Chapter 7

Zhou Dong nodded: “Wang Jia, indeed. Li Dahuan’s martial arts are formidable, but no one in the martial world knows the name of his style.”

Zhao Ti slowly leaned back against his chair, falling silent. Why did Li Xian’s martial arts feel so strangely familiar? Was it… the Kuihuabaodian ?

The Kuihuabaodian appeared during the Ming Dynasty’s Laughing in the Wind era, said to have been created by a eunuch of the previous dynasty—this “previous dynasty” could not mean the Yuan; nine times out of ten, it referred to the Song.

But… could Li Xian have created it?

Though Li Xian enjoyed immense favor under Emperor Shenzong, serving as Director of the Imperial Eunuch Bureau and Commander of the Imperial City Surveillance, later being dispatched abroad as Grand Coordinator of a circuit, and ultimately holding the supreme post of Northwest Pacification Commissioner during the Five-Route Campaign against the Xia, his reputation in later generations never matched that of his adopted son, Tong Guan.

Zhao Ti harbored doubts, but even if Li Xian hadn’t created it, he must know the true origins of this martial art.

“Li Xian…” he mused. Where was Li Xian now?

After Emperor Shenzong’s death, Zhao Xu was still a child, and Empress Dowager Gao Taotao ruled as regent. No one remained to protect him; all his past missteps and oversights during his Northwest command were dredged up by court ministers, who submitted memorials denouncing him.

Though Empress Dowager Gao had never held any grudge against Li Xian, to quell public outrage, she demoted him to Deputy Commander of Yongxing Army Circuit and Superintendent of Chongfu Palace. In the following years, accusations piled up, leading to repeated demotions until he was finally appointed Inspector of Xuanzhou and Superintendent of Mingdao Palace.

Later, Li Xian reportedly requested retirement; Zhao Xu approved it, granting him permission to reside wherever he wished.

“Reside wherever he wished” meant he could settle anywhere—yet since Li Xian was originally from Dongjing, he likely returned here to spend his final years.

Thinking of this, Zhao Ti called Bai Zhan inside and ordered him to summon Wang Fu’s chief steward, Zheng Fu.

Zheng Fu had been Zhao Ti’s personal eunuch in the palace, brought along when Zhao Ti established his princely household, overseeing all internal affairs of the mansion.

Soon Zheng Fu entered and bowed. Zhao Ti looked at him: “Do you know where Li Xian lives now?”

Zheng Fu froze, then answered cautiously: “Your Highness means Tong Guan’s adoptive father, Li Xian?”

Zhao Ti nodded: “I know you’ve long been in contact with Tong Guan. Has he ever mentioned this?”

Zheng Fu thought for a few breaths: “Your Highness, I recall—Tong Guan did mention it. He said his adoptive father retired and returned to the capital, living in Biexie Alley.”

“Biexie Alley?” Zhao Ti raised his eyebrows. It was a lane in the western inner city of Dongjing, not inhabited by officials or courtiers, but by Daoists, mystics, and lay practitioners—hence its name.

“Li Xian was once a frontier commander, led thousands of troops, achieved victories against the Western Xia—why would he live in such a place?”

“This…” Zheng Fu said, “Your Highness, Tong Guan said Li Xianggong was disliked by court ministers and resented by the military, so he chose Biexie Alley—it’s quiet, undisturbed, perfect for retirement.”

Zhao Ti pondered for a few breaths, glancing outside at the sky: “Then let’s go pay this Li Dahuan a visit.”

Now that he was certain this was the Tianlong world, Zhao Ti felt time was urgent. Though he’d trained in martial arts since childhood, he still had to race against the clock.

Tianlong began during the Yuanyou era of the Song Dynasty, but no one knew the exact year—had the events at Liangwang Mountain’s Sword Lake Palace occurred yet?

If not, he must find a way to sneak out of the capital and travel there to obtain the Lingbo Weibu and Beiming Shengong manuals. If the events were unfolding now, and the Wuliang Sect was under attack, he could still take advantage of the chaos to seize them.

But either way, he needed formidable martial strength—at least enough to defend himself before the enemy, or even against the Four Evils. If he arrived during the Shennong Gang’s assault on the Wuliang Sect, the Four Evils might be there too. These four slaughtered innocents without mercy—they wouldn’t care for reason if they crossed paths.

Even if he’d trained since childhood, even the weakest of the Four Evils, Yun Zhonghe, would be impossible to escape from easily.

The reason was simple: though he’d trained since childhood, he had never cultivated internal Qi.

It wasn’t that the palace lacked internal cultivation methods—he, as his rank, could easily obtain them from the Imperial City Surveillance guards or from martial schools in the city. In fact, he’d acquired several manuals—but after reviewing them, he chose not to practice.

He found those internal methods too crude. Those who trained in them weren’t particularly powerful—even less so than he, who focused solely on swift swordplay and external techniques.

Internal cultivation was laborious and draining. If he later found a superior method, could two internal energies coexist? And switching later would likely be difficult—so he’d delayed it until now.

But now that he knew this was Tianlong, things were different. It wasn’t that famous techniques were hard to practice—unless he could obtain Beiming Shengong, which absorbed all, he must first cultivate a renowned, profound martial art.

Beiming Shengong was his top choice. But to reach Liangwang Mountain, he needed self-defense capability. He couldn’t find another master in the capital. Though Li Xian likely practiced the Kuihuabaodian —a self-destructive art—he might still possess other divine manuals. He could ask for them, then head to Liangwang Mountain to investigate.

Without delay, he took a carriage instead of walking. Zhou Dong and his three companions joined him, with Zheng Fu guiding them straight to Biexie Alley in the western city.

It was early summer; daylight lasted long. By the time they reached Biexie Alley, dusk had just begun—the great sun hung like crimson rouge in the western sky, strikingly beautiful and strange.

The carriage entered the alley. It was utterly silent—only the jingle of horse bells reached the ear, nothing else.

Su Da slowed the pace. Zheng Fu peered left and right from the driver’s seat.

Most residents here were Daoists and lay practitioners, of considerable wealth—so their homes weren’t small, but still far inferior to the mansions of court ministers.

“Your Highness, this house seems to be Li Xianggong’s residence,” Zheng Fu pointed to a house beside the road. “I noticed none of the others have plaques, but this one bears the characters ‘Li Mansion.’”

Zhao Ti leaned out of the carriage and glanced—it was true. The house bore the characters, yet its size was nowhere near that of a true mansion. The plaque made it look awkward, almost comical.

“Get down and take a look.”

He stepped down from the carriage and walked toward the gate. Just then, the gate creaked open, and a dejected man emerged.

The man was around thirty, beardless, with sallow skin and a broad, muscular frame—strong and imposing, yet his face was filled with despair.

“Dao Fu…” Zheng Fu cried out upon seeing him.

“Huh?” The man blinked, looked at Zheng Fu, then noticed Zhao Ti. He shuddered, stepped forward two paces, and bowed deeply: “Your servant Tong Guan, pays respects to Prince Yan.”

Zhao Ti nodded. This man was indeed Tong Guan, Li Xian’s adopted son—so the house ahead was unquestionably Li Xian’s residence.

“Your Highness, why have you come here…?” Tong Guan’s face showed confusion.

“Dao Fu, His Highness has come to visit Li Xianggong. Is Li Xianggong at home…?” Zheng Fu frowned. “Why do you look so gloomy? Has something happened?”

“My adoptive father is indeed at home—but he is gravely ill, and his days are numbered.” As he spoke, tears welled in Tong Guan’s eyes.