Chapter 232: The Transformation of the Master Jiankuang, the Fire Qilin Army Arrives

Fire Qilin Li Guanyi departed for Zhongzhou.

Along with the Master Jiankuang Murong Longtu, both re-entered the Jianghu; these two events crashed down upon the world like thunder, stirring winds and clouds, churning waves—those who felt this surge most acutely were the Motian Sect on the northern border of Chen State, whose former sect master had been unable to sleep through the night lately.

Qin Wu Hou, the Master Jiankuang.

During the Fire Qilin Hunt, no one anticipated such a massive disturbance.

Now he silently hoped the Master Jiankuang would not come here—that Qin Wu Hou was not a vengeful man, and would not return because of last year's affair.

In the Jianghu, some were terrified, some delighted, some waiting to see what earth-shattering act this peerless master of the realm, who had brought ninety-seven mysterious weapons into the world, would perform.

Yet some remained indifferent to such matters—Old White, the fisherman, was one such person; he considered himself a man of the Jianghu, boasting he had once been a member of the pinnacle sword sect in the world.

When he was young, his own sword sect stood atop the highest mountain just outside this town, where a magnificent Daoist temple had been built; every morning, before dawn, his fellow disciples, led by their uncle-teacher, would practice swordplay, the sound of blades cutting air continuous, like birds flapping their wings.

At night, swordlight blazed into the heavens, illuminating all around—even the stars above paled in comparison.

That scene, that grandeur—tut tut tut!

The sect had countless disciples, each skilled in their own way; they eagerly discussed sword techniques by day, and at night, sat in meditation and breathed in the Great Pavilion, returning to their quarters to nurture their swords as if they were their own limbs.

Upholding justice, wielding sword through the Jianghu—how free and exhilarating!

Warriors within a thousand li all knew of his sect.

When outsiders entered the mountain, they had to remove their swords and place them upon a large stone beneath the Welcome Pine before being allowed entry.

When recounting these things, Old White's eyes sparkled, his eyebrows lifted, his whole body as if a wall painting suddenly given life—alive, vivid, radiant.

But no one believed his nonsense; the mountain was not far from here, and everyone had been there—they struggled up only to find a patch of uneven, pitted ground and a vast flat expanse.

Not a single green brick could be found, let alone a sword sect; during the day, birds flew overhead, squawking wildly—not the lair of a swordmaster soaring to the heavens, but more like a mass grave, eerie and chilling.

When someone said this, Old White would turn pale with rage, swinging his fishing rod to strike them, and they'd only laugh and run away.

Old White was truly very old; no one wanted to anger him too much.

Eighty? Or older? No one knew. He knew no sword techniques, but loved Jianghu tales and understood some breathing and sleeping methods, boasting of some supreme sword scripture's introductory chapter—how to use the sword to expound the Dao—talking endlessly, dazzling with words; no one believed him except the children.

If he were a swordmaster, why would he be stuck here, too afraid to even leave his home? He wasn't even a good fisherman—even when the fish were fattest, he couldn't catch any, only smashing them unconscious with a wooden club and dragging them up.

Cursing as he shook off the rain-soaked clothes, he caught not fish but countless other things—wooden cart wheels, branches, ragged clothes; one day his hook snagged a fish, and Old White was overjoyed.

But the fish struggled, tangling the line around a branch and a broken basket in the river's middle; Old White cursed, looked at the water up to his waist, and despite his age, gritted his teeth, one hand gripping the rod, wading in to retrieve the fish.

Then he discovered the tangled line was caught on a basket—and inside was a baby; Old White threw the big fish away and carried the bamboo basket with the child step by step to shore.

He lured down the old tabby cat on the roof with small fish, placed the child beneath its belly; the cat had just given birth to a litter of kittens, and took the child for one of them, nursing it back to life.

Old White now had something interesting to do—he raised the child, taught him to read and write, and nurtured him to adulthood; so when he heard rumors again of the Master Jiankuang entering the world, he merely sneered, dismissing it as nonsense.

"Master Jiankuang? Pfft, what sword? Just a murderer—he dares call himself a swordmaster? Besides, we're in Ying State now; in Ying State's territory, what can the Master Jiankuang do?"

"Come, little one, today Grandpa will tell you about our old Star River Sword Sect…"

Old White smiled with half-closed eyes, sipping murky wine; the child listened to his tales of the past, then heard someone knock at the door—though "door" was just a wooden fence nailed together.

The child named Bai Mao'er ran to open it.

Old White lay there, wine jug in hand, too lazy to rise; the child exclaimed happily: "Ah, Grandpa's guest—he even gave us money!" A calm voice said: "Go, child, buy some meat for wine."

"Mm!"

Bai Mao'er ran off happily.

But Old White's body froze; his murky wine spilled to the ground, and he slowly raised his head—his eyes changed, no longer playful, now filled with sharp, frenzied madness and a terror no span of years could wash away.

A figure in blue robes entered.

The hem of the robe stirred, dragging Old White's memory back to the distant past—long, long ago, when he was just a child, the Star River Sword Sect's name echoed across the land, and three masters dwelled within its halls.

Upholding justice, famed throughout the world!

On that day, he was still being taught his first cultivation method by his master and senior brothers, when a man in blue robes stepped through the gate—this was the tale after the Master Jiankuang had already become renowned, yet blood feuds never ceased, swirling like a vortex through the entire Jianghu.

The Master Jiankuang's lineage had been wiped out in youth, and his own sect's elders seemed to have participated.

When the truth came out.

The Master Jiankuang drew his sword and ascended the mountain; sixty years ago, the Master Jiankuang was arrogant and wild.

He defeated every Star River Sword Sect swordsman; after the sect master's sword was broken, he took his own life with it—that was the Jianghu legend, the swordmaster's nightmare, and the reason Old White had dared not leave this place for decades: "You—you—you!!!"

The Master Jiankuang had entered Ying State's borders; this blue-robed elder came alone; Li Guanyi did not know the old man's purpose, but at the Master Jiankuang's realm, no one could harm him even slightly, while Li Guanyi and Yao Guang had already gone ahead to find Yuan Zhi's mother.

Old White suddenly straightened up; the fisherman turned and seized his fishing rod—in that instant, he seemed to radiate the sharpness of a swordsman, yet he stared fixedly at the Master Jiankuang, who carried no weapon, utterly lacking the courage to move even once.

Murong Longtu looked past Bai Yuanfu and said:

"The Star River Sword Sect's scripture—I haven't sensed this kind of internal qi in a long time."

An invisible sword qi erupted.

The thatched hut trembled; the object leaning against the wall shook, and weeds fell from it.

Four grand characters, written in dragon-and-phoenix script.

【Sword Qi Soaring to Heaven】!

Each stroke of these four characters carried a torrential aura, like the strike of a supreme swordsman.

Bai Yuanfu stood rigid before the plaque, eyes red, teeth clenched, voice hoarse: "Master Jiankuang, are you here to trample us again?! The blue-robed Master Jiankuang is invincible—we are beneath you, even our swords were stolen from us—what now?!"

Murong Longtu looked at Bai Yuanfu, who seemed far older than himself, and said: "A swordsman?"

Bai Yuanfu's Heavy Breathing grew labored; his hand gripped the fishing rod tightly—but how could this be called a sword? Yet he did not retreat; as a child, hidden away by his masters, he had watched the Master Jiankuang roam freely, mouth clamped shut, silent.

Only five years old, hidden for three days and nights, finally dragging the plaque down with sheer will.

Our Star River Sword Sect, Star River Sword Sect…

He clutched the bamboo rod, pressing it firmly forward.

The sound of sword hum rose.

The blue-robed Master Jiankuang stood with hands behind his back; in empty air, a long sword hung suspended, its blade radiant as the heavens thirty thousand zhang high—just as it had been in days past—but this mysterious weapon hung beside the Master Jiankuang.

Bai Yuanfu wept openly, his aged, trembling hand slowly raising the bamboo rod.

That hand which could never catch a fish now felt like forged iron.

Like the master of old, like the swordsman who went to his death.

It was only a bamboo pole—lifted, pointing toward the mountains where the sword Dao could never cross—and in that moment, Bai Yuanfu seemed to return to that long, long ago, as if he had become again that timid, hidden five-year-old child.

As if the recurring, tormenting image from memory had opened, and the voice of the child and the voice of the elder sounded together:

"Star River Sword Sect, last disciple."

"Bai Yuanfu."

"I seek your guidance!"

The ancient old man, unwilling to die, and the child of eighty years past, drew their swords together.

He slashed with red eyes at the green-robed sword madman, but he was still too young—the Star River Sword Sect's techniques had not yet been taught to him—he stumbled, ran, swung his blade, and the green-robed sword madman raised a finger.

The Star River Sword Sect's mysterious weapon howled, leaving its scabbard.

It became a vast expanse like thirty thousand li of star-river, slashing down upon Bai Yuanfu; Bai Yuanfu roared, thrusting forward his bamboo pole, tears streaming down his face, yet his heart was clear—he awaited death in peace.

The brilliant star-river sword-light descended—but did not harm him.

Bai Yuanfu lifted his head and saw the mysterious weapon humming against his brow, the sword madman's palm pressed upon its blade, fingers together, gently brushing its surface: "Star River Sword—this is your lineage's mysterious weapon."

Elder Murong lowered his gaze, swept his sleeve.

The mysterious weapon returned to its scabbard!

It landed again in Bai Yuanfu's hands, humming softly, like a friend's quiet sigh; the green-robed sword madman turned away, and the First Sect master, famed across the world for commanding ninety-seven mysterious weapons, spoke softly: "Returned."

Bai Yuanfu clutched the mysterious weapon, unsure how to speak; within it pulsed a sharp aura that others dared not touch—but just then, a loud shout rang out: "What are you doing!!!"

Bai Yuanfu snapped back to reality and saw the child had bought pork and cold dishes; the white cat saw its grandfather sitting there, weeping bitterly, and the green-robed elder standing there—the child pulled from the river's center stared wide-eyed.

He drew his toy wooden sword and pointed it at the invincible swordsman.

Then he shouted: "Don't bully my grandfather!"

The white cat strode forward, ignoring Bai Yuanfu's cry, swinging the wooden sword at the green-robed sword madman—and struck him.

Bai Yuanfu froze.

Elder Murong stepped back!

The sword madman, who had stood alone against the world for two hundred years and shattered the sword Dao for sixty decades, stepped back beneath that wooden sword; after Bai Yuanfu's stunned silence, he cried out: "Don't fight! Bai Mao'er, Grandpa's fine—nothing's wrong!"

Bai Mao'er frowned; Elder Murong looked at Bai Yuanfu and said: "Feuds of the Jianghu are unclear, chaotic and tangled—the sword is in your hand, its intent contained within. How you decide, you must decide yourself."

"This sword—I gave it. No one dares take it."

The green-robed sword madman reached out, stroked the five-year-old child's head, and whispered:

"Good swordsman."

Elder Murong turned and walked slowly away; Bai Yuanfu, clutching the Star River Sword, held Bai Mao'er, watching the green-robed elder step farther and farther away—the sword madman, famed across the world for commanding all mysterious weapons, now carried fewer and fewer blades with each step.

Now only ninety remained.

Bai Yuanfu gazed at the once arrogant, domineering sword madman and felt the sharpness fully gone, replaced instead by a deepening, vast, and mellow aura—he stood transfixed, speechless.

He came, severing the Jianghu; he departs, returning swords to the world.

We of this path—should be thus.

The green-robed sword madman walked ever farther.

…………

Li Guanyi had planned to lead his troops to Yuan Zhi's hometown, but feared a grand procession might prompt the Second Prince of Ying to intercept them early, so he decided to let Ling Pingyang and the others proceed slowly while he went ahead to meet them.

The boy rode a horse; Yao Guang rode a small donkey, clopping along; the Fire Qilin had transformed into a long-haired cat, curled on Li Guanyi's shoulder, yawning; after entering Ying, Li Guanyi found these formalities unbearable.

Fortunately, the envoy group had plenty who excelled at such things.

For instance, Generals Ling Pingyang.

The Fire Qilin yawned as it ate dried meat; since Li Guanyi's fame had grown, the Fire Qilin's life had grown easier and happier—even more so than when he was with Li Wanli.

Li Wanli had no territory of his own; that old man? Just one word: poor!

Li Wanli's cooking? Just enough to stay alive.

How could it compare to Li Guanyi's skill?

So when Li Guanyi planned to go to the Academy, the Fire Qilin didn't hesitate—he agreed instantly, and "agreed" didn't even begin to describe it; the little creature had clung to Li Guanyi's leg, claws hooked in his clothes, dangling in midair.

He clearly intended to wail if refused.

Li Guanyi's cooking, contrasted against Lei Laomeng's over-seasoned version, had reached a new height; now with a sword madman present, the Fire Qilin worried his combat prowess might no longer matter, fearing he'd be left behind in Jiangnan to suppress those scheming bastards.

He had to follow Li Guanyi to the Academy.

After Li Guanyi agreed, the Fire Qilin was delighted.

He imagined not only enjoying many dishes cooked personally by Li Guanyi on the journey, but upon reaching the Academy, tasting countless more delicacies!

That was Zhongzhou!

The seat of the Emperor, sovereign of all under heaven!

There must be an abundance of food—and Li Guanyi, as Qin Wu Hou, participating in a major world event—how could the treatment be poor? It couldn't!

Just thinking of it made the Fire Qilin want to laugh.

Especially because there was an old Qilin there!

The Fire Qilin himself had favorites and dislikes; that old Qilin, who had lived for thousands of years, must have seen countless delicacies and known every dish suited to a Qilin's taste!

The Fire Qilin desperately wanted to meet him and obtain the elder's recipes!

The so-called Qilin-Selected!

That way, he could skip the effort of tasting each delicacy one by one—he could just eat the right ones directly, saving time and effort; as he thought this, he shoved a pastry into his mouth.

When I meet the old Qilin elder, I'll say just that.

Hmph, the old Qilin elder will surely praise me for knowing how to save effort.

He must be very happy. Then I'll… hmm, just as Guanyi said, act cute, be adorable—how could he not dote on me? Treat me like I'm about to melt in his mouth? Of course he would!

I'm one of only two Fire Qilin in the entire world.

That old Fire Qilin must dote on me terribly, hmph!

Thinking of this, the Fire Qilin's mood grew even brighter.

"Puh—"

A soft laugh came from nearby. The Fire Qilin turned its head and saw a silver-haired Miss riding a small donkey, her face expressionless as she looked away, yet her shoulders still trembling slightly—as if she had been amused.

The Fire Qilin flicked its tail, deciding not to bother with this girl.

Li Guanyi and others arrived in this town. Calling it a town was generous—it was not prosperous at all. This region lay far within Ying State's jurisdiction, once constantly contested between Ying and Chen States, leaving the people with little sense of allegiance.

Yesterday they were Chen people; today they are Ying people.

The people had no time for such niceties—survival was their only hope and dream. Yuan Zhi left home under such circumstances; his father died in the chaos, and his mother raised him alone.

In his account, home was the most important, warmest place. His father had fought to the death to block a band of deserters who had turned to bandits, was killed by them, yet clung tightly to their waists, holding them back so his wife and son could live.

His mother never abandoned him. She endured hardship to raise him.

Li Guanyi and Yao Guang entered the area, asked the locals, and found Yuan Zhi's home. Li Guanyi dismounted, and the silver-haired girl smoothed out the wrinkles on his clothes.

The young man seemed nervous; he tightened his grip on what he carried.

A bundle of cured meat tied with thin rope, some oil, and a sack of good rice on his shoulder: "Hmm… are these gifts too meager for a junior paying respects to an elder?"

Yao Guang's voice was calm as she replied: "If you present these to General Breaker."

"He'll dry the meat completely, bury the rice deep in storage, and when he's old and dying, he'll point to the meat and say: 'This was sent by my lord himself, when he came to visit me.'"

Li Guanyi couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head:

"General Breaker would never do such a thing."

Yet this quieted Li Guanyi's heart, made it more serene. He reached out and knocked on the door—polite, patient. After a long while, someone answered: "Young man, no one lives here. Why are you knocking?"

Li Guanyi frowned: "Isn't this the Yuan family's home?"

"The Yuan family?"

The passerby replied: "Long gone. This place is now Master Zhao's courtyard—excellent location, so they store wine here." He glanced at Li Guanyi's gifts. "Are these for visiting Master Zhao?"

"Oh dear, far too humble."

Li Guanyi asked: "Do you know where the Yuan family lives now?"

The passerby answered: "Oh, the Yuan family? I know. The man died early. The son? Not a good sort—violent temper, always fighting, later killed someone, then ran off, abandoning his mother."

"His mother's brother—that's the boy's uncle—used to work in the magistrate's office. Then came the war, he was forcibly conscripted. Lucky he survived, but lost a leg, lost his post. Lives in misery now."

"Now the woman washes clothes for one copper coin per piece, barely scraping by, supporting her brother and sister-in-law. You'll find her downstream…"

"Hey, these days, having a daughter's better than having a son."

The passerby, carrying his pole, chuckled: "A daughter can marry into the next village—you still see her during festivals. A son? The capable ones leave to study far away; the weak get bullied; the capable ones kill someone and run. What good is a son?"

"Even if you avoid everything, when war breaks out, you're drafted. On the battlefield, only one in ten survives. But Yuan's son killed Master Zhao's brother and ran off himself."

"Ah, what a useless coward!"

"Hmph! Ten years without writing a single letter, sending back a single copper coin. Pah! What kind of person is that?"

Li Guanyi fell silent. Yuan Zhi often wrote home and sent money back—but he said he never received letters from his mother, so he feared and doubted: she never truly believed he could succeed, and that fear only deepened.

It seems someone intercepted them.

The Fire Qilin pressed its paw and muttered.

The young man merely bowed politely and turned to Yao Guang, whispering:

"Let's go find the General's mother."

"Have Generals Ling Pingyang and the others come."

Li Guanyi said: "The General is no coward who forgets his mother."

Yao Guang nodded. She activated her art, and far away, over a hundred li from here, the slowly advancing camp of Ling Pingyang received the message. The cavalry general lifted his gaze, looking at the surrounding heavy cavalry and Fire Qilin light cavalry, and said:

"We've found the General's mother."

Ling Pingyang's smile carried a hint of danger:

"But it seems she's been mistreated."

"The Lord says:"

"We must go show our support. Gentlemen—"

Thus, the elite soldiers of the Fire Qilin Army fell silent, gripped their weapons, and a chilling aura surged upward, rising to the heavens:

"Yes!"