"The Daoists made their move—long ago, very long ago."
In the Purple Orchid Pavilion, Han Fei had lost his usual flair for commanding the winds and waves. He just wanted to get drunk. He craved a world like Li Si's, but as Li Si himself had said, his lowly birth barred him from it. Now, all he wanted was oblivion, to shed every burden. To Wei Zhuang and the others, he appeared utterly dejected.
"Wasn't he all fired up to meet Li Si? How did he come back like this? Did Li Si do something unspeakable to him?" Zi Nu asked in surprise.
"Something unspeakable? What do you mean?" Zhang Liang inquired, puzzled. What could possibly reduce Han Fei to this state?
Zi Nu and Nong Yu flushed, suddenly remembering the innocent little cabbage in their midst who knew nothing of such matters. As for Wei Zhuang, he surely understood—but with that face like a block of ice, even if he did, he'd never show embarrassment. Still, the way he sized Han Fei up suggested he was entertaining the same suspicions.
"What kind of looks are those?" Han Fei wasn't blind; he knew exactly what they were thinking. Did they assume everyone was like Zhang Liang, buried in the Four Books and Five Classics, untouched by the dust of the world?
"So Li Si just crushed your spirit?" Wei Zhuang said coolly.
"Yes, utterly crushed. For the first time, I feel like I'm no match for him!" Han Fei sighed, downing another cup. I have a story, but no one to share it with over drinks—and what a story it is, one that breeds nothing but resentment.
"Tell us," Zi Nu said with a seductive smile, her interest piqued.
The others wore expressions that said the wine was ready, so get as drunk as you like—just start your tale.
"Do you know what Li Si's goal used to be?" Han Fei asked in return.
Zhang Liang, Wei Zhuang, and the rest shook their heads. They want to hear it—spill it already.
"Before he met our Daoist clan's grandmaster, Wuchenzi—his shishu—Gege's ambition was to become a rat in a granary: fat and sleek." Han Fei gave a wry smile, unconsciously knocking back yet another cup.
Wei Zhuang and the other three stared in shock. Li Si's performance in court today clashed wildly with that aim. And what was this about becoming a granary rat—fat and sleek, no less?
"Han Fei, do you know what usually happens to people who dangle half a story in front of me?" Wei Zhuang's voice was icy as his thumb shifted, drawing Shark's Tooth an inch from its sheath.
Han Fei froze, a chill running through him. He shot a pleading glance at Zi Nu, only to find the others all wearing looks that screamed, Hurry up and finish him off.
"Gege once told me his origins were humble. He served as a granary overseer. One night, after too much drink, he stumbled to the latrine and spotted a rat scavenging in the filthy pit—reeking, scrawny, forever wary of night owls or poisoned bait. When he returned to the granary, he saw the rats there: plump and glossy, feasting on the finest grain, untroubled by poison or pursuit, sleeping and eating amid plenty. So that's what he aspired to be—a granary rat." Han Fei explained. It was absurd, but that had been Li Si back then.
"So you added that bit about 'fat and sleek' yourself?" Wei Zhuang pressed coldly. Without it, he might not have cared so much.
Han Fei sensed trouble. It was his own flourish—didn't it just paint a more vivid picture? Why did everyone suddenly want to pummel him?
"What about now?" Zi Nu stepped in to rescue her husband at the critical moment, though she itched to thump him too.
"Now..." Han Fei gave a bitter chuckle, draining another cup before continuing. "He says the Seven States are too small. He wants to forge an empire grander than any in history past or future—one to endure for ten thousand generations. The Seven States? Just his first stepping stone."
"The Seven States, a mere stepping stone?" Wei Zhuang echoed, surprised into taking a drink himself.
Zhang Liang's eyes gleamed. If the Seven States were small, what counted as grand? Could I join in? But a moment's reflection dashed that—his own lineage mirrored Han Fei's: the Zhang family had held the chancellorship for five generations.
"So yeah, I'm no match for him. Totally crushed." Han Fei laughed bitterly. This time, no one mocked him. Losing to a man like that? No shame in it. Nong Yu kept pouring cup after cup, until Zi Nu intervened and took over the task herself. In the end, Han Fei got thoroughly plastered—devastatingly so.
"I'm stepping out." Wei Zhuang suddenly sensed something. He glanced at the drunken Han Fei, then addressed Zhang Liang and the others.
"Xue Nu, come watch the show!" In the small courtyard, Li Hai Mo also felt a surge of sword intent erupting from the Tian Shu position. Someone's here. Skipping the fun would be a crime against himself—not to mention, he was curious about Wei Zhuang's face when it happened.
"More excitement? Shizun, you're not planning to stir up trouble again, are you? If you are, count me out—too easy to get killed!"
Xue Nu's first instinct at "excitement" had changed. Last time they'd poked the hornet's nest, two peak Tian Ren He Yi experts ended up one gravely wounded, one lightly. When gods brawl, the little fish suffer. Better to steer clear. She could run, sure—but what about her fragile, innocent self? Walk by the river often enough, and your shoes will get wet.
"What are you thinking? No Tian Ren He Yi experts this time—you think they're cabbages, popping up by the bunch?" Li Hai Mo flicked her forehead with a knuckle.
Xue Nu rubbed her reddened brow. No Tian Ren He Yi? Fine then—this spectacle was safe to watch. If she knew it involved the Ghost Valley's Zong and Heng duo, she'd think twice.
Truth be told, neither had reached Tian Ren He Yi—Wei Zhuang wasn't even half a step in. But together? Even a full Tian Ren He Yi would give them a wide berth. Just like when Li Hai Mo and Xiao Meng, with their Two Forms Sword Array, had held off the Tian Ren Extreme Realm's Bei Ming Zi.
"Why do I still feel like this is sketchy?" Xue Nu's woman's intuition tingled. More trouble incoming.
"Stay if you want—I'm going. Fights like this don't come around often." Li Hai Mo said.
"Wait—coming, right now!"
Xue Nu grabbed her disguised Jian Jia. Better safe with it. Safe? Safe my foot! Why had Shizun brought Ling Xu along too? He hadn't last time. Really no Tian Ren He Yi this round? Can I bail?
"What are you dawdling for? Miss this, who knows when the next one's coming." Li Hai Mo huffed at Xue Nu's hesitant, mincing steps. Am I that unreliable?
And you—top-tier jianghu expert, body tempered by the Great Dao—Wei Zhuang might not even beat you. What's with the nerves? Damn, I've spoiled her rotten.
Atop the Tian Shu city's watchtower, a youth in white—handsome and upright—gripped a long sword on the eaves. A black shadow darted across rooftops toward the tower.
"Mommy, look—Spider-Man!" From a nearby pavilion, Li Hai Mo and Xue Nu watched Wei Zhuang swing in. Li Hai Mo provided the voiceover.
Xue Nu's face darkened with a sweatdrop. Mommy? Who's 'Mommy'? Do I look that old? But... it felt kinda nice? A little thrill stirred inside. Shizun's mommy—what would that feel like? Though what was this "Spider-Man" sneaking in? Had Shizun lost it again? Dao Jing aftereffects lingering?
On the watchtower, Wei Zhuang and Ge Nie locked eyes, exchanged no words, and clashed straight away.
"No catching up, right into the fray? Ghost Valley style this savage?" Li Hai Mo quipped.
Xue Nu blanked. What the—? You said no Tian Ren He Yi, and now you summon the Ghost Valley's Zong and Heng? Calling their style wild—Shizun, isn't yours wilder? And this cute, charming Sword Attendant you're setting up... doesn't your conscience ache? You've changed—you're not the Shizun I knew.
On the tower, Ge Nie wielded Zong Swordsmanship, Wei Zhuang Heng—thrust and parry in relentless exchange. Even with a plain long sword, Ge Nie's inner cultivation shielded it to clash head-on with the demonic Shark's Tooth. Sword qi crisscrossed, shearing a corner from the tower, yet the duo pressed on, blades flashing like lightning.
"Watch closely—that's Hundred-Step Flying Sword and Piercing Eight Directions," Li Hai Mo commentated.
He found it odd too: whenever excitement brewed, he'd drag Xue Nu along for pointers. How'd I spoil her? Maybe haul Wei Zhuang and Ge Nie over to toughen her up? Yeah—learn to fight by learning to take hits first. That's how Shixiong Xiaoyao started me: whacking me across the hills.
Xue Nu, oblivious to her unscrupulous Shizun's schemes, watched the rooftop duel with fascination.
At last, their moves exhausted and skills on cooldown, they entered the verbal sparring phase.
"Has Shixiong encountered the previous generation's other Zong-Heng figure?" Wei Zhuang asked, catching his breath.
"The other Shishu?" Ge Nie puzzled, then replied steadily: "The last Heng Sword Shishu fell to Shizun after descending the mountain—many years dead now. He's buried in that little valley where we lived, site of Shizun's fateful duel."
Wei Zhuang's grip on Shark's Tooth tightened, his mind a mess of black lines. Played for a fool. But how had the foe known Heng Swordsmanship?
"What's wrong?" Ge Nie asked.
Wei Zhuang recounted his run-in with Li Hai Mo. Utter humiliation—beaten senseless and duped. If not for the Ghost Valley legacy at stake, he'd never admit it to Shixiong.
Ge Nie pondered in silence before speaking: "You likely crossed a Daoist at Tian Ren He Yi. Such masters mimic inner qi auras flawlessly—anything short of their realm can't discern it. As for the Heng Swordsmanship? He learned it from you mid-fight, tracing your strokes. His cultivation outstrips yours, so he's faster. And the Daoists have a profound art: Yi Swordsmanship, foreseeing attacks in combat. You met a Daoist master."
"A Daoist master?" Wei Zhuang was speechless. Couldn't beat him, and revenge at Tai Yi Mountain? Out of the question.
"The Daoists teem with experts—even they lose track of their reclusive forebears. Running into one in Xin Zheng? Not odd." Ge Nie said. I met one as a boy myself.
"Ghost Valley's Zong and Heng—dare you fight beyond the walls?"
Li Hai Mo led Xue Nu to a wooded grove outside the city.
"Shizun, why are we here?" Xue Nu asked, confused.
"Wait here. I'll snag a pheasant—haven't had roast in ages. Craving it now." Li Hai Mo vanished.
Xue Nu blinked. Shizun's Dao Jing relapse hit. Middle of the night, sneaking out—for roast pheasant? Unaware the Ghost Valley duo barreled her way.
Hearing the Daoist thousand-li voice transmission from the tower, Ge Nie and Wei Zhuang exchanged glances and vaulted toward the outskirts. Wei Zhuang frowned: the man he'd fought was middle-aged—why this time a young woman's voice?
Thus, they found Xue Nu in the woods, sword in hand, vigilantly scanning about.
Ge Nie eyed Wei Zhuang: You first. Wei Zhuang nodded, drawing his blade in a flash.
Xue Nu jolted. What the hell? Ghost Valley's Zong and Heng after me? Sword out on sight? What'd Shizun do now? No choice—draw or die.
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