Chapter 78: Intercepting the Young Lady on the Road

Fifteen chapters already?

Li Guanyi recalled what Xue Daoyong had said about the Ten Greatest Secret Arts of the Central Plains—the most esoteric of the Shen-cultivation methods, the Murong family’s “Twelve Layers of Jiangnan Mist and Rain.” He looked at Murong Qiushui, who smiled faintly at him: “Just a trivial trick.”

“Too many people in the world know this little trick.”

Li Guanyi said: “If many know the trick, how many can actually use it?”

Murong Qiushui reached out, pinched Li Guanyi’s cheeks, then clapped her hands together, flattening the boy’s face until his mouth bulged out. She pouted: “This isn’t important, little kitty.”

“The final part was figured out by Auntie herself.”

“So, besides me, only you can use it.”

Li Guanyi did not press further.

He and Auntie had relied on each other for ten years. Though countless questions still lingered in his heart, if she didn’t speak, he didn’t ask. After all, she would never harm him. If the technique worked, he would practice it. Yet this seemingly complex method made his head spin—yet when he practiced, he simply picked it up without hesitation.

His body moved instinctively.

This wasn’t learning. It felt more like remembering.

The shifts and turns of his internal Qi and spirit mirrored the ebb and flow of a zither’s melody.

Sustaining the spirit was like lightly pressing a finger on a string, tautening it to produce a long, resonant overtone.

He was like one utterly focused, abandoning all cultivation mindset, resting only in ordinary mind.

He had practiced this technique for ten years.

Over those ten years, he never treated it as a divine secret, but purely studied the art of playing the zither—simplifying complexity, reaching its ultimate limit, then reassembling all the techniques, until he could wield them effortlessly, naturally, like deep roots yielding lush blossoms.

This pluck, this tuning—

were all internal flows of the technique.

As Li Guanyi played, he heard Auntie’s muffled cough. He stopped, turned to see Murong Qiushui pressing a hand to her lips, and said: “Auntie, your old ailment’s flared up again?!” The boy dropped the zither and rushed over.

Murong Qiushui had suddenly fallen ill several years ago.

She coughed uncontrollably, her face pale. Before that day, she had been caring for Li Guanyi.

After that day, the young boy cared for her.

At thirteen, Li Guanyi worked at Huichun Hall, but later brought Auntie back to the Xue family, tending to her meals and daily needs meticulously. Her coughing had ceased for a long time, and Li Guanyi had gradually relaxed—yet today, it returned.

Li Guanyi supported Murong Qiushui, channeling his internal Qi from his palms.

Murong Qiushui’s body had never undergone Body Casting. She was no habitual warrior. Li Guanyi’s Qi could only travel an inch before naturally dispersing and collapsing. Murong Qiushui gripped his hand in return and whispered: “Just an old ailment.”

“Don’t worry about Auntie, little kitty.”

Li Guanyi looked at Murong Qiushui. She smiled faintly, her eyes calm.

Li Guanyi withdrew his hand and said: “Then Auntie, don’t tire yourself. I’ll play the zither myself. I’ll ask the kitchen to prepare some nourishing soup for you.”

Murong Qiushui pulled the boy into her arms, laughing: “Oh my, how wonderful.”

“Auntie just coughed once, and my little kitty immediately orders extra dishes. So filial.”

Li Guanyi’s lips twitched: “You!”

“You did that on purpose to scare me?”

Murong Qiushui burst into laughter, triumphant: “Didn’t Auntie tell you?”

“Beware of beautiful girls—they’re the best liars.”

“Auntie isn’t beautiful?”

Li Guanyi grinned unapologetically: “Middle-aged…”

Then his forehead took a sharp tap.

Murong Qiushui glared at him, her brows and features far more refined than the still-growing young lady, far more lively than Yaoguang. Li Guanyi rubbed his forehead and ran off to play the zither again. As he played, his gaze grew still, free of earlier playfulness.

His thoughts were tangled—what exactly was Auntie’s ailment…?

If the method she taught him truly was the “Twelve Layers of Jiangnan Mist and Rain,” the most hidden of the Ten Greatest Secret Arts, as Xue Lao had said—

then Auntie must possess tremendous cultivation.

Not the kind of warrior who kills with every step, but at least profound in spirit.

What could overwhelm her?

Li Guanyi unconsciously thought of the poison in his chest.

When they escaped back then—

his poison—

could Auntie really have escaped unscathed?

Auntie said his father wore a mask—was he that Taiping Duke? Or did others wear masks too? After all, in Xue Shen’s memories, Chen Guo’s ancestor, Chen Duke, wore the same dark-gold mask.

The more he traced back those events, the more mysteries he uncovered.

Li Guanyi suppressed his scattered thoughts.

He knew his mind was too cluttered—if it showed in his zither music, Murong Qiushui would hear it. He played quietly.

His Qi dispersed when transmitted into Auntie’s meridians.

Because after entering the realm, his Qi could leave his body—but he had only completed Body Casting, not yet condensed Qi. His energy was too unrefined; after leaving the body, it naturally dissipated. He’d need to speak with Xue Daoyong soon.

Tell him he had completed Body Casting.

He needed to begin the next stage of cultivation.

Most sects and clans transmitted their techniques stage by stage to prevent disciples from greedily rushing ahead and destabilizing their foundations.

Li Guanyi had not mentioned his Body Casting was complete.

Ordinary cultivators needed three years—he’d finished in barely ten days. It was absurd. He’d planned to wait for the right moment to explain in detail.

But now he was going to Jiangzhou City—

he should raise his realm.

To understand Auntie’s condition, he needed at least Qi Condensation.

And Master Siming—Li Guanyi’s “Tiger Roar Bone Forging Art” had reached the final threshold. According to the scripture, if he could harness the ambient Qi and fortune of heaven and earth during cultivation, he could push this art to its utmost limit.

Li Guanyi had previously thought of starlight.

Now, he would use the dying roar of the Tuyuhun kingdom’s collapse as the final catalyst—see how far he could push the “Tiger Roar Bone Forging Art.”

“【Wu cultivator’s bones elevate one tier, purify hidden injuries, expel hidden poison】”…

A thought surfaced in the boy’s mind.

If driven by the fortune of a fallen kingdom—

how much could it elevate?

The text didn’t say.

Because none of the past White Tiger Grand Masters had ever achieved the feat of destroying a kingdom. No—there had been one. Before him, the only one who, as a youth cultivating this art, bore the fortune of a kingdom’s fall.

Li Guanyi remembered.

He was the rival of the founding emperor of the current dynasty, the Red Emperor.

The warlord of the chaotic age, the forger of the Tiger Roar Heaven-Shaking Halberd.

The strongest White Tiger Grand Master in history.

To date—

the only one to complete this level of the “Tiger Roar Bone Forging Art.”

………………

The “little trick” Murong Qiushui mentioned, Li Guanyi mastered quickly.

But he discovered a new problem: mastering the technique and using it flawlessly were still worlds apart. In the following days, Li Guanyi practiced the zither with greater diligence, growing more skilled—yet he could no longer sustain the “spirit” disguise at all times.

That day, after practicing the zither, he took up his halberd and trained in the Xue family’s training ground.

He was already extremely proficient in the Xue family’s halberd techniques.

Yet “Rolling Waves” still eluded him.

He had sufficient weapons and completed Body Casting—but without Qi Condensation, his energy always scattered when executing this move. Li Guanyi wasn’t discouraged. He practiced each technique slowly. Xue Changqing watched enviously, and after Li Guanyi finished, he rushed over to pick up the halberd and mimic the motions.

Li Guanyi glanced around, not spotting the familiar figure, and said:

“Where’s the young lady?”

Xue Changqing raised his halberd and thrust forward, gripping the end with both hands, his fingers trembling:

“Huh? You’re asking about Sister?”

“Why don’t you ask me instead?!”

Li Guanyi tapped the boy’s head.

Xue Changqing grumbled:

“The palace sent an imperial decree summoning Sister inside.”

Li Guanyi paused slightly: “Summoned inside?”

Xue Changqing said: “The Empress said she’s lonely. In the next month, His Majesty must fast, bathe, and meditate in preparation for the Grand Sacrifice, so he can’t accompany her. He wrote to ask Sister to come to the palace to keep her company, and return with Grandpa after the sacrifice next month.”

“Sister isn’t happy.”

Li Guanyi said: “Not happy?”

Xue Changqing said: “The palace rules are too many! Sister only looks like a noble young lady, but she hates all those rituals—eating, drinking, walking, everything must follow etiquette. It drives people mad.”

“But the Empress is six months pregnant.”

Xue Changqing sighed: “Her moods fluctuate wildly, so His Majesty wrote personally. There are many Xue women who could accompany her—but this honor must go to a direct-line daughter. That leaves only Sister.”

“Grandpa didn’t hesitate—he agreed immediately.”

“The carriage and horses are already being prepared.”

“The young ladies from the noble families all congratulated Sister, envying her, as if there were some spring outing poetry gathering.”

“I suppose today’s not the day for martial practice.”

Li Guanyi said, “I see.”

He thought for a moment, letting Xue Changqing train on his own, while he went to see the Young Mistress—only to bump into her as she stepped out, with Zhao Da driving the carriage. Xue Shuangtao, spotting Li Guanyi there, asked curiously, “Aren’t you going to train?”

Li Guanyi smiled and gestured for Zhao Da to make room.

He plopped down beside her and said, “Nothing much. Training every day gets boring. I just wanted to take a walk. Zhao Lao, hope I’m not intruding.”

Zhao Da had long since prepared salt-baked peanuts and flower tea with practiced ease.

No intrusion at all.

Xue Shuangtao asked, “Did Changqing tell you that?”

Li Guanyi betrayed the boy without hesitation, sincerely saying:

“Kids have big mouths—don’t blame him.”

Xue Shuangtao sighed, gazing at the familiar scenery outside the window. After a long while, she said, “I really don’t want to go to the palace—it’s suffocating and pointless. Everyone speaks with hidden meanings, concealing all sorts of thoughts. Living there is exhausting.”

Li Guanyi asked, “Can’t you refuse?”

Xue Shuangtao replied, “If I refuse, won’t my aunt’s efforts be wasted? I’m a daughter of a noble house—I’ve been raised by my family since childhood, never lacking food, clothing, shelter, or comfort. There’s always gain and loss. When they need me, I can’t run away.”

“Gain always comes with loss. That’s just how it is.”

“Most noble daughters only want the gain, refuse the loss—that’s why they’re so bitter and pained.”

She lifted the carriage curtain, watching the scenery outside. It was already spring, and the Jiangnan Dao landscape was perfect. She rested her hands on the curtain, her chin resting atop it, and said, “I won’t see this view for a long time. Before, I could only see it when going to private school. Now, I just want to look as long as I can.”

Li Guanyi asked, puzzled, “If you want to see it, then go see it. Isn’t today supposed to be a spring outing?”

Xue Shuangtao laughed. “How could I? Even our spring outings are with other noble ladies—outside the city, by the stream, reciting poetry and composing couplets. They say they’re seeing me off, but really, they just want to gather and compare: who’s better at this, who’s better at that, constantly competing.”

“They think that, apart from family background, they’re no worse than me.”

“They won’t say it outright, but they’ll whisper it. So I just smile back—it’s exhausting.”

Li Guanyi said:

“What kind of spring outing is this? Isn’t it just covert rivalry?”

“And it’s meaningless.”

Xue Shuangtao laughed, with practiced ease: “That’s just how noble families are.”

Li Guanyi looked at the Young Mistress. Her expression was calm, unlike her usual self. He glanced at the knife at his waist, then thought of the bow and halberd on his back. He felt he couldn’t just sit idle. He rubbed his brow and asked, “Do you actually want to go on a spring outing?”

Xue Shuangtao said, “Huh?”

“What do you mean?”

Li Guanyi grinned. “I mean—do you want to see it?”

The Young Mistress nodded. “Of course I do—but…”

Li Guanyi said, “If you want to see it, then come out. Talking like this—this view is far clearer than that tiny square inside.” He reached out. Xue Shuangtao hesitated, then grasped his sleeve and stepped out—only for the boy to suddenly grab her wrist.

Then he pulled her outward.

The scenery of Jiangnan Dao and the sky burst into Xue Shuangtao’s vision.

The wind of Jiangnan, the azure sky, white clouds, willow trees on either side, the fluttering of the boy’s sleeves, his unrestrained laugh.

Not confined within that tiny square.

Li Guanyi grabbed her and yanked her out.

His right hand drew his dagger and spun, slashing.

A flash of cold steel.

The reins of the carriage’s two horses were severed. With a clang, Zhao Da’s carriage came to a sudden halt by the roadside. Zhao Da jumped in surprise, then saw the boy pulling Xue Shuangtao upward—Li Guanyi leapt onto one horse, Xue Shuangtao pulled up behind him, landing on the other.

The boy turned back and shouted, “Zhao Lao! Borrow your horses for a bit!”

“When I get back, I’ll tell the Old Man!”

“I’m taking the Young Mistress out for a spring outing.”

The two horses had been ready to gallop wildly, but when Li Guanyi glanced at them, the tiger beside him remained still—and the horses calmed, then broke into a full gallop. Xue Shuangtao, riding in her dress, widened her eyes and cried, “Y-you—you’re taking me where?!”

“I’ve received the invitation—I can’t refuse! Let me go back!”

Li Guanyi said, “Those noble ladies’ fake smiles and backstabbing poetry gatherings—I find them tedious just hearing about them.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t go. Looking so miserable doesn’t suit you, Young Mistress.”

He joked:

“If you’re in a bad mood, won’t you stop putting my weapons on your ledger?”

Xue Shuangtao’s eyes widened.

A tense feeling, breaking long-held rules, made her heart race.

She answered instinctively: “But—it’s against propriety.”

“I can’t refuse. If I don’t go, what will they say about me?”

Li Guanyi said softly:

“Young Mistress, you don’t have to live under others’ eyes.”

“Even if you enter the palace, don’t make yourself suffer.”

He voiced his concern: “These things won’t affect the Xue family. Within reason, let yourself be happy—it’s not wrong. You’re about to be locked away in the palace. Let yourself be free, just once. It’s fine.”

The two horses galloped swiftly down the road, leaving Zhao Da and the Xue family carriage behind. Old Zhao shouted from afar: “Hey hey hey, young brother, be careful! Don’t hit anyone!”

The maid Qing’er shouted from the other side: “Senior Li! Young Master—no, Li Guanyi!”

“What are you doing?!”

“How am I supposed to explain this to the other ladies?!”

The boy raised an eyebrow and said, “Just tell them this, Qing’er Sister…”

He turned back. Somehow, though he hadn’t touched the qin,

his aura shifted—naturally aligning with the style of the second chapter. A subtle, unrestrained, light-hearted grace emerged on its own. He hadn’t consciously triggered it—he didn’t even notice—but the technique began to flow naturally, ascending step by step. He simply smiled:

“A reckless fellow has kidnapped your Young Mistress!”