Chapter 189: The Sword Mad

The former Yin-Yang Cycle Sect outpost in Zhenbei City had been reduced to ashes; its majestic mountain gate, as if sliced by an exceptionally sharp internal qi, lay shattered into fragments across the ground, a scene of utter ruin and desolation.

In the martial world, Wu Gong is supreme.

Those who wield sharp weapons naturally develop murderous intent; challenging sects and climbing mountains to duel is common among ordinary sects, but for a major sect's outpost spanning several provinces to be so utterly crushed was exceedingly rare.

What connection did Li Guanyi have with this outpost's destruction?

Master Siming frowned at the vast expanse of white ash, bent down to touch a handful, and grimaced: "Fire Qilin flame, and the Qinghuo Powder commonly used by sorcerers and Daoist Priests—this kid's techniques are remarkably eclectic."

Jiankuang remained calm, saying softly: "Yin-Yang Cycle Sect?"

Master Siming replied: "Yes, a rising sect over the past few decades. Originally quite restrained, even neutral. Its disciples, though not as disciplined as those from the Imperial Academy or orthodox Buddhist and Daoist sects, were never outright evil."

"But since Tai Ping Gong's death, the Regent Prince withdrew, and you sealed off the Eighteen Southern Provinces, they've grown increasingly arrogant. And before Tai Ping Gong died, he wiped out the Guardian Shanzhuang entirely—after that, these major sects became even more unrestrained."

"Chen Dingye secretly rebuilt the Guardian Shanzhuang, but to conceal it."

"He forbade its disciples from roaming the martial world to purge evil. Originally, Wu Di Chen had founded the Guardian Shanzhuang, naming it 'Guardian,' precisely to eliminate instability in the martial world. Now Chen Dingye has turned it into a villa to protect himself."

"Lately, the world has grown unstable."

"From past patterns, this is when martial dragons and snakes rise together."

"No one knows what provoked that boy, Li Guanyi."

Master Siming pondered, tapped the void, and the Hu Xuanwu manifestation appeared; the old man swept his sleeve, stepped across the cosmos, and with Yin-Yang Cycle transformations, reassembled the Tianji that Li Guanyi's Xuan Gui manifestation had disrupted.

Of such mastery in Yin-Yang arts, only he could accomplish this under heaven.

"There—"

Jiankuang walked over.

Master Siming grumbled: "That boy is extremely cautious. If not for old man me, anyone else would be clueless." He flicked his sleeve, and before them, a hazy image of the past two days appeared—distorted and blurred by time.

Only faintly could they see the boy riding a horse, wielding a halberd, charging back and forth.

As if entering a land without people.

His strikes were brutal, decisive, and overwhelming.

Then they saw him break into a secret chamber and flick his wrist, driving a sword straight through the beautiful woman, pinning her to death.

Jiankuang frowned slightly, then smiled: "This sword technique is crude."

"Like casually throwing a hidden weapon—fast enough, forceful enough."

"Beyond that, it's utterly terrible."

Then they saw Li Guanyi trading blows with the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect's chief, who was one level higher, using the Third Floor's "Twelve Layers of Jiangnan Mist and Rain" to wield the Shaoyang Sword; Elder Murong nodded slightly and smiled: "That move… actually has some skill."

"But he only uses it as an auxiliary."

Until they glimpsed the old chief's lingering shadow, furious, demanding why Li Guanyi had come.

The boy's lingering shadow raised his halberd.

"Nothing else."

"Merely to test the halberd!"

Jiankuang, Elder Murong, finally burst into loud laughter.

He pointed at the boy's lingering shadow, turned to Master Siming, and laughed: "I like that line."

"Merely to test the halberd—there's a touch of madness in it. Like me."

"He's my descendant."

Master Siming rubbed his brow, suspecting the boy had said that for other reasons, but glancing at Jiankuang, he saw that those words had once again improved Li Guanyi's standing in the old swordsman's eyes.

He further deduced that Li Guanyi had come here to save someone.

He shattered the blood pills that extended life, the pills that preserved youth.

He led many people down the mountain.

Jiankuang laughed aloud.

Extremely delighted.

He looked again at the old man and said: "Elder, where is my child now? Can you find him?" Old Master Siming grimaced and shook his head: "No, that boy has likely joined up with Shiwaisan Sect's Yao Guang."

"And probably with another object—or another person."

"His aura's traces are concealed and twisted; I cannot see them."

Old Master Siming had already guessed who it might be.

Because few in the world could achieve this—but he glanced at the ancient yet piercing swordsman beside him, and ultimately said nothing, for he knew: the world's first master, sword in hand, must always see whether he can cut down the legends of the martial world.

Jiankuang smiled: "No matter. The younger generation has their own affairs to handle."

"At this final moment, to see my child like this—I can wait. The martial world is vast. Elder, why not travel with me? If it's peers competing, I'll let it be. But if those old bastards use their strength to bully the young—"

The aged swordsman half-opened his eyes and smiled:

"They do bully the young."

"So do I."

He turned and descended the mountain, saying calmly:

"I'm nearly dead—I no longer care for reason."

Master Siming sensed a surge of killing intent; then the two descended the mountain, followed the aura traces to the inn where Li Guanyi and his group had been, and used Master Siming's methods to uncover Li Guanyi's actions—each revelation made Jiankuang admire the boy more.

Of the same bloodline, some are mediocre commoners, others are bold and spirited.

The treatment they receive is naturally different.

Just as they left the town, the aged Jiankuang murmured to himself:

"I should teach him swordcraft."

Old Master Siming was startled, turning to the old man.

Only Master Siming understood the weight of those words.

The Murong family was originally just an ordinary secluded sect; two hundred years ago, a brilliant swordsman emerged, sweeping across the world, crushing every sword sect, and gathering all divine blades and weapons to establish the Divine Weapon Mansion.

He fought three hundred duels in his life, killing three hundred top swordsmen.

Ninety-six divine weapons—half were seized by breaking into sword sects, confiscating their ancestral blades, and dissolving their disciples; the rest were forged by his own hand.

With a single green-bladed sword, he entered the Imperial Academy three times, forced back the Daoist primordial masters, and fought Gongyang Su Wang three times without defeat; alone, he carried his sword across the ten-thousand-li territory of Chen, meeting no resistance—had he not been spiritually broken, he nearly breached the imperial palace. Such a reckless man had never spoken such words.

The old sword madman sat quietly there; his lifespan had already surpassed two hundred years.

To be the most lethal blade-wielding swordsman in history was already inconceivable.

In his youth, he roamed every sword school and sect across the world, claiming no swordsman surpassed him; such a man sought not the legendary immortality, but a blade capable of slaying immortals.

He would surely, at life's end, seek out a legendary swordsman to duel.

But before that, he would entrust his sword art to another.

Uttering these words meant Murong Longtu had made his final decision.

The old Master Siming fell silent; he had decided to first take the sword madman on a tour. The Dao Sect's nature would accommodate the sword madman, but the final outcome—even Master Siming could not foresee. Theoretically, a martial artist could never stand against those four.

But the sword madman's blade—he could not predict it either.

Master Siming did not wish to witness that scene; it would cost him two old friends.

He did not know whether Li Guanyi's excellence was good or bad.

The old man sighed, finding such a martial swordsman utterly incomprehensible. He warmed himself by the fire; the sword madman, clad in green robes, sat upon a green stone, raising a wine flask to his lips, white-haired and white-bearded, yet composed and serene.

The young enter; the old depart.

The young are bold and spirited.

The old must burn as fiercely as ever.

When I came, ten thousand swords rang out; when I leave, the world must tremble.

This was his martial world.

………………

In Jiangzhou City, Prince Ji Yanzhong gazed at the imperial palace and suddenly felt a profound loneliness.

The envoy delegation from Zhongzhou would not depart so quickly; there were always matters to handle, rituals to perform—even though the entire world now knew the Emperor of Zhongzhou's etiquette was a joke.

But they themselves could not ignore it.

If they themselves did not follow these rules from the Red Emperor, then these regulations would truly become a joke.

Prince Ji Yanzhong felt the Chen nobles' gazes toward him were strange.

After all, he had taught two people the Crimson Dragon Qi, and both eventually became rebels, rising from military officers.

What reason could explain this?

Even this kind-hearted elder wondered if he was cursed by Chen.

Teach one, and he rebels.

And the rebels were no minor figures—one was the world's greatest infantry general, unmatched in foot combat.

The other was a young hero, the youngest marquis of the founding generation.

It was as if he were poisoned.

Now, these military officers dared not approach him, fearing he might impart some technique that would ruin their careers; only Ye Buyi and Zhou Liu, men of bold character, still remained.

Prince Ji Yanzhong admired them; moreover, Ye Buyi was the son of the commander of Chen's elite Night Gallop Cavalry, and Zhou Liu's grandfather was Chen's veteran general, famed across the land for his hooked-sickle formation that defeated cavalry with infantry.

Both were unquestionably pure-blooded, loyal sons of Chen.

The elder saw these young talents, noble and imposing.

He wanted to cleanse his reputation—the stain that whoever he taught would inevitably rebel.

So he pushed himself, teaching each one a chapter of the Divine Art: Crimson Dragon Subdues the Nine Provinces.

Equal in rank to Crimson Dragon Qi, yet different: Ye Buyi received the chapter on commanding cavalry charges in battle formations—the ancient martial art of the Marquis of Ruyin; Zhou Liu received the chapter on commanding infantry, refining qi and energy—the ancient creation of the Marquis of Jiang.

These two were destined to become Chen's pillars; in decades, they might reach the Heavy Heaven Realm, and then be granted marquisates and generalships—then, at last, they would prove he was not Chen's cursed star who brought rebellion to all he taught.

Prince Ji Yanzhong sighed, feeling it was time to leave—but where? He did not know. The elder reached out, caressing the sword case; inside, the Chi Xiao Sword lay utterly still, so still it seemed as if its soul had flown away.

Prince Ji Yanzhong whispered: "Chi Xiao, Chi Xiao—though the Imperial Academy says I must carry you across the world…"

"Yet at our first stop, you sang so loudly."

"Hasn't your goal already been found?"

"Must we go elsewhere? Or should we return directly to Zhongzhou?"

This was merely the elder's private muttering—he expected no reply—but suddenly, the Chi Xiao Sword rang out. Prince Ji Yanzhong froze, then watched as the sword leapt upward, crimson light shimmering along its blade.

Prince Ji Yanzhong blinked, then beamed with joy: "You mean we should continue traveling the states?!"

The Chi Xiao Sword rang again.

The elder said: "Next, to Ying State?!"

The Chi Xiao Sword spun rapidly, refusing. Prince Ji Yanzhong rushed to fetch the empire's territorial map, laying it before the sword. The Chi Xiao Sword rang incessantly, then plunged straight down, its tip piercing one location with perfect precision.

Prince Ji Yanzhong hurried forward, looked down, and slowly said:

"Beicheng?"

"Good!"

"Then we go to Beicheng!"

The Chi Xiao Sword rang, as if with a trace of pride, a hint of mischief.

You won't come to me.

Then I'll find you.

That's not breaking the pact.

Prince Ji Yanzhong formally bid farewell to Chancellor Wei Yi, the Emperor, and Empress Xue, preparing to depart; Zhou Liu and Ye Buyi came to see him off. The elder gazed at them earnestly and said: "You two are talents of this age—serve your country and people, and do not disappoint me."

The two agreed, and after seeing off Prince Ji Yanzhong, Zhou Liuying noticed that Ye Buyi was in very low spirits; since the day Li Guanyi left, this young martial noble had been deeply gloomy—he possessed exceptional Wu Gong, had just received a divine art after that battle, broken through to the third realm at seventeen.

He could not compare to the young Sword Saint Xu Huiyang.

But compared to Yuwen Hua, he was hardly worse, far surpassing Geshu Yin of Tie Futu.

Zhou Liuying pulled him out for a stroll, taking him into a Daoist temple, and said: "Buyi, don't keep your face so stiff—you've lost all expression since before, it's unsettling. Isn't it just that you killed that traitorous minister and left?"

"We just couldn't do such a thing, but Guanyi did—wasn't that satisfying?"

"Heh, who knows what the top says? When I meet him, I'll still drink with him."

Ye Buyi looked at this reckless friend and said: "What if we meet on the battlefield?"

Zhou Liuying replied: "On the battlefield, we each serve our own lord."

He was carefree and composed: "Besides, Guanyi won't defect to Ying State. We'll never be enemies—given Marshal Yue's integrity, once the Xue family's Crown Prince ascends, you and I may yet fight shoulder to shoulder with our boss."

Ye Buyi said: "Watch your tongue."

Zhou Liuying paid no mind to such caution; seeing a blind Daoist priest divining nearby, he dragged Ye Buyi over. The other young officers had already lined up for readings—some got good fortunes, some bad. Yan Daiqing glanced at his own fate chart, frowned slightly, then hid it as Ye Buyi and Zhou Liuying approached.

He had been beaten with a bench by Zhou Liuying before, so they held a grudge and despised each other.

He had given the Gentleman's Sword to Li Guanyi; no one knew if the fellow took it or lost it—now he carried only an ordinary sidearm. Seeing Zhou Liuying, he sneered: "You're here to get your fortune read too? Hmph, Prince Ji's uncle taught you his arts—beware being crushed by accusations."

Zhou Liuying sneered back: "No need for your warning. The current Your Majesty won't distance himself from our fathers and brothers over such slander."

Commander of the Night Riding Cavalry, master of Chen's Hook-and-Sickle Battle Formation—these two were also on the Divine Generals List.

Not among the top ranks, stronger at commanding armies than personal martial prowess.

Yet they were among Chen State's core generals now.

Zhou Liuying and Ye Buyi went for their readings. The blind Daoist priest consulted his charts, then beamed and bowed: "Both of you have excellent fate charts—martial noble sons, yes?"

Zhou Liuying glanced at Yan Daiqing and said: "Of course."

The blind diviner smiled: "Then it's right!"

"One of you is fiery and resolute, the other agile and sharp—both peerless in valor, destined for supreme generalship! Your sword qi pierces the clouds—you are true tiger ministers, bearing the spirit of national pillars. If you meet the king, you shall rise with him, as his claws, teeth, and heart."

"Like two tigers roaring, following the dragon, soaring together."

"Your might shall shake the age!"

Zhou Liuying burst into laughter: "Hahahaha! See? We're not rebels!"

"Roaring with the wind, following the dragon, soaring together!"

"Fine reading! Here's your reward!"

He tossed a handful of silver coins. The old priest was overjoyed and nearly spoke of two others who had come before, whose fate charts revealed celestial suns and moons, dragon-and-phoenix bearing—but he remembered the danger of loose lips and clamped his mouth shut.

Yan Daiqing pondered "rise with him," staring at his own fate chart.

"Adapt through change, turn defeat into triumph…"

"I failed, yet earned merit—this isn't a good thing."

He burned the chart to ash.

Only when everyone had left did he approach and say: "I heard the foremost Yin-Yang scholar of the Imperial Academy reads fate with uncanny accuracy, peering into heavenly secrets—hence his blindness. I wonder…"

The blind priest turned pale, waving his hands frantically: "I—I don't know what you mean! I've always lived in this temple since birth, blind from the start, divining just to eat!"

Yan Daiqing's eyes lowered slightly, smiling: "Is that so?"

The young scholar said calmly: "But fifteen years ago, the Regent Prince shattered the temple, and only twelve or thirteen years ago did a Daoist come here to establish this temple—you're over seventy. How could you have been divining here all your life?"

"Are you lying—or are your memories false?"

The blind diviner looked at the young scholar and said:

"In chaotic times, demons abound."

"You were meant by the Yan family to be a strategist for the Crown Prince—but the Crown Prince is gone."

"Child, your path lies beyond Chen State."

Yan Daiqing's expression shifted slightly, but the old priest suddenly screamed, leapt up, and bolted away—no one knew where.

…………

Across the land, talents transform in their own ways.

After leaving the village, Li Guanyi sat on the ox cart, gnawing on a steamed bun, while the girl sat quietly reading. After a moment, Yao Guang gently nudged Li Guanyi, her voice serene: "This Daoist elder has something to say to you."

Li Guanyi lifted his gaze toward the Daoist.

The ancient Daoist said coolly: "What is it?"

"I do not know."

Yao Guang pulled Li Guanyi to his feet, then turned to the Daoist, her voice serene:

"This is the elder Daozong—one of the Four Legends."

Li Guanyi choked violently on his bun.

Daozong's expression froze, his drinking motion halted.

Neither had expected the girl to simply overturn the table, dragging the two pretenders onto it—Li Guanyi had deduced it from the severed child's reattached arm; Daozong had planned to hide it for a few more days.

Both stared at the quiet girl.

The silver-haired girl sat still, her exquisite face devoid of any expression, as if not of this world.

Seeing Li Guanyi look at her, she blinked, tilting her head slightly.

Her hair fell softly, her eyes innocent.

But Li Guanyi felt she had done it on purpose.

This veil of pretense had been torn away.

He rose, bowed slightly, and spoke plainly:

"Disciple of Master Wenyuan, Li Guanyi, greets Elder Daozong."

Dao Zong glanced at Yao Guang.

He sighed; his aura shifted. When he set down the wine jug, his sleeves fluttered and transformed him into a cold, detached Daoist—his face youthful, like twenty, yet his presence ancient, his silver hair tied neatly with an intricate hairpin that hung down to his waist.

Dao Zong looked at the girl over there and said softly:

"Cold on the surface, but mischievous at heart."

He turned to Li Guanyi: "... Your nature is fierce and unyielding. Zu Wenyuan cast his piece, drawing me into the mortal world, binding us together—so it is fitting I pass on to you a method. But which method you receive still depends on our fate."

Dao Zong slightly opened his five fingers; the trees across from him suddenly shattered, splintered, and became a bamboo tally cylinder.

Inside the cylinder were sixty-four tallies, which flew forth and landed in Dao Zong's hands.

Such a feat was no longer like any Wu Gong of the mortal realm; Dao Zong said calmly:

"My *Book of Imperial Supreme Cosmic Order* has sixty-four scrolls, matching the sixty-four primordial hexagrams."

"Whichever you draw, that is yours."

Li Guanyi said: "Is Zu Lao the sixtieth hexagram?"

Dao Zong said calmly: "Yes. What Zu Wenyuan received was the sixtieth hexagram, matching the sixty-four."

"The Hexagram of Restraint."

Li Guanyi murmured: "Restraint?"

Dao Zong said: "Heaven and earth have rhythm and renew themselves; nations have rhythm and remain stable; people have restraint and live their lives."

"This one character—he upheld it all his life."

"Now draw a tally..."

Li Guanyi reached out to take one, asking casually: "Is this fortune-telling?" Dao Zong said calmly: "Fate is ever-changing—who can truly calculate it? I merely see which method best matches your current state."

Li Guanyi hummed, drew a tally, and handed it to Dao Zong.

The silver-haired Daoist lowered his gaze and fell silent for a long while.

He stared at the characters upon it—

First hexagram—【Qian】

Qian is Heaven!

Li Guanyi...

Dao Zong frowned slightly. He had made new tallies just now, asking the boy to draw a hexagram for divination—yet Li Guanyi pulled out another and handed it to him. Dao Zong looked, remained silent, then gazed again at Li Guanyi's innocent, harmless face, and said nothing for a long time—

"Qian Hexagram · Use of Nine."

"Behold: a host of dragons without a leader—auspicious!"