Chapter 546: The Sun Will Set, but Will Rise Again!

Nan Hanwen raised his head, looked at the sunlight outside, and yawned.

His eyes reflected the Jiangnan of this season; the wind already carried a slight chill, but it did not cut to the bone, without that biting cold, perhaps because too many things had happened this year.

Chen Dingye died by the blade, the Great Khan fell on the battlefield, the Master Jiankuang rode a dragon and vanished from the martial world; the Ying Emperor held his sword and faded from the realm.

And that last Red Emperor, with a blazing fire, drew an ending for the eight hundred years of romance and spirit—imperfect, yet complete.

The Chen Emperor, the Ying Emperor, the overlord of the steppe, the divine archer who shot the flying eagle, sovereigns, knights-errant—one by one they took the stage over the past sixty years, displaying their brilliance and edge, drawing every eye beneath the heavens to themselves.

As if all were heroes ordained by fate.

Yet these lords who had contended with one another in the torrent of the era withered and fell away one after another in the span of a single year.

When Nan Hanwen was young and studied, Dantai Xianming told him to read the histories; reading once was not enough, reading twice was not enough, so Nan Hanwen grew irritated and only read inside a mountain god temple. Too lazy to cook, he would boil porridge, wait for it to cool and set, cut it into several pieces, and stuff the cold food into his mouth whenever he was hungry.

After several years of such arduous effort, he finally achieved something.

Full of high spirits, he went to ask Dantai Xianming, only to be assigned the post of a mere servant boy by the middle-aged scholar. Nan Hanwen was dumbfounded at the time, and Dantai Xianming laughed and said: "First let you strive and study hard, struggle and fight, then I'll tell you—arduous effort is meaningless."

"That is the first lesson I teach you."

"The rules of the world are like this."

"What you cultivate through arduous effort is of no use; you read much, yet none of it finds a place to be applied. Not every bit of diligence and hard work has meaning."

Nan Hanwen felt aggrieved at the time.

But Dantai Xianming laughed again and said: "Yet reading 'useless books' lets one know the hundred flavors within them, and you should temper yourself in the ways of the world." With a sweep of his sleeve he sent Nan Hanwen away; the young Nan Hanwen felt aggrieved.

Looking back now, the bearing of that scholar then was still composed and dignified.

Although Dantai Xianming said they were useless books.

Yet Nan Hanwen still felt that those days of reading the histories were what settled his heart, so that in his middle years he could remain in Chen State, and now with white hair and aged face, he possessed yet another kind of bearing.

Looking at this Jiangnan, this realm, he felt for no reason the sensation of reading the histories as a youth.

Nan Hanwen brewed tea.

In a world of chaos, the beginning is always lively.

Here heroes, there outlaws, rising one after another—you finish your song, I take the stage—contending with one another. One sees an age of great contention, sees those mighty heroes in desperate straits, the young prodigies, yet in the end they all wither away; thus the era turns its page and enters the next golden age.

The blazing heroic spirit—how lively it is at the start, how lonely and desolate it becomes afterward.

Perhaps so.

Even the wind of Jiangnan carried a slight chill.

Outside, the young bookboy was sweeping fallen leaves. After Qu Hanxiu passed away, Nan Hanwen had taken him in as his own bookboy. When that great renowned scholar of rites and propriety died, he left Nan Hanwen many scrolls and books.

Nan Hanwen picked up what Qu Hanxiu had written and continued compiling new rites and laws.

The so-called rites and laws are nothing more than morality and statutes.

Qu Hanxiu wrote in the scrolls he left behind: 'This old man once discussed the future of the realm with Qin Wang, and also glimpsed his breadth of spirit and the waves within his breast. To speak plainly, his vision reached too far; it had already formed its own system, with a feeling of commanding heights and pouring streams down.'

'But, too high.'

'So high that it surpassed what the common folk and nine-tenths of the people of this age could comprehend; and of the remaining tenth, nine out of ten could hardly glimpse a single corner of the waves within his breast. To act with extraordinary measures under such vision and spirit would surely fail to achieve results.'

'Boy, do you know what li (rites) is?'

'Li is morality, you and I…'

When the scroll reached this point, it paused; the ink settled and bled into a blot, and only after a moment did the brush continue. Nan Hanwen could actually perceive, within that pause and the act of continuing to write, a great deal of free-spirited ease.

'It should be you. Remember, the so-called rites and laws are meant to build steps and bridges between the hearts of the common folk of this age and the vista Qin Wang sees within his mind—one is too high, the other too low.'

'Only by binding them with li and restraining them with laws can one move forward step by step.'

'The two characters "li fa" are not some terrible thing, like flood or wild beast.'

'What is fearsome and hateful is nothing but 【stale and rotten】.'

Qu Hanxiu's writing carried a kind of disdain; the ancients said one sees the person through the writing—one is that you can see the character within the words, but that is not quite accurate; the other is that when reading the words of a departed friend, it is as if the friend had never left and were still chatting idly.

Nan Hanwen could not help but smile: "Still the same as ever, Old Qu."

"Seems offhand, yet every time there are startling words."

He turned the page at once.

Qu Hanxiu's writing grew somewhat anxious: 'Also, remember, boy, after you finish compiling the new rites and laws, you must, you absolutely must put my name in there too!'

'This old man shall have a great name to his ear!'

'Don't say anything about it being vulgar!'

'Fame and success are precisely what we scholars pursue in life; what should be despised are those who cheat the world and steal renown. To act uprightly and have one's name handed down through the ages—is that not something one ought to pursue?'

'Remember, you absolutely must remember!'

'Don't forget, or this old man will come find you every year…'

Nan Hanwen closed this scroll.

The young bookboy came in carrying tea, saw Mr. Nan Hanwen pressing his brow, first tiptoed to set the tea vessel on the table, then poured the tea, and asked in puzzlement: "What is the matter, Mr.?"

Nan Hanwen sighed: "Bothered by the writing until my eyes ache."

The young bookboy was puzzled.

How could writing bother one's eyes?

Can eyes hear?

Nan Hanwen said nothing, only smiled and drank his tea, picked up the scrolls he had prepared, glanced at those placed on the table—Qu Hanxiu's lifetime learning. He too would learn the words within these scrolls, and then record new things.

And then spread them to later ages, yes?

He suddenly laughed.

He thought of a brilliant idea!

You only said to leave a name for the ages, but never said what name to leave, did you?

So Nan Hanwen decided to pass down Qu Hanxiu's scrolls, along with those letters—written by a man wise and free-spirited, yet also utterly mercenary, who could not wait to grab someone by the ear and shout for renown.

Even people a thousand years from now will be annoyed by this fellow's noise!

Nan Hanwen smiled, looking at the new one, and said: "Old thing."

Go speak with the people of a thousand years hence!

Then he rose and left, walking through the streets of Jiangnan; the faces of passersby were still calm, gradually recovering from the earlier war—Jiang Wanxiang was dead, and Jiang Su personally carried the coffin and escorted the funeral.

It amounted to a nation draped in white mourning.

Thus, the entire Ying State now languished in the grief of its monarch's death, and within this sorrow—whether real, feigned, or a mixture of both—Ying State harbored even deeper problems.

Jiang Wanxiang is dead; the world is not yet settled.

His two sons are both in their prime.

Who can shoulder the burden of Ying State's realm and become its Great Emperor?

Or rather—

Who has the breadth of vision, the boldness, to stand against the Qin Wang?

As this thought arose, all the people of Qin began to feel a trace of pride; the confidence born only in an age of peace had begun to emerge—this too was the foundation of a glorious era.

After the Qin Wang awoke, the morale of the Fire Qilin Army and the order of the Tiance Prefecture swiftly recovered; the masters of the Tiance Prefecture began implementing the Qin Wang's orders: pacifying the people, developing agriculture and sericulture, comforting the soldiers, and preparing for the coming great war.

All things moved steadily forward.

Nan Hanwen walked through the streets, passed the familiar vendor, and arrived at a government office beneath the Tiance Prefecture.

Seven years ago, the Tiance Prefecture had been nothing but a hollow title.

Back then, under pressure from the imperial clan and warlords, the Red Emperor Ji Zichang had no choice but to bet on this young, bold boy who led a band of former bandits and outlaws, crossing ten thousand li to accomplish a world-shaking feat.

He granted him the highest title he could bestow, allowing him to establish his own prefecture.

At that time, "Tiance" was merely an empty honorific.

But now, beneath this office, twelve subordinate bureaus were established; across the vast expanse of ten thousand li—from the western peaks of the Thirty-Six Sacred Mountains of the Western Regions, to the eastern shores where waves crashed into the sea, from the northernmost volcanoes of the grasslands, to the southern swamps and mist-choked mountains of the southwest—

On these vast roads, relay stations were built, horses galloping day and night without pause.

Hawks flew through the sky, wings beating.

Carrying the orders of the Tiance Prefecture to every corner.

Enough to influence every region of this world, to shape this age—even to be already shifting the very direction of the era.

This place truly is, as the name suggests, Tiance.

The Khan's Strategy!

Nan Hanwen nodded to the Fire Qilin soldiers guarding the gate, produced his token, then entered with the Juan Sect documents—when he saw a young girl with dark skin and large, bright eyes hurrying out, her waist bearing the Shi Guan's token and a dagger with a bullhorn handle.

Behind her came a boy of sixteen or seventeen, shouldering a halberd and shouting:

"Hey!!!"

"Sa Atandi!"

"I was only joking with you—don't be so angry, alright?"

She was Sa Atandi, the Shi Guan of Qin.

And beside her was Xue Changqing, Captain of the Fire Qilin Elite Guard, a Third Heaven Realm cultivator; the two of them had uncovered, several days ago, the infiltrators from Ying State. During battle, Xue Changqing had broken through, nearing the Fourth Heaven Realm.

He had always been talented in Wu Gong; now he followed Sa Atandi into this age.

He had truly improved greatly, yet still threw childish tantrums and clashed with Sa Atandi—two of the most outstanding youths among the Fire Qilin's younger generation.

"Good day, Master Nan."

Sa Atandi bowed formally, then departed.

Xue Changqing ran off with a whoop.

Then he stopped, stepped back with a thud, and bowed:

"Ah—it's Master Nan."

"Master Nan, good day!"

"Goodbye, Master Nan!"

Xue Changqing saluted, then sprinted off, halberd on shoulder. Nan Hanwen watched them, smiling helplessly—the younger generation of the Fire Qilin had produced some remarkable individuals, each excelling in their own field.

Nan Hanwen continued forward.

He then saw Prince Ashina pacing toward him, reporting on the stability of the grasslands; they nodded and exchanged greetings. This prince had broad shoulders and had grown with astonishing speed since the death of the Tian Kehan.

He had been granted by the Qin Wang his father's long spear.

He had since sealed it away; this prince gradually withdrew from the battlefield, leaving his armor and his father's spear behind in the Central Plains, often traveling the grasslands to pacify the Turkic people.

As Governor of the Northwest Grassland Circuit, his status and authority were immense, yet he remained profoundly humble and obedient.

When Ashina came to Chen State for the grand sacrifice ten years ago, Nan Hanwen had been the official in charge of reception; Ashina had greeted him warmly: "Old Master, long time no see—how is your spirit?"

Nan Hanwen smiled: "I merely resolve a few of Your Majesty's hidden worries. But Prince Ashina, you've traveled far and wide—surely you've worked hard."

Ashina's expression was calm: "All for the sake of the world."

Their relationship was not particularly close, but in casual talk, they touched on the current state of the four quarters: Duan Qingyu had returned to the southwest, and the Array Champion had gone to the border city with Ying State to strengthen its great defenses.

Zhenxi Xiongcheng, the greatest fortress in the world, was at least secure.

But defenses elsewhere remained insufficient—they still needed further strengthening.

General Chen Wenmian, in the course of battle, successfully breached the pass and attained the Eighth Heaven Realm. At this age, such martial prowess and achievements had fully inherited the legacy of the Yu Langwang; frankly, the Yu Langwang at this age could not have defeated Chen Wenmian.

Xiao Wuliang's arm was injured again; Elder Guan Shier's temper had grown slightly more volatile because of it.

Xue Shen had not destroyed the mechanisms he had built—that was a rare good mood.

But this good mood, this pleasant feeling, would shatter instantly the moment that fellow opened his mouth—not a trace would remain.

The academy founded by the disciples of Master Wenzhong carried great weight throughout Jiangnan; yet when Nan Hanwen entered the Tiance Prefecture, he heard that Master Wen Qingyu was absent.

"Master Wen Qingyu is gone—could he have run away?!"

Feng Xiao lifted the wine jar, lost in thought.

Master Yan Daiqing waved his hand dismissively and said, "Ran off where?"

"There are still several others inside the Academy. He and the Staff Monk, the Thirteenth Grandmaster, went to the Academy to think of a way to invite these few back."

Feng Xiao said, "Oh, oh, I see."

Master Nan Hanwen was somewhat surprised and said, "Is it Gongyang Su Wang, Fire Qilin, the True Man of Purple Yang, and the Living Buddha? This old man has only heard that Mr. Wen Qingyu's brilliant strategies are quite renowned throughout the world."

"Could it be that he is also skilled in the art of persuasion?"

"These few are all renowned scholars of our time; they are not so easily convinced."

Master Yan Daiqing said, "Yes, but it doesn't matter, they brought gifts."

Master Nan Hanwen said, "Oh? What gifts?"

Master Yan Daiqing said lightly, "A Profound Soldier grade rope, a bench, a Thousand-Day Drunk that can make even Wu Gong legends and Grandmasters feel intoxicated, and a compound Ma Fei San combining the effects of one hundred and seventy-three medicines."

Master Nan Hanwen's smile froze: "Huh???"

His eyes widened.

Master Yan Daiqing, what are you saying?!

Feng Xiao patted Master Nan Hanwen's shoulder and comforted him with a teasing tone: "You'll get used to it. Back in the day, we all invited them over with the same set of tricks."

Master Nan Hanwen's expression grew more and more bewildered.

What?

The others were only jesting and teasing; for them, this was also something to laugh about in their younger days. Master Yan Daiqing took the Juan Sect that Master Nan Hanwen had written, which was the portion on gifts supplementing the statutes.

Master Nan Hanwen said, "Speaking of which, has Your Majesty recovered?"

Master Yan Daiqing said, "Your Majesty is well, has awakened, and is still recuperating. His Wu Gong is unrivaled, already at a realm unmatched under heaven; the battlefield injuries are no problem."

He still concealed quite a bit.

Li Guanyi had awakened and seemed the same as before, but Master Yan Daiqing, who had known him since youth, knew his temperament and could faintly sense that even though he showed no abnormality, in his heart there was still some suppression.

Some time had passed since the day Li Guanyi rebuked the Shi Guan.

Li Guanyi gradually, in this daily life, let go of many emotions, gradually accepted the passing of his great-grandfather. Only under such circumstances could he, from the deliberately busied daily routine, free himself to go and tend to Murong Longtu's residence.

When he pushed open the door, the sunlight outside followed Li Guanyi's figure and shone into the room. The tables and chairs inside were all neatly arranged, as if the old man had merely gone out for a stroll or fishing and would still return.

Li Guanyi stood still for a good while, then slowly walked in.

He looked at everything here.

The belongings of the departed were still here, giving him the illusion that the departed was still here, as if in a daze the old man would still walk up from behind, pat his shoulder, and call his name.

Li Guanyi quietly walked through every corner of this place, arrived before the old man's desk, saw there was still a scroll and some things on the table. Li Guanyi opened the scroll and saw it was a basic sword manual prepared by the old man.

It was the sword classic now spread throughout the land, learned by children everywhere—concise and effective, pointing straight to the core essentials of the martial Dao. Murong Longtu had revised it many times, removing the dross and keeping the essence, combining the Wu Gong methods of the Motian Sect, enough to lay an extremely solid foundation for the cultivator.

Li Guanyi looked at the sword manual left by his great-grandfather; every move and form above was personally drawn by the old man. Li Guanyi's fingers brushed over the sword strokes the old man had drawn, and as he turned the page, something suddenly slipped down.

It was a letter.

It fell onto the tabletop. Li Guanyi froze, set the sword manual aside, picked up the letter, was quiet for a long while, and only then seemed to finally make up his mind and opened the letter.

'Guanyi'

The first thing that met his eyes was Murong Longtu's handwriting.

Li Guanyi's thoughts paused for a moment, then he quietly continued reading:

'If you can see this letter, then I likely will not be coming back.'

'This old man has heard of the changes in the world, knows you guard Zhenbei Pass alone, and Jiang Wanxiang has once again harnessed eight hundred years of fortune to come. It is time for me to draw my sword. How could there be any reason to leave all the great matters of the world for the younger generation to bear?'

'Jiang Wanxiang has his so-called eight hundred years of the world's dragon and tiger fortune'

'It may not be able to withstand the sword in my hand'

'I have held a sword all my life; to have such an opponent at the end, to end in such a manner, can be called satisfying, can be called a good thing. After I leave, do not be sorrowful, do not feel distressed; just treat it as ordinary'

'Although this old man says so, knowing your temperament, you will surely still feel distressed, won't you'

'Hahaha, childish!'

'However, the Daoist Sect's Supreme Forgetting of Emotion, and the Green-Robed Guest's being too far beneath emotion—both fall short. The place where emotion is concentrated is precisely in people like us. If you feel distressed, then boldly go cry, or sing loudly as you laugh; but after all is done, cast this matter behind you!'

'Be able to pick it up, be able to put it down—Emotionally Weighted and righteous, yet not sunk within emotion and righteousness'

'That is the true spirit of the Jianghu'

'Additionally, there is one more matter to speak of'

'Mu Rong Qiushui's temperament is outwardly strong, inwardly gentle. The matters of those years—if not for you, Murong Qiushui herself would never have endured for so long. Precisely because she had you to care for, she was able, at the age of seventeen, to overcome hardship and keep walking forward.'

'Guanyi, just go and rely on Murong Qiushui more. Only in this way can she come through; and as for you, this old man has nothing to worry about, except for one point regarding your cultivation'

'Your path is the unification of the Nine Provinces, yet ultimately it is seeking outwardly. Walking this path, though it may also be called a legend, is still bound by the realms of the Daoist Sect, the Array Champion, and Longevity'

'Only one word: 【Reversal】.'

'Only by reversing what was once held, letting go of what was once relied upon, can one bring forth a vivid and living 【I】, and only then can one stand shoulder to shoulder with this old man. Besides this, there is still one clever trick for wandering the Jianghu'

'Know that, chewing jujubes and walnuts together, there is quite a meaty fragrance—greatly worth a try!'

Li Guanyi froze.

The beginning was free-spirited and unrestrained, yet at the end the brush fell upon the warmth of daily life. Such painstaking effort, yet it was a clever trick about food. When Li Guanyi saw this, he did not know why, but because of this great turn by the old man, he let out a light laugh.

Just this one laugh, and the various emotions pressed in his heart seemed to pour out like a flood, as if his great-grandfather were still here, still caring for him, still joking with him.

So near, yet so far.

And after the words on this letter, the old man seemed to look at him and smile, then turn and walk far away, waving his hand, unhurried and composed.

Murong Longtu.

Gone!

When Li Guanyi walked out of this room, he was in a daze, but when he looked up, he saw that this little courtyard was quite crowded. He saw Murong Qiushui seemingly playing the qin over there, and beside her a silver-haired girl with an expressionless face, but her body stiffened just slightly as she withdrew her gaze.

Don't see me, don't see me.

Nangong Wumeng coughed once, then turned to face the wall and carefully studied the patterns on it.

These patterns, what patterns, eh?

Who stuffed silver notes in the crack?!

Li Zhaowen, on the other hand, smiled with an easy grace, hands clasped behind his back, gripping his hem, holding on tight.

Master Siming is climbing the wall.

The old Black Tortoise is being sat on by him.

Xue Shuangtao watched Li Guanyi quietly; Murong Qiushui pressed down on the zither strings, wanting to act as if nothing were the matter, so as not to show her worry too plainly and end up affecting Li Guanyi. Li Guanyi held the letter in his hand, his gaze sweeping past those who cared for him.

It seemed a long wind swept past this prosperous realm and Jiangnan.

He was alone in the Master Jiankuang's room, reading the letter, missing those he had known, and before he knew it, three whole days had passed. Just then the sun was rising; far off at the edge of heaven and earth, layers upon layers of clouds, and a great sun could be seen slowly climbing up.

Golden sunlight shone down upon the mortal world.

It shone on the headache-ridden Xue Changqing and the young Shi Guan girl ahead of him; it shone over the academy run by Wang Tong's disciples; it shone over Nan Hanwen, who had walked Qu Hanxiu's path; it shone over Ashina, who sealed away the Great Khagan's bold spirit and resolve; it shone over the youth carrying the Grey Wolf Blade and the child beside him.

Inside the academy, Fan Qing's voice was calm: "When the great sun is newly born, let a thought be kept in the heart — know that we ourselves are the great sun, brilliant and radiant, shining upon our bodies, breaking through the darkness. Come — draw your swords!"

"Yes!"

Children of only six or seven, from Jiangnan to the Western Regions, from the mountain forests of the Western Regions to the passes of Saibei, wore solemn expressions, long swords in hand; they merely raised a finger to guide them, and the long swords pointed at the long sky — how many realms of the mortal world, who could say.

The sorrow and the lump in Li Guanyi's heart slowly dissolved.

Yes, just as Master Siming said, the sun that breaks through wind and clouds will also set.

But the sun will also rise again.

A setting sun would never wish its successors to be sunk in gloom.

We are the sun!

Li Guanyi's mind cleared; he took a deep breath, looked at his aunt, and grinned: "Aunt."

His voice paused for a beat, then, as if it were the most ordinary thing, he said with a smile:

"I'm hungry."

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