Chapter 204: The Master Jiankuang Draws His Blade, the Master Strategist Offers His Plan—Jianghu and Court United!

Murong Longtu's words caused a slight change in Master Siming's expression.

This Grand Master of Yin-Yang spoke out involuntarily: "Huh? What are you planning to do?!"

Murong Longtu smiled gently: "Just courtesy returned in kind."

Master Siming curled his lips and said: "No need to mention the Furious Sword Immortal—Kunlun Sword Sect lies in the far north, on Kunlun Mountain; Motian Sect is known throughout the northern Jiangnan region; as for the Seventy-Two Linked Forts, they line the entire Dajiang; the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect has hidden itself well—but what exactly are you planning?"

Master Siming's scalp prickled:

"Hey hey hey, you're not seriously thinking of going door-to-door and slaughtering them all, are you?"

Murong Longtu shook his head and laughed carefreely: "What are you imagining? There are so many sects—many are merely martial artists who train without ambition. I am no longer the man I was sixty years ago. I no longer delight in killing, nor do I have any interest in drawing my sword against the weak for meaningless slaughter."

The green-robed elder sipped tea calmly, then said:

"Take the Mystic Weapons. Disband the sects."

"Those disciples uninvolved in this matter may disperse and return home."

Master Siming sucked in a sharp breath.

Good heavens.

Isn't this destroying their lineage, smashing their reputations?!

This old brat still speaks with the same arrogance and tyranny—won't these martial artists fight him to the death? But then he remembered: the Master Jiankuang's arrogance was forged precisely by smashing through countless sword and blade sects across the Central Plains and Jiangnan.

Master Siming grinned crookedly: "When do you plan to go?"

Murong Longtu remained composed, smiling gently: "No rush."

"This matter must include Guanyi."

"Going alone would be meaningless."

Master Siming nodded.

Understood—he's bringing the kid along to kick their faces in.

This old brat wants to show off his martial prowess to his own great-grandson.

The green-robed elder's gaze was calm as he smiled: "I will visit them one by one. As for the fate of each sect, I leave it to my child this time."

"Whether they live or die—no longer their choice."

Master Siming looked at the aged Master Jiankuang and sighed, realizing the Master Jiankuang intended to establish Guanyi's reputation in the Jianghu. Murong Longtu paused, then added: "As for that one—whom Guanyi dislikes—I won't bother with Jianghu etiquette."

The green-robed Master Jiankuang lifted the tea cup Guanyi had poured for him.

He simply poured it calmly outward.

Time seemed to freeze.

As each drop of tea fell, it hung suspended in midair; the elder extended his finger calmly, plucked at the frozen droplets, then condensed them into a blade, twisted his wrist, curled his finger, and lightly tapped the blade.

The Master Jiankuang spoke softly:

"Go."

The tea-turned-sword surged forward—and vanished in an instant.

Master Siming stared, dumbfounded, already knowing which poor fool had just been marked.

The Master Jiankuang spoke again, softly:

"You've listened long enough—come up."

Master Siming was unsurprised; he looked down as a soft laugh echoed, and a scholarly elder in long robes, gentle-faced and with a sword at his waist, stepped forward, bowing slightly: "Pang Shuiyun, greetings, Elder Murong. It has been over a decade since we last met."

"Elder, you remain unchanged, yet I have passed youth and now bear streaks of gray in my temples."

"Time flows mercilessly."

The Master Jiankuang spoke coldly: "You're looking for me?"

Pang Shuiyun smiled: "Before I left, I heard Master Jiankuang Elder had departed the Eighteen States of Jiangnan. A single divination revealed your destination and your target. The Young Master is heroic and valiant, now famed far and wide—you could not resist the urge to meet him."

This was also one reason he had publicly promoted Li Guanyi's name.

To draw out the Master Jiankuang.

Murong Longtu, lacking the legendary sharpness and arrogance, spoke calmly: "Since you've come, sit." Pang Shuiyun bowed deeply before seating himself. The Master Jiankuang sipped tea and said: "Speak—why have you come to see me?"

Pang Shuiyun remained composed: "I seek the Master Jiankuang Elder's backing."

Murong Longtu lifted his gaze slightly.

Pang Shuiyun spoke gently: "The Young Master's fame burns fiercely, but I received word that Yuwen Tianxian has escorted Yuwen Hua out of Beicheng. The three generals detained the city governor but refused to break with Yuwen Lie, so they allowed Yuwen Hua and his party to depart unharmed."

"They even gave them generous travel funds."

"According to intelligence, Yuwen Lie left Yuwen Tianxian with three hundred heavy cavalry."

Pang Shuiyun chuckled faintly:

"But I've never believed such decoys."

"Three hundred heavy cavalry—in our eyes, that number must at least double; add a little more—I estimate Yuwen Lie left him eight hundred iron cavalry. And cavalry, across the realm, excel in flanking, cutting, and harassment—they are the most vital combat unit."

"Yet no one uses heavy cavalry to charge head-on into battle lines."

"Once trapped by heavy infantry—shield walls, hook-and-scythe spears—the cavalry loses its mobility and suffers catastrophic losses."

"Though I know nothing of military strategy,"

"I know the basic formation: infantry holds the front line; cavalry strikes from the flanks, circles behind, severs supply lines, and breaches the enemy's rear to split their army. So, eight hundred heavy cavalry—"

"Require at least three times as many infantry support."

"Meaning Yuwen Tianxian commands at least three thousand men, unified infantry-cavalry forces. Even if his cavalry isn't the Imperial Army's elite, it's still frontline elite; his infantry are all conscripts."

With every sentence Pang Shuiyun spoke, he arranged cups, chopsticks, and bowls on the table.

Forming a basic battle formation.

Pang Shuiyun's eyes gleamed faintly, his tone calm: "Three thousand men. Yuwen Tianxian is a cautious, methodical general, skilled in both cavalry and infantry tactics. This force is not massive—but certainly not small."

"The Young Master needs this battle. I beg the Master Jiankuang Elder not to interfere."

Pang Shuiyun rose and bowed deeply, saying:

"I already know of the Young Master's experiences in Jiangzhou and Yicheng; I have seen him personally orchestrate the Yue Family Army's escape while ensuring his own safe withdrawal. He is now fifteen by lunar age, and among historical generals who distinguished themselves at this age, his future rank will surely be among the top thirty of the Divine General List."

"But even so, he will only ever be a fierce general, a warrior-general."

"Skilled at slaying commanders and seizing banners, yet incapable of becoming a supreme commander."

"He needs experience commanding troops."

"A general's command over troops is not Wu Gong, nor can it be learned merely through reading or meditation; even training yields little effect. All great generals across the land truly grasped the essence of command only through actual battle."

Pang Shuiyun asked: "How does one become a qualified general?"

"Lead at least a thousand men, fight against other generals, and survive."

"That makes one a qualified general."

"One real battle is worth five years of bitter military study."

"Both sides: three thousand men!"

"A six-thousand-man clash is far from the level of a major war—it's merely a skirmish between two nations, yet not a minor friction either. Only when the Young Master commands three thousand men, forming their qi into an array and charging back and forth across the battlefield, will he truly become a general."

Murong Longtu looked at the strategist before him and said: "Three thousand men?"

"Where will they come from?"

Pang Shuiyun smiled: "I have already prepared them for the Young Master."

The strategist smiled, extending his hand slowly: "Following the Young Master's strategy, I stirred up the situation in Zhenbei City. The city lord has lost power; he had a thousand private soldiers, all of whom would be sentenced to death. I used the Young Master's influence to help them escape."

"They know this path is dangerous, but if they don't follow me, they'll be beheaded."

"Unfortunately, I only won over five hundred or so; the rest became examples to frighten others—though, of course, it was the Zhenbei City general who carried out the executions."

The strategist's eyes were gentle yet cold as he smiled:

"In the month I've been here, I've leveled some mountain bandits and outlaw strongholds."

"One hundred and seventy li outside this place, I've found a mountain, built a basic battle array defense, and gathered thirty-three men—all veteran soldiers from the Tai Ping Army. They're not particularly strong in Wu Gong; most have merely reached the Second Heaven realm."

"But they've endured countless battles."

"Including five hundred original archers and crossbowmen from the city lord's private troops, over two thousand bandits, thieves, and condemned prisoners, and thirty-three veterans, each capable of commanding roughly a hundred men—I myself will assist the Young Master. Together, we have three thousand men. We lack cavalry, but we have mountain defenses."

Pang Shuiyun, who claimed he was unskilled in military strategy, immediately used the objects on the table to construct a battlefield sand table.

Master Siming's eye twitched; he couldn't help but whistle: "You manipulated those three generals into overthrowing the city lord, then swallowed his private troops—you played both hero and villain, and all the benefits ended up in your belly."

"You old rascal, you're not nearly as good-natured as you look."

Pang Shuiyun shook his head, calmly saying: "Military strategy knows no good or evil."

"These men are the Young Master's enemies by default. If so, why not use them? I've prepared everything—now it depends only on the Young Master…"

He raised his gaze, fixing it on the Sword Mad Murong Longtu, and spoke slowly, word by word:

"As long as the Young Master can lead these three thousand irregulars—not to defeat Yuwen Tianxian, but merely to hold his ground, use terrain to maintain a stalemate and avoid defeat—that will suffice. Within Zhenbei City, the situation is volatile; they're too busy fighting for power to care about what happens outside."

"And ideally? He defeats Yuwen Tianxian outright!"

"Defeat the Yuwen Clan, let the Young Master master command, gather a force capable of standing against the Empire's elite, then use the Yuwen Clan's name to launch the Young Master onto the world stage!"

"Not as a rebel, not as a bandit, not as a fugitive, not as a wandering swordsman."

"But as a young general who defeated Yuwen Tianxian on the battlefield!"

Pang Shuiyun's eyes blazed; the gentle, scholarly demeanor he'd worn for ten years vanished entirely. His brows sharpened like unsheathed blades—within this old man burned a fierce flame, rising like a phoenix:

"Let the Yuwen Clan's name help the Young Master ascend to the world."

"If Yuwen Lie were here, this plan would fail. But here, it's only Yuwen Tianxian—a loyal and valiant general, yet utterly unskilled in strategy and deception."

"And you, sir, are the one and only final safeguard of my plan."

"After all, even if the Young Master is heroic, he may still be unsuited to the battlefield."

Pang Shuiyun said: "The final contingency—if the Young Master truly proves unfit for command—then please rescue him and take him to Jiangnan…" The old man smiled: "As for me, I'll take this impractical dream with me to the battlefield, to meet my old friends."

He had already predicted and prepared everything.

The old strategist lifted his tea cup, drank it down, and gazed outside—through the wind, he saw Zhenbei City, and for a moment, glimpsed his old friends and comrades, most of whom had died years ago. The old man sighed, gentle yet sorrowful, as if seeing again, at the front of that line, the young general—Pang Shuiyun whispered:

"Isn't that the role of a strategist?"

Murong Longtu replied coolly: "You need not say it—I will protect Guanyi. Your reasons are merely a hope that I won't interfere in this battle, that he himself may defeat the Yuwen general with honor."

Even facing the top master of the world, Pang Shuiyun remained calm:

"Since ancient times, all great generals have been shaped this way!"

"The Young Master is a hero destined to whip the world—he must not become a gilded sword, ornamental and unused."

Murong Longtu, not difficult to converse with, merely smiled at the old man's reply: "You've treated Guanyi well. I accept your request. But afterward, Guanyi will travel with me through the Jianghu—for at least one year."

Pang Shuiyun exhaled in relief: "That's only right. Fame across the world means letting the world know my Young Master's name; then, the sword must be sheathed, withdrawn, and strength conserved, waiting for the moment when it strikes again—utterly stunning the world."

"This is the most direct and simple path to becoming a great general."

Master Siming grinned, muttering: "Typical Zongheng school—sneaky and cruel."

Pang Shuiyun ignored the world-renowned Grand Master.

The Sword Mad laughed: "Good. Then for this year, it'll be just me and my boy, walking the Jianghu once more."

Walk the Jianghu once more?

Master Siming's body stiffened slightly.

The old Master had lived a very, very long time—he understood what the Sword Mad meant.

He looked up at Murong Longtu, lips twitching.

Those four were just appetizers?

Where are you going?

Where in the Jianghu could you possibly tread again to claim the world?

This question doesn't need to be asked.

Master Siming already knows—

【Academy】.

……………………

Li Guanyi did not know what his strategist and the man in blue robes had discussed; he merely slowed his pace and arrived at the place agreed upon with Prince Ji Yanzhong—in fact, for safety, this place was the original 【Flowing Wind and Snow Pavilion】.

Li Guanyi, dressed in a simple Daoist robe and carrying a sword, approached.

The steward of the 【Flowing Wind and Snow Pavilion】, upon seeing the teenager, instinctively bowed; Li Guanyi waved his hand, and the woman halted her motion, then led Li Guanyi to the appointed room—the highest-grade quiet chamber of the 【Flowing Wind and Snow Pavilion】—where Prince Ji Yanzhong was gazing at a painting.

On the table was a sword case, and inside it, without doubt, lay the Chishao Sword.

Li Guanyi thought to himself.

This day had finally come.

He had leveraged Prince Ji Yanzhong's influence to mobilize the Grand General, and through this, Pang Shuiyun had persuaded the other two generals. In truth, the most critical elements of this strategy were Prince Ji Yanzhong and the Chishao Sword; given Prince Ji Yanzhong's nature, he likely intended for Li Guanyi to go to Zhongzhou.

The teenager entered and exchanged pleasantries with Prince Ji Yanzhong for a long while.

The kind elder looked at Li Guanyi, his eyes filled with admiration; this youth, heroic and spirited, was one he had watched grow—through the Grand Sacrifice Duel, the chaos of Chen's Grand Sacrifice, the defense of Yicheng, and now the affairs of Beicheng. He had traveled far across the world, yet had never seen a greater hero.

Thinking of this fifteen-year-old youth's bearing.

Then the Emperor of Zhongzhou, a man in his thirties, became all the more glaring.

Prince Ji Yanzhong chatted with Li Guanyi for a moment, but the teenager remained impervious, never once broaching the matter at hand; with no choice, Prince Ji Yanzhong sighed and smiled gently: "Guanyi, where will you go next? Do you have any plans?"

Li Guanyi looked at Prince Ji Yanzhong and replied frankly:

"Prince Uncle Ji, I cannot accompany you to Zhongzhou."

The teenager bypassed convention, speaking plainly and with utter candor.

Prince Ji Yanzhong, for a moment, was at a loss for words; he fell silent for a long while, then said: "Do you know how dangerous you are now? The Yuwen Clan, Beicheng, and countless martial artists across the land all see you as a prize."

Li Guanyi said: "They'll see me the same way if I go to Zhongzhou."

Prince Ji Yanzhong said: "Going to Zhongzhou brings many allies. If you marry a princess of Zhongzhou, you can become a Wang Hou. My royal family's princesses are exquisitely beautiful and gentle…"

Bang!

A sound came—the window suddenly rattled.

Prince Ji Yanzhong froze, then saw the window bang-bang-bang against its frame; the teenager laughed, rose, strode over, and flung the window open—there stood the silver-haired girl atop the blue tiles, watching him quietly.

The boy smiled and extended his hand, inviting Yao Guang to jump in.

The silver-haired girl sat beside them, nibbling on pastries.

Li Guanyi pointed to Yao Guang and smiled: "This is my… uh, friend."

The kind elder stared at the silver-haired girl, momentarily speechless.

Li Guanyi bowed slightly to Prince Ji Yanzhong and laughed lightly:

"Since ancient times, how many men who married princesses met a good end? Besides…"

Li Guanyi's voice grew quiet and steady: "The Emperor of Zhongzhou himself remains constrained, unable to act freely—how much less so am I? If I enter Zhongzhou, I will surely be trapped in a whirlpool, with no freedom."

"In such a cramped place, even a tiger would be reduced to a house cat."

"And I am merely a common fifteen-year-old boy?"

"Today, Prince Uncle Ji, you met me—not to turn me into a politician, I hope?"

Li Guanyi's words were courteous, yet sharp as blades.

The kind elder sighed long and deeply, his tone sorrowful; he reached out and touched the sword case, his grief faintly visible as he sighed: "I know well—though Zhongzhou is splendid, when you look up, you see only a square patch of sky; there, even the boldest ambitions are slowly worn away."

"The entanglements of the Zhongzhou royal family, the rival factions, the struggles between Ying and Chen within Zhongzhou—these are complex enough; now, though Zhongzhou has lost its powerful army and control over the four quarters, all nations still nominally revere Zhongzhou as sovereign."

"The exquisite foods, fine vessels, beautiful women, silken music and melodies—this tranquil, elegant life can extinguish all fiery ambition in a hero's heart."

"Yet I, until this very end, cannot abandon the hope in my heart."

Prince Ji Yanzhong asked: "Then, Guanyi, where will you go next?"

Li Guanyi replied frankly: "I will first go to Jiangnan Dao, then head westward."

Prince Ji Yanzhong said: "In the end, you still intend to confront the Regent…"

Li Guanyi said nothing, only sipped tea.

Prince Ji Yanzhong said: "Then, this Chishao Sword—"

Li Guanyi said: "With my current strength and influence, if I were to take the Chishao Sword, everyone in the world would come after me." Prince Ji Yanzhong laughed: "Hah, yes—this so-called 'reputation' is usually trivial, yet sometimes it matters immensely."

"'Purify the Court,' 'Punish the Disloyal'—the Chidi's prestige is still recognized by the people."

Li Guanyi nodded.

Prince Ji Yanzhong no longer pressed Li Guanyi about going to Zhongzhou; instead, he chatted casually, even pointed out flaws in Li Guanyi's Red Dragon Qi, and finally sighed: "Though I understand your choice, even now, I still feel regret."

"I will take the Chishao Sword and continue traveling—I will go to Ying."

"Otherwise, given the Regent of Ying's nature, he will likely deduce something; by the time I return, it may already be a year later—by then, the disciples of the Hundred Schools may truly spread across the land."

"They are young men with great ambition, who will scatter throughout the world."

"To Chen, to Ying, even to the Regent of the Western Regions, to the Tangxi Kingdom, to the warlords beyond the passes—everywhere, they will go, seeking their chance to seize the world. You must find a way to win over a few outstanding young men."

Li Guanyi nodded in agreement.

Then he and Yao Guang took leave of the white-haired elder.

Prince Ji Yanzhong watched the teenager's retreating back; the old man felt a profound loneliness. Such heroes walked the world, yet none had joined the Ji clan. But back then—did the Chidi truly wish his descendants to rule the world forever?

Had it been the Chidi, he would have laughed, tossed the sword over, and cried:

"When I raised my sword and swept away chaos, it was Heaven's will. Is it not also Heaven's will that this world shall fall? Take it! Take it!"

Prince Ji Yanzhong's gaze grew still, and suddenly he said: "Li Guanyi."

The boy halted; the old man suddenly threw something—a rotating, ancient seal.

Li Guanyi reached out and seized the seal.

On the back was a tiger; the seal bore two small seal-script characters: 【Qin Wu】.

Ancient and vast.

Prince Ji Yanzhong whispered: "This is the seal of the Marquis of Qin Wu, but it is not from Chen State—it is an edict from the Emperor of Zhongzhou. As a member of the imperial clan, holding the Chi Xiao Sword, the highest rank I may bestow is this—and even this requires the foundation of Ying and Chen States to accomplish."

"But this is lawful and legitimate: a 【Marquis】."

"According to the pact made eight hundred years ago."

"You may have your own fief retainers, your own subjects."

"Your own private troops."

"Your own fiefdom!"

Li Guanyi was stunned.

This was the initial qualification to claim dominion over this world—a seal whose legitimacy could be traced back eight hundred years to the era of the Red Emperor, one that granted private troops, a fiefdom, retainers, and subjects, and was so thoroughly lawful that Chen State, Ying State, and even the Western Regions must recognize it as orthodox.

Eight hundred years ago, this rank had another ancient and grand title.

Lord.

Even though this rank does not merit such a lofty title, its uniqueness sets it apart from all modern ranks.

Prince Ji Yanzhong is ultimately a descendant of the Red Emperor.

He held the Chi Xiao Sword, slumped yet radiating boldness, and laughed loudly: "Go! All I can give you is this."

"Go claim your world."

"Then come to Zhongzhou—and take back this Chi Xiao Sword!"

Li Guanyi gripped the seal and bowed.

He turned and strode away.

Prince Ji Yanzhong watched him vanish, sighed, and sat down, drinking tea as if it were wine.

Each cup of tea he drank, he murmured one word.

"World, Jianghu, Imperial Clan, Heroes, Blades, Red Emperor—"

Though drinking tea, the old man seemed on the verge of drunkenness; finally, without realizing it, he clutched the Chi Xiao Sword and wept freely.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles beyond Beicheng,

the Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Wheel Sect was racing urgently.