Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Immortal Laughs at My Premature Silver Hair

The cool, pale moonlight bathed Lin'an, stars scattered across the sky, mottling the ground with shadows of people and trees alike.

Luo Qingchen carried the corpse of Zhushan as he left the Lin'an Prefecture. Thanks to Li You'an, whose sword qi surged and blocked the city's many powerful pursuers, Luo encountered little resistance and exited the city directly.

Qin Qianqiu survived, but after tonight, he was destined to become the laughingstock of all Lin'an—beaten down and cowering within the Vajra Bell like an old turtle. This mockery would last for a long time, serving as the subject of idle conversation among Lin'an's nobility. The more esteemed Qin Qianqiu's status, the longer the ridicule would persist.

For a man so obsessed with his reputation, such an outcome was more agonizing than death.

The strongmen of the Prime Minister's residence swept forth, while official forces such as the Lin'an yamen and the Black Bureau deployed troops to hunt outside the city.

This night in Lin'an was anything but quiet; it was filled with clamor and commotion.

Yet none of this had anything to do with Anle, or with the small courtyard in Taimao Lane.

With the death of the coachman Zhushan and Luo Qingchen's severe beating of Qin Qianqiu, the situation had escalated. For a while, Qin Qianqiu did not dare to lay a hand on Anle again.

The main reason was that Hua Jiebing of the Lin family had not only returned but had brought back the legendary top scholar Li You'an...

News spread quickly; every noble in Lin'an was now aware.

Just moments ago, the experts Qin Qianqiu had stationed at the city gates to intercept Hua Jiebing were berated by Li Qianqiu and sent to the battlefield at Canglang River, forbidden to return unless they slew enemies.

Such domineering prestige cowed many of Lin'an's nobles. The return of a figure so legendary had an obvious purpose.

The Spring Examinations were imminent. Hua Jiebing inviting Li You'an was naturally connected to the "Settling Storm" sword that would appear in the imperial examination.

The feud between the Lin and Qin families might soon undergo a dramatic change, centered on the ownership of that sword.

...

In Taimao Lane, the courtyard gate stood open.

Cool moonlight poured from the starry sky, filtering through the old pagoda tree's leaves, casting a dappled pattern upon the ground.

In the center of the courtyard was a square table, upon which rested a pot of aged rice wine from Yanchun Lane, three cups, and a pound of beef.

The old man of Taimao Temple sat with narrowed eyes, drinking and eating as his long brows fluttered in the night breeze.

Li You'an, dressed in plain robes, also sat upright, enjoying meat and wine.

Anle, clad in white with Qingshan and Inkpool at his waist, merely sipped his wine.

"Youth An, I watched your battle with the coachman just now," the old man said, sipping his wine before setting the cup down with a gentle laugh. "Everyone must pay the price for their choices. The coachman paid with his life. His discontent did not stem from failing to kill you, but from failing to send Luo Qingchen back to Qingzhou."

"As for you, your lack of mercy and your resolve in battle are commendable."

At these words, Anle drank his wine and replied, "That coachman had reached the third stage of body refinement and practiced Nascent Breath, his cultivation above mine. Even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit. My cultivation is lower; how could I afford mercy?"

"If I had been killed, it would have merited only a sigh from the coachman, just as his death merits a sigh from me."

"I am not yet a strongman; how could I afford the arrogance of one?"

Anle spoke seriously, with utmost sincerity.

Zhao Huangting paused, then burst out laughing.

Even Li You'an, who had been eating and drinking in silence, stopped for a moment and looked at Anle in surprise.

"Well said," Li You'an praised, wiping oil from the corner of his mouth. "Did you comprehend the sword technique within the Lesser Sage Token?"

Anle knew he referred to the art of controlling Inkpool from a distance—Sword Qi Near.

He did not hide it, nodding openly: "I gained some insight yesterday."

"Excellent, your talent is remarkable. The fate woven into the Lesser Sage Token was left by the Sage himself—swordsmanship, saber, spear, and more. Everyone perceives and understands something different."

"Even in the same path of the sword, one may uncover different techniques," Li You'an said with a gentle smile.

Zhao Huangting, chewing meat, added, "Young An, General Li was once a holder of the Lesser Sage Token, reigning supreme among his peers atop Sacred Mountain, conversing with the Sage himself. Now that he partakes of your wine and meat, should you have any questions about swordplay, do not hesitate to ask."

At this, Anle's eyes brightened. "You conversed with the Sage himself... I do have a question."

Li You'an smiled silently, signaling Anle to speak.

After some thought, Anle did not ask about Sword Qi Near, but instead voiced a long-held doubt: "The Emperor of Yuanmeng is called the strongest man in the world. But... who is stronger, the Sage or the Emperor?"

The wind stirred the courtyard, and the pagoda tree's leaves whispered softly, all else silent.

Zhao Huangting squinted, while Li You'an fell into deep thought.

Anle's question truly caught them off guard.

After a long time, Li You'an downed the last cup of aged wine, lifted his head to gaze at the starry sky, and said calmly, "Many things you will understand when you converse with the Sage yourself."

"No matter how strong the Emperor of Yuanmeng, he is only the world's strongest man."

"The Sage is different."

"When the Sage is present, heaven remains heaven, and the mortal world remains the mortal world."

Hearing this, Anle sensed there was a deeper meaning he could not grasp, but the plain sense was clear: the Emperor of Yuanmeng was the strongest under heaven, but the Sage had transcended that realm, sitting above both heaven and earth.

"The wine is finished, the meat is gone, and your question has been answered. I must take my leave, so as not to disturb your opportunity."

Li You'an rose, dusted off his plain robe.

Zhao Huangting also stood up with a smile. "You'an, let us change venues."

"Today, young An painted a horse for the Lin family's fourth son. Even from afar, I could smell the ink's spirit and wildness."

"Let us go seek out the Emperor's son-in-law and admire young An's wild horse in his painting."

Zhao Huangting could hardly wait.

Anle was left speechless—could he really smell it from that far?

Li You'an's eyes shone. "Hua Jiebing praised the unyielding spirit of your ink bamboo, and the elder here extols the wildness of your horse. Let us go and see for ourselves."

Anle rose, cupping his hands in salute.

Li You'an, hands behind his back and long hair loose and unrestrained, paused at the gate and asked, "Have you named the sword technique you gleaned from the Lesser Sage Token?"

Anle replied, "It is called Sword Qi Near."

Li You'an's lips curled in a faint smile, and suddenly a starlit aura seemed to envelop him as a sword of pure energy slowly took shape in the starlight.

"My sword technique is called Thousand Times Over, and this sword is named the same."

He lightly stroked the sword, its blade shimmering with starlight, trembling gently. "Comprehend Sword Qi Near well. You have only grasped its surface. When you truly enter the gate, you will find unexpected rewards."

With that, Li You'an flicked his finger, and the famed sword Thousand Times Over dissolved into a shower of starlight and vanished.

He then strode out of the courtyard.

The old man of Taimao Temple smiled, glancing at Anle. "I did not expect that, in addition to painting bamboo, you can also paint horses. Very good—we must exchange notes another day."

Anle saluted them to the threshold. The elder departed with a smile, the tapping of his bamboo staff on the flagstones echoing down the alley, growing fainter and fainter.

Before the Taimao Temple.

Li You'an stood with his hands clasped behind him, gazing at the brilliantly lit, majestic temple.

The old man approached, leaning on his bamboo staff, and asked with a smile, "What do you think of the boy?"

Li You'an withdrew his gaze. "His talent in swordsmanship is exceptional, his character neither arrogant nor servile. From his ink bamboos one can discern his unyielding spirit—a true talent."

"But whether he can bear the legacy of your Qingshan remains uncertain."

The old man smiled, his eyes growing deep. "I cannot break through. As my time draws to a close, to find such a youth to inherit Qingshan is a blessing."

"The boy once said, 'I see Qingshan as charming, and Qingshan should see me the same.' How romantic."

"I give him Qingshan, and I have no regrets."

Li You'an softened at these words. "It is indeed romantic." He hesitated. "Is there truly no hope for you, elder?"

"The path is endless, time leaves its mark. Even the Emperor of Yuanmeng, had he not broken through the tenth realm, could only live six centuries. Once, I wielded my sword in pride and knocked at heaven's gate, but now, with the passage of years, the immortals mock my early white hair."

The old man, leaning on his staff, gazed at the lights of Taimao Temple and sighed.

"It has been over five centuries since the Southern Migration of Great Zhao. Too many in Lin'an now face the limits of cultivation. As people age, fear of death grows. In this decadent, drunken Lin'an, how many ambitions have crumbled, how many heroic spirits lie buried?"

He turned to Li You'an. "But I cannot rest content. North of the Canglang River lies our homeland, yet we can only gaze across the water and long for home. Here in Lin'an, too many have let luxury corrode their spirits, thinking to preserve their current state is enough."

"Even that one in the Celestial Pavilion, grown old, has forgotten the humiliation of our migration south."

"This Lin'an has no years left to look back upon."

"You, Li You'an, Ye Longsheng, and Zhong Shiji have all advocated crossing the river. I am gratified, and hope you will not be blinded by Lin'an's splendor."

The old man's sighs, his pain and warnings, made Li You'an grow solemn and bow deeply.

"Once I fought the Emperor of Yuanmeng with a broken bamboo sword, but that battle was a cover for retreat, not a true contest. Before long, I will cross the river north and seek instruction from the Emperor himself."

The old man stroked his long brows and smiled gently.

Li You'an narrowed his eyes. "That should be... most satisfying."

...

The courtyard fell silent.

On the table, an empty pot lay amid the mess left by wine and meat.

Anle felt a rare tranquility of mind. He tidied the table and watered the flowers and potted plants.

Afterward, the courtyard was left empty and clean.

He raised his hand, fingers forming a sword gesture. Qingshan and Inkpool flew out, embedding themselves in the old pagoda tree's trunk, quivering softly.

Anle stood quietly, recalling in detail his battle with the burly coachman Zhushan.

The Dao Fruit of Fearlessness trembled lightly within him.

He exhaled thunderously, his vital energy surging from beneath his skin and through his pores.

With bones ringing and blood boiling, Anle bathed in starlight and practiced the Five Beasts.

A mist of blood condensed around him, taking the forms of a fierce tiger, a nimble deer, a mighty bear, a cunning monkey, and a sharp crane...

After a round of body refinement, a sword pool emerged in the Palace of Mud Marrow at Anle's brow, shimmering with starlight.

His nascent breath and spirit began to boil.

Like a fierce beast, he launched himself toward transcending into the third stage of spirit refinement—detachment!