Chapter 359: The Qin King

Li Guanyi and Li Zhao Wen had an extremely close relationship, like brothers.

Knowing Li Zhao Wen's nature, Li Guanyi was naturally happy to spend one last playful moment with him before parting; thus he rode alone, calm and composed, and even the broader grounds of the Duke's mansion were briefly cleared of all unnecessary personnel.

Li Guanyi pulled on the reins, thinking of the current state of the world, his thoughts surging.

He thought of how to contend with each of the warlords—everyone held their own ideals, each had their own convictions; those without grand ambition would inevitably be controlled by others, and when reason could not persuade, only the sword and spear were truth.

Li Guanyi lowered his gaze, thinking of the forty-two cities—during this time, those released had returned to these various towns and cities; Li Guanyi's defeat of Helian Jieshan was now common knowledge, propelled outward by the momentum of Po Jun.

The time for accumulating reputation and authority was sufficient.

Like ripe fruit, it was time to harvest.

A drumming sound came—earlier faint, but as Li Guanyi drew nearer, the drumming grew louder, not the small waist drum, nor the large ceremonial drum of common folk.

Its sound was steady, grim, majestic—so loud it seemed the sound waves had solidified into visible ripples, as if his heart trembled violently, filling him with a sense of blood surging.

It was a war drum!

The drumbeats shattered Li Guanyi's thoughts; his steed, Saluzi, grew restless—this grim war drum stirred the divine horse's spirit, igniting its urge to gallop and charge.

Li Guanyi said: "Strange—isn't this supposed to be qin music?"

"What kind of qin piece!"

"Why must it be accompanied by war drums?"

Li Guanyi's interest stirred; his divine steed charged forward, the view ahead opening wide—this was the Western Regions, vast and sparsely populated; the Duke's mansion occupied immense land, and Li Zhao Wen had already dismissed all others.

Li Guanyi followed the sound, turned a gate, and then heard the clashing of weapons.

Clang—grim and deadly.

It was battle halberds!

The view opened suddenly; Li Guanyi saw over a hundred and twenty men, all clad in armor, wielding halberds and standards, arranged in several formations—what was called a dance was more like a reenactment of battle formations!

Left circular, right square; first oblique, then in ranks; fish-scale, goose-file, fan-open, wing-spread—interweaving, bending and extending, head and tail looping, advancing and retreating in thrusts and strikes, mimicking the shape of a battle array.

The dance changed thrice, each change forming four formations, totaling twelve formations, harmonizing with the drumbeats and music.

Li Guanyi rode slowly, watching the dance circle and shift, banners flaring, the war drums thundering—utterly devoid of Chen's decadent melodies, and unlike the solemn propriety of Zhongyuan's Ying State—it was grim, majestic, and grand!

Li Guanyi exclaimed: "Truly a prodigy of heaven!"

He thought a moment, then spurred his warhorse straight through the hundred and twenty men, as if walking into a battlefield—banners flared on both sides, before him nothing but clashing, intersecting weapons, the sound grim and sharp.

Because this dance moved like a military formation.

Li Guanyi felt as if he had returned to the battlefield.

Passing several more gates, suddenly a qin note exploded—high, composed, unfolding slowly; Li Guanyi halted, listening quietly, and saw beneath the great hall a figure playing the qin—the music was grand, Li Guanyi reined in his horse, listening in silence, catching its divine essence.

Suddenly the qin melody rose high, transforming into roaring war drums.

Beneath the great hall stood eight candlesticks, their warm light illuminating the surroundings, highlighting the qin player's composed bearing; Li Guanyi sensed the qin player's aura—it was Li Zhao Wen, though wearing a mask, refusing to reveal his true face.

Changsun Wu Chou had secretly followed, glanced once, and felt his stomach lurch.

He raised a hand to clutch it.

Damn it, it hurt like a hole was burning through.

Li Zhao Wen's qin paused; his hand left the strings, his eyes fell on Li Guanyi, and he smiled:

"Come, Brother Li—you've finally arrived."

"What's the point of just watching from outside? Come, come—dance swords with me!"

It was Li Zhao Wen, alone in his own courtyard's great hall.

Seeing Li Guanyi arrive, he seemed delighted, laughing as he drew his sword in invitation; Li Guanyi dismounted, drew his own long sword, stepped into Li Zhao Wen's courtyard hall—no one else was present; the two met swords, producing a series of soft chimes.

Outside,

the dance echoed, the war dance grand and magnificent, drums grim, halberds howled, banners swirled like forming lotuses.

Different banners resembled petals of layered lotuses, spinning in opposite directions, shifting unpredictably; the two met sword to sword, the clash crisp, each strike perfectly timed to the drumbeat, like the most grim qin melody.

The banners, halberds, and war drums shifted with them.

Utterly grand, utterly magnificent.

Li Guanyi and Li Zhao Wen's swords clashed.

Li Guanyi felt immense joy, loving the music, sensing its heroic, fierce spirit; he laughed loudly in praise: "With war drums and battle arrays as accompaniment, armored soldiers and halberds as response, banners blazing, and sword sounds transformed into qin music—ha ha ha! Brilliant, utterly brilliant!"

"Second Young Master, your martial talent is truly formidable!"

"But why still wear the mask?"

"Give me one too!"

Li Guanyi's Wu Gong had reached the Master level—he sensed his friend's aura; beneath the mask was unmistakably his friend. He casually shook his wrist, suppressing with the sword technique passed down by Elder Murong; Li Zhao Wen laughed aloud:

"To make me remove my sword and mask isn't so simple."

"First, best me!"

The two clashed in swordplay, but in the end Li Guanyi's Wu Gong overpowered Li Zhao Wen.

Only a few exchanges.

Li Guanyi reversed his blade, twisted, pressed down Li Zhao Wen's sword, closed in, reached out, seized his friend's faceplate, and yanked it off.

The war drum reached its grandest peak.

Li Zhao Wen lowered his gaze, did not raise his sword to counter—instead, he suddenly lifted his free wrist, fingers flicked with a subtle, invisible force, a technique of extraordinary subtlety and power.

In an instant, it struck eight directions at once.

All eight candle flames went out; all windows and doors around closed simultaneously.

Inside and outside were severed; Li Guanyi removed the mask.

When the candlelight vanished, the face beneath the mask was revealed.

Li Guanyi's pupils contracted slightly.

Black hair fell away, brows lifted, a pair of phoenix eyes, a golden vertical mark between the brows, bearing a radiant and spirited aura—but not the aura Li Guanyi knew; such lifted brows belonged to a peerless beauty, smiling at him.

The stark contrast made Li Guanyi hesitate.

Li Guanyi held the faceplate in his left hand, his right hand pressing down on his sword.

Li Zhaowen smiled teasingly, as always carefree:

"Brother, so eager to see my true face?"

Li Guanyi fell silent, unsure how to answer: "???"

No, brother.

How did you become a woman?

He instinctively wanted to crack a joke to ease the tension.

But he faced Li Zhaowen.

Sharp, piercing energy.

Li Zhaowen laid down her sword with carefree ease and smiled: "I spoke of a peerless beauty."

"Did you see her?"

Li Guanyi said: "What… what?"

Li Zhaowen regarded him mischievously and said:

"Oh? What do you think she is?"

Li Guanyi could not speak, but Li Zhaowen burst into laughter:

"We, of our kind—the so-called peerless beauty."

"Is this world itself!"

She teased Li Guanyi, then, with carefree composure, turned and strolled back to her original spot; the great hall fell silent.

Around them, the battle formation roared, drums pounded with grandeur, banners swayed back and forth, as if on a battlefield, weapons clashing.

Li Zhaowen said nothing, only curled her fingers and lightly tapped the blade.

She recalled meeting Li Guanyi, recalled the ten-thousand-soldier charge, recalled throwing down Helian Jieshan's head and saying she awaited his melody—she smiled faintly, lips curving.

The war drums boomed, and suddenly she tossed her sword into the air.

She sat cross-legged, playing the qin, its melody growing grander; as the music swelled, the surrounding war dance and the war drums that seemed to echo across all of Xiyicheng grew louder—until, at the music's peak, the girl set down the qin.

She rose and declared loudly: "This piece is called 【Break the Formation Melody】!"

Outside the great hall, the hundred and twenty soldiers simultaneously pressed their weapons to the ground; the war drums softened into a solemn, resonant chant, the soldiers murmured the song, deep and distant, stepping forward in unison, their voices complex, majestic:

"Bound by law, we bid farewell to the sovereign, marching to subdue traitors."

"All sing 【Break the Formation Melody】."

"Together we behold 【The People of Peace】."

The voices surged like overlapping waves; Li Guanyi was stirred. The battle dance dispersed. Li Zhaowen walked toward him, dressed in ordinary clothes, appearing as a woman, holding a cup of wine, eyes bright, strikingly heroic and beautiful, poised and unreserved, smiling:

"All sing 【Break the Formation Melody】."

"Together we behold 【The People of Peace】."

"Brother Li, this cup of wine is to toast our pact."

"When you conquer the world one day, do not forget me."

So poised and unreserved, Li Guanyi paused, then replied with equal carefree ease: "Alright."

He took the wine, tilted his head, and drank it down.

"But I don't know how to address you."

Li Zhaowen smiled: "Since I turned sixteen, this woman's form—save for Changsun Wugou—has been seen by no one but you, Brother Li. How I am called is but outward form; you may call me as you wish."

"When you strike down Yu Langwang one day, do not forget me!"

Li Guanyi laughed heartily: "Good!"

Distant golden drums echoed—the army outside, fully armed and ready. Li Guanyi said: "Time has come, Erlang. I'm leaving."

Li Zhaowen smiled:

"May your glory swell, and may you attain peace."

Li Guanyi nodded, turned, and reached for the door.

Li Zhaowen said: "Ah, wait!"

The girl leapt up, stepped onto the table, lunged forward, seized Li Guanyi's arm, and laughed bitterly: "The others outside don't know I'm Second Miss Li—they call me Second Young Master. If you open this door now, won't everyone know my true identity?"

"You know, I know—that's enough."

"I don't want outsiders to see me like this."

Li Zhaowen twisted her hair into a man's topknot, pulled out a box filled with colored rouge, paused thoughtfully, then calmly applied the pigments to her face—sharpening her once gentle eyes, darkening her complexion slightly.

Hardening the contours of her cheeks—until she became the form Li Guanyi knew.

Li Zhaowen, composed and unreserved, said: "I understand warfare, and I know cosmetics."

"Thus it is."

"Yet only you, Brother, have ever seen me paint my face before a mirror."

"Of course, if Brother Li wishes to change his appearance too, I could help you with that."

Li Zhaowen grinned mischievously, tucked the items away, then said with calm dignity:

"Alright. You may open the door."

Changsun Wuchou had just seen Li Guanyi enter, the two dancing with swords—he grew anxious, yet this was a crucial moment; the curtain fell, the door shut, and he saw nothing. As he fretted, the door opened.

Li Guanyi and Li Zhaowen stepped out side by side.

Li Zhaowen wore white robes, black hair styled like a man's, brows still lifted with spirit.

Still looks like a man.

Did it manifest as promised, or did it not?

Changsun Wuchou's expression stiffened; he felt even more stomach pain.

Li Zhao Wen waved his hand, ordering the two hundred men ahead to disperse, revealing a path, then bowed with casual grace: "Brother Li, the road ahead is endless, the world vast—go now, and return one day."

"I shall order two thousand men to play the Break-the-Formation Melody for you."

The voice paused, then smiled: "Don't forget our agreement."

Changsun Wuchou: "……………"

"????"

What agreement? I've been rushing all this time—what did I miss?

Changsun Wuchou felt utterly lost.

Stomach pain. Stomach pain.

Li Guanyi waved his hand and said: "Today, Second Brother, you truly impressed me—you gave me quite a shock! I admit you've won!"

Li Zhao Wen said: "I wonder, Brother Li—did you mean the melody of the qin, or the beauty?"

Li Guanyi replied: "The qin's music is grand, the beauty of the world—both are just as such."

"Oh?"

Li Zhao Wen raised an eyebrow, smiling teasingly, and whispered: "It seems, then, I am not considered a beauty in your eyes."

Li Zhao Wen's aura turned sharp, then he burst into loud laughter:

"Go!"

"Until we meet again across the world!"

Li Guanyi waved his hand and rode off on horseback; Li Zhao Wen dismissed the musicians, full of enthusiasm. Changsun Wuchou followed Li Guanyi away, while Changsun Wugou walked slowly forward and said: "Second Brother, you took so long to decide—yet in the end, you chose plain robes."

Li Zhao Wen said: "If I'd worn those ornate costumes and makeup, it would've merely been relying on their splendor. I thought long and hard—I am always like this in daily life. So why not be true, upright, as I am?"

"I am, after all, the most exquisite beauty."

Changsun Wugou fell silent, hesitated, then said: "Second Brother, what of that Qin Wu Hou…"

Li Zhao Wen replied with casual ease: "He is my brother."

"But if the world is vast, I have two choices: to conquer the four corners alone—or if marriage alliances truly must happen…"

Li Zhao Wen's voice halted, recalling their first meeting in Jiangzhou, the earliest falcon-letter exchanges, and that day of blazing slaughter amid ten thousand troops. She had always presented herself as a man—only Changsun Wugou knew her true self.

Thus, in the past, she had confided all her delicate thoughts to Changsun Wugou.

But now, these thoughts rising within her—somehow—she could not, and did not wish to, speak them to anyone else. Even Changsun Wugou, she did not wish to tell these tiny, private stirrings from deep within.

So she paused, and as always, teased and joked to deflect it: "If marriage alliances must happen, better to avoid tangled negotiations with noble clans."

"Then why not choose a brother?"

Changsun Wugou sighed helplessly.

Yet she did not know whether her elder brother, hearing this, felt relief—or stomach pain.

Li Guanyi exited Xiyicheng; Fan Qing, Khan Qibili, and others were already prepared. This army of over twenty thousand, excluding captured troops, the Golden Crescent Cavalry formed a first-tier force, while the rest were second-tier, capable of fighting alongside border armies.

Li Guanyi mounted his horse, glanced back at Xiyicheng, then led his troops onto the road toward the distant western lands—Yu Langwang's strength had already been proven; Yu Langwang now held the upper hand, his hegemonic aura fully formed.

To compete with him for control of the Western Regions, Li Guanyi must either seize forty-two cities—or more—and unite the armies of all western tribes, or elevate his own Wu Gong beyond its current limits, reaching the Ninth Heaven, or even the legendary realm of martial Dao.

Li Guanyi sensed the Nine Tripods within his body.

The destiny-energy within the Nine Tripods was still insufficient—the destiny of the seven allied armies he had defeated was not enough, and the destiny of the Tangxi Kingdom was not pure enough. Next, he must race against Yu Langwang.

He must raise his cultivation, forge the Nine Tripods, and forge divine weapons.

He must kill Xiao Yuxue.

He must defeat Yu Langwang.

If he cannot defeat Yu Langwang, what right does he have to speak of dominating the world?

Li Guanyi said: "Time waits for no one."

"Go!"

He thought, and made his decision.

His foundation was now solid.

It was time to summon the generals and strategists of the Tiance Prefecture's Fire Qilin Corps.

Tianger is not merely Tianger.

Li Guanyi's gaze was calm; he gripped his weapon, and the Nine Tripods hummed faintly.

They seemed capable of linking with the Nine Tripods of the Jiangnan region.

Old Wolf King, you and I—let us meet again.

…………………………

It was now the end of the ninth month; autumn, the season of harvest. Far away in Jiangnan, Master Yan Daiqing was in high spirits—after so long, Jiangnan had finally seen its first bountiful year.

With the harvest secured, the great clans had been steadily suppressed under Wen He's methods.

The rivalries and struggles among the great clans had greatly increased Jiangnan Fire Qilin's silver and gold revenues; the regular troops had expanded from the original fifty thousand Fire Qilin soldiers to one hundred thousand combat troops.

Most were infantry units, with some combined heavy and light cavalry.

While wars raged across the four corners of the world, Jiangnan alone remained at peace—so people from all regions flocked to it. Jiangnan treated all equally; its prestige grew daily, and private academies for commoners had begun to emerge.

Master Yan Daiqing felt refreshed and invigorated!

At this moment, he almost felt that his past daily headaches from Li Guanyi and financial troubles had been a dream.

Yet today, as usual, he went to the government office, handled documents, reviewed harvest reports, and observed Wen He's suppression of the clans—his mood was delightfully bright—until he saw Wen Lingjun stride in rapidly.

Master Yan Daiqing smiled: "Lingjun, why so hurried today?"

"Come, come, don't worry—there's good tea here; let me brew some for you."

Wen Lingjun said: "There's no time for this!"

"Here, Daiqing, look at this!"

Wen Lingjun unfurled an object; Yan Daiqing, while fetching tea, smiled and said: "What's there—"

He glanced at the scroll and froze slightly.

Laughter echoed from within the Murong Clan.

Murong Longtu was in unusually good spirits, as if smiling.

The aged swordsman showed no difference from months ago; though he had only the aura of one final strike left, or perhaps three years of life, as long as time had not run out—or that one strike had not yet been unleashed—Murong Longtu would remain in this state forever.

The old swordsman chuckled: "Guanyi, is it really so?"

The old Master Siming laughed extravagantly: "Yes! That boy Li Guanyi went by the alias Tian Ge'er—he led an army of one hundred thousand, capturing cities and seizing territory. Though the Western Regions are vast, there weren't enough heroes to stop his advance."

"That grandeur, that strategy—hmm, no hero of this age could match him."

"Even that boy Li Wanli, at his age, couldn't have surpassed him!"

"Just the two of us, leading our armies—crack, crack—we stormed the cities!"

"Fierce as hell!"

The old Master Siming sat cross-legged atop the Black Tortoise, talking nonstop, turning even one-tenth of Li Guanyi's deeds into tenfold exaggerations—just to lift the aged swordsman's spirits. Master Siming didn't care whether his tales were inflated.

Even the Black Tortoise couldn't bear to listen anymore.

He felt Master Siming, just to mooch meals and drinks from the Master Jiankuang, had turned Li Guanyi into a figure unmatched in heaven or earth—his achievements so overwhelming they bordered on invincibility. The gods, beasts, and Yin-Yang spirits all knew: the Black Tortoise was steady, symbolizing heaven and earth, and could not endure such blatant falsehoods.

So the Black Tortoise closed its eyes.

It chewed on the dried fish bits Master Siming had given it.

The fact that these two had coexisted so long was no accident.

Chew, chew.

Just as the old swordsman was delighted and Master Siming was happily boasting, a voice came from the other side: a Murong Clan guest advisor said: "Elder Master, Master Siming—Mr. Yan Daiqing and Mr. Wen Lingjun from the Tiance Prefecture have arrived."

The original strategists of the Tiance Prefecture had always been on good terms with the Murong Clan; when they had free time, they would visit the old swordsman. The swordsman let them in, but both men entered with tense expressions.

Wen Lingjun and Yan Daiqing bowed, then turned to Master Siming: "Master Siming, have you returned from the Western Regions? Were you with our lord just now?"

Master Siming boasted: "Of course! I was with that boy Li Guanyi."

"Just the two of us, campaigning east and west, commanding a hundred thousand troops."

"Just the two of us—I swear it!"

Wen Lingjun and Yan Daiqing exchanged glances and said: "Then surely you've heard of the recent shifts in the Western Regions' situation?"

Master Siming froze: "What?"

Both strategists pulled out a scroll and placed it on the table. Master Siming and Murong Longtu immediately recognized it as the newly released Divine General List. A quick glance revealed that the old Wolf King's rank had returned to fourth place on the list.

He Ruo Qinhu and Yuwen Lie both slipped down in rank.

Master Siming saw that Fire Qilin Li Guanyi, due to insufficient achievements, had dropped from forty-seventh to forty-ninth. He gave a faint, mocking smile: "That's normal. No one else knows what he did—his rank sinking is only natural."

"Hmm, down two spots—one is the old Wolf King."

"Who's the other?"

"By the way, you strategists are strange—how can you deduce the Western Regions' situation from such a minor shift?"

"What? Look up?"

Master Siming lazily glanced upward—and his expression froze. His pupils shrank. The old swordsman, who had been idly listening to his old friend's wild tales, also fell silent. All eyes turned to one spot.

Master Siming's face turned rigid.

The old swordsman, stunned, suddenly beamed with profound joy and burst into loud laughter.

For on the very top of the Divine General List, in black ink on white paper, was written a name.

Western Regions · Anxi City.

Tian Ge'er.

Divine General List Rank—

Twenty-seventh!

?? Please vote for monthly tickets, everyone!

?? My schedule's been messed up again—I hope I can get it under control (peaceful)

?? Everyone, rest early. I'll try to finish by three. Goodnight, friends.