Chapter 61: Hold the Divine Blade Again!

Li Guanyi's appearance froze the entire literary gathering.

Those scholars had just praised this youth as unparalleled, supreme above heaven and earth—but such honor only suits the dead; if this man still lived, their earlier flattery was nothing but sewing his glory into their own reputations.

The aged laughter was shrill.

Li Guanyi walked forward, right hand gripping his blade, left hand clutching the identity tokens of the assassins and fugitives; many scholars saw his bloodstained robes, torn at shoulder, thigh, and chest—clearly struck by crossbow bolts—radiating a chilling aura of slaughter.

The complex emotions of the gathering: the scholars' secret delight at Li Guanyi's presumed death, mixed with their pretended sorrow and regret, formed a false, peculiar atmosphere.

Scholars were weak, steeped in decadent trends.

All of it shattered at once.

Li Guanyi raised his hand and flung the wooden tokens to the ground; they clattered as they landed.

The Seventh Mo Juzi's expression darkened.

He recognized the origins of these assassins.

One scholar, seeing Li Guanyi enter, tried to speak, his throat suddenly tight: "You—you're back, Brother Li? Truly… truly wonderful." He forced a warm smile, yet his hand instinctively tightened around his fan.

Li Guanyi nodded in thanks, raised his brow; the old man sat cross-legged in the corner, dressed plainly, raising a ceramic bowl and laughing: "Hey! Li Guanyi—how many did you kill?!"

Li Guanyi answered: "Seven."

Master Siming asked: "What realm were they?"

Li Guanyi walked forward: "Above Entry."

Master Siming laughed again: "Thirsty? Here, I've something to quench it."

Li Guanyi saw no familiar faces, strode forward, and the other scholars parted for him; he saw the calligraphy scrolls on all sides, each bearing poems—elegant phrasing, extolling bravery and righteousness, lamenting early death, mourning spring's passing, all to express their own aspirations.

They claimed they too wished to be like this dead youth—bold, drawing their blades, and so on.

Even in death, they wrote, their glory shone like celestial auroras.

These scrolls hung on either side, swaying gently in the wind.

But alas, Chen's literary style was ornate.

This theme was equally limp and soft; as a child, he had fled across the land, seen countless people—common folk in the markets rarely acted like this: eyes clearly revealing "You're alive?", tinged with faint regret, yet faces smiling falsely—repulsive.

Li Guanyi lifted his cup, tilted his head, and drank; the liquor was not this world's rice wine, but strong spirits—his body had never tasted alcohol, yet now he swallowed it down, fire searing his throat. He looked at the hanging poems, at the scholars, then at Wei Xuancheng, and said:

"I have one more poem unwritten."

Wei Xuancheng handed him a brush: "Please."

The youth pressed one hand to his blade, lifted the brush, scanned the words, then wrote—his grip on the brush like a sword swing; Wei Xuancheng stood beside him, watching Li Guanyi wield the brush as if wielding a blade, and whispered:

"Ten years honing a single blade."

Silence fell. Such plain words, unlike the elaborate flourishes of Jiangnan, carried an inner spirit—perhaps the sharp edge born from Li Guanyi's walk forward after slaying seven Entry-rank warriors.

"Its frost-edged tip has never been tested."

"Today I show it to you."

Wei Xuancheng straightened his posture, whispered:

"Who has an unjust grievance?"

The Mo Juzi looked up, gazing at the upright youth, eyes alight with unusual emotion.

Li Guanyi finished the last line, flung the brush onto the table, spat out a rush of air and liquor from his chest—finally feeling relief, exhilaration; these scholars, truly, were meaningless—he'd rather be a warrior.

"I'm done."

He bowed, then strode out, seeking the Xue patriarch.

His poem and deeds, bold and spirited, made the elder scholars sigh.

Then hurried footsteps approached; before anyone spoke, a figure stood there—Xue Shuangtao stared wide-eyed at Li Guanyi. The youth's earlier aura—mounting a horse to kill, dismounting to write poetry—vanished. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask who had touched his bow, whether he could be reimbursed for the fifteen hundred guan…

Xue Shuangtao gritted her teeth, suddenly charged forward.

She did not dodge.

Then slammed into Li Guanyi's chest.

Li Guanyi suddenly remembered how Young Lady often kicked his shin in frustrated anger.

He recalled Xue Changqing's words: "She's a tigress."

Before he could react, Xue Shuangtao knocked him down; his exhaustion surged, vision spun, the world inverted—he crashed heavily to the ground, Xue Shuangtao falling atop him, the crisp chime of her jade hairpins blending with the clang of the youth's falling blade.

Xue Shuangtao bit her lip, spoke quickly and softly:

"You big bastard."

Li Guanyi grinned faintly, murmured: "Young Lady, someone touched my bow—can you reimburse me? Just… give me a simple one…"

Xue Shuangtao suddenly laughed.

Her pale face still glistened with tears.

She wept and laughed at once.

Her eyes reddened at the corners, more brilliant than the finest rouge in the world.

………………

The literary gathering ended that day; many scholars and noble youths looked pale—whether from Li Guanyi's killings or something else, Li Guanyi did not know who Master Wang Tong ultimately chose.

Only the Xue patriarch returned from outside the city, personally using his vast inner power to cleanse Li Guanyi's wounds, then applying the finest pills.

Li Guanyi wanted those pills discounted.

But the patriarch waved his hand: "The pills? I'll give them to you. Money? No."

You must earn your own money.

Only by earning it yourself will you learn frugality.

That night, after his medicinal bath, Li Guanyi changed clothes, sipped tea in the Listening Wind Pavilion, and recounted the day's battle to the patriarch; other matters involving Yao Guang he withheld. Xue Daoyong listened, grim-faced, then sighed after a long silence:

"If not for your arrow warning, old man would've been finished."

"But how did you find him? He's one of the top ten assassins in this world."

"He's escaped after assassinating a prince."

Li Guanyi had already prepared his answer. He pointed to his eyes and said calmly and sincerely:

"It's a matter of angle."

"Angle?"

"Yes. You two were in the air, still fighting, all your attention fixed on your opponent, so you couldn't notice him. But when I was below, I saw what looked like a glint of reflected light from a blade behind you, so I shot an arrow to warn you."

Xue Daoyong pondered, then said: "So that's how…"

"I never expected his movement technique had such a flaw."

Li Guanyi said: "Perhaps your qi disturbance disrupted his technique and exposed the flaw."

The old man laughed. "Don't flatter me—we're between us."

"You've already called me an old scoundrel. Now you say this?"

Li Guanyi kept his gaze lowered, nose to heart, obediently silent. The old man poured him a cup of tea and said:

"Today those literati wrote poems mourning you. I got bored watching and went outside—I didn't see you slap their faces. Wang Tong said your poem was naturally perfect, plain in language, swift in thought, a masterpiece of the realm."

"They thought you were dead, so they're slathering gold on your name."

The old man cursed: "Stuffy literati!"

He drank again and said: "I've found out."

"I'm covering for you on this title of 'top scholar of Yicheng.' Once they say it, they can't take it back! Hmph. I'll have your verses printed in hundreds of thousands of copies and send them all along the Western Regions, the Tujue, Jiangnan, Saibei, and the Central Plains."

"Let you become famous first."

"Also, Lu Youxian, that old soldier, though blunt, keeps his word. Today he secured you a seventh-rank military post: General Zhenwei Captain. Not bad—it matches your injuries. I wanted you higher, but anything above that isn't within his power to grant."

Xue Daoyong took pleasure in the misfortune.

When Lu Youxian announced the promotion, Li Guanyi's return itself meant nothing—but too many famous scholars were present, and Xue Daoyong was there too. The seventh-rank military post was firmly granted. Li Guanyi asked: "What's different about a seventh-rank military post?"

Xue Daoyong said: "Exemption from taxes, exemption from land tax."

"If you're abroad, people will willingly become your tenant farmers, putting their fields under your name to avoid land tax; you'll receive a substantial portion of land produce annually, plus imperial stipend, rewards, official robes—and as an official of Jiangzhou's left and right Yicheng, you must attend court during major state affairs."

"Most importantly, you may wear real full armor—not leather armor."

"Go claim the proper equipment."

"In a few days, I'll accompany you myself to the arms depot. Pick out a good set for yourself."

"Also, if I'm not mistaken, your pass with your aunt will arrive soon. This seventh-rank post occupies Lu Youxian's own position—he has a wife's clan and family, and among them are talented young martialists. This position, hey…"

"He's upright himself, but he has a wife, a family, and useless children."

Li Guanyi nodded, paused, then said:

"Xue Lao, I have something to tell you."

The old man raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Speak."

Li Guanyi looked at him.

The elder understood, waved his hand—and just like that day when Changsun Wuchou spoke of the world's great trends,

the hidden spies of Tingfeng Pavilion left.

All doors and windows closed. The night pearl illuminated the room. Li Guanyi then took out the jade vial. As Xue Daoyong frowned in confusion, Li Guanyi smashed the vial on the ground—and the assassin's recorded words and image appeared before them. Xue Daoyong's relaxed expression slowly vanished.

The Bai Hu behind the old man lay still, dormant.

Claws and fangs retracted, but a faint crimson glint lingered in his eyes.

He endured, holding back his claws and fangs.

Xue Daoyong's expression grew calm. He looked at Li Guanyi and said:

"Who else knows about this?"

Li Guanyi shook his head. The old man thought of Master Siming, who was close to Li Guanyi; he thought of the Broken Army Eight Cuts Li Guanyi claimed to have learned on the road, and of General Yue Qianfeng. He sighed: "So you've learned the Yin-Yang School's techniques. By the way, was your sword art truly learned from General Yue Qianfeng during your escape?"

Li Guanyi's face remained unchanged. "I have never lied."

The old man chuckled. "I thought everything you said about meeting this person, that person during your escape was made up to fool me and Shuangtao. But it seems, Guanyi, you're still an honest gentleman."

Li Guanyi thought for a moment, then avoided a direct answer and said:

"I am a warrior."

The old man pointed at him with a finger, then laughed helplessly.

Finally, the elder pressed his palm against the shattered jade vial, his gaze complex, and said:

"Good, good. Dan Tai Xianming."

Li Guanyi asked: "Do you know him?"

Xue Daoyong said:

"Know him? Of course I know him. He's a civil-military chancellor, his qi formidable."

"Born into poverty, yet risen to this position—he's a genius. Before he became famous in Chen, I met him. We once sheltered together in a ruined temple, broke through a bandit encirclement—he drove the cart, face pale with fear; I swung a yoke to smash heads."

"When we broke free, we were both exhausted—but exhilarated, laughing hard."

"Laughed until we were hungry, so we stole sweet potatoes. When we returned, the cart was gone—only two wheels remained. We just stared, ha ha!"

The old man laughed, stroking the jade vial: "He once held up his family heirloom jade pendant and swore to me he'd share life and death, never betray. Now, that scholar who'd rather starve than eat a steamed bun has become a high official."

"He's learned how to be an official."

"He's learned to strike hard at his Xue brother—and plans to kill his nephew's unborn child."

"He's become a true great official. I'm glad for him."

Xue Daoyong carefully stored the jade vial, saying nothing more about Dan Tai Xianming.

Li Guanyi had wanted to ask about the Regent Prince—but this secret, the deepest one concerning himself and his aunt, demanded extreme caution. He said nothing, deciding instead to first study the historical records, seek out traces, then speak with his aunt.

He had planned to finish his tea and leave, but the old man called out to him, turned, pointed at the Cloud-Piercing Heaven-Shaking Bow, and said:

"Go ahead and try it."

"Just as you said, today when you entered the territory, this bow suddenly began to keen."

"The guards I subdued tried to pin the bow down, but they were instead rebounded upon, their heart vessels wounded, at least ten years of bitter cultivation shaved off. A divine weapon has a spirit; there must have been some special change that triggered the anomaly — it should be related to you."

Li Guanyi looked at that bow; he too had the desire to grip it.

The cultivation method of the entering-the-territory realm naturally had it best to come with an inheritance; and the story of General Xue Shen still held many, many hidden secrets and doubts; after the arrow that chilled the light, there were also new moves. Li Guanyi walked before the divine bow, extended his left hand, and gripped the divine weapon — this bow began to hum and tremble.

The Bai Hu Dharma Aspect lit up and manifested beside Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi once again sensed that strand of inherited spirit-charm; within the bronze cauldron, jade liquid slowly grew, the portion of jade liquid corresponding to the Bai Hu Dharma Aspect about to be filled.

But just at this moment, the bow suddenly changed, its keen growing fierce.

Before Li Guanyi's eyes, breath suddenly surged, gathered, and formed an illusion-like scene — it was an endless desert, stars stretching ten thousand li, vast and boundless, and a battle-halberd appeared right before Li Guanyi's eyes. That halberd had an ink-black shaft, with dark-gold patterns upon it.

The halberd had a fierce tiger's maw; when the wind brushed past, it faintly sounded like a tiger's roar.

Pointing straight at the heavens!

Li Guanyi's left hand gripped the Cloud-Piercing Heaven-Shaking Bow; he hesitated a moment, then raised his right hand and extended it as well.

As if to touch the battle-halberd within that scene.

There was actually a real sensation.

Five fingers spread, right hand closed into a grip.

Li Guanyi held two divine weapons at once.