Chapter 8: Invincible of the Northern Lands

"Not many days left?" Zhao Ti's expression turned solemn as he looked at Tong Guan: "I've heard that Li Xianggong's martial skills are superb—how could he have fallen ill with such a terrible disease?"

Tong Guan wiped away his tears: "Wang Jia, my foster father is indeed skilled in the martial Dao, but he has been suffering from illness for many years. This servant does not know how he came by it."

Zhao Ti said thoughtfully: "If that's the case, quickly take me to see Li Xianggong."

Tong Guan hurriedly turned and opened the residence gate: "Wang Jia, please come quickly. This servant will go report to foster father at once."

Watching Tong Guan scurry inside, Zhao Ti asked Zhou Dong: "Guangzu, what is this man's martial skill like?"

Zhou Dong shook his head: "Wang Jia, this subordinate sees that Tong Guan's ability is quite ordinary—he doesn't seem to know internal cultivation at all."

Zhao Ti said: "Then he hasn't lied to me. While in the palace I once asked him about his martial arts and had him demonstrate his fists and kicks. They looked quite ordinary... By the way, how many adopted sons does Li Xian have?"

Zheng Fu answered: "Wang Jia, it seems Tong Guan is the only one."

"Only one?" Zhao Ti said doubtfully: "Li Xian's martial arts are extraordinary, and in his whole life he never suffered a single defeat. Why didn't he pass them on to Tong Guan?"

Zheng Fu said: "This matter, this servant did hear Tong Guan complain about. He said foster father has no disciples, and he is the only adopted son, yet foster father keeps his powerful techniques hidden and refuses to teach them to him, which makes him heartbroken."

"I'm afraid Li Dahuan's school of martial learning passes to only a single heir in each generation—cautious and careful, not passing on the mantle until the very end." Zhou Dong mused: "This kind of inheritance is not uncommon in the jianghu."

"Then if something unexpected happens, wouldn't it possibly be lost in the end?"

"Indeed so. Many formidable martial arts of ancient times were not all passed down to later generations—mostly for this very reason they were lost." Zhou Dong sighed lightly: "This subordinate once heard that in the Spring and Autumn period there was a sword art almost divine—one sword could break through three thousand iron-armored troops—yet today it cannot be seen."

"That would indeed be a divine skill." Zhao Ti thought for a moment: "It's possible some might still survive in ancient cave dwellings or the ruins of sects, simply beyond the reach of ordinary people."

Zhou Dong said: "Wang Jia's thinking also has its reasoning."

The group walked into the residence at this point, looking around. What met their eyes was extremely shabby. The residence was not small, but there was no decoration or embellishment whatsoever—not even a flower bed. A few old trees grew wild, an abandoned fishpond had become a dry pit, a broken vat was tossed beside it, moss covered the central path, weeds grew thick on both sides, and insects and grasshoppers hopped about.

How had things come to this? Zhao Ti was somewhat puzzled. By rights, even though Li Xian had retired from his post as Observer, his salary was not low. The Great Song had retirement wages, and maintaining this residence should have been more than enough. Besides, Li Xian had long been known for greed—this was one of the reasons officials impeached him. When commanding troops in the northwest he certainly embezzled plenty, but where had the money gone?

The residence had three courtyards in all. When the group reached the entrance of the first, Tong Guan came running out, drenched in sweat: "Wang Jia, foster father intended to greet you in person, but, but... he can no longer get out of bed now. He could only barely change his clothes and asked this servant to beg your pardon."

Zhao Ti waved his hand: "Li Xianggong is gravely ill—hasn't he summoned anyone from the Imperial Medical Bureau to examine him?"

"This servant raised it with foster father again and again, but foster father said summoning them would serve no purpose, and ordered me not to disturb the Grand Empress Dowager and the Imperial Majesty over it. He said to let the world think he had long been dead."

"In that case... take me to see him." Zhao Ti was puzzled in his heart. If it were truly illness, what reason could there be for not seeing a doctor?

They then passed through two courtyards of houses and arrived before the final room. Before they could enter, a strong smell of medicine reached their noses.

"Foster father buys his own medicines and has them decocted. He has been taking them for some years, but the illness has not improved—on the contrary, it has grown worse. Nearly all his wealth earned over half a lifetime has been spent on this."

Zhou Dong sniffed carefully to distinguish, and said softly: "Wang Jia, these should all be famous and potent medicines for nourishing blood and qi, prolonging life."

Zhao Ti considered. If it really were things like a thousand-year ginseng every few days, century-old polygonum multiflorum, lingzhi mushroom and the like, then even though Li Xian had once embezzled plenty, he would still have been eating his way through his mountain of wealth.

But what illness could possibly require taking these? To put it nicely, these were medicines for prolonging life; to put it bluntly, they were things used to keep a dying person clinging to breath.

Tong Guan opened the door to the third courtyard. Zhao Ti led his people inside—it was a flower hall, but old and broken, not living up to its name.

They then entered the east chamber. It was spacious, yet still dilapidated. Not only did the smell of medicine hit the nose, there was also an indescribable scent of decay.

At the very back of the room there was a horizontal couch, and on the couch, half-reclining and half-lying, was an old man.

Even without standing, one could tell this old man must have been extremely tall in his prime. His hair was completely white, his face covered in wrinkles like the deep furrows of a walnut shell. He was thin as a rail, with no spirit or vitality at all—looking like a man of seventy or eighty on the verge of death.

Zhao Ti raised his brow at the sight. In his memory, Li Xian at this time was only in his early fifties—how could he have aged into such an appearance?

The old man on the couch wore a brand-new purple official robe, but it had clearly just been put on—the collar was crooked, the sleeves were uneven in length, and the hem was pressed beneath his legs.

"This old minister Li Xian pays respects to the Prince of Yan, may you live a thousand years. Please forgive this old minister for being gravely ill, unable to dress properly or perform the rites."

Zhao Ti looked at Li Xian. He had seen him when he was a few years old, though at that time Li Xian had already left the palace. The reason he had seen him was because Li Xian had an audience with Emperor Shenzong to report military matters.

"It's fine."

Tong Guan brought over a chair. Zhao Ti sat down: "Last night I dreamed of the late Emperor. The late Emperor spoke of old ministers and mentioned Li Xianggong first, asking how Li Xianggong was. I did not know and felt deeply ashamed. Today I traced Li Xianggong's residence and came at once to visit."

"The late Emperor... sent a dream to the Prince of Yan?" Li Xian trembled all over on the couch, struggling to sit up, but helplessly lacking the strength. After collapsing several times, Tong Guan rushed over to support him, and only then did he manage to straighten his back.

"Indeed. The late Emperor also mentioned several Grand Chancellors Wang and others. I answered each one, but only Li Xianggong I did not know. The late Emperor rebuked me—saying Li Xianggong had bowed in the inner court, managed the northwest, recovered Hehuang, and fought bloody battles against the bandit Xia, performing great service to the realm. How could one not know his whereabouts?"

Zhao Ti spoke slowly. These were words he had prepared beforehand. Since Emperor Shenzong's passing, Li Xian had been demoted again and again, and surely harbored resentment in his heart. If he had opened by asking what martial arts you know, pass a few techniques to me, the man would likely refuse, and even if he agreed, what he gave might not necessarily be anything good.

Hearing this, Li Xian not only wept uncontrollably, his throat bobbed several times, and he raised both hands toward the heavens in salute: "My lord, this old servant is bound by grave illness and cannot live many more days. Soon I shall go forth to continue serving my lord. To have kept my lord waiting so long—this old servant is guilty!"

After he finished speaking, blood-tinged water actually seeped from the corner of his mouth. The blood was not bright red—within it, white rainbow light flickered, quite strange.

Zhou Dong said softly from the side: "Wang Jia, Li Xianggong must have suffered very severe internal injuries that have never healed. It is no ordinary illness."

Zhao Ti nodded. He saw Tong Guan run to a cabinet nearby, take out a black medicinal pill, give it to Li Xian, and feed him several sips of soup, and only then did his breathing stabilize.

"To have offended Wang Jia's eyes—this old servant is a man about to die, yet still troubles Wang Jia with a visit. I truly cannot set my heart at ease."

"Li Xianggong has rendered service to the realm. If no one from the royal house came to visit, would that not chill the heart? However..." Zhao Ti said: "I have heard Li Xianggong's martial arts are extremely high, and in those years you bore the nickname 'Invincible of the Northern Lands.' How could you have suffered such severe internal injuries that have not healed for years?"

Li Xian fell silent for a while, and only after half a day said: "Where did Wang Jia hear these things?"

Zhao Ti said: "I have loved the martial arts since childhood. This guard Zhou beside me is a disciple of the boxing master Jin Tai, Jin Lao. He holds Li Xianggong in admiration and told me this."

"A disciple of Boxing Master Jin?" Li Xian looked at Zhou Dong, his lips moving as if he wanted to ask something, but finally stopped. After a moment he spoke again: "Wang Jia actually takes pleasure in martial arts? That is truly rare. May I ask which cultivation technique you practice?"

Zhao Ti's heart rejoiced at the words. This was exactly what he wanted—to steer the topic onto martial learning. He had not expected the man to bring it up himself.

"I practice the sword—only a single swift sword style. There are no profound internal cultivation methods in the palace, so I have always relied on external force."

"Swift sword? A swift sword without internal force?" Li Xian looked at Zhao Ti, his ashen face thoughtful.

Zhao Ti nodded: "Precisely so. May I ask which cultivation technique Li Xianggong practices?"