Ah, this, this, Young Master, please wait."

"I'll go get them again!"

Li Guanyi laughed, quickly called out to stop the Shopkeeper, then reached out and placed a gold coin on the table. The Shopkeeper blinked, watching as Li Guanyi picked up his wide-brimmed hat and put it on, saying only, "Mm. When you send the message, let me know."

"You don't need these."

The boy pulled his wide-brimmed hat down further.

"It's Li Guanyi who wants to write to her."

"Tell her not to get it wrong."

The Shopkeeper savored the words—same event, yet utterly different meaning. He tasted the undercurrent, and a smile crept onto his face as he tucked the gold coin away, bowing, "As the Young Master says, I shall report it faithfully."

Li Guanyi, hat still on, took his leave. He walked out with his sword in hand, just as a young boy rushed in, clutching a fresh Jianghu Hero Ranking list, eager and excited. This was only a small town; the Xue family's general store had a narrow door, and news traveled slow, carts and horses moved slow.

So Li Guanyi stopped, letting the enthusiastic boy enter first.

The boy politely thanked him.

Li Guanyi said, "No need," and they passed each other. The boy instinctively glanced back, catching only half the Daoist Priest's face beneath the hat—the fluttering strands at his temples, the faint curve of his smile.

They quickly passed.

The boy marched in and shouted to the Xue family Shopkeeper, "Old man, old man, look!"

"The new ranking list finally arrived! They say it came out long ago, but they treat our backwater town like dirt—takes forever just to get news here. This time, the Little Sword Saint's even stronger, but that Spear Madman? Amazing—he just entered the Jianghu and shot straight to thirty-first."

"The Jianghu is so vast. When will I ever have such Wu Gong?"

He sighed, eyes full of longing, then added, "By the way, Old Man, who's that Daoist Priest? So good-looking."

He thought a moment—it wasn't just looks. It was some indescribable aura.

He just felt… different.

The Xue family Shopkeeper looked at the Jianghu ranking, then at the Daoist Priest's retreating back. "A guest from the Jianghu."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Li Guanyi looked at his ox cart—a new green ox, freshly brushed, fed quality fodder mixed with soybeans, brimming with vigor. He patted its head, then climbed aboard. The cart pulled him toward his destination.

The ox cart was slow, yes—but that made it safer.

He was beginning to understand: one of the fundamental principles of the Military School was to act contrary to expectation.

The ox cart left town and reached another settlement just before sunset. It was smaller than the last—only one main road, with a tavern, an apothecary, and a grain shop all lined along it.

Li Guanyi, hungry and thirsty, pulled the cart up beside a restaurant.

He clomped upstairs, ordered two bowls of noodles and several dishes. He himself didn't care much—but the Fire Qilin did. This thing had a picky palate; it wanted to try everything. No vegetables, no meat? It refused.

The Fire Qilin was perfectly justified.

I've been locked up for ten years. No—eleven.

Daily bloodletting for alchemical pills. Any ordinary mortal would've died eight times over.

And after escaping, I had to transfer power to Li Guanyi as a reserve; then fought Xiao Wuliang, a top-tier expert; then charged through battle lines. Any living being would've been shattered.

Eating well is normal!

At its current state, the Fire Qilin needs half a month just to rebuild enough energy for one full battle. To restore full strength, it requires rare treasures, pills, and elixirs to undo the side effects of a decade of imprisonment and torment.

Even with abundant spiritual herbs, it must be nurtured slowly.

The Fire Qilin dislikes dried rations, so Li Guanyi often hunts meat for it. When passing towns or villages, it insists on eating proper meals—food with the warmth of hearth and flame. Two bowls of noodles arrived—plain, with a few greens, topped with braised meat. The Fire Qilin, in cat form, bent its head to gnaw on a large pig's trotter.

Li Guanyi noticed the watching eyes.

He noticed a group of five men—dressed unlike the impoverished town, each carrying swords or knives, their table piled high with fish and meat, likely clearing out the restaurant's entire stock. As Li Guanyi and the Fire Qilin ate, their glances flickered over.

Jianghu martial artists.

Li Guanyi had seen many such groups in the past eight days.

But now, on his shoulder, the Xuan Gui Law Form suddenly surfaced.

Then it turned its head, locking eyes with Li Guanyi—its pea-sized eyes glinting.

Its four paws flapped like swimming through air, then flew over.

Li Guanyi was startled. Could there really be something here that interested the Xuan Gui? The Xuan Gui Law Form settled quietly atop their table. Even without opening his ear acupoints, Li Guanyi heard every word clearly.

"Who is this Daoist Priest? Wears a sword—could he be here for the gathering too?"

"Dunno. Looks young. Even if he has Wu Gong, what's he got? But that cat with him—very spiritual."

The long-haired cat, still chewing the trotter, let out a satisfied rumble.

Li Guanyi listened quietly, reached out, and scratched the cat's head.

The Fire Qilin luxuriously shook its head.

The secret method of playing with juvenile Fire Qilin, passed down by Xue Shen, was why Li Guanyi and the Fire Qilin's bond had grown so fast.

At first, it was arrogant, refusing to be touched. Now, it didn't care.

Li Guanyi listened quietly to their conversation: "True. My marten's an exotic breed—can kill tigers and leopards, fearless even against a full-grown tiger. But when that cat walked over, it froze stiff."

"I reached out to touch it—it snapped at me so fast I barely dodged. If I'd been slower, I'd have three big holes in my hand. My exotic beast is near the bottom of the ranking. This cat? Must be top hundred, at least."

"This Daoist Priest looks young. Why don't we move early? When we reach Beicheng, before the Hunting Qilin Gathering, we give the cat to the Lord. He'll be pleased—and maybe get close to the Jianghu's number one beauty."

Li Guanyi's eyes narrowed slightly.

The Fire Qilin's ears twitched.

The Xuan Gui rested atop the big man's skull, listening clearly.

"Big Brother, isn't Beicheng near? The Jianghu says many have come for this gathering—it's a Fire Qilin! No matter how you rank divine beasts, it's top five. With the world in chaos, a sign of auspiciousness? Big profit."

"None of this is our business. It's all for the big shots. Remember: when we get there, shout loud, fight little. Even if you get beaten black and blue, don't cause trouble. And keep your pants on—the Jianghu's waters are filthy!"

"Ji Kuang himself is already a formidable martial artist, and with the Fire Qilin, many renowned heroes from the martial world have come for this matter—our Great Chen Northern Region's Motian Sect's leader, the Furious Scale Dragon King who rules the seventy-two linked fortresses along both banks of the Dajiang, and the Furious Sword Immortal, elder of the Kunlun Sword Sect on Kunlun Mountain, all plan to arrive."

"And that old demon from the Yin-Yang Wheel Transformation Sect—hah, wealth stirs the heart, and the Fire Qilin even more so. Brothers, remember: our Divine Beast Manor's big shots are famous martial heroes, but we mere brothers just want to make a living—do just enough."

"Go, bring that cat—no knives, just give him a good beating."

"For people like us, traveling the martial world means staying steady."

When martial artists spoke of the Divine Beast Manor.

The Black Tortoise Dharma Form turned around, its pea-sized eyes nearly glowing.

He looked at Li Guanyi, then flicked his head toward the Fire Qilin over there.

It meant the Divine Beast Manor had something useful for the Fire Qilin.

The Fire Qilin licked its lips. Li Guanyi ate his noodles, thinking of all those figures with grand titles, and felt the Black Tortoise was truly useful—he had no interest in getting involved with these people. Once he found his aunt and Yao Guang, he would immediately seek out Elder Murong, his great-grandfather.

But many things in the world are troublesome.

The young Daoist ate his noodles when two burly men approached, slammed their hands on the table, making the chopsticks clatter, then tossed down three copper coins: "We're buying this cat!"

"Here's your money!"

Saying this, they reached out to grab the Fire Qilin.

Li Guanyi quietly sipped his noodle broth, thinking.

What exactly is the martial world?

Always people coming to cause trouble—grudges, treasures, or just fights breaking out when passing by.

After opening the Eye Acupoint, when striking, the world in one's vision seemed to slow.

The Shopkeeper's panicked expression slowly faded—the young man had already acted. Two chopsticks struck the two outstretched hands, bending them backward; he spun and kicked out, sending two more Divine Beast Manor martial artists crashing to the ground.

As Xue Lao said, entering the realm allows one to live an honorable life in a small town.

Second Layer Realm is among the strongest in a small county; as for Third Layer Realm martial cultivators, they are typically the leaders of ordinary martial sects—enough to open a school, take disciples, and command respect for their sect's name.

Li Guanyi was no longer someone to be bullied at will.

He flicked his wrist, splashing the noodle broth onto the big brother's face, extended his right foot to trip him, and sent the martial artist sprawling. His sword, still sheathed, tapped a pressure point on the man's body—he collapsed, numb and limp.

The young man rose, picked up his sword, and skillfully took the martial artists' money pouches.

He left them enough to live on, so they wouldn't turn to crime from hunger.

He threw them out of the restaurant, one by one.

He picked up his sword and ordered a gourd of rice wine.

The young man reached out, placed copper coins on the table, and said softly:

"For the noodles, and for the wooden table."

He took the wine gourd and stepped out. The ox cart stood quietly. One of the thrown-out martial artists grew angry, snatched up a wooden stick, and swung it at the young man's back—but somehow, the stick flew away, and he himself tumbled head over heels again.

Li Guanyi tossed the wine gourd onto the ox cart, untied it, leapt lightly, and lay back on the cart. Golden straw fluttered up around him, comfortable and relaxed. The Fire Qilin lay atop his head, its paws pressed over his eyes—he lifted them away.

What exactly is the martial world?

Li Guanyi thought.

Is it senseless fighting? Masters chasing fame and fortune? Ordinary martial artists seeking steady survival? Shopkeepers whose inns are always destroyed? Grudges and passions? Sword encounters and sudden fortunes? Or just wine?

The young man lifted the wine gourd—low-alcohol, refreshing rice wine.

The sunset dipped on the horizon, the sky golden.

It is the sunset, the ancient road, the creaking ox cart.

It is me.

The young man smiled.

The martial world is just like this, Shuangtao.

………………

The winds of the world rise and fall in tides. In a small town far removed from these worldly storms lived a schoolteacher who had come here ten years ago and never left since.

One day, a flying bird brought a letter; his student helped receive it.

Though the Mr. never left his home, he had friends—for example, the Great Monk Zhige, who had visited him many times and often wrote letters.

Is this also a letter from Master Zhige?

He thought, glanced at it, and saw a name he did not recognize.

As if a fierce gale roared.

【Yan Xuanji】!