Lijing Town.
Lijing Town was now the largest town by the lake; it even surpassed Milin Town at the center of Milin Prefecture. The area had been ravaged beyond recognition, and since the Li Family no longer acknowledged the Milin prefectural system, they had divided the region into several towns for separate governance. Now that the population was spread out, none of the other towns could compare to Lijing Town.
The restaurant was bustling with noise. People moved up and down the pale red wooden steps, while a monk sat alone at the highest level. His head was cleanly shaven and his eyes were quietly fixed on his wine cup.
Those who dined and drank in this place were not ordinary folk; most were scions of prestigious families. Several guests kept anxiously glancing over, unease in their hearts. After a quarter of an hour, they hastily ended their banquets and scattered in all directions.
Soon, the upper level of the restaurant was deserted, and even passersby grew sparse. Cultivators in white armor began appearing among the thinning crowd. Li Chenghuai arrived with his men and ascended the stairs without hesitation.
Since the Li Family was currently undergoing many personnel changes, there were numerous vacancies. As both his cultivation and age had reached the necessary threshold, Li Chenghuai now served under his cousin Li Chengliao. As the direct son of Li Xizhi, he was someone Li Chengliao frequently relied upon.
But just as he entered the building, he was promptly stopped by a middle-aged man in white robes. The man had a rather handsome face and had the calm demeanor of someone in his middle years.
An Siwei’s presence was imposing, and his expression was serious as he spoke softly, "You are of the Qingdu bloodline, Young Master. It's not appropriate for you to go in person. Allow me to meet him instead."
Chen Yang stood behind An Siwei, dressed in black, his brows slightly close-set and his eyes flickering with unease and suspicion. Li Chenghuai clasped his hands in acknowledgment and nodded, letting the two of them proceed.
When they climbed the crimson steps, they saw the monk still seated at the table, which was now filled with fine wine and meats. It seemed he had gathered them from the hastily abandoned tables nearby. It was an awkward sight.
He didn’t eat. He only poked at the food with his chopsticks and stared blankly into space.
When he saw the two approach, An Siwei clasped his hands and spoke in a soft tone, “Greetings, master. I am An Siwei of the Li Family... I wonder, master...”
The monk had slightly short eyebrows. Though his face was clean and bright, and his hair completely shaven, there was still a faint trace of a hardened, resolute air about him.
He gently tapped his jade chopsticks together and finally spoke, “An Siwei of the Li Family... Quite capable indeed...”
His voice was hoarse, carrying a hidden chill that did not show on the surface. An Siwei grew suspicious at his cryptic reply and asked, “Forgive my ignorance, master. I cannot grasp your Zen words. What do you mean...”
The monk poured himself a drink and replied quietly, “They once said Li Tongya and Li Xuanxuan were so ambitious that they seemed like wolves in human skin. I never believed it, but looking at the outcome now... perhaps it wasn’t so unbelievable after all.”
The wine let out a chime as it splashed into the jade cup. An Siwei could detect the disrespect in his words and felt displeased, replying curtly, “It seems this master has heard some rumors... but the times shift and the Mandate of Heaven changes hands. A single judgment cannot define the outcome.”
The monk let out a cold, dismissive laugh at the mention of the Mandate of Heaven and asked, “Who is An Jingming to you?”
An Siwei’s expression darkened at the question. After a moment, he replied, “He was my elder brother.”
A cold wind suddenly swept through the building as a young man in white robes appeared.
He raised his sword-like brows slightly. “I am Li Xijun. Greetings, Master Monk.”
Though the Li Family did not follow the Dao of Buddhism, they could still roughly judge a person’s strength. Li Xijun could feel the monk’s heavy and oppressive presence; he carried a clear sense of threat. A trace of wariness rose in his heart.
The monk remained seated, and replied hoarsely, “Xu Mu of the Five-Eyed Temple. Greetings, fellow cultivator.”
It’s him...
Li Xijun was familiar with the name. A few days ago, they had captured two people, and the old Daoist Fu Yuan of Mount Xiaoshi had clearly been influenced by the Five-Eyed Merciful One. It seemed this monk had deliberately released him to probe for information.
That monk’s name had been mentioned, and it was indeed Xu Mu.
Li Xijun spoke with a faintly cold tone, “Master Monk, your methods are impressive indeed. Borrowing the bodies of cultivators to spy upon others...”
Xu Mu waved his hand dismissively and replied calmly, “A mere trick, nothing more.”
He stared at Li Xijun’s brows and eyes for a moment, as if trying to recall something, then spoke, “I once entrusted something to your esteemed family. I wish to meet Li Xuanxuan... Is he still alive?”
Li Xijun remained silent for a moment, then gestured to An Siwei, who quickly departed toward Qingdu.
Master Monk Xu Mu pointed to the seat opposite him and smiled, “Xijun, please have a seat for now.”
He continued, “Even in the North, I heard of Li Tongya. He did great things... Such a pity that he fell in the end. Grudges and debts, aren’t they all meaningless in the end?”
Li Xijun stayed guarded, wary of any hidden intent in his words, and chose not to reply. Xu Mu, undisturbed, pulled a copper sword from his sleeve.
Its cold gleam illuminated his face as he spoke softly, “In our youth, he and I once crossed blades. Back then, I still had a worldly name.”
He flipped the sword over and said in a quiet voice, “Yu Mujian.”
At that moment, the restaurant fell utterly silent. It was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. The atmosphere turned eerie. Chen Yang stood to the side, every hair on his body standing on end. It felt as if he were balanced on the edge of a blade, caught between advancing and retreating.
Li Xijun’s expression remained calm. He placed one hand on his sword and spoke softly, “So it’s you, senior.”
Xu Mu didn’t respond, and the atmosphere sank into heaviness once more.
Creak.
An old man hurried up the stairs. Li Xuanxuan was holding an axe-shaped dharma artifact that hadn’t been used in decades. His robe was slightly disheveled as he stared intently at the two figures.
Clang!
Li Xijun had already drawn his sword. The long blade angled toward the ground as he positioned himself protectively in front of the old man. His other hand had crushed a jade talisman, and his eyes were locked on the monk before him.
Xu Mu let out a sigh and replied, “It’s been a long time... Daoist Xuanxuan.”
“And you are...” Li Xuanxuan was stunned by the voice. He stared closely at the monk’s eyes and brows; there was something familiar about them. After searching his memory twice over, he finally matched them with a cultivator he once knew.
Shock surged through him, and his lips trembled slightly as he said, "You... you've actually returned!"
"The sharper the advance, the swifter the retreat. The strength of a blade lies in how it is concealed before it's drawn." Xu Mu sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the copper sword. The cold, radiant gleam cast a pale light on his clean, white face.
He said hoarsely, "In my youth, I wielded my edge recklessly, left my family in anger, went to the northern frontiers, slew devil cultivators, honed my swordsmanship, walked thousands of miles on foot, and crossed the Taihang.
"I poured all my emotion into the sword and cast everything else into emptiness. Now, looking back at the past hundred years, my eldest brother perished, consumed by endless schemes. Our family was extinguished. My second brother sacrificed himself to stop a formidable foe, burning to death when his cover was blown. My youngest brother sought immortality to survive, only to be slain by our enemies..."