Chapter 263: Jiangnan Sword Chime

Si Wei stared fixedly at Si Ming.

And when this leader of the Imperial Academy's Array Dao saw the changes in Si Ming's expression—from initial confusion, to surprise, then a faint upward curve at the corners of his mouth—

The ever-proud leader of the Imperial Academy's Array Dao nearly wished he were dead.

"Oh oh oh, if it isn't Si Wei!"

The Xuan Gui manifestation turned, and Old Si Ming strolled right up to the bound Si Wei, his wrinkled face brimming with an indescribable delight as he leaned in and said:

"What's this new game you're playing today?"

"How come I never knew you were this good?"

Si Wei clenched his eyes shut.

He refused to look at that infuriating bastard, but Old Si Ming's Xuan Gui spun once more and drifted to the other side: "This is truly rare—come, come, let me imprint this with Yin-Yang sect's secret art."

"I'll take it back to the Imperial Academy and distribute it to the students!"

"One for everyone!"

Si Wei nearly choked on blood: "How dare you!"

Si Ming smiled sweetly: "I'm not being reckless—I'm going to sell this Yin-Yang imprint."

"One cash coin each."

He leaned close to Si Wei's ear, blew gently, and whispered:

"I'm selling it cheap."

You!!!

Si Wei flew into a rage, but could not break free.

After yesterday, when Sword Mad Murong Longtu made his pact with the Taigu Chilong, the Taigu Chilong said neither yes nor no—only hummed softly before circling away. Murong Longtu immediately returned to the Lady Gongsun family's location.

Sword Mad was enjoying himself, but Old Si Ming was suffering.

Sword Mad wasn't strong in lightness arts—but that weakness was only relative to Zhang Ziyong. Even his weakest skill, taken alone, remained among the finest in the world.

Old Si Ming had no choice but to sit atop the Xuan Gui, forcing it to sprint forward with all its might.

Along the way, he napped, ate a meal, and even hid under a tree to escape the sun—only now, slowly, did he catch up. Yet Old Si Ming now felt it was entirely worth it.

The silver-haired man beside him spoke in a calm voice: "This one is…"

Si Ming said: "Just an old vagrant passing through."

Si Wei suddenly grew serious: "Master Si Ming, what are you saying?"

Si Ming: "???"

Si Wei's face was earnest: "When I first entered the Imperial Academy, you were already one of the Three Great Sects of the Yin-Yang School, bearing the title of Si Ming—why are you behaving like this now?"

Si Ming: "!!!"

He sensed the masked silver-haired man's gaze held something strange: "Si Ming… of the Yin-Yang School… you're the one who told me about Yao Guang, aren't you?"

"Hahaha, you're mistaken!"

Old Si Ming laughed heartily.

Then he slapped the Xuan Gui's head.

"Go!"

The Xuan Gui manifestation stretched its limbs through empty space and slid forward dozens of zhang—fast enough to rival a Jianghu Grandmaster, though not quite surpassing it. Behind them, the silver-haired man and Si Wei shrank into tiny dots.

Suddenly, Si Ming sensed a complex array void ahead.

Then the Xuan Gui manifestation plunged downward, and the old man blinked in confusion.

A soft splash—then a hand seized him.

A calm, captivating voice spoke:

"Why run?"

"I haven't thanked you for what happened back then."

"Can you help me again today?"

Si Ming glanced at Si Wei, who, bound and helpless, grinned smugly.

Si Wei's lips moved:

"Don't even think about running."

……………………

Finally, Si Ming understood what the Whale Fisher intended. He pondered, then said: "You mean, when your daughter recognized you, you chose to turn and flee?"

The Whale Fisher nodded.

Si Ming added: "And then she called you 'big brother.'"

The Whale Fisher's expression froze.

Si Ming thought deeply. Si Ming suddenly understood.

Old Si Ming scratched his messy white hair and exclaimed:

"Then you deserve it."

The Whale Fisher, expressionless, pulled the rope tighter.

Si Ming cried out: "Wait, wait—I get it, I get it! You want to hand us both over to Li Guanyi, so Li Guanyi can help mend your relationship with Yao Guang?"

The old man frowned suspiciously: "Why go to such lengths for that?"

"Why not just ask him directly?"

"Aren't you his big brother?!"

The Whale Fisher's temple twitched; he gripped the rope tighter.

Si Ming sucked in a sharp breath: "So you want Li Guanyi to help you… but you don't want to beg him… and you still want to preserve the relationship?"

"Why is this so awkward?"

The Whale Fisher had not yet moved, but Sim Wei was already furious; though the Whale Fisher was wild and reckless, he would never truly bind the Master Siming who had once given him the news.

The only one bound was Sim Wei.

The Whale Fisher treated Master Siming with courtesy.

Sim Wei roared: "Are you doing this on purpose?!"

Master Siming laughed heartily: "You're my Yin-Yang kin—why would I? But then again, even if you're going to see Yao Guang, now isn't the time."

"Let this final stretch be spent together with Murong Longtu and his great-grandson…" Master Siming said: "A light boat, swift horse, free and easy on the rivers and lakes—take a few close friends, wander the world. Even young Murong Longtu once dreamed of such a life."

"Young, his parents and clan wiped out; young, the whole world stood against him; middle-aged, his wife and children dead; old, his younger kin all left him—departed from this world. The foremost swordsman of the realm, perhaps, would trade his tumultuous life for a quiet one."

Master Siming whispered: "This final stretch may be the most peaceful journey he's known in these two hundred years."

In late summer, the weather grew even hotter and more stifling. Li Guanyi wore a Daoist Priest robe, a sword at his waist, driving the cart forward; the green-robed elder sat on the other side.

He sat cross-legged on his left leg, right leg dangling, hand extended, gently brushing the nearby weeds, smiling warmly: "If we walk slowly, it's still about a month's journey to Zhongzhou and the Academy."

"Walk slowly. Look slowly."

Li Guanyi nodded.

Murong Longtu smiled: "You drive well. Where did you learn?"

Li Guanyi replied: "When I was with the Xue family, there was an older brother named Zhao Da Bing—he didn't even seem to have entered the realm, yet he drove excellently. He had a wife who made superb salt-baked peanuts."

Murong Longtu said: "That's wonderful."

He grew enthusiastic: "Come, move aside—I'll try driving."

Li Guanyi stepped aside. The green-robed elder sat there, one hand gripping the reins, the other holding the whip. The elder's palms were long and strong; Li Guanyi clearly felt the old man held not a whip, but a soft sword.

The horse ahead stiffened, utterly refusing to move.

The horse gifted by the Lady Gongsun clan began walking crookedly.

Murong Longtu fell silent, helpless. Suddenly, laughter came from one side: "Old Grandfather, you don't drive a horse like that! Look—you're gripping the reins too tight, and you're not swinging the whip like you're whipping a storm."

"You need finesse. You must follow the horse's momentum."

"Never use brute force."

Li Guanyi and Murong Longtu turned. Another cart stood nearby; its driver was a middle-aged man in fitted attire, speaking in standard Central Plains Mandarin: "Be gentle. Follow the horse's rhythm."

Murong Longtu chuckled: "Ah, ha ha—I've never driven a cart before, so I didn't know how."

The man was warmly helpful, instructing Murong Longtu in driving.

Eventually, Murong Longtu could drive smoothly.

The old man's face lit with pride. The middle-aged man smiled: "Old Grandfather, you learned fast! Are you two traveling together? Where are you headed?"

Murong Longtu said: "We're from Jiangnan. I'm going to Zhongzhou with this child of mine."

The middle-aged man bowed respectfully: "Oh! Zhongzhou is still a month's bumpy ride away—Old Grandfather, you're in fine health!"

Murong Longtu laughed loudly: "Not many years left."

"What about you? Where are you going?"

The man replied: "We're from a merchant guild. We're heading to Zhongzhou. We've got a load back there." He pointed to the cart behind, covered in thick cloth: "We came from nearby."

"We heard big things happened in Zhongzhou—so many martial cultivators went there."

The cart driver couldn't help but feel envy:

"Those cultivators? Many are Realm-Entry elders!"

"Realm-Entry folks have money—and they spend it freely. I heard even carrying a shoulder pole to sell plain noodles in Zhongzhou's city now earns big profits—not just some, but huge profits."

"So we brought local liquor, thinking the martial cultivators from our province would want to taste home flavor. Round trip? We'll make plenty."

"Enough to send my child to a martial academy."

"At least enough for a year's fees."

He chatted casually with Murong Longtu, talking of daily life—food, firewood, rice, salt. Li Guanyi took the reins, letting Murong Longtu sit and chat.

At noon, both carts still sat on the road, no village ahead, no inn behind. The man generously invited Li Guanyi and Murong Longtu to join the caravan for a meal and rest.

Murong Longtu agreed. Yao Guang came along. Seven or eight carts gathered in a circle, shielding the wind. Many people stepped down—mostly ordinary men; the guild leaders wore coarse cloth.

Hearing another cart had arrived, everyone welcomed them warmly.

Murong Longtu wore a green robe. Li Guanyi wore a Daoist Priest robe. The man sat with them, smiling: "Along the way, did you bring any food?"

Li Guanyi and Murong Longtu felt awkward. The silver-haired girl rose.

She reached into her small pouch and fished around.

Then pulled out two hard steamed buns.

She gave one to Li Guanyi, one to Murong Longtu.

Then tied the pouch shut.

Sat back on the rock. The Fire Qilin had turned into a long-tailed cat, curled up, disliking the buns, wailing:

"I don't want to wander outside—I want to go to the Academy!"

"Let me go to the Academy!"

"I want good fruit, waaah!"

"Hurry up, give me good fruit!"

The silver-haired girl reached out and rubbed the Fire Qilin's soft belly. The Fire Qilin went limp. Murong Longtu used the alias Mu Tu. Li Guanyi became Mu Zi Yi. They pretended to be grandfather and grandson, chatting merrily with them.

The man's name was Shi Wu—originally Shi Wu, the fifth child in his family. His father, gritting his teeth, kicked two coarse buns at the village scholar's door and changed his name.

Shi Wu chatted cheerfully:

"But this time, going to Zhongzhou, we'll make some money."

"Jiangnan's been at war for over ten years—troops sent every year, taxes every year. We had to spend months hauling grain for the border army. Sometimes even our own harvests failed. Now that the fighting's over, maybe life can finally be peaceful?"

"Going to war isn't easy on us common folks either."

"That's right, that's right."

"But boss, come to think of it, what exactly are we going to Zhongzhou for this time? I forgot again." He nodded toward the caravan leader, who was called a leader only because he was the one who naturally emerged from a group of men.

The caravan leader squatted there, holding a fried pancake, and said: "Why talk about that? I heard there's some big thing happening in the martial world." He spread his own homemade sauce over the pancake, then smiled at the three newcomers:

"Are you three also heading to Zhongzhou for the excitement?"

Murong Longtu replied: "Yes."

The caravan leader, having seen much of the world from traveling the martial paths, said: "Bah, this isn't something to rush into for fun. I heard there's some top-tier master, called the Master Jiankuang or something, heading to Zhongzhou."

"And the emperors of Chen and Ying are coming too."

"So now, martial cultivators are rushing here without care, certain they must come—it's bound to be dangerous, fights could break out any moment. But because of these martial folks, we can do business, right?"

Shi Wu said: "Master Jiankuang. What a formidable title."

The caravan leader boasted: "You bet! Do you even know how powerful the Master Jiankuang is? Just look at that hill over there—he could slice it clean in half with one strike!" He pointed to a nearby small slope.

Then, warmly addressing Murong Longtu, Li Guanyi, and the others: "By the way, I've got some big pancakes here—kinda dry. Want some? Spread on some sauce, add a scallion—man, the flavor's unbeatable."

Yao Guang remained silent.

Yao Guang stepped back half a pace.

Yao Guang chose the steamed bun!

Murong Longtu thanked him and took a pancake.

He clumsily tucked the scallion in, smiling and chatting with them. These common folk, these caravan people, didn't know who the Master Jiankuang was—they just laughed, boasting he could slice open the small hill ahead with one sword, or even knock over this cart with a single strike.

A passing martial cultivator couldn't help but object: "What are you talking about? That's Murong Longtu—the greatest swordsman in the world! He'd pierce the sky with one blade!"

Seeing the caravan had food, they stopped to buy some rations. When they found wine, they were even happier, buying wine and jujubes to eat together. As they listened to the caravan folk talk about Zhongzhou, they chimed in:

"You're all wrong. The Master Jiankuang Murong Longtu is the one who challenges the whole world! I heard he defeated the First Divine General right inside the Ying imperial palace—doesn't that make him the highest Grand Master?"

"I heard this time it's the Master Jiankuang, the Ten Great Masters, the Six Palace Lords, and the Four Legends going to the Academy to duel and debate swords. Such a grand event may never happen again—we absolutely must go."

"And the Emperor of Chen, our own Ying Emperor, the Son of Heaven himself, are joining a royal hunt in Zhongzhou—these are all monumental events."

Murong Longtu squinted slightly and leaned back against Li Guanyi.

He sat cross-legged, took a bite of the caravan leader's strongly recommended food—it was hard, a bit rough on the teeth—but Murong Longtu felt an unusual peace. These people didn't know—they were talking about the Master Jiankuang, talking about the Master Jiankuang.

After finishing their food, the martial cultivators left, eager to reach Zhongzhou quickly. The caravan folk weren't in a hurry—they stayed under the shade, enjoying the breeze, avoiding the hottest part of the day. Li Guanyi noticed a young boy nearby, holding a wooden stick, practicing swordplay.

He had placed a crudely made paper book there, weighed down by a stone.

He studied it carefully for a moment, then swung the stick with force.

He looked like a swordsman.

Shi Wu noticed Li Guanyi's gaze and smiled apologetically:

"That's my son. I didn't plan to bring him along, but he insisted—he wanted to see the world. I thought, well, a boy shouldn't stay cooped up at home forever, so I brought him."

Li Guanyi told Murong Longtu: "Should I go take a look?"

Murong Longtu nodded. Li Guanyi walked over to watch the boy practice.

The old man chatted idly with Shi Wu to digest his meal.

After chatting for a while, Shi Wu still felt uneasy for the elder: "Old sir, there's still a long way to the Academy. With so many martial folks on the road now, you three are a bit too few to travel alone. Would you like to join us?"

Murong Longtu smiled: "Wouldn't that be too much trouble?"

Shi Wu waved his hand cheerfully: "What trouble?"

Worried the old man might feel awkward, he explained:

"Meeting on the road is fate. I feel a connection with you, your grandson, this girl, and even this little flower cat. Let's travel together—it'll make the journey less boring, right?"

"Besides, my boy came with me, but I've got no time to watch him—he's just out there waving a stick, and the sword manual he's using? I bought it for three and a half cash."

"Your grandson looks about the same age as mine. Could you keep an eye on him? Save him from getting into trouble."

Murong Longtu called out to Li Guanyi: "Did you hear that, boy?"

Li Guanyi waved his hand without turning around:

"Got it, old man."

"You just sit and chat, tell your stories."

"I've got this."

Like two ordinary grandfather and grandson, with good feelings between them.

The boy was stubborn. Li Guanyi pointed at the book:

"Aren't these sword moves a bit off?"

The boy clenched his jaw: "You don't understand swords."

The young Daoist Priest thought for a moment, glanced at the old man, then sighed wistfully: "Guess I really don't understand much."

"Then teach me?"

The boy froze, then sized up Li Guanyi: "You don't look like someone powerful at all! You're not here to trade—you're here to see the Master Jiankuang and the Fire Qilin, aren't you?"

Li Guanyi touched his brow: "You're sharp!"

The boy lifted his chin: "Hmph, I figured it out right away."

"Then pay close attention—I'll teach you."

Li Guanyi played along with the little swordsman.

They were still far from Zhongzhou.

His chest felt heavy—the bronze tripod had absorbed Zhang Ziyong's Qi for days, yet stubbornly held back, producing no change. Li Guanyi didn't mind—he waited.

He'd just walk with Murong Longtu, slowly making his way to Zhongzhou.

Shi Wu couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy and smiled:

"You two, grandfather and grandson, really have a strong bond."

Elder Murong happily agreed, leisurely saying:

"Yes, hahaha."

"This boy is very clever, and also filial."

Shi Wu sighed: "I wonder what my own grandson will be like someday."

"Come, come, Grandpa, try some liquor from our hometown."

Elder Murong nodded with a smile. The sun had shifted, the heat lessened, and he chatted idly with Shi Wu, accompanied by occasional shouts; this small caravan, no more than twenty people, slowly set off.

Elder Murong leaned against the cart.

In his arms he held a handful of slightly crumbled peanuts, gently swaying the whip; the two horses ambled forward, and inside the cart sat Yao Guang, his own blood relative, within arm's reach.

The old man took a sip of the cloudy liquor; it stung slightly as it went down his throat. He flicked the whip, and the cart rolled lazily along the road, bells tinkling ding-dong, then he turned his head to chat with the middle-aged man beside him.

They chatted about Tiannanhaibei, praising the pastries here and the fresh vegetables there.

They spoke of childhood memories, of a donkey once kicking a man into the air—Elder Murong burst into loud laughter. Wild geese flew overhead; the old man rested his head against the cart, eyes contentedly closed.

This was the world he once loved.

Comfortable, plain, and peaceful.

The Central Province was still far away.

The four Masters of the Zhongzhou Xuegong had returned; warriors and swordsmen across the land were rushing toward it, all in a grand commotion. Yet this old man had lost his former sharpness, clad in a green robe, white-haired, languid.

He no longer looked like a swordsman at all.

He had finally shed it all.

Not a trace of sword intent, not a shred of sword qi remained.

And just as Elder Murong had dispelled all his sword intent and sword qi,

Far away,

Jiangnan · Murong Clan.

The wooden sword lying beneath the tree's shade,

suddenly emitted a clear, faint sword hum.