Chapter 240: All under Heaven

The guest advisor of the Tianxia Diyi Lou in the World, out of great respect for the title "Master Jiankuang," granted the highest reverence to the swordsman who had reached the pinnacle of all time, a level so exalted that even the most arrogant among the Tianxia Diyi Lou's members bowed in awe.

Of course, such a title inspired reverence in some, yet stirred discontent in others.

Some believed the name "Sword God" was unfit for Murong Longtu, whose life had been steeped in ruthless slaughter, while others thought the title sounded too refined, failing to capture Murong Longtu's boldness and tyranny.

He ought to be called Sword Emperor or Sword Tyrant.

Such voices were quickly drowned out by the crowd's rebukes.

Only subtle changes occurred in hidden corners of the world: one was that the entrenched, once fiercely defiant clans of Jiangnan suddenly grew meek, as if desperate to hide their heads.

The other was that in the Ghost Market, all assassination orders targeting the Murong Clan were rescinded; the current Master of the Ten Great Masters, Night Son of Heaven, personally cast them into flames, burning them to ash.

As a sign of respect for the Sword God.

Figures of martial legend, like clouds in the sky, were distant and elusive to martial cultivators, akin to dragons among the clouds—rarely glimpsed, yet capable of spawning countless legends.

Like Zu Wenyuan, or the alchemists who pursued the elixir of immortality.

Within the Ying Empire's imperial palace, Emperor Jiang Wanxiang issued an edict permitting the Ministry of Military Affairs to assign one grand vessel to the Fire Qilin Army for travel via waterways to Zhongzhou. The First Divine General of the World, Jiang Su, gathered rumors from across the land and said: "The Whale Fisher has returned to the Central Plains."

Jiang Su said: "I am old. Even though I have shattered the realm of martial legend, the martial spirit of the military is grim and short-lived; I have fought on battlefields, and my lifespan will not surpass those of the Dao Sect."

"A martial legend is like a nation's guardian artifact."

"Above, it protects the Son of Heaven; below, it suppresses the martial world."

"It need not be used, but it must not be absent."

"In the days of the Red Emperor, though there was no martial legend, there was the Ancient Taigu Chilong—its vitality immense, its blood and qi mighty, the only thing comparable to a martial legend; later, when the appointed time came, the Ancient Taigu Chilong returned to heaven and earth."

"If I die, my nation cannot be without a martial legend to stand guard."

"I wish to secure this youngest martial legend for our great Ying."

Jiang Wanxiang, deeply curious, asked:

"The Whale Fisher—I've heard of him. He is arrogant, self-willed, and unrestrained. Once, he was obsessed with beauty, but later seemed to despise it, vanishing into the Southern Seas to fish for whales and hunt sharks for over a decade."

Jiang Su said: "He was indeed obsessed with beauty."

"More accurately, after achieving supreme martial mastery, he believed himself transcendent and acted as he pleased, neither wholly good nor wholly evil. Then the leader of the Mo Sect brought two women from the Jianghu's Top Beauty List and gave the Whale Fisher a secret elixir."

"They intended to use these two beauties to sire offspring from the Whale Fisher."

"But unexpectedly, his martial cultivation was so profound he suppressed the elixir's effects, then raced straight to the women's true master—both engaged in union, and though his foundation as a martial legend was flawless, he impregnated her in that single act."

Jiang Wanxiang laughed heartily: "What luck—hard to say whether it's good or bad."

"And then?"

Jiang Su said: "The Whale Fisher raged for a long time after, and since then has shunned women."

"He long pretended the incident never happened, until a certain Yin-Yang Sect Grand Master—who should have been dead—revealed to him that the Mo Sect's leader planned to refine his daughter into a vessel of bloodless, tearless flesh to revive the Mo Sect's demonic god's soul."

"The Whale Fisher, drunk, claimed he didn't care—but after Master Siming left, he stormed from Jiangnan to the Western Regions, single-handedly invaded the Mo Sect, shattered an entire generation of Jianghu elites, and reclaimed his daughter."

"But this man was born a beggar, learning bits here and there, raised on charity meals—he knew nothing of raising a daughter. The wet nurses he hired were either murdered by the Mo Sect or kidnapped the girl to deliver her to them."

"The Whale Fisher himself was wild and unrestrained, yet he cherished this little girl deeply, and thus found himself constantly constrained. At that time, the famed undefeated master of formations, who claimed to have no father or mother, born of heaven and earth, had finally developed a weakness."

"Because the Mo Sect's methods were bizarre and treacherous, he pondered for seven days and seven nights."

"Finally, he found the one place both trustworthy and safe enough."

"But he didn't know how to ask for help."

"Being a martial fanatic, he simply laid down his entire collection of martial arts and formation diagrams alongside the girl, pleading with the Shiwaisan Sect's Star Gazing Lineage to take in the child. Thus, the Whale Fisher's only weakness was her."

Jiang Wanxiang sneered and refused:

"Surely, Grand Master, you don't mean for me to kidnap this girl?"

Jiang Su said: "Of course not. The Whale Fisher's history demands softness, not force. I merely thought—the Crown Prince still has no principal consort, correct?"

Jiang Wanxiang looked at Jiang Su and raised an eyebrow.

The First Divine General spoke calmly: "With the Master Jiankuang's emergence, even if he no longer seeks longevity, he will not die immediately. Such a martial cultivator remains in peak combat condition until his final breath."

"The Master Jiankuang's appearance and Jiangnan's stability have already shattered the world's balance."

"And because of the Master Jiankuang's invitation, the Whale Fisher—who had lingered beyond the Southern Seas for over a decade—has returned."

"This man has no sect, no clan, not even ties to the Imperial Academy, yet possesses peerless martial skill and the world's finest formation mastery."

"Such a peerless expert cannot go unwooed."

"And his only weakness is his daughter. Does Your Majesty believe an emperor can have feelings?"

Jiang Wanxiang fell silent for a long while, gazing at the highest tower in the palace—the Star-Plucking Tower—where hung the portrait of the woman he loved most. Now, he was ancient, and to unite the factions, he had wed daughters of noble clans.

This youthful wanderer, now grown into a sovereign who had dominated the world, said:

"All men have feelings—love, hatred, aversion."

"I am a man, but—"

"An emperor must not have good or evil!"

"An emperor must not have feelings. An emperor must not have love or hate."

"An emperor is not human."

Jiang Su bowed and said: "Then permit me to personally seek out the Whale Fisher, to petition for his daughter as the Crown Prince's bride. He is bound by this emotion and wishes his daughter to be in the safest place possible, far from the Mo Sect's reach."

"With the vast territory of our great Ying and the protection of the imperial palace, we can safeguard the Whale Fisher's daughter."

Neither Jiang Wanxiang nor Jiang Su knew where the Whale Fisher's daughter was at that moment, but as ruler of a nation and the world's divine general, they understood one truth: an unparalleled expert without a great sect behind him was exceedingly rare.

Jiang Wanxiang granted his approval.

Jiang Su rose, and the divine general departed from the Ying Empire, setting out to find the Whale Fisher and attempt to woo this martial legend. Meanwhile, as all this unfolded, old Master Siming was drinking, placing his wine flask atop the silver-haired girl's head.

The girl instinctively shrank her neck.

Yao Guang's face showed no expression, but her beautiful eyes glared at the smug old man, as if flames were about to ignite within them—whereupon old Master Siming grew even more delighted.

Nothing significant happened today.

But when Li Guanyi was training swordplay with Elder Murong, a group of students clad in black robes and barefoot came to join him; just one glance revealed they were certainly disciples of the Mohist school.

They were neither humble nor arrogant, saying they had heard of the righteous deeds of the Fire Qilin Army and wished to meet its commander, Qin Wu Hou.

Master Siming drank his wine and said: "The Mohists? Hah. If there's one school that dislikes Li Guanyi the most, it's the Legalists. Don't think their laws are merely harsh—these fellows have another branch that emphasizes 【Law, Power, Strategy】, the way rulers control people."

"To Li Guanyi, in the eyes of the Legalists, the School of Names, and certain Confucian factions…"

"He's a traitor and rebel."

"The Military school might like him better."

"But the ones who'd like him most? Probably the Mohists."

Master Siming grinned: "The Mohists uphold meritocracy, unity, universal love, non-aggression, and frugality. This kid Li Guanyi holds the Jiangnan region, yet refuses to build lavish palaces—he's so poor even Jiang Wanxiang's old bastard would laugh out loud at him."

"He appoints Yuan Zhi, born of humble origins, as his chief strategist, keeping away from aristocratic scions."

"And he distributes land to the common people!"

"Damn it, tell me—doesn't the current Mo Juzi in the Imperial Academy look at Li Guanyi the same way he'd look at his own sect's holy disciple?"

"Back when Tai Ping Gong sought the Dao of universal peace, many bold Mohist disciples joined his banner to build his Qiang Qixie. After Li Wanli died, the Mo Juzi fell silent for a long time—but no one expected his son to be even more outrageous."

"Distributing land…"

Master Siming sighed.

Yao Guang reached out and grabbed Master Siming's beard.

Master Siming said: "Let's see if this kid can win over these Mohist students. Hah…" The old man shook his wine flask and murmured: "Two primordial Daoists of Heaven, one living Buddha of the Central Land, the Gongyang Su Wang of Confucianism, the foremost Mo Juzi of the Mohists, the Northern Pole of the Yin-Yang school."

"The six heads of the Imperial Academy."

"Among them, the Mohists are most likely to value Li Guanyi."

Among all the feudal lords of the world, the Military and Legalist schools were favored—for they strengthened states. Confucianism was respected to maintain a veneer of benevolence, but the Mohists were disliked. Though they possessed Qiang Qixie, their doctrines made the lords and nobles uneasy.

These Mohist disciples had merely heard of the Fire Qilin Army's righteous deeds and came to see for themselves. They arrived barefoot, in black robes, carrying captured beasts and sacks filled with assorted tools.

But they were taken by surprise.

They'd heard that Qin Wu Hou, who once sat cross-legged eating noodles and then dumped a whole bowl—noodles and broth—onto the head of a Jiangnan scholar, upon learning they were Mohist students, immediately sat up and came out to greet them personally.

At first, these Mohist disciples thought Li Guanyi was pretending.

But later, this young general stayed up all night talking with them—from Qiang Qixie and mechanical design to political doctrine—each topic infused with his own insights and judgments, and he had genuine understanding of the Mohist principles of universal love, non-aggression, meritocracy, and unity.

Then the young man seriously asked: "Have you ever thought that steam from boiling water can lift a lid? That's power."

The Mohists: "？？？"

Li Guanyi said: "Have you considered standardizing Qiang Qixie models?"

The Mohist engineers: "？？？"

These people, devoted to their ideals and chasing the ultimate limits of Qiang Qixie, realized this youth truly understood part of it—even if his grasp of Qiang Qixie and strange arts was still naive. One Mohist master said: "General, we've considered the power of water."

"But with strange arts, one can easily achieve hundreds or thousands of times the force of steam; the power from boiling water is too weak, so we abandoned it."

Li Guanyi said:

"Strange arts are wondrous—but how many people can access them?"

"The Mohists preach universal love. If this power cannot be used by the people, how is it universal love? If we combine strange arts with the power of water and fire, wouldn't we go further? I only think—if possible, we should use this mechanical power to aid the common folk."

The Mohist engineers talked with Li Guanyi all night without sleep.

The next day, several Mohist engineers left.

When they returned, they brought back over a dozen more Mohist students.

Five days later, over two hundred Mohist students were in the Fire Qilin Army, endlessly discussing and debating.

Finally, the young general asked them: Would they be willing to go to Jiangnan?

Would they be willing to spread Mohist teachings among the toiling masses? The leader of this Mohist group froze—his broad, hearty face nearly bulged with shock, as if he'd misheard.

"Huh?!!"

"Huh?!!! Spread knowledge?!"

His head buzzed.

In the past, they had walked barefoot across the land; when states needed Qiang Qixie, the Mohists were welcomed—but never allowed to interact with common folk, as if these black-haired, black-robed people were poison.

They never imagined a feudal lord would actively support them.

And even intend to promote them.

The Mohist master's heart burned with fire as he said:

"I—we…"

The young man gripped his arm and said: "Even if the common folk cannot accept these ideas at first, if we take one step at a time—one generation learns a little, the next learns a little—then all schools of thought can flourish."

He bowed deeply and said calmly:

"I hope the Master will teach the people, for the benefit of ten thousand households."

"Qiang Qixie need not only be used to siege cities and slaughter fellow countrymen—they can also till land, grow grain, feed the people, and give them the strength to study literature and train in martial arts."

"Such achievements are beyond my power alone; only together can we reach the Great Harmony. Even if we ourselves will never see success in our lifetimes, taking one step forward still brings joy."

"If any Mohist disciple designs a Qiang Qixie to aid farming and sericulture, I, though poor, will gladly offer a thousand gold pieces."

The Mohist students fell silent, then bowed in return:

"We pledge our service."

Two hundred and seventy-one Mohist disciples entered Jiangnan.

There, vast lands awaited them to spread their knowledge.

The fire of Mohism was sown—with support from a feudal lord allowing them to experiment with Qiang Qixie not meant for warfare, and this kind of Qiang Qixie was called "wondrous but frivolous arts" in many places.

The states supported the Mohists only to obtain their war machines.

In this age, only Qin Wu Hou valued those things others among the noble houses called "wondrous but frivolous arts."

Mo-school students came one after another, then rushed southward to Jiangnan.

Master Siming twitched his lips, watching the Mo-school disciples appear as if materializing from empty air, then, after a single night, ignite like flame—ignoring meals, racing at full speed toward Jiangnan.

Li Guanyi gave to the Mo-school, and indeed to any school, the most important thing.

The possibility of the future. Full support.

General Ling Pingyang held his spear, standing there with a faint smile, and said calmly to the stunned deputy commander beside him:

"Didn't you know? Our lord is just like this."

"Watch more, and you'll get used to it."

Before leaving, Mo-school master Pan Wanshu said: "General, you are benevolent, but benevolence alone cannot hold land. Our Mo-school disciples excel in machinery and equipment, yet most are designed for city defense—among them, the strongest mechanisms come from the Gongshu clan."

"Gongshu's descendants, once struck by calamity, wandered the rivers and lakes, changing their surname from Gongshu to Gongsun—now known as the Gongsun Clan, famed for swordcraft and mechanical arts."

"Gongsun Wuyue, who once traveled the world alongside our Academy's Sacrificial Wine Master Zu Wenyuan, the Living Buddha of the Western Regions, and the Mad Wang Chen Chengbi of Great Chen, is now the head of the Gongsun Clan."

"If the General wishes to punish injustice, go there—you shall find the tools of Gongshu."

An old friend of Master Zu's…

Li Guanyi froze slightly, the young, calm, and valiant lord lowered his gaze, as if still seeing that gentle elder; Li Guanyi whispered: "Thank you…"

The Mo-school master Pan Wanshu froze. He suddenly felt a strange sensation.

This young general's thanks seemed also meant for someone else.

He said: "General, you are too courteous."

"I shall depart soon. If you are going to the Academy, would you like me to write a letter of recommendation?"

Li Guanyi thought a moment, then said: "I'd be grateful, Master—is there a farmer-school master among you?" Pan Wanshu laughed: "You really are strange. Other warlords, nobles, and scions seek to befriend Confucians or military strategists."

"Or else, the Diplomats or Legalists."

"The aimless hope for Buddhists or Daoists—but you? You're interested in us Mo-school folk who tinker with machinery and equipment, and the farmers who spend their days studying the soil?"

Li Guanyi smiled and replied: "I'm also interested in Wu Gong."

"Wu Gong, strange arts, machinery, arrays, farming—all are fundamentals of the world."

Pan Wanshu felt cheerful, and said:

"I have a friend—he truly is from the farmer-school."

"He spends all day studying farming; he's abandoned the farmer-school's political stance. What should I write for him?"

This rugged man was straightforward—he pulled out paper and brush, moistened the bristles, and was ready to write, as if Li Guanyi asked him to write anything, he'd write it without hesitation.

Li Guanyi said directly: "I have land. I'm willing to pay to support their research into all manner of farmer-school plants."

Pan Wanshu chuckled: "Isn't that too crude?"

Li Guanyi thought, then said plainly: "If he has good seeds—"

"I'll grant him land to test them."

"Whatever he needs, I'll give him."

Pan Wanshu opened his mouth, then wrote a letter carefully, still based on Li Guanyi's words, but polished.

Li Guanyi looked at it and saw that this master, who seemed rough and preferred machinery over Mo-school doctrine, had written a formal, elegant letter. The young man thought a moment, then said:

"Excuse me, let me add a few lines."

Li Guanyi knelt down, took the brush, and said: "Write this."

He swept the brush in one fluid motion, finishing instantly. Pan Wanshu looked—the characters were simple yet elegant, refined as Murong Qiushui's hand would produce—but the content was blunt and direct:

"Land. People. Money."

"Come quickly!"

"Li Guanyi!"

Pan Wanshu stared, dumbfounded.

He imagined the farmer-school disciples, lowly and obscure in the Academy, seeing these words—and he suddenly wanted to go see their reaction himself.

Then he sighed in admiration and laughed: "The farmer-school has entered the General's service."

The Mo-school departed. Murong Longtu and Li Guanyi drank tea. Hearing Li Guanyi planned to seek the descendants of Gongshu, the old man nodded. His voice was gentle: "Guanyi, your Wu Gong is already strong—you're unmatched among your generation."

"But this world is never fair duels."

"Your opponents have decades, even centuries, more internal cultivation than you… In battle, that's one thing—but when you walk alone through the world, even with the Fire Qilin at your side, warriors can still forcibly assassinate you."

Li Guanyi pressed his lips. He knew what the Master Jiankuang said was true.

Only because the Master Jiankuang was with him now did no one dare assassinate him.

Murong Longtu paused, his wrinkled hand caressing his sword, smiling softly: "I am but a swordsman. No matter how high my Wu Gong, I am still just a man of the rivers and lakes. I was alone in youth, then became famed across the land—other branches of the Murong clan gathered around, and the Murong Clan grew noisy."

"Yet I still felt alone—until I met your great-grandmother, your grandfather, your mother, and Qiushui. Slowly, I realized I was no longer alone. The world is vast, and I now have a place to stand."

"But later, I lost everything I had."

"I was alone again—only my green blade remained. Then I saw you again, and regained what I had lost."

Murong Longtu spoke of his two hundred years. The old man whispered:

"In my two hundred years, I sought the sword, and chased only the sword."

"I never sought the illusory, elusive so-called immortality. You are a true man—I won't always be beside you, protecting you. You have your grand ambitions; I have my own life's pursuit."

"But whether it's you or me, death isn't the most terrifying thing, is it?" Murong Longtu smiled, carefree:

"You're going to the Western Regions—I won't go with you."

"But don't worry. Though I can't accompany you to the Western Regions—"

"I can ensure that for three years, no one in the world dares assassinate you. Remove your rear worries. Ride freely across this land. In three years, my great-grandson, the Master Jiankuang's heir, will have grown into a man unafraid of anyone."

This aged, hardened swordsman finally showed a tender moment—but a swordsman's tenderness is never like others'. The Master Jiankuang's warmth carries a thousand kinds of grandeur.

Murong Longtu gazed into the distance—the Dahe River surged, wind stirred the treetops—and as if he could still see his departed loved ones.

All friends and kin are dead, old companions scattered; in this life, I am but a drifting thistle.

And Li Guanyi has grown, rid himself of the deadly poison, Murong Qiushui rests safely in the Jiangnan region—he can finally be himself again.

The green-robed swordsman rose: "What is the ultimate of the sword Dao?"

"What is the peak of martial cultivation?"

"Legends of martial cultivation live long lives, but if I channel this foundation, unleash it all in a single battle—how magnificent would that be? I am curious, yet I feel my life must be this way; I should not restrain my edge for the sake of longevity."

Murong Longtu said calmly:

"Murong Longtu is the strongest swordsman in eight hundred years; only when no successor dares draw a sword within the next eight hundred years can one truly say it has a beginning and an end."

He walked away, but on this day, a great event arose in the martial world—

Murong Longtu returned to the Number One Tower.

Fifty-five mystic weapons entwined and clashed here, sword qi surged to the heavens, the entire city's sword hums never ceased; green robe, white hair, ascending to the summit, he declared:

"The Academy's gathering invites all heroes—the Shida Masters, the Six Palace Lords."

"Dao Sect, the War God, the Longlife, the Whale Fisher—you all might as well come together!"

That sword qi's essence pierced the heavens; the lord of the Number One Tower personally appeared, delivering the letter—Murong Longtu's final words that day—throughout the entire martial world:

"Murong Longtu seeks but one defeat!"

On that day, the martial world ceased all disputes over his titles of Sword God, Sword Sovereign, Sword Immortal.

For eight hundred years past, and eight hundred years to come, in the martial world, in the sword Dao—he was the most unrivaled!

Murong Longtu.

Master Jiankuang!