Chapter 65

Ten years ago, Tai Ping Gong died, and that was when Li Guanyi and his aunt Murong Qiushui began their flight.

Thirteen years before that was when Li Guanyi was born.

These two dates are crucial. Li Guanyi stared at them, combined with what his aunt had said—be cautious of the Chen royal family—and the conclusion seemed already guessable, yet still unclear. He gently brushed his fingers over the two lines of text.

Was he the child of the emperor who, thirteen years ago, abdicated the throne to the regent?

Was he hunted because his claim to the throne was seen as legally threatening?

Or was it tied to the regent?

A descendant of the regent's line, thus unacceptable to the current Chen court.

Or perhaps a descendant of Tai Ping Gong.

Because his achievements overshadowed the master, Tai Ping Gong met an untimely end ten years ago, and he delayed the pursuers so his aunt could flee with him.

All three are possible.

But combined with the assassin from Mo Jia uttering the words "the regent," Li Guanyi could be certain his and his aunt's pursuit was tied to the regent, and the number ten suggested he was inextricably linked to Tai Ping Gong.

Li Guanyi gripped the books and rose to leave.

Li Guanyi wanted to ask his aunt. He stood at Murong Qiushui's door, raised his hand, and knocked. There was no reply. Instead, the door slightly swung open from the knock—his aunt had raised him since childhood, like an elder sister, like a mother, and trusted him utterly.

Li Guanyi saw Murong Qiushui sleeping on her side.

Li Guanyi calmed down, realizing he had been affected by this so-called lineage. Seeing his aunt asleep on her side, clad in her undergarment, the blanket kicked off, he sighed. The boy felt helpless toward this one relative who was both sister and mother to him. He stepped inside and pulled the blanket back over Murong Qiushui.

"You're such a grown person, yet I, younger than you, have to take care of you."

Li Guanyi muttered softly under his breath.

Murong Qiushui slept soundly.

When he was young, she cared for him. Later, when her old illness flared up, he became the one to care for her.

Li Guanyi stood before Murong Qiushui, gazing at the scrolls in his hands. She slept quietly, her breath steady. The boy had intended to use the knowledge he'd gathered to ask pointed questions—but here, suddenly, he felt no need to ask anything at all. His expression softened.

He thought his earlier obsession with these matters was ridiculous.

So what if he were Tai Ping Gong's offspring? So what if he were the former emperor's child?

Even if he were the regent's descendant, it mattered nothing!

He was Li Guanyi.

In this chaotic world, it was his aunt who had carried him through, kept him alive. Without her, Li Guanyi would have long since been crushed into pulp beneath the night riders' hooves. That noble child had died ten years ago in the chaos.

Murong Qiushui had saved Li Guanyi from beneath the iron hooves.

Only Li Guanyi.

Regardless of his origin, any connection to those three made him an unacceptable figure to the Chen royal court. And given the current world's tone, as long as he kept his head down, the Chen emperor had no interest in dealing with a child who could no longer stir any unrest.

That was all he needed to know.

The identity of the past must not shape his life. Everyone must define who they are. Li Guanyi placed the scrolls on the table, sighed, and said: "So that's how it is."

"I was affected. It doesn't matter whose son I am."

"The blood tie is hard to repay, but I have no intention of entering the Chen court. All I have now is the debt of nurture."

"Li Guanyi is merely my aunt's nephew."

The boy murmured softly, stepped out quietly. Murong Qiushui still lay on her side, eyes open. Li Guanyi had let go of his obsession and tossed the scrolls—the histories and scholars' records—out. The scrolls fluttered down onto his bed.

The boy gripped the hilt of his sword, his expression calm.

Later, the Shi Guan would strain to fabricate miraculous omens for this lonely, impoverished boy.

But for this moment, they recorded only the truth.

They wrote that on the day he learned his past identity, the then-struggling boy had slashed through the documents and his past with a sword, unbound by yesterday, displaying the spirit of a heroic knight, the bearing of an emperor who eight hundred years prior had slashed a white serpent to seize heaven.

But Li Guanyi was honest: he had simply been angry that he'd gone to great lengths to find something dull, and had flung the things away in irritation.

He hadn't shattered the scrolls.

They were Xue family's books. If he'd broken them, the old master would have cursed him loudly—he might have to copy them himself, and with so many characters, his wrist would ache for days.

"That day I knew: I didn't need to find these things. My aunt didn't care."

"She hid the past because she feared I'd ignite a flame of revenge."

"If she had wanted me to seek vengeance, I would have known my father's name and my enemies from childhood. I would have practiced sword every day, not played the qin. I wouldn't have worn ragged straw sandals and run through the streets with a wooden stick."

"I wouldn't have spent days arguing with her over who should buy the roasted goose."

"I would have become a fire in this chaos, blazing across the world, then extinguished quickly."

"Turned to pale ash, scattered by the wind into the sky, leaving nothing behind."

"Perhaps my aunt once considered telling me of my hatred—but in the end, she gave up. No matter how cruel this chaotic world became, in her eyes, I was always the little cat-kitten curled in her arms, listening to her hum the lullaby his mother once sang."

The Grand Shi Guan smiled bitterly for a long while, then said:

"Can such words, such a term of endearment, be passed down to future generations?"

The man asked: "What do you think?"

After a pause, the Grand Shi Guan replied: "Naive. Childish."

"Not the heart realm of a sovereign."

The man laughed and answered: "Since it's such rare childish truth, please write it down and preserve it. Let future heroes and kings laugh at me."

And now.

Li Guanyi's desire for strength grew stronger.

"Strength…"

Li Guanyi couldn't sleep. He idly picked up a wooden stick and stepped into the moonlight. Holding the stick in one hand, he wielded the Xue family's war halberd. A single stick, gripped in one hand, moved with fierce, roaring energy.

The Ji Wu Zhi Ji of Xue Shen was effortlessly pushed to its peak—even in this courtyard, even with a stick as weapon—it still radiated a decisive, lethal aura. As the halberd's technique reached its zenith, it neared the moment to unleash the ultimate strike: Rolling Waves.

The inner qi of the Break-the-Formation Melody surged and exploded around him.

Li Guanyi stepped half a pace forward.

In the empty air, tiger roars seemed to rumble continuously.

With a flick of his wrist, the long staff became like a battle halberd, rising from below to above, slightly spinning, carrying the might of a storm sweeping all before it—as if to violently release all the pent-up frustration within him!

Rolling Waves!

The technique suddenly halted.

The movements were mastered; he could perform them perfectly.

But the internal Qi of the Breaking the Array Melody reached its peak—and still fell short of executing the internal transformations of this move.

Even so, it was already extraordinary: the tip of the staff in his hand trembled abnormally, and finally, during the swing, shattered from top to bottom.

The splintered pieces of the staff embedded into the wall, turning to dust.

Li Guanyi's right palm trembled slightly.

"This move… consumes too much…"

He grimaced; his right arm ached.

His body couldn't bear it—his internal Qi was exhausted, the staff shattered from the impact. The burden of this move was absurdly immense; one could imagine the grandeur it would unleash—ordinary entry-level cultivation techniques could hardly sustain frequent use of Rolling Waves.

Destroying Mountains and Rolling Waves were both Nearly the Realm martial arts.

He couldn't even use Divine Spear: Destroying Mountains.

Li Guanyi sat cross-legged, massaging his arm, thinking deeply.

"Hmm. Tomorrow, or the day after, I'll go to the old man and claim armor and weapons."

"Then I'll learn an entry-level cultivation technique, and after that, I'll be able to use Rolling Waves."

"The cultivation techniques after entry should be sufficient."

After that, I'll find Yao Guang and try to challenge Xue Shen's Mystical Realm—but before that, I must wear armor; it'll give me an edge, hmm—

And General Yue Qianfeng.

The Crimson Dragon Jade Elixir's enhancement should allow me to rapidly master an entry-level technique.

General Yue Qianfeng has left; I don't know when he'll return, or what changes he'll bring.

Li Guanyi pondered, and finally reached a conclusion: no matter his origins, power is everything. Li Guanyi knew that if his identity were exposed, the Emperor of Chen might find him an eyesore—he might not care, or he might simply sweep him away. Better to strengthen himself and flee quickly.

Of the Thirty-Six Strategies, flight is the best.

Li Guanyi spent much of today lost in thought, sleeping late; when he returned, he slowed his steps, afraid of waking his aunt.

The next day, he woke to the scent of food.

Li Guanyi blinked sleepily open, stepped out, and saw the meal on the table—Murong Qiushui had personally cooked, a rare sight. She smiled and pointed to the dishes. "Go wash up."

After washing, as Li Guanyi ate breakfast with his aunt, he saw every dish on the table was his favorite. Murong Qiushui's mood was clearly excellent. Li Guanyi added a bite of food—and suddenly, a thought rose in his mind:

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

Murong Qiushui blinked, then slowly curved her lips into a smile.

"Huh? What are you saying, little fox?"

"Auntie doesn't understand."

Murong Qiushui's smile was warm.

Li Guanyi suddenly understood everything.

She must have been awake!

The teenager's lip twitched; beneath the woman's smile, a crushing wave of social humiliation surged through him.

He hastily gulped down two mouthfuls of rice and fled in panic, running toward the Xue household, as the woman laughed behind him.

Today he went to claim weapons and official robes. The blacksmith, unusually, offered advice: "The master says you know halberd techniques, but battle halberds are too long. Those weapons require registration—better skip it. If you're claiming armor, take a hand halberd instead. I can modify it for you."

"Hand halberds are good."

When Li Guanyi returned with the items, the blacksmith waited at the door, took the hand halberd, weighed it, raised an eyebrow, and said: "Seventeen or eighteen catties, single crescent blade, center of gravity's fine, grain's straight. Wait a moment."

"I'll give it to you in half a month."

Beside him, Xue Daoyong asked: "That long?"

The blacksmith glanced at his master, sighed, and said: "Fine. Ten days."

The old man raised an eyebrow: "Hmm?"

The blacksmith sighed again and told Li Guanyi: "Alright. Tomorrow."

"I'll give you the item tomorrow."

Once spoken, he never retracted his word. The next day, as Li Guanyi trained, the blacksmith arrived with dark circles under his eyes, handed him a bundle, and said: "Done."

The battle halberd's blade now had blood grooves, and its end had been altered; the bundle also contained a long rod of black ebony.

It was flexible yet tough.

Both the halberd's end and the rod's tip had mechanisms.

The blacksmith gestured: "Try it—fit them together into a battle halberd."

Li Guanyi joined the hand halberd and the rod. With a crisp snap, he held a full battle halberd: a black ebony shaft, a fearsome halberd head. The blacksmith nodded in satisfaction: "Good. Not wasted my all-nighter."

"Your cultivation is just at entry level. This wooden rod's flexibility lets you dissipate force with technique. A pure metal battle halberd may deliver heavier blows, but your palm won't withstand the shock—it'll crack too soon."

Li Guanyi stepped forward, wielding the battle halberd in martial forms—not Xue family techniques, but basic ones—and still felt perfect harmony. The halberd radiated menace, bearing the weight and pressure of heavy weapons, yet also contained exquisitely refined moves. The weapon perfectly matched Li Guanyi's height and arm span.

Li Guanyi felt that a reverse sweep could unleash the full power of Rolling Waves without destroying the weapon. Too bad—the weapon was ready, but his strength wasn't. He now craved an entry-level internal cultivation technique more than anything, to truly unleash Rolling Waves!

The blacksmith smiled faintly: "Good, right?"

Li Guanyi suddenly remembered something: "This… modification cost…"

The blacksmith sipped tea from a large cup and said calmly: "Two thousand strings."

Li Guanyi's lips twitched.

The blacksmith looked at him in confusion and said, "It's under Young Lady's name anyway—why are you in such a hurry?"

Li Guanyi's words were cut off. "Not everything is under Young Lady's name."

The blacksmith said, "Are you leaving?"

Li Guanyi had no reply.

Just as he was thinking how to answer, Xue Daoyong's voice came: "Guanyi, Shuangtao, come here."

The old man smiled and said, "Come with me to choose your Entry-level cultivation technique."

Li Guanyi's eyes flickered with faint light.

Finally, they were choosing an Entry-level technique. Once he practiced it, this scroll of Tao could possibly be used. He shook his palm—the spearhead and wooden staff separated, both clattering into his weapon sack, which he slung onto his back, then strode forward, his heart brimming with anticipation.

The Xue family's secret treasury.

Enough to learn one, burn one—how many would there be?

What kind of peerless technique might it hold?

………………

Meanwhile.

Changsun Wuchou received his first letter.

He opened it—the text was concise:

"This man should not be dead."

"Act as you see fit."

"You must find him quickly."

Changsun Wuchou sighed. Calculating the time, this must have been the Second Young Lady's response and judgment after receiving the first letter—he couldn't help but marvel at her piercing insight.

In the State of Ying, beyond the pass—Duke Jingwu's mansion.

The Second Young Lady, whose bearing carried the aura of dragon and phoenix, saw the Jin Yu hawk in the sky, glanced at Changsun Wuchou's second letter without opening it, and already smiled: "A second letter this fast must mean something's changed—this man is surely still alive."

"I was right."

A younger girl beside her asked, "Sister, how did you know?"

The girl with her hair bound in a golden crown replied, "Out there, what do you call me?"

The girl blinked, then said, "Second Lord."

The young girl smiled and nodded. She unfolded the letter and explained: "If he had the insight to see through the changes in the Western Regions, he wouldn't miss the struggle in Guan Yicheng. If he broke out, he had at least a third chance—he wouldn't die so easily."

"Second Lord trusts him so much."

The girl lifted her gaze slightly and smiled: "Wrong."

"I trust myself!"

She unfolded the letter—just as she had predicted.

But what happened next made her eyes flicker in surprise.

A single man left the formation and killed seven Entry-level martial cultivators?

He rode out to kill, dismounted to write poetry. His gaze shifted, caught sight of the poem, and his smile faded slightly. After a long while, he softly recited:

"Ten years honing a single sword, its frost-edged blade never tested."

"Today I show it to you."

"Who has injustice?"

"Who has… injustice…"