“My lord!” Jiang Ni rushed anxiously into the room. Seeing Ying Laixian sitting unharmed by the window, the tight knot in her chest finally loosened. She dropped to one knee and said, “It was this subordinate’s dereliction of duty.”
“It’s not your fault.” Ying Laixian turned his head toward the window. “I didn’t expect him to track me down here either. It seems I really pushed him too far this time.”
“Tan Congye actually found out about Master and me meeting in Wuzhou twelve years ago, as well as the matter with Zhong Xiwu.”
Jiang Ni looked slightly startled.
“Go find out,” Ying Laixian said coldly. “I need to know where he got his information.”
“Yes.” Jiang Ni nodded, then added, “My lord, the master’s side has sent someone over.”
“Let them come,” Ying Laixian said casually. “Get things ready. In ten days, we set off for Yunchen.”
“My lord, right now everyone in the martial world wants to capture you. This is the worst possible time to leave White Cloud City.” Jiang Ni pleaded earnestly. With her strength, she certainly couldn’t guarantee that Ying Laixian would emerge safe and sound every single time.
In his hand, Ying Laixian was gripping the letter Wei Heng had given him. “Greed is the easiest thing in the world to cloud people’s minds. Before long, they will still flood into Quedu. I will no longer depend on Master, nor will I seek a safe compromise. Master has given me this chance, and I must seize it with both hands.”
With the letter in his hand, Wei Heng had paved a second path for him, giving Ying Laixian the reassurance to act boldly.
The destination of that letter was another Sword Sage of this world; he needed to seize this opportunity to establish a firm footing in the martial world.
“Everyone wants the treasure of the Changye Temple, but no one knows that it is a completely nonexistent illusion. Yet when someone casts a stone into a pond, no matter its size, it will cause ripples, just like the rumor of the Changye Temple treasure that I let slip. True or false, people will always chase after it.”
And he would use this opportunity, leveraging these people, these greedy people, to draw the attention of the entire martial world onto himself.
“Since Tan Congye wants to investigate the truth, he won’t let me go. Why shouldn’t I cooperate with him?” Every word from Ying Laixian carried the weight of a decision made.
His enemy was close at hand, yet he was powerless to exact revenge, not even knowing what identity that person possessed.
It had happened so many times; he had never yet managed to thoroughly uncover the truth.
This time, he would stake everything, gathering both the martial world and the imperial court into his own hands.
He would make that monster nowhere to hide.
At worst, he would simply die and start all over again from the very beginning.
“Go and prepare. Once we reach Yunchen, our plans truly begin.”
Inside the Origin Retreat, two full hours had passed since Zhong Xiwu entered the house, yet from start to finish he had been the only person in the courtyard. He was waiting for someone; if he couldn’t even wait for them today, he would likely have to wait until tomorrow.
“You’ve finished off all this wine. Go inside and fetch a fresh flagon.”
Zhong Xiwu raised his eyes to see a young man standing atop the eaves. He blinked in surprise, then stood up and bowed to the figure. “Master has returned.”
The young man slowly descended, it was none other than Wei Heng. “You’ve been sitting out here drinking for two hours. How do you find the taste?”
The corners of Zhong Xiwu’s mouth twitched. “Master’s wine is naturally fine wine, but when did you return? Could it be you’ve been watching me for two hours?”
“What else?” Though Wei Heng was dressed like a scholar, his words carried a different tone. “I saw your mind was too heavily burdened, as if you didn’t want anyone to disturb you. Two hours passed and you didn’t even notice; it seems this matter has become a chronic illness of the heart for you.”
Zhong Xiwu went back inside and emerged with a fresh jug of fine wine. “Indeed it has. Although Master previously told us not to come here to disturb you, your student truly has a matter that requires your guidance.”
Wei Heng sipped his wine leisurely. “The imperial court, the martial world, or a person?”
“A person.”
Wei Heng gave an understanding smile. “You want to ask about Laixian?”
Zhong Xiwu nodded. “I know he came here to see Master, you know I couldn’t possibly pretend I didn’t know. But I understand far too little about him. Take this trip to Yunchen, for instance; I cannot fathom his true purpose.”
Though advanced in age, Wei Heng retained a remarkably youthful appearance. He smiled. “When he stepped into the court to offer you strategies, I already said he does not belong to the imperial court. Now that he has merely broken away from it, why must you continue to obsess? Walk the path he has paved for you; the end of that road is what he truly wants. There are still many matters waiting for him in the martial world, and one day, he will return.”
“Master knows that isn’t what I’m asking.” Zhong Xiwu refilled Wei Heng’s cup. “I simply cannot understand him. If there is anyone in this world who can truly read him, it can only be Master.”
“No,” Wei Heng countered. “A thousand people have a thousand faces; who can ever completely understand another person? By now, whatever I had to teach the four of you has long since been taught. The ultimate destination of each of you must be chosen by yourselves. Since you have decided to establish yourself in the court, walk your path well. He will do the same.”
It had been a very long time since Zhong Xiwu had listened to Wei Heng lecture in this manner. The swordsmanship he learned when he first entered the sect had been taught by Wei Heng; rumors throughout the world spoke of Wei Heng’s peerless swordsmanship and brilliant talent, with both the court and the martial world resting within his grasp. Yet even though he was an imperial prince, Wei Heng had never once taught him statecraft or political strategy.
Perhaps that was the difference. From the very beginning by Wei Heng’s side, Ying Laixian had never studied martial arts, he had studied letters. He used what he learned to navigate both the martial world and the imperial court, to the point that even Zhong Xiwu could not clearly see what he was truly after.
“Among all of us, he is always the most sensible,” Zhong Xiwu sighed. “Laixian entered the sect earliest and stayed by Master’s side since he was a child. From the day I joined, I have never seen him lose his temper, not even now. It’s as though he digests all his darker emotions entirely on his own, leaving only joy and amusement on the surface. Master must know he shouldn’t have to be like this.”
Wei Heng’s thoughts seemed to drift back into the past. “When I first met him, he dropped straight to his knees and demanded to take me as his master. At the time, I only thought the child possessed extraordinary courage, as if he were certain I wouldn’t refuse.”
Wei Heng paused, then continued, “He was my destined first disciple. Afterward, I brought him back here and asked him what he wanted to learn from me. He replied that he wanted to learn knowledge, knowledge that would surpass anyone else in the world, knowledge that would eventually surpass even my own.”
At that time, Wei Heng was already immensely famous; the entire world was abuzz with tales of his supreme swordsmanship and praising the achievements of the Sword Sage. Yet when Ying Laixian sought him out to become his disciple, what he wanted to study was literature.
Wei Heng had not agreed at first. Ying Laixian had the makings of a formidable martial artist; if anyone were to inherit his swordsmanship, it should have been someone like him. Moreover, since the boy was his very first disciple, Wei Heng had even suggested that he study both martial arts and letters. But Ying Laixian had ruthlessly refused.
“Learning martial arts cannot change a single thing for me.”
That was roughly what Ying Laixian had said back then, and to this day Wei Heng still remembered the bleakness in the young boy’s eyes.
Afterward, he yielded to Ying Laixian’s request, teaching him his lifelong mastery of letters. The boy had learned with astonishing speed, using what he mastered to carve out a secure foothold in the court for Zhong Xiwu.
“No matter what his goal is,” Zhong Xiwu drained his cup in one go, “whether it’s the court or the martial world, one of them is bound to be his ultimate destination. I intend to become his strongest backing in the court, I must ask Master to help me.”