Chapter 60: Li Guanyi, Here He Comes!

In the imperial villa's literary gathering, Xue Daoyong's gaze softened slightly as he tore it away from his granddaughter, his aged, ferocious eyes sweeping over every scholar present, causing their hearts to tremble faintly; Qiu Shiheng, the renowned scholar who had once served as Grand Academician in court, hesitated, then said:

"Xue Lao, please accept your loss."

Xue Daoyong said: "This isn't about accepting loss or not."

General Yue Qianfeng has gone to the assassin branch of the Mohists; he suspects Li Guanyi is not dead but abducted. Before leaving, he asked Xue Daoyong to search within Guan Yicheng. The old man has already sent most of his guest masters abroad, and he returned himself to find more people. His gaze swept over the scholars as he paced slowly and spoke in a low tone:

"The School of Names, the School of Miscellaneous, and the School of Fiction—your disciples excel in sensing Qi."

"I beg you all to seek the whereabouts of my child."

"Alive, we must see the person—"

"Dead, we must see the body."

"Regardless, my Xue family owes you all a debt."

With his status, the old man bowed deeply.

The scholars from surrounding sects were moved, their hearts stirred—but Qiu Shiheng flatly refused: "Xue Lao, no need for this. Li Guanyi is a prodigy; he won't die here. My School of Names will spare no effort—why should we need any debt?"

"A scholar acts not for gain, but for righteousness!"

The other sects likewise pledged their aid.

Qiu Shiheng glanced at the dazed Xue Shuangtao, and memories of his youth flashed back—the girl forced into marriage who took her own life, before he had ever passed the imperial exams. Even now, as a Grand Academician famed across the land, that memory still pierced him. He said: "Why not say, Xue Lao, that there's still a chance he's alive?"

Xue Daoyong said: "... The warhorse lies prostrate, weapons shattered, yet the man is gone."

"Life and death, each half."

"Better to let Shuangtao lower her hopes now, so that if Guanyi returns, it will be joy beyond measure—and even if the worst comes, she won't suffer a second time."

Qiu Shiheng sighed.

"You truly dote on this granddaughter..."

Changfeng Lady raised her head, gazing at the sky, still dazed. Could that spirited youth truly be dead? She was a merchant; merchants never abandon hope of profit until the final moment. She turned to the back chamber, picked up her brush, and wrote several lines, detailing all that had transpired today.

She concluded: "Li Guanyi is suspected dead."

She applied to activate the Duke's mansion's assets and hidden personnel here.

This was an application—naturally, she exaggerated by threefold.

She tied the letter to the foot of Jin Yu, the golden-feathered falcon.

After submitting the report, she immediately drew her command token, turned, and walked out, saying:

"I'll help too."

The young merchant said: "I took an instant liking to Little Li. To lend even a fraction of my strength is the best I can do."

Under the old man's promise of a debt, the once aloof scholars and literati grew eager.

The disciples of the various schools—each practicing different cultivation methods and possessing unique abilities—left the city.

After General Yue Qianfeng departed, the garrison commander of the General's Mansion arrived. He was a man with streaks of gray in his hair, a pillar of the Chen State, who had guarded the border, fought against Western mounted archers, and clashed with the Tiger Savages of the Ying State. A famed general skilled in city defense.

When he arrived, he still wore his black armor.

His grim aura dispersed the chaos here. As Lu Youxian stepped in, he met Xue Daoyong's icy gaze. The old man said coldly: "General Lu, you remain as unmoved as Rushan."

Lu Youxian fell silent, then said: "General Yue Qianfeng's target may be Jiangzhou."

"Guan Yicheng must not fall. My first duty is to defend the city."

"A garrison commander must not leave his post."

"We cannot be lured away by a decoy."

Xue Daoyong stared at this stubborn rock. By the time Lu Youxian arrived, he already knew what had happened.

Xue Daoyong pointed at the bow and said:

"So you'd have me go out to fight, then sit back and watch me die?"

"Had it not been for this child leaving the city, I nearly fell to assassins' blades—and yet he fought alone against them, until his spear snapped, his warbow shattered, his horse died—while the city's troops didn't budge a single step from the walls?"

Lu Youxian had no rebuttal, but the order to hold the city came from the court.

He was a solemn warlord, a famed defender of cities, whose style was always cautious and steady.

After everything ended, scouts had already been dispatched.

Some wanted fugitives had escaped; those few intruders needed to be dealt with.

One scout had seen the site of Li Guanyi's battle. The garrison troops, stationed deep within the city, had never witnessed such a brutal battlefield: hoofprints of galloping warhorses, the standard-issue city spears shattered.

The spearheads were stained with blood; the red tassels were caked with blackened blood.

Four named assassins lay dead on the ground, each of their weapons also stained with blood.

Scouts were experts at gathering intelligence.

Any seasoned soldier could tell what kind of brutal slaughter had occurred here. The report had already come back—even Lu Youxian glanced over, moved by the tragic death of this brave young martial officer.

The Mohist Mo Juzi, who was not skilled in sensing Qi, opened his eyes and said: "When the garrison soldiers of Guan Yicheng closed the gates and locked the people outside, it was he who left alone and ordered the gates opened."

"He was a ninth-rank Wu Sanguan: Li Guanyi."

Lu Youxian remained silent. The other scholars, because of Xue Daoyong's presence, began to speak out in condemnation. These scholars rarely named names directly—but when they spoke in veiled, sarcastic tones, it was even more infuriating. Lu Youxian knew he was in the wrong, and since these scholars held influence over court affairs, he said:

"This matter falls under military law—I cannot intervene. But Wu Sanguan Li Guanyi fought bravely, slew enemies, and died with valor..."

"Valor" in official parlance meant a gruesome death.

Xue Daoyong looked at Xue Shuangtao.

He saw the girl's body tremble.

He turned back to summon more people—originally planning to go out searching again—but now the old man let out a bitter laugh, his suppressed fury and rage finally bursting forth.

The old man snatched up a table.

With one sweep, he hurled it straight at Lu Youxian's head.

The heavy redwood table exploded into splinters. The old man jabbed his finger at the general's nose and roared:

"Old bastard!!!"

"You crawled out of your mother's hole, you worthless mouth!"

If you can't speak properly, don't speak!

The surrounding literati shuddered; Lu Youxian stood motionless, taking the blow, his gaze cold.

After a soldier dies in battle, military officers are promoted one rank for compensation and honorific titles.

After all, he's already dead.

This both demonstrates the empire's benevolence and soothes the troops' morale.

But today's matter carries great weight, and Lu Youxian was negligent first; he said: "Li Guanyi, a Ninth-Rank Wu Sanguan, shall be elevated to Junior Eighth Rank..."

Xue Daoyong looked at Lu Youxian.

Lu Youxian said: "Regular Eighth Rank."

The old man sneered, pressing his palm against another table.

Lu Youxian paused, then said: "Junior Seventh-Rank military officer, General Zhenwei."

"He shall be granted the General Zhenwei's Precious Armor and light blue official robes."

"This is the limit of what I can give."

This violated Chen's regulations, but the literati said nothing—after all, the situation was exceptional, the dead deserve respect, and what was granted was merely an ordinary title and stipend; though unusual, it was not without precedent.

When Zu Wenyuan arrived, Master Wang Tong took him to a safer place; they also mobilized their disciples, leaving Fang Ziqiao, Du Ke, and Wei Xuancheng behind. Du Ke praised: "A true brave man."

Fang Ziqiao smiled but said nothing; his fellow disciples understood his meaning—this senior brother likely disapproved of such reckless character. Wei Xuancheng gazed at the sky and said: "We haven't seen the body yet. Is he a superior type—brave and strategic—or merely brave and foolish? Not yet determined."

………………

When Li Guanyi emerged, he heard the clatter of weapons; for some reason, a crowd was searching everywhere—this massive operation far exceeded the hunt for Qian Zhengqiang, who had a hundred taels on his head. Li Guanyi lifted his eyebrow slightly.

He crept back, planning to retrieve his bow.

Seeing his bow was gone, his heart ached.

Damn it, which dirty-handed scoundrel stole it?

They took my bow?!

One thousand five hundred and thirty guan!

That's thirteen hundred and fifty months' wages from Huichun Hall!

The Young Lady won't reimburse me.

The boy couldn't fathom why this mountain-searching operation was so massive; too many people, and he saw no members of the Xue family—only city defense scouts. After learning that someone from the imperial court was targeting Xue Lao, Li Guanyi grew even more cautious.

Without knowing the true situation, he did not reveal himself; instead, he lightened his steps, took a wide detour, and hurried back, planning to find Xue Lao first.

But this mountain-searching operation was too large, and viable routes were few.

Li Guanyi directly collided with two fugitives.

They were two Cultivation Entry martial artists; seeing Li Guanyi in his blue robe, bloodstained, holding a dented Mo Dao, they froze for a moment—then spotted his military officer's waist token and realized this was the young officer who had shouted to open the city gate. Without hesitation, they lunged to kill him.

Cultivation Entry internal qi erupted.

They had already trained the post-Cultivation Entry arts.

Their speed, strength, techniques, and now their desperate will to kill far surpassed pre-Cultivation Entry martial artists; their killing intent rivaled Qian Zheng's. Li Guanyi had killed Qian Zheng with his bow—now, without it, and with two men flanking him, he gripped his dented, notched Mo Dao.

He surged forward.

The aura of Cultivation Entry radiated.

The two fugitives tightened—then relaxed.

The aura was pure but scattered—clearly, he had not yet trained the post-Cultivation Entry arts, had not fully elevated his power. He was newly entered. The two struck left and right in unison; Li Guanyi twisted his body, swinging his blade in a sudden horizontal cut.

One against two—military taboo.

Bai Hu roared; a faint shimmer flowed along the blade's edge.

A crisp sound—not like metal striking metal.

The Mo Dao sliced through effortlessly; the two fugitives' weapons were severed.

Their expressions froze.

The blade flew past, never touching Li Guanyi; in the follow-through of the sweep, he launched a leg technique—Chi Long coiled, his right foot slammed into the left fugitive's face. Bai Hu's aura turned crimson flame, visible firelight flashing.

The fugitive screamed, his face charred black, stumbling backward, clutching his face—large blisters erupted; though not fatal, he lost combat capability. Li Guanyi flipped his wrist—the Mo Dao pierced straight through his chest.

The other fugitive tried to flee; Li Guanyi leapt, both knees slamming into his back.

The fugitive was pinned; Li Guanyi gripped his throat with both hands.

Golden qi flickered across his fingers.

The fugitive's leathery Cultivation Entry skin instantly severed; blood exploded.

Li Guanyi exhaled.

In a flash, he had killed two Cultivation Entry martial artists—where killing Qian Zheng had required long breaths, now only a few breaths passed. The boy released his grip and realized his Pochen Qu internal qi had consumed fully seven-tenths.

The Law Form was useful—very useful.

But it drained primordial qi too violently.

Possessing a Law Form made one vastly superior to martial artists of the same level.

It was like hiding a big move in every basic attack.

Anyone whose face was burned by flame would panic and lose coordination; Bai Hu's aura severing weapons was a preemptive advantage—extremely effective.

Li Guanyi looted the bodies and found two waist tokens—both from border troops.

He grinned, wondering if General Yue Qianfeng had prioritized capturing fugitives with military backgrounds. He grabbed the tokens and headed into the city, where he eventually met Zhao Da Bing. Seeing a familiar face, the boy relaxed and spoke.

But the burly man turned deathly pale, stumbling back a step, every hair standing on end.

As if he'd seen a ghost.

Then he immediately realized, overjoyed: "Brother, you're still alive?!!"

Li Guanyi: "I never died."

Zhao Da Bing was overjoyed and quickly told him everything.

Li Guanyi borrowed his horse, leapt onto it, and rode straight toward Yicheng. The battle had just ended; the city gate was closed. The guards spotted the boy, his blue robe stained with blood, and froze—first wary, then overjoyed, shouting:

"Open the gate! Open the gate!"

"Huh? My lord ordered us not to open it!"

"Bullshit! This is Master Wu Sanguan Li, fresh from the battlefield—open the gate!"

"Huh?!"

Seeing the boy's valor, they admired him; seeing him return alive, none failed to rejoice. Armored soldiers on the wall bowed in salute, then opened the gate. The townsfolk, their hearts taut with tension, finally exhaled—when a red horse burst forth, the boy with sword in hand galloped past.

Bloodstained robes, sword at waist, black hair streaming.

Truly, truly.

Fine robes, spirited steed—youthful vigor.

The people he saved cheered. The sound spread; some grew curious, others began speaking of the boy's courage, some even laughed with relief at his return.

Li Guanyi rode to the literary gathering. When he arrived, the young scholars were lavishing praise on Li Guanyi—his rival, but a dead rival, so no need to suppress admiration; praising the boy showcased their own magnanimity.

"A brave man of benevolence—Brother Li's bearing is truly peerless."

"We are unworthy."

"Indeed, far too unworthy."

Only an old man in the corner kicked a handful of peanuts, watching the scene and barely holding back laughter. Beside him, the Black Tortoise did the same. A scion of a noble family sighed: "What a pity—Brother Li has met disaster. Had he not…"

"Nonsense! Brother Li is blessed by heaven—he will surely turn misfortune to fortune."

"Yes, yes! When Brother Li returns, we shall crown him leader of all scholars of Yicheng. Such talent, such courage and benevolence—who else could deserve it?"

All the scholars agreed.

Master Siming clutched his stomach, nearly laughing himself to death.

Suddenly, hoofbeats rang outside, mingled with the people's laughter. The scholars froze. Then came the servants' cries—the gate swung open. The warhorse's neigh echoed like a dragon's roar. A chestnut-red steed leapt forward, rearing up, upon which sat a valiant youth: blue robe stained with blood, sword at his waist.

He dismounted, and wooden plaques flew through the air.

"Gentlemen."

The boy stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over them, and replied:

"Li Guanyi—here I am."

The scholars' throats went dry.

The literary gathering fell utterly silent.

Only Master Siming toppled backward, sat hard on the ground, and clapped his hands in roaring laughter.