"Stay at the inn, or come meet Lord Longyang with me? If blades clash, I might not shield you." Li Haime eyed Xue Nu, who was daintily picking at her breakfast.
"I'm going! No need for your guard—I'm fierce!" Xue Nu declared, puffing up her tiny fists.
Li Haime's gaze flicked downward—fierce indeed, though not overwhelmingly so. He dismissed it with a scoff, sparking her ire; she lunged, teeth bared to nip him.
"Then let's move." Li Haime sheathed Lingxu Sword; Xue Nu followed suit, claiming Jianjia.
The pair cut striking figures: one in flowing azure brocade, wielding a blade of peerless grace and unyielding loyalty, like a refined son of the turbid world; the other in pale green skirts draped with a goose-yellow fur cape, grasping a slender sword—like an otherworldly beauty adrift from the dust.
At the quay, four or five liveried guards patrolled with drawn blades, eyes sharp on the banks. On the weathered pier jutting into the wild waters, a figure some thirty summers old sat angling.
How to describe him? Crimson robes draped a frame of delicate poise: brows fine as willow leaves, lips thin and rose-petal soft, eyes vast as blooming peaches. Fingers slender and pale, build willowy as if a stiff breeze might topple him. Absent the subtle Adam's apple bobbing at his throat, discerning man from maiden would prove impossible. Even so, Li Haime and Xue Nu's first glimpse struck like lightning—stunning. A fragile, ethereal allure, sickly-sweet. No wonder the Confucians vilified him so; without seeing for oneself, who'd credit a man outshining women by leagues?
"Begone, all of you." Lord Longyang flicked a hand; the guards withdrew. Useless lot here, anyway.
His voice was an enigma—neither wholly male nor female, yet no eunuch's lilt. Crisp as a silver bell, pleasing to the ear.
Guards gone, Li Haime and Xue Nu approached. Xue Nu, oblivious to peril, gawked about—truly a man; dolled up, he'd eclipse me entirely.
"Sister, you're gorgeous!" Xue Nu beamed, bounding to his side.
Sister? Lord Longyang blinked at the impish girl, then smiled—devastating.
"You're lovely too, little sister." His glance snagged on Li Haime's Lingxu at the waist—brief daze, swiftly masked.
"Sister, you're so pretty—what's your skincare secret?" Xue Nu plopped beside him.
"Pearl dust, ground fine; blend with East Sea isinglass—but only from fish aged fifteen years and up..." Perched on the pier, Lord Longyang and Xue Nu delved into beauty rites.
Li Haime sat awkwardly nearby, committing it to memory all the same. Future coffers? Drained dry. This 'face cream'? More like gilded balm—gold's cheaper than their splurges.
Mists of dawn cleared; Lord Longyang spoke: "Rumors paint Human Sect's Wuchenzi as a doting spouse unmatched under heaven—mere gossip, I thought. Today proves it true."
"Word held Lord Longyang leaves beauties weeping in self-pity—fancy, I reckoned. Your splendor astounds." Li Haime replied from his perch.
"Enemies... or friends?" Lord Longyang pivoted.
"Daoists versus Yin-Yang: foes. But as Xiang Lord and Lady, which title suits you more?" Li Haime's curiosity burned genuine.
"Neither. That's why I quit the Yin-Yang fold—tired of their games. They can't command me; save Eastern Sovereign and Chunan Gong, none best me." Lord Longyang flexed a dainty fist, all coy charm.
Li Haime averted his eyes. Too much—fatal. Gaze longer, and I'd bend.
"So Xinling Lord's aid brought you to Wei, allying against Qin—to spite the Yin-Yang School?" Li Haime pressed.
"Neither. Unification's fate sealed. And a secret: Eastern Sovereign craves no mere empire." Lord Longyang confided.
All assumed Yin-Yang's Qin ties aimed at hegemony. As elder, though, he knew better: Eastern Sovereign and Chunan Gong schemed deeper—needing the Son of Heaven's aid, yet dreading his might. One misstep: eternal doom. Hence his bolt.
"For the Human Sovereign?" Li Haime ventured. Post-Dao fusion, he'd sensed a cosmic bind; Yan Lu's copper box hinted at threads. Since Zhou, kings claimed "Son of Heaven"; pre-Zhou? "Human Sovereign."
"For immortality!" Lord Longyang countered.
"Immortality's grasp? Chaos unbound. Heaven's wheel turns, yin-yang ebbs—life, death mere currents. As Yin-Yang's helm, can't Eastern Sovereign see?" Li Haime mused.
"Power's pinnacle breeds dread of loss—transcendence tempts all. Even mortal emperors." Lord Longyang agreed.
Li Haime nodded. Greatest rulers? At death's door, longevity's lure maddens them: First Emperor of Qin, Han's Martial Lord, Tang's Taizong—all.
"And you—what do you seek?" Li Haime asked. Half-step to fusion; but his path?
"Yin-yang's cycle: birth, death—my norm. I chase taiji's union." Lord Longyang revealed his Dao.
"So you don maiden's guise in manly frame, muddling yin-yang for harmony." Li Haime grasped it—taiji births dualities, dualities yin-yang. Lord Longyang's aim: taiji. Yet astray, into a blind alley—yielding this androgynous form.
"I strayed, can't turn back—forge ahead, perhaps to new realms." Lord Longyang admitted, wry. Awkward start: manly shell, womanly wiles for union. Ended: yang to yin, not blend. Arts advanced—entry yes, retreat no. Grit teeth, press on.
"What's it called?" Li Haime wondered. No way later ages birthed Sunflower Manual from this?
"Untitled. Name it?" Lord Longyang smiled—that allure could crook the straight.
"Sunflower Manual." Li Haime blurted.
"Sunflower Manual?" Lord Longyang paused, pondered: "Sunflowers chase the sun, yet cradle progeny in feminine depths. Yang-named, yin-bodied—solar force birthing womanly form. Apt."
Li Haime broke a sweat. So that's the origin.
Flowers drank sun by day, moon by night—save sunflowers, heliotropic: faces track the sun's arc, dusk dipping low. Seeds nestled in the disk. As Lord Longyang said: solar yang, yet feminine vessel.
"Human Sect's Wuchenzi—Dao's once-a-century prodigy to claim Daoist Scripture's fruit. Even a name fits like glove." Lord Longyang praised.
"Your path veered; I offer Taiji Sword and Fist—might they aid?" Li Haime proposed.
"Taiji—my Dao, botched." Lord Longyang sighed.
Li Haime sighed too—more awe. Wrong turn on taiji, yet brave the feminine in male skin, face it serene? Salute, brother.
Taiji fist and sword: middling in arsenal, profound in principle—mirroring heaven-earth, yin-yang flux: sky-ground, shade-light, stir-still, swift-slow, being-void. Might lay in Dao, not form—one truth unlocks myriad. Zhang Sanfeng quizzed Zhang Wuji on 'forgetting' for that essence; moves fade to irrelevance.
"Birthing yin-yang Dao in blade and bare hand: taiji. Curse not born Daoist." Lord Longyang lamented.
Had he? No wrong turn. Still, this eased his jam.
"With these, east of Taihang—Three East, Six Kingdoms—no match for you." Li Haime grinned, mischief afoot.
Spawn an Invincible East—irk the Yin-Yang lot. His Dao: heart for heaven-earth, fate for the folk, legacy for sages past, peace for ages. Daoists shunned toil—sow seeds, let sprout. Waste? Plant anew. Hundreds cast; one blooms suffices. Net wide, kill free, bury none.
"Invincible East suits. Sun rises east, I alone undefeated—Eastern Cult Leader, civil-martial virtues complete..." Whoops—wrong tale. Li Haime flushed.
"Invincible East?" Lord Longyang mulled. These arts? Even Unity experts east of Taihang fall. Save transcendent peaks like Eastern Sovereign, Guiguzi, Xunzi. As founder, Wuchenzi held counters—hence "Six Kingdoms east," not all.
"What of Celestial Sect's traitor Xiaoling—in Yin-Yang now?" Li Haime queried.
Lord Longyang glanced—doting fiend indeed; Human leader still sweeps for Celestial.
"Water Department's Xiaoling—one of Five Spirits' Mystic Sameness, Water's vein. Spotted on arrival—Lesser Adjutant's whetstone. Fate post-my exit? Unknown." Lord Longyang shared.
"Yin-Yang refilled Lesser Adjutant?" Li Haime raised a brow.
"Mm. Twin Guardians Moon God, Star Soul seated; Eastern Sovereign too. Star Soul? Feeblest I've seen—power not earned. Prior Star Soul, Mohist-griev'd near-death, passed cultivation via Nine Palaces Soul-Shift to a thirteen-year heir. Boon: boy's instant might. Bane: half-baked—soul-shift, qi-blade both crippled. Elixir trials his fodder. Five Elders: Metal's Cloud Midst? Pill-peddler squandering Sword Manual's thirteenth Heavenly Illumination—I wield half at best. Fire's Grand Adjutant: middling, lags forebear. This Lesser Adjutant? Spark of promise—if she quells inner dread, strongest ever; Wood's Ten Thousand Leaves Flutter to divinity, feasible." Lord Longyang spilled—no holds barred. Yin-Yang hunted him; counter-ambush? Welcome.
"Moon God, Eastern Sovereign?" Li Haime probed.
"Moon God: enigma. Her mind's maze to me; progress middling—qualified, if no guile. Eastern Sovereign: century's talent pinnacle. Left at Soul-Xi Dragon's eighth layer; now? Unity fusion, Three-Legged Golden Crow divine art likely. But heart too pure—ill-fit for her throne." Lord Longyang assessed.
Li Haime nodded—keen eye. In Qin Shi Mingyue, Eastern Sovereign and Moon God shrouded deepest; Eastern Sovereign pitiable—heart on Yan Dan, his on anti-Qin. Even Cloud Midst, thrashed by kid Shaoyu.
"Miss Xiaomeng—as Celestial leader, her cultivation diverges from tales." Lord Longyang eyed Xue Nu.
Xue Nu blinked, doe-eyed—me Xiaomeng Shishu? This ravishing sis-or-bro's sight's off. Dao's nine, wanting one—beauty marred by bad eyes.
"She's my sword attendant Xue Nu—not Celestial's Xiaomeng." Li Haime clarified.
Lord Longyang reassessed Xue Nu—surprise. Tales: Celestial head, white-tressed, century's first—eight, she felled six elders; Beimingzi's own disciple. Assumed this white-haired lass.Hm, not? Cultivation passable. (Had he known Xue Nu's prowess a bluff, thoughts would sour.)
"Then—Celestial head's realm now?" Lord Longyang asked.
"Half-step Unity, I'd wager." Li Haime said.
"Daoists aim grand." Lord Longyang nodded. Norm: century's prodigy, long in Unity. Suppressed? For Dao-fusion. Unity paths vary—might, heights diverge.
"Join the Daoists?" Li Haime tossed casual.
"Digging like this—Daoist whim?" Lord Longyang gaped, peach eyes wide. No wonder Hundred Schools dodge Dao games—their logic's wild, rhythms off-kilter. Foes one breath, 'Join Human Sect—elder slot?' Like endgame raids—slap on titles.
"Learned your taiji—half-Daoist already. Half more?" Gripe aside, he bit. Backing beats exposure.
"Here's your elder token—from today, Human Sect's Fifth Elder." Li Haime drew a black wooden plaque, etched "Five"—Jingyunzi's, vacant since death, dust-gathering in his keep.
"Dao title?" Lord Longyang grinned, irrepressible.
"Pick your own—these shift like sands." Li Haime shrugged. Daoist sobriquets? Fluid—one soul, many masks, routine.
"Peak Daoist." Lord Longyang chuckled. Their disregard for rites? A riot. Happy? Joy-zi. Sour? Gloom-zi. Torments chroniclers—sudden vanishings, mystery subs popping.
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