Chapter 225: South to North, North to South

The next day, dawn was just breaking.

The carriage stood outside the old street beside the inn, Meiqiu perched atop the roof, scanning the surroundings for the black-clad swordswoman whose whereabouts were unknown.

Xie Jin wore a conical hat, disguised as a wandering swordsman; both his weapons were wrapped in black cloth. He waited a moment outside the second-floor door, then saw Sister Bu, now dressed in a deep blue gown and veiled hat, step out of the room.

Bu Yuehua’s body was unharmed, but her spiritual soul had been shaken, leaving her listless and drowsy, her steps light and unsteady. After descending with Xie Jin, she glanced briefly at the chilly, empty street:

“No need to wait for her. She’ll catch up on her own.”

To save time on this journey, the three had raced forward without concealing their trail, only to encounter three waves of powerful enemies in the Phoenix Valley.

Though it was unclear whether their path had been leaked midway, returning with full spoils meant they dared not fly back openly again.

Xie Jin sat outside the carriage, sending Gui Xi to track her down, only to discover that the Ice Block, utterly humiliated, had hidden herself inside a tavern on the same street, peering out silently without showing herself.

As a Daoist immortal maiden, she had crushed a junior disciple, then been caught red-handed by her archenemy—such a mortifying incident would make anyone shut themselves away for days.

Seeing this, Xie Jin could only pretend not to notice, gently urging the carriage northward, then asking thoughtfully:

“Sister Hua, where are you headed next?”

As mistress of the Crescent Mountain Villa, Bu Yuehua’s base lay beyond Zhennan Pass. Her original purpose for entering the pass was to find a way to remove the Seven Star Nails—but not only had she succeeded in removing them, she had also broken into the Supergrade and even received the Five Directions’ Divine Bestowal.

All this good fortune came from her daughter-in-law, and Bu Yuehua had personally witnessed this young man’s treasure-seeking divine ability. She was merely a minor villa mistress under the Witch Alliance, reluctant to part ways and return home.

Yet as Wanyi’s master, following her daughter-in-law’s husband around to reap benefits all day was unseemly. After some thought, Bu Yuehua said:

“At Phoenix Tomb, we agreed I’d help you find a Tiger Bone Vine. I’ll now seek out leads for you—just focus on advancing your cultivation quickly. Don’t end up like me or Sister Mu, stuck at the peak of the First Grade for years before breaking through.”

Seeing Sister Bu wasn’t leaving the group, Xie Jin had no objection:

“Crossing from the Third Realm to the Fourth is like a thousand troops crossing a single log bridge—getting stuck for years is normal. Sister Hua needn’t rush. First, slowly restore your spirit. There’s plenty of time ahead.”

Bu Yuehua smiled lightly. Too proper to banter with her daughter-in-law’s husband, she leaned against the carriage wall, closing her eyes to rest, quietly studying the newly warmed Lingguang Divine Bestowal.

Meiqiu was exceptionally well-behaved. Seeing the big-eyed woman collapse into sleep, she crawled beside Xie Jin, opening her beak for food.

“Giddy-up—”

Clip-clop, clip-clop…

The small carriage slowly faded down the street.

Inside the tavern beside the road, Nangong Ye stood by the window in a black dress, watching the passing carriage, her gaze filled with mixed emotions.

Though her disguise hadn’t been exposed, the current situation was no different from total ruin. From now on, she wouldn’t be able to hold her head up before the demoness—even had to beg her not to expose her.

As the Sect Master of Zihui Mountain, how could she be held hostage by a demoness like this?

To turn things around, the demoness would have to be entangled with Xie Jin, and her disciple entangled too—then the demoness couldn’t mock her from fifty paces…

Though difficult, the demoness had stayed after getting everything she wanted, even followed Xie Jin around—two people alone, surely something must happen…

Once the demoness took the plunge, her disciple would naturally come into contact with Xie Jin, and then…

What the hell am I thinking?

Nangong Ye felt herself growing less like a Daoist who cultivated purity and stillness. Sensing she had developed a “heart demon,” she quickly suppressed her chaotic thoughts, donned her veiled hat, and quietly followed behind, embarking on the long journey home…

—

Early winter arrived; a cold wind carried the first snow of Jingning Year Eight, scattering across the vast, desolate land beyond Shanhé Pass.

A delegation of over three hundred traveled along the road, still tinged with autumn’s fading gold, flanked by black-armored Wu Zu. Immortal officials like Jing Kong and Jing Wuniang accompanied them.

The Mo Lin Wu Zu had originally been Dan Wang’s personal guard; after entering the capital, they merged with the Red Lin Guard, becoming the Son of Heaven’s private guard, with all ranks and positions adjusted accordingly.

For instance, Tie Fengzhang, once Master of Military Affairs at the Wang Fu, now led the Imperial Guard. Zhu Wenyuan became Deputy Commander of the Red Lin Guard. Even Fei Ji and Yang Dabiao, thanks to their ties to Xie Jin, rose from County Lieutenant and Lieutenant Clerk to Battalion Commander and Deputy Battalion Commander of the Red Lin Guard.

Yang Dabiao, clad in a crimson brocade robe embroidered with a qilin, rode among the procession, scanning the northern and southern merchant caravans who stepped aside to let them pass. His thick brows and large eyes held a quiet sigh: “A true man should be like me.” He muttered softly:

“My father always said northern barbarians wore animal hides, didn’t farm or plant, lived by hunting—yet this looks no different from inside the pass…”

Fei Ji, walking beside him with a sword at his waist, stood tall to uphold Great Qian’s dignity. Seeing this little brat gawking around, he tapped him with his scabbard:

“Your father meant the steppe barbarians beyond the Zhenbei Protectorate of Bei Zhou. Bei Zhou governs twenty-four prefectures, plus three protectorates: Andong, Anxi, and Zhenbei. Excluding newly conquered protectorates, the fifty-six prefectures of both northern and southern courts are the realm the Emperor once conquered—dynasties rose and fell, but the names never changed.”

Yang Dabiao whispered: “So Great Qian hasn’t expanded its territory?”

Fei Ji frowned: “Don’t put it that way. The Witch Cult rebellion’s main battlefield was in the south. The previous dynasty, Da Qi, was destroyed. Great Qian has only existed for a century—we’ve been recuperating, that’s all. We haven’t expanded yet.”

As the two chatted, many southern scholars in the delegation gazed curiously around. Most came from the National Academy, others from the Danyang Academy and Songshan Academy.

In the center of the procession, Princess Changning’s carriage had its window open. Duo Duo, smelling of milk, caught snowflakes in her hands, eyes wide with wonder:

“Wow~ It snows so early up north…”

Inside the carriage, Princess Changning lay on a soft couch in lavish robes. After taking the “Vitality-Reviving Pill,” she had to sleep immediately—she’d likely wake up already in Yanjing.

Linghu Qingmo sat nearby in deep meditation. Hearing the sound, he glanced out, equally surprised.

South of Huaijiang belonged to the south, where snow rarely fell even in winter. Beyond Shanhé Pass lay the north, where heavy snow often blocked roads in winter.

The delegation moved slowly due to its size. Dan Wang urgently needed to understand Yanjing’s high-level politics and couldn’t wait until spring. Thus, as soon as preparations were complete, they departed. Xie Jin was on the delegation list, to rejoin them upon their return.

Linghu Qingmo knew Xie Jin had gone to the southern frontier to seize opportunity, but didn’t know his current status—he worried deeply. As the procession moved, he often glanced back, checking if his boyfriend had caught up, and occasionally stole a look at the sleeping “sour radish.”

Behind the princess’s carriage followed another, marked with a wooden plaque reading “Lin.” The window was open, revealing a delicate, porcelain-faced face, excitedly speaking:

“Auntie, auntie~ It’s snowing!”

“Shh~ We’re traveling. Don’t be so dramatic…”

…

Lin Zisu was a top student of the Danyang Academy. This trip was officially for academic exchange between southern scholars and Yanjing. The south couldn’t send a group of mediocrities to embarrass themselves. As one of the “Twin Jewels of the Academy,” Lin Zisu was chosen as the representative for medical students. The Academy’s top milk-giver, Wang He, was also among them.

Though neither was a normal girl, their constant mischief didn’t stop them from earning top grades—clearly, their talent was so overwhelming it would leave Yanjing’s peers breathless.

Lin Zisu heard she’d meet the “female lead” of the Empress Dowager’s secret history, packed her bags at home, and prepared to run off. Lin Wanyi, as her guardian, couldn’t possibly let Zisu travel alone to a foreign land. Learning Xie Jin was going too, she came along as family.

Linghu Qingmo glanced briefly, hadn’t yet spotted Lin Wanyi, when Yang Dabiao called out:

“Lord Linghu, still waiting for Jinhuan? I’ll keep an eye out—I’ll notify you the moment he arrives…”

“?” Linghu Qingmo, fearing mockery, scowled and quickly shut the carriage window.

Click.

Yang Dabiao turned his gaze to Fei Ji beside him:

“By the way, rumors say Jinhuan is the Empress Dowager’s… what? If we reach Yanjing and they meet…”

Fei Ji frowned: “You believe street gossip? Jinhuan’s father never set foot in Bei Zhou. Jinhuan spent the last three years training outside. And Empress Dowager Guo is busy with state affairs—how could she possibly spend days wandering around with Jinhuan, let alone secretly pledge their lives at Beiming Lake?”

“True. Sigh~ Too bad Master Xie passed away early—if he could see me now…”

“He’d only think heaven’s eyes are blind—that this little brat became Deputy Battalion Commander.”

…

Meanwhile, in Yanjing.

Xie Wen, dressed in the robe of a Yuanwailang, stood by the window, sleeves clasped, gazing at the snow before the courtyard, his eyes carrying a faint sigh: “The wind howls, the Yi River runs cold—brave men depart, never to return… yet I’m enjoying myself.”

Too bad he was alone in a foreign land. If Niao Deng were here, seeing this heavy snowfall, he’d surely be rolling around the courtyard, perhaps even composing a spontaneous poem: “The north wind blows, snowflakes fall like feathers…”

As he pondered, a chief clerk from the Capital Court approached with a dossier, his expression surprised:

“Lord Guo, this constable bears a striking resemblance to the southern Xie Jin—a girl of eighteen or nineteen, and in just a few days she’s captured seven or eight dangerous bandits…”

Xie Wen was a true outsider in Yanjing’s bureaucracy, with no background or connections, and feared being recognized as southern. He had entered service under the guise of a Guo clan member. Hearing this, he snapped back to attention, took the dossier, and examined it:

“Jiang Xian’er. She does seem capable… The Empress Dowager values talent. Observe her closely. If she truly proves worthy, report her to Her Majesty.”

The clerk nodded, then added: “People from the Ministry of Rites say Deputy Minister Lu Yan was beaten outside.”

Bei Zhou revered the Zhuji lineage. The Ministry of Rites oversaw rituals and temples, and its minister had long been held by the Zhuji sect’s patriarch. Over time, the Ministry evolved into Bei Zhou’s top violent institution, its authority and power nearly equal to the southern Court of Celestial Observations.

Although Bei Zhou’s Daoist sects wished to replace Zhuji as the state religion, the Daoist patriarch couldn’t serve under a foreign faith. Since they couldn’t avoid occupying a position in the capital, Lu Yan, the second-in-command of the Zanyan faction, was stationed here, his office close to the Ministry of Justice.

“A living immortal like Master Lu? Who could beat him?”

“I don’t know the details. But whoever can defeat Master Lu must be a patriarch-level elder. When Master Lu returns in a few days, we’ll know.”

—

After departing Ruizhou, Xie Jin traveled north by boat and carriage, arriving in Luojing by October.

He had agreed with Lu Wu to return in ten days, but complications arose while seizing opportunity in the Phoenix Valley, delaying him several days. To return swiftly, he made no stops along the way.

Bu Yuehua followed, but spent nine-tenths of her time nurturing her spiritual soul. No minor incidents occurred between them. The Ice Block trailed behind until they reached Luojing, then vanished—no doubt retreating to Fengyi River to sulk in solitude.

Xie Jin returned to the capital smoothly, his worries fully lifted. He first delivered the Immortal Lady to Hou Mansion to recuperate, then inquired about the capital’s situation on Zheng’an Street.

With the new monarch’s succession unstable, everything moved at breakneck speed. To prevent further incidents, Dan Wang had formally ascended the throne days ago, becoming Great Qian’s new sovereign—henceforth, he must be called His Majesty.

The delegation to Bei Zhou had departed eight or nine days ago. Only Hou the Chief Steward remained at the Wang Fu.

He wasn’t taken along not because he was unworthy, but because he talked too much. In Great Qian, no one cared. But in Bei Zhou, if he said:

“That man sitting up there? He used to be Xie’s mistress…”

The scene would be hard to manage.

Xie Jin noticed neither Princess Mo Mo nor even the very well-behaved Duo Duo were present. He had no interest in chatting with Hou the Chief Steward, so he went to the Lin household—only to find Wanyi and Zisu gone, and even Dabiao hadn’t stayed behind.

Seeing all his friends and family had traveled to Bei Zhou, Xie Jin decided Luojing held no further appeal. He grabbed his pack and prepared to leave.

But before departing, he had to meet the new monarch. After packing his gear, he went to the palace.

As the saying goes: one emperor, one set of ministers. With the new sovereign’s ascension, most palace staff had been replaced. A eunuch led Xie Jin to the Imperial Study, where he saw Zhao Xiao, clad in a dragon robe, discussing affairs with a civil official.

The official wore the same robe as Li Gongpu—likely the newly appointed Huangmen Lang. Xie Jin didn’t recognize him, but sensed his aura was formidable.

Zhao Xiao, having ascended the throne, had been overwhelmed for half a month, sleeping poorly. Seeing Xie Jin arrive, his brow brightened with relief. He rose to greet him:

“Jinhuan, you’re finally back! I heard there was chaos in the southern frontier—were you unharmed?”

Xie Jin bowed forward: “Just a scramble for treasures. I ran fast—no major harm. Who is this gentleman?”

The elegant civil official beside him smiled warmly:

“Xu Tong of Jiangzhou. I’ve long admired your name, Young Master Xie. Meeting you now confirms your reputation.”

Xie Jin had spoken out of politeness, but hearing the name, his heart jolted—“Xu Tong” was a name he had indeed long heard of.

Great Qian had too many Confucian scholars in its bureaucracy, but the three most influential were the Hualin Li clan, the Jiangzhou Xu clan, and the Ye Sheng lineage.

The Hualin Li clan represents the northern gentry, while the Xu clan of Jiangzhou leads the southern gentry; their influence is evident even in how Li Gongpu, despite holding the post of Huangmen Lang, still claims descent from the Hualin Li clan.

Xu Guanfu, one of the Seven Martial Tyrants, is a collateral branch of the Jiangzhou Xu clan. Though his status among the Seven Martial Tyrants would warrant a separate page in any ordinary family genealogy, the Jiangzhou Xu clan refuses to acknowledge him—just as the Hualin Li clan disowns Li Gongpu—for fear he brings shame upon their name.

Xu Tong is the patriarch of the Jiangzhou Xu clan. Regardless of his political influence, his swordsmanship is profoundly deep, for Confucians uphold the ideal of “cultivated in both literature and martial arts, with poetic heart and sword spirit”; one may achieve lasting fame through writing alone, but cannot lead.

Xie Jinhuan knew the Dan Wang’s consort hailed from the Jiangzhou Xu clan, but as a daughter of the second branch—not Xu Tong’s own daughter. Seeing Xu Tong personally come to support the Dan Wang, he was genuinely surprised, and bowed again:

“So it is Master Xu. I’ve long heard your name; to meet you today is a fortune of three lifetimes.”

Xu Tong was quite approachable. Seeing the Dan Wang wished to discuss matters, he took his leave from the Imperial Study.

Zhao Jinghuan, though now Emperor of Daqian, still retained his former informality. After Xie Jinhuan was seated, he exchanged a few words of concern before turning to the matter at hand:

“You are not of the court, yet you tirelessly travel for the people’s peace—it is already no small feat. As an elder, I ought not to summon you like a servant. But you know the current situation: holding the court and realm together is hard enough; should an external enemy arise, we cannot fathom what chaos may follow.”

“This mission to Beizhou was sent because our spies cannot discern the northern high command’s intentions. You are capable and renowned; you’ve previously mingled with imperial relatives and nobles. With your abilities, you should be able to discern the truth behind their words…”

Xie Jinhuan asked: “Your Majesty means for me to determine whether Beizhou intends to invade southward?”

Zhao Jinghuan nodded slightly: “Beizhou certainly wishes to invade south and unify the realm. Our Daqian wishes to march north as well—but such matters depend on timing, terrain, and human harmony; they cannot be decided on a whim.”

“Your primary task is to assess the ruler’s circumstances, then, combined with her character and conduct, deduce whether she will risk a southern campaign in the coming years. This is difficult: whether to wage war hinges chiefly on Grand Empress Guo. She is no ordinary woman—you will meet her and still find her inscrutable. You must analyze every subtle clue, from top to bottom…”

Xie Jinhuan feared a northern-southern war more than even the Dan Wang, for he would be caught between both sides. He said at once:

“I will do my best to clarify the situation. Your Majesty need not worry too much. A war between north and south will engulf the entire realm, but Daqian is no paper tiger that collapses at a single touch. Even if Grand Empress Guo harbors such intentions, she must weigh her options carefully.”

“Do your best. Even if you uncover nothing, treat it as a journey to broaden your horizons in Beizhou…”

…

—

These past few days, my focus has been poor; I keep dozing off while thinking, spending ages on a single line. Apologies for the sparse output—I may also update tonight tomorrow or2.

(End of Chapter)