Wuxia: Become the 100-Victory Sword King at the Beginning

Xiaolongnu used her "Wandering the World" move to dodge the iron claws, but was forced into a corner by Jiang Mai's Xuan Tie staff. The staff's shadow was like a raging wave crashing against the shore, each move aimed at vital points. Although Xiaolongnu's Su Xin sword was agile, it could not withstand the combined attack of the three. The hair at her temples was ruffled by the wind from the staff, and fine sweat seeped from her forehead.

Jiang Sheng, confident of victory, said mockingly, "Little lady, stop struggling!" The soft whip coiled around Xiaolongnu's sword tassel like a venomous snake and pulled back sharply.

Xiaolongnu nearly lost her grip on the Pure Heart Sword. Jiang Li seized the opportunity to grab her shoulder with his iron claws, but when the claw tip was only a third of an inch away from her skin, it suddenly froze in mid-air—a grain of ice had formed on his Quchi acupoint, and the cold air spread along his meridians, instantly freezing his entire arm into a bluish-purple color.

Jiang Li roared, "What the hell is this!" He screamed and swung his arm, but the ice particles grew larger and larger, freezing even the iron claws to his wrist.

Jiang Mai's black iron staff, filled with rage, slammed towards Xiaolongnu. Suddenly, the skull on the staff exploded, spewing poison powder all over Jiang Sheng's face. The man covered his eyes and rolled on the ground, his screams even more horrible than a pig being slaughtered.

Shi Feiyang finally stood up, his tattered robes billowing in the wind, revealing his left hand, which gleamed with a cold, jade-like light.

He picked up the broken wooden stick from the ground. Under Ming Yu Gong's influence, the stick was covered with a thin layer of ice, making it look like it was cast in iron.

He scoffed, "Heavenly Fate Sect? I think it's more like a Misfortune Fate Sect."

Jiang Mai was furious and roared, "Where did this beggar come from, looking for death!"

His black iron staff turned towards Shi Feiyang, and the wind from the staff stirred up ice particles on the ground, but suddenly froze three feet away from Shi Feiyang. Shi Feiyang used the "Shifting Flowers and Jade" divine skill to direct the wind from the staff towards Jiang Mai's own dantian. The old thief groaned and the blood he spat out condensed into blood beads in mid-air.

Shi Feiyang's wooden stick struck with the "picking" technique, unleashing a move called "Pick the Mangy Dog with a Stick," which hit Jiang Mai's "Shanzhong acupoint" squarely. The cold air instantly froze the opponent's acupoint. Jiang Mai remained frozen in place, still holding the stick in his swinging posture. The fear in his eyes had not yet faded, and his whole body was covered with ice flowers, like an ugly ice sculpture.

Jiang Shenggang, having just recovered from the pain in his eyes, lunged forward, whip in hand, and roared, "I'll kill you!"

Under Shi Feiyang's "Sealing" technique, his soft whip suddenly wrapped around his own neck. The more he struggled, the tighter the whip tightened, his face turned purple, and he finally died with his eyes wide open. His distorted face was reflected on the ice next to his body.

Jiang Li, who was the last one remaining, was terrified. He threw the iron claw on the ground and was about to kneel down and beg for mercy.

Shi Feiyang drew a "chop" with his wooden stick, unleashing a move called "beating a dog's head with a stick," which swept across the old thief's "Baihui" acupoint with an icy wind. The cold air poured in from the top of his head, and the old thief didn't even utter a sound before becoming an ice corpse emitting white steam.

Beneath the locust tree in the small town, three ice sculptures gleamed eerily in the setting sun. Little Dragon Girl sheathed her Pure Heart Sword and watched as Shi Feiyang used a wooden stick to pry open the ice corpses; the ice shards fell to the ground with a crisp sound, like shattered jade.

"Thank you for your help, senior." Her voice was warmer than before, and she asked, "Since you are a disciple of the Beggars' Sect, do you know Yang Guo's whereabouts?" She then gestured with her hand, her fingertips tracing Yang Guo's outline in the air.

Shi Feiyang lifted his tattered straw hat, revealing eyes that reflected Xiaolongnu's expression—her usually aloof face now held a touch of warmth, longing entwined around her brows like vines, more moving than any other expression.

He could only say, "I have met Brother Yang," and with a wooden stick, he drew the three characters "Dasheng Pass" on the ground. He added, "He will definitely come to the Heroes' Gathering." With such kindness, he tried to soothe Xiaolongnu's longing.

Little Dragon Girl's eyes brightened, like starlight falling, and she exclaimed in surprise, "A gathering of heroes? Hosted by Guo Jing and Huang Rong?"

Shi Feiyang nodded and said, "That's right." He pointed eastward with the wooden stick and introduced, "The direction of Xiangyang City. The altar will be opened in three days." Looking at Xiaolongnu's sudden smile, it was like a crack in the frozen lake surface, revealing the warmth beneath.

He couldn't help but exclaim, "Brother Yang is handsome, and the young lady is beautiful; they are truly a match made in heaven." Xiaolongnu's cheeks flushed, and she hurriedly lowered her head to gather the hem of her skirt, but some tears fell onto the bluestone slab, instantly freezing into tiny ice crystals by Shi Feiyang's cold air.

Shi Feiyang picked up the ice bead, in which Xiaolongnu's reflection was visible. He said, "Miss, I'll accompany you to find Brother Yang Guo." He slammed his wooden stick on the ground, and the three ice sculptures suddenly shattered, breaking into ice shards scattered all over the ground.

When Xiaolongnu looked up, Shi Feiyang had already walked several feet away. The hem of his tattered robe swept across the ice shards on the ground without making a sound.

As she watched his figure disappear into the twilight, she suddenly recalled the strange infighting among the villains earlier, and the acupoints that had been frozen in an instant—this man's martial arts were truly mysterious. Was he really a disciple of the Beggars' Sect?

Three days later at Dasheng Pass, Beggar Clan disciples held up the "Dog-Beating Stick" banner to welcome heroes from all walks of life.

As soon as Xiaolongnu's pure white figure appeared at the checkpoint, it attracted everyone's attention.

Behind her followed a man in tattered clothes. Though ragged, he stood tall and held an ice-covered wooden stick in his left hand. It was Shi Feiyang.

When Lu Youjiao saw the stunningly beautiful Xiaolongnu, his pipe fell to the ground. He hurriedly stepped forward to greet her, but Xiaolongnu ignored him, for she was oblivious to social niceties. Lu Youjiao stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then turned his gaze to Shi Feiyang and asked questioningly, "And who is this?"

Shi Feiyang's tattered straw hat pressed down on his brow bone. He lightly tapped the ground with the icy wooden stick in his left hand, causing the dust on the ground to condense into ice particles. He calmly said, "Shi Laoyao, a disciple of the Youzhou branch of the Beggars' Sect, has come to participate in the Heroes' Gathering."

Unable to find the name "Shi Laoyao" immediately, Lu Youjiao instructed his disciple to lead Shi Feiyang to a corner to stand.

Xiaolongnu's gaze swept past the crowd, looking towards Xiangyang City, where wisps of smoke rose from chimneys, much like the morning mist of Zhongnan Mountain. She firmly believed that Yang Guo was on this land, and that the mysterious "Shi Laoyao" beside her might be the preordained opportunity that would lead her to their reunion.

Shi Feiyang looked at her longing expression, his fingers in his tattered sleeve gently caressing the icy wooden stick—he could freeze the acupoints of villains, but he couldn't freeze the most touching longing in the world.

The training ground for the Heroes' Gathering was packed with tens of thousands of martial arts practitioners. The arena in the center of the training ground was built of century-old nanmu wood, and it hummed loudly as Guo Jing used his Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms.

Shi Feiyang huddled under the wine flag in the northwest corner, his black armor covered by a patched gray robe, inconspicuous yet ready to strike at any moment.

Huang Rong twirled her dog-beating stick in her palm, the emerald ribbon brushing against Guo Jing's hand. She then pointed at Shi Feiyang and said to Guo Jing, "Brother Jing, look at that guy in the gray robe, his eyes are so sharp. He looks like..."

Guo Jing's gaze swept over Shi Feiyang, then he was drawn to the fight on the stage, and said with great interest, "Rong'er, look, Zi Liu's One-Finger Divine Skill is getting more and more refined." Zhu Zi Liu's brush made seven holes in Huo Du's robe, and the ink seeped out through the holes, spreading on the white silk in the shape of the Big Dipper.

Shi Feiyang tapped his fingertips lightly on the wine jar, the rhythm surprisingly matching Huang Rong's Dog-Beating Staff Technique. He recognized the man in the green robe as Duan Zhixing's disciple; the One-Finger Divine Skill carried the unique gentleness of the Dali Duan family, possessing a greater sense of righteousness than the Tibetan Tantric palm techniques he had encountered years before.

Although Huo Du's "Whirlwind Thunder Skill" was fast, it was forced to retreat repeatedly by Zhu Ziliu's brushstrokes, leaving two deep marks on the arena soles, which drew laughter from the audience. "This Mongol prince is far inferior to Yelü Hongji back then," Shi Feiyang recalled the fierce battle at Mingsha Mountain, where Huo Du's palm strikes couldn't even budge a wine flag. His gaze was suddenly drawn to the crowd on the east side—the Seven Masters of Quanzhen were setting up their Heavenly Dipper Formation, Hao Datong's whisk and Qiu Chuji's longsword clashing, the sword energy carrying the sound of pine trees from Zhongnan Mountain, reminding him of He Yao's Tai Chi sword.

"Why isn't Guo'er coming over yet?" Huang Rong's dog-beating stick suddenly pointed towards the entrance, where a young man dressed in black squeezed in, his face revealing strikingly handsome features. Shi Feiyang's breath hitched slightly. There was a fierce glint in the young man's eyes, much like his own when he broke through the sand date forest, only the loneliness hidden within that fierce glint was even greater than his own.

As Yang Guo leaped onto the arena, his longsword slammed onto the platform with a clang, causing Huo Du's monk's hat to fly off. The cheers from the audience nearly lifted the roof off. "What superb skill!" Shi Feiyang exclaimed in a low voice.

He could tell that Yang Guo's internal strength was not yet fully developed, but the "heavy" and "clumsy" in his sword moves were surprisingly similar to the "Viewing the Vast Ocean" move in his "Hundred Victories Saber Technique".

The moment Yang Guo and Xiao Longnv reunited, the training ground suddenly fell silent. Xiao Longnv's white skirt fluttered down from the treetops, and the night dew clinging to the hem dripped onto Yang Guo's longsword, splashing up tiny silver sparks.

Her face was almost transparent in the sunlight, and the shadow cast by her eyelashes was lighter than the wings of a jade bee in an ancient tomb. When she stood next to Yang Guo, their figures resembled a traditional Chinese ink painting, with perfect balance of light and dark.

“This is what a perfect couple looks like.” Shi Feiyang’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He remembered the way Li Ruitong’s silver thread wrapped around his sword tassel, and how the jujube blossoms fell in her hair, looking just as simple and pure.

The Golden Wheel Monk activated his Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill, and his palm wind pressed down on the arena like dark clouds.

Shi Feiyang instinctively activated his Mingyu Gong, and ice patterns appeared on the black armor under his gray robe, only to see Guo Jing's Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms already meeting the attack.

Two golden dragons circled in mid-air, colliding with the Dharma King's palm strike, causing all the flags in the training ground to fall to one side, and the wine in the jars to spill out of their mouths.

"What a magnificent Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms!" Shi Feiyang's knuckles turned white from clenching his fists. This palm technique was more powerful than any martial art Shi Feiyang had ever seen in the Tang Dynasty, yet it possessed a gentle strength within its power, like the Yellow River's flow, capable of both breaching dikes and nourishing fertile fields. His "Hundred Victories Saber Technique" palm wind was quietly released, colliding with Guo Jing's palm force in mid-air. The two forces merged into one, actually forcing the Dharma King's palm wind back three feet.

The Dharma King surveyed the entire arena with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty, his gaze lingering on Shi Feiyang for a moment before shifting elsewhere. Shi Feiyang lowered his head and took a swig of wine, the liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth onto his black armor, where it condensed into tiny beads by the ice patterns. He knew that this old monk's internal energy had reached a state of perfection; if a fight were to break out, while his own Mingyu Skill could restrain him, it might not be enough to protect the person on the stage.

Just then, a sharp shout rang out from the crowd.

Shi Feiyang's gaze swept past the throng of heads and landed on a beautiful young woman in a pale yellow dress, whipping two young men with a horsewhip. It was Guo Fu. Her hair was meticulously styled, and the jewels she wore shone dazzlingly in the sunlight. The jade pendant at her waist swayed with her movements, bearing a striking resemblance to the sun pendant he carried. Shi Feiyang's heart skipped a beat.

This girl's beauty wasn't like that of Little Dragon Girl, aloof and ethereal; rather, it was vibrant and down-to-earth.

Her eyebrows were slightly raised, revealing a hint of arrogance; her lips were pursed, concealing a hint of stubbornness; when the whip fell, her skirt fluttered, revealing ankles wrapped in pale yellow silk, more dazzling than the most beautiful peonies in Xiangyang City.

Da Wu and Xiao Wu murmured obsequiously in front of her, which only made her seem like a proud phoenix, covered in thorns, yet impossible to look away from.

“This girl…” Shi Feiyang murmured, his fingers unconsciously twisting the sword tassel.

He had seen He Yao's gentleness, Li Ruitong's resilience, and Guo Biyu's passion, but he had never seen such a vibrant woman. Her willfulness was not unreasonable; rather, it was like an unpolished gem, possessing an irresistible charm that drew people closer.

Guo Fu suddenly turned around, her gaze meeting Shi Feiyang's. Her eyes were bright as autumn water, filled with offended anger. Her riding whip instinctively pointed at Shi Feiyang, and she scolded him rudely, "What are you looking at?"

Shi Feiyang suddenly looked down, and the wine jar almost slipped from his hands.

He could feel his cheeks burning, a flutter he had never experienced in a thousand years. When he looked up again, Guo Fu had already been called away by Huang Rong, her pale yellow figure disappearing into the crowd, leaving only a faint scent of perfume mixed with the smell of sweat from the training ground, which smelled surprisingly pleasant.

The noise on the drill ground gradually subsided.

Guo Jing was distributing dry rations to everyone, while Huang Rong, with a wine gourd hanging from her dog-beating stick, was talking to Lu Youjiao.

Guo Jing's iron bow was still slung across his shoulder, the arrowheads of his black iron arrows glistening with morning dew. He watched Yang Guo and Xiaolongnu walk away hand in hand, his broad palms stroking the marriage certificate that Huang Rong had written overnight at his waist—the gold-painted characters "Guo Fu" on the red paper were darkened by the sweat on his palms.

"Guo'er, wait!" Guo Jing's roar shook the banners by the training ground. He strode after her, his iron boots stepping over the scattered arrow shafts, and said bluntly, "You and Fu'er have known each other since childhood. I intend to betroth her to you. What do you think?"

Yang Guo's long sword dragged sparks on the ground as he turned and said, "Uncle Guo, my heart belongs to someone else." His gaze swept over Xiaolongnu's white skirt, where there were bloodstains left from the fierce battle just now, and he said affectionately, "My aunt and I are bound together by life and death, and worldly etiquette can never separate us."

“You…” Guo Jing’s face flushed crimson, the bowstring of his iron bow creaking under his grip. He said sullenly, “Do you know this will break Fu’er’s heart?” At the other end of the training ground, Guo Fu’s pale yellow skirt swept across the stone path like a blazing fire. When she heard Yang Guo’s words, the pearl hairpin at her temple fell to the ground with a “crack,” shattering into three pieces—it was a South Sea pearl that Huang Rong had just given her yesterday, saying it perfectly complemented Yang Guo’s handsome appearance. Now, she ran over, angrily shouting, “Yang Guo! Who do you think you are! Am I, Guo Fu, not good enough for you?”

Yang Guo's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, his eyes filled with pity and indifference, but devoid of any affection. He said indifferently, "Miss Guo is of noble birth and has a good match." He helped Xiaolongnu turn around, the back of his sword pressing down on the pearl flower that Guo Fu had dropped on the ground, crushing the broken jade into even finer pieces.

Guo Fu's Qingfeng sword suddenly pierced towards Xiaolongnu's back, but was deflected by Yang Guo's longsword. With a crisp clang, her tiger's mouth split open, and blood dripped onto the hem of her pale yellow skirt, much like the blood droplets splattered on the walls of Xiangyang.

"You're protecting her! You're actually protecting this witch!" Her cries were filled with screams, drawing stares from all around the training ground.

Shi Feiyang huddled behind the banner, the hem of his tattered robe fluttering in the wind.

He watched as Guo Fu's tears fell onto the bluestone slab, a sight even more chilling than when Zhao Qingyi smashed the bronze mirror years ago. His Mingyu Gong (a martial arts technique) solidified into a thin layer of ice in his palm, reflecting Guo Fu's flushed face—so this fiery girl could also have such vulnerable moments.

"Fu'er!" Huang Rong's dog-beating stick pushed through the crowd, the tip of the stick catching Guo Fu's sword sheath, and she shouted: "What kind of behavior is this!" Her gaze swept over Yang Guo and Xiaolongnu, and then landed on the banner where Shi Feiyang was hiding, where the air was three times colder than elsewhere.

Guo Fu shook off her mother's hand, pointed her Qingfeng sword at Yang Guo's back, and said fiercely, "I'm going to kill this ungrateful bastard!" After saying that, she lifted the hem of her skirt and chased after him, the tinkling of her pearls and jade gradually fading away at the end of the training ground.

Shi Feiyang used his amazing lightness skill, "After the deed is done, I leave without a trace," to chase after him. His tattered robes spread out in the sunlight, like a giant bat swooping across the training ground.

He saw Guo Fu's figure moving in the woods outside the training ground. In the shadows there, Huo Du, the disciple of the Golden Wheel Monk, was hiding. The king had already activated his "Raging Wind and Thunder Skill," and the wind from his palms made the leaves fall in a rustling sound.

As Guo Fu's Qingfeng sword cleaved through the last tree barrier, Huo Du's palm strike was already upon her face. She was utterly unable to withstand the unpredictable nature of Western Region martial arts; her sword move was deflected by the palm strike the moment it was delivered, and she crashed into the rock wall like a kite with a broken string.

"Miss Guo, how have you been?" The figure of the Golden Wheel Dharma King emerged from the shadows, his five-wheeled Dharma disc gleaming with a coppery patina in the sunlight. He said coldly, "Your father killed my grand-disciple, and today I will pay with your blood." He activated his Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill, and the force of his palm caused ripples to spread across the surrounding pool.

Guo Fu's sword was stuck in a crevice in the rocks. She touched the dagger at her waist—it was given to her by Guo Jing for self-defense, and the scabbard was engraved with the words "Defend Xiangyang." "My father will kill you!" Her voice trembled, but she still stubbornly refused to bow her head.

"By the time your father arrives, you will already be a corpse." Huo Du's palm strike came out again, but it suddenly changed direction three inches away from Guo Fu and crashed into the rock wall with a "bang." Amidst the flying debris, he clutched his chest and took three steps back, looking around in surprise and uncertainty.

Shi Feiyang hid in the treetops on the opposite bank of the pool, water droplets dripping from his tattered robes. He had just used the "Shifting Flowers and Jade" divine skill to deflect Huo Du's palm strike; the chill at his fingertips had condensed into fine ice, which fell into the pool, creating ripples. "Who's playing tricks in the shadows?" The Golden Wheel Dharma King's five-wheeled magic discs flew out simultaneously—the bronze wheel, silver wheel, red gold wheel, Xuan Tian wheel, and agate wheel formed a killing array in the air, shattering the surrounding trees to pieces.

"What a magnificent display of power the Dharma King has!" Yang Guo roared, his sword suddenly flying out from behind the pool, its spine shattering the crimson-gold wheel. He then rebuked, "What kind of hero bullies a girl?" Little Dragon Girl's Jade Maiden Sword followed closely behind, its tip aimed at the Dharma King's pulse point, her white skirt drawing silver lines in the pool.

The Golden Wheel Monk's Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill suddenly upgraded and erupted, his palm wind pressing down on Yang Guo like a small mountain. With a loud "bang," the pool water was shaken into the air, turning into a sky full of water arrows. Yang Guo's longsword was bent under the pressure, his knees sank an inch into the bluestone slab, and blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

"Guo'er!" Xiaolongnu cried out in alarm. Her Jade Maiden Heart Sword was diverted and thrust out, but it was entangled by the Dharma King's agate wheel. The barbs on the wheel snagged on her skirt, tearing off a piece of fabric, and a bloody mark instantly appeared on her exposed fair wrist.

Shi Feiyang's tattered robes swayed gently on the treetops. He had already circulated his Mingyu Gong to the "Supreme Forgetfulness of Ice Soul Cold Prison" level and saw that the trajectory of the Dharma King's palm wind was heading straight for Yang Guo's chest.

Shi Feiyang hurriedly used the "Transferring Flowers and Jade" divine skill, sending out his energy quietly, like an invisible thread, wrapping around the Dharma King's wrist. Just as the power of the Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill was about to be unleashed, that fierce force suddenly turned and slammed into the Golden Wheel Dharma King's own shoulder with a "bang".

With a "pfft," the Dharma King spat out a mouthful of blood, and the five Dharma discs fell to the ground simultaneously. He looked around in surprise and doubt, but could only see the pool water shimmering in the sunlight, as if the strange force came from the bottom of the water.

Yang Guo seized the opportunity, sweeping his longsword horizontally, the wind of the sword slicing off half of the Dharma King's robe sleeve. "Thank you for your secret assistance, senior!" His voice echoed by the pool, but his gaze could not find any trace of Shi Feiyang.

As Guo Fu was helped up by Xiaolongnu, she saw Shi Feiyang's tattered robes sweep past the treetops on the opposite bank.

The air there suddenly froze into ice, and a leaf froze into an ice crystal as it fell, refracting a rainbow of colors.

"It's that beggar..." she murmured to herself, and the wound on her palm suddenly stopped hurting.

……

At the banquet at the Guo residence, the candlelight flickered precariously in the wind. Huang Rong's Dog-Beating Stick leaned against the corner of the table, its tip wrapped with a piece of jade pendant—a gift from Yang Guo, who said it was to be returned to Guo Fu by Xiaolongnu; it was a fragment of the pearl flower that had been crushed yesterday.

"What did Miss Long say?" Guo Jing asked Huang Rong, his iron bow at his feet, the arrowhead of the black iron arrow reflecting his solemn face.

Huang Rong pushed the jade pendant in front of Guo Fu, saying with mixed feelings of joy and worry, "She said that her fate with Guo'er has come to an end, and told Fu'er to take care of herself."

Her gaze swept over her daughter's swollen eyes, and she said sadly, "Some things can't be forced."

Guo Fu grabbed the jade pendant and threw it to the ground, but Shi Feiyang stopped her with his tattered sleeve.

He appeared at the door at some unknown time, his face beneath the tattered straw hat glowing with a jade-like hue in the candlelight.

He advised, "Young Miss, even broken jade can be mended." His fingertips traced the jade pendant, and as he activated his Mingyu Gong (a martial arts technique), the fragments miraculously rejoined, though the cracks were etched with ice-like patterns. Guo Fu angrily retorted, "Who asked you to meddle!" Tears suddenly fell, but this time not for Yang Guo, but for her reflection in the ice-like patterns—it turned out that in this beggar's eyes, her wretchedness was so clearly visible.

Shi Feiyang pulled his tattered sleeve back and retreated behind the door. He saw Huang Rong give Guo Jing a wink, a look that hinted at a "luring the tiger away from the mountain" strategy—the Mongol spies tonight had surely laid a trap around the Guo residence.

Sure enough, around midnight, a fire suddenly broke out in the west wing. Guo Jing unleashed the "Regretful Dragon" move from the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms, the palm wind carrying a water column to extinguish the flames. However, more than ten Mongol assassins rushed out of the fire, their curved blades aimed straight for Guo Fu's bedroom.

Shi Feiyang used his profound "Hidden Body and Name" lightness skill to step through the window and enter. His tattered robes spread out in the moonlight, like an ice wall blocking Guo Fu's way. He unleashed the "Viewing the Vast Ocean" move from the "Hundred Victories Blade Technique" with both palms, freezing all the assassins' curved blades, turning the cold light on their blades into icicles.

Immediately afterwards, he used the "Transferring Flowers and Jade" divine skill, his energy flowing in his sleeves, causing the assassins' curved blades to suddenly turn and slash at each other. The blood that splattered on the ground was instantly frozen into blood ice by the Mingyu skill, making a crisp "crack" sound.

As Guo Fu drew her sword, the fierce battle was nearing its end. She watched as Shi Feiyang's tattered sleeves swayed gently, and the corpses of the assassins behind him gradually froze, resembling ice sculptures. "You..." Her voice trembled, but she didn't know what to say.

Because in her heart there was only Yang Guo, no one else.

As Shi Feiyang turned to leave, his tattered straw hat fell to the ground. Guo Fu saw his profile, its surface gleaming like jade in the moonlight, more handsome and cold than Yang Guo, yet gentler than the Dharma King's fierceness. "Tomorrow... you won't leave me, will you?" she suddenly asked, her voice barely audible.

Shi Feiyang paused, but did not turn around. The crabapple blossoms in the courtyard suddenly bloomed in the night, and the dewdrops on the petals reflected his departing figure, much like the lonely dragon shadow in the Tang Dynasty palace.

Huang Rong stood on the corridor and saw everything clearly.

She smiled at Guo Jing and said, "This kid's martial arts style is just like that of the Yihua Palace from a hundred years ago." She twirled her dog-beating stick in her palm, "except that he has more human touch than the Yihua Palace Master."

Guo Jing's iron bow hummed softly, as if in response.

In the distance, on the city walls of Xiangyang, the beacon towers suddenly lit up, and the sound of the Mongol army's hooves could be faintly heard. Meanwhile, in the courtyard of the Guo residence, Guo Fu was pressing the glued jade pendant to her chest, and the shadow cast on her face by the candlelight carried a hint of girlish shyness.

Whenever Shi Feiyang woke up, his gaze would always follow that pale yellow hue, watching Guo Fu throw half a pancake to the dog, watching her open her oil-paper umbrella because she thought the sun was too strong, and watching her pick and choose the roses from the flower girl.

"This girl is even more like a fiery rose than Guo Biyu was back then," Shi Feiyang murmured. He recalled how Guo Biyu always hid her thorns in her sleeves, while Guo Fu's joys and sorrows were all written on her face, much like the setting sun on the Xiangyang city wall—so intense that one dared not look directly at it, yet one could not help but crave its warmth. Guo Fu suddenly turned around, and the ribs of her oil-paper umbrella almost poked Shi Feiyang's face.

Her eyelashes cast shadows under the umbrella, her nose wrinkled slightly, and she snapped, "It's you again, you beggar! What are you doing following me?"

Shi Feiyang's throat tightened, and he couldn't utter a single word of the imperial pronouncements he had used for thousands of years. He took something out of his pocket and handed it over—it was an ice-sculpted rose made with Mingyu Gong, its petals still glistening with morning dew, shimmering with iridescent light in the sunlight.

Guo Fu's eyes lit up, but she quickly straightened her face and said disdainfully, "Who wants your junk?" Despite her words, she honestly took it. The ice sculpture melted in her palm, and water droplets trickled down her fingers, dripping onto the hem of her pale yellow skirt, leaving a small damp stain.

"Fu'er, let's go!" Huang Rong's voice came from the street corner. Guo Fu hurriedly stuffed the ice sculpture into her sleeve, glared at Shi Feiyang, and cursed, "If you follow me again, I'll break your legs!" With that, she lifted her skirt and ran away, the tinkling of her pearls and jade fading into the distance.

Shi Feiyang stood there, looking at the ice beads remaining in his palm, and suddenly smiled.

The smile carried a sense of relief and a long-lost warmth, like the first ray of sunlight as a frozen lake thaws.

He straightened his gray robe and continued to follow, maintaining a distance of three zhang (approximately 10 meters)—a rule he set for himself, ensuring he wouldn't disturb her while being able to intervene whenever needed. Neither proactive nor reactive.

As I turned the corner, I saw Guo Fu arguing with Da Wu and Xiao Wu.

Wu Xiuwen tried to hold her hand, but she pushed it away with her riding whip; Wu Dunru handed her a sachet, but she threw it on the ground.

Shi Feiyang huddled behind a pillar in the teahouse, watching her stand with her hands on her hips cursing. He suddenly felt that this martial world was much more interesting than the dragon throne in Luoyang Palace.

He thought sadly, "If there had been such a vivid attachment back then, would the Tang Dynasty have been different?" His fingertips traced the ice patterns on his black armor, and the azalea pattern there seemed to come alive as it was brushed against by the hem of Guo Fu's skirt.

He didn't know what the future held, or how far he could accompany her on this journey through the world. But at this moment, watching that pale yellow figure weaving through the crowd and hearing her clear laughter, he suddenly felt that perhaps all these five lifetimes of reincarnation were for this very moment of encounter.

The setting sun cast a long shadow of Shi Feiyang, which appeared close yet distant from Guo Fu's shadow on the bluestone slab.

"You two useless things! Even an eagle is better than you!" Guo Fu cursed again, her whip striking the ground, raising dust.

The way Da Wu and Xiao Wu kept humbly agreeing only fueled her anger.

Shi Feiyang looked at her puffed-out cheeks and suddenly laughed—this girl was like a thorny rose, sharp and passionate, yet more vibrant than a peony in a greenhouse. Guo Fu suddenly pointed her whip at Shi Feiyang and demanded, "Hey, you beggar, do you know how to use hidden weapons?"

She saw that although the man was dressed in rags, his eyes were surprisingly bright. He was not like an ordinary beggar, but rather like a errand boy who could be ordered around. Moreover, he was as handsome as Yang Guo, only a hundred times colder than Yang Guo.

Shi Feiyang was taken aback for a moment, then nodded.

Although he cannot easily unleash his "Emperor's Thunderous Fury," his skill with small hidden weapons is even more precise than Guo Biyu's Emei Dagger back then.

"Alright," Guo Fu tossed him a money pouch and said with ill intent, "Go and catch that eagle for me. I want to pluck its feathers to make arrow fletching!"

Shi Feiyang took the money pouch and suddenly found this job more interesting than being an emperor. However, he didn't try to catch the eagle, not wanting to show off his superior martial arts skills. Besides, he couldn't just do whatever the young lady told him to do! After all, he had been an emperor for hundreds of years; it wouldn't be right for him to be bossed around like that!

He used his Mingyu skill to freeze a string of ice sculptures, which looked exactly like the Divine Condor. When he presented them to Guo Fu, the ice sculptures were inscribed with "Please accept this, Miss Guo."

Da Wu and Xiao Wu were stunned. Both brothers were filled with jealousy, their eyes blazing as they stared at Shi Feiyang, wishing they could skin him alive and drink his blood. Guo Fu said disdainfully, "You've got some skill." But she carefully placed the ice sculpture in her makeup box.

She made Shi Feiyang her follower and named him "Shi Laoyao". In fact, Shi Feiyang had already given himself such a name before coming to Xiangyang. Unexpectedly, Guo Fu also gave him such a name and made him follow her around all day long. Sometimes it was to buy rouge in Fancheng, sometimes it was to go to the city to race horses, and sometimes she just made him stand by her side and listen to her scold Da Wu and Xiao Wu for their clumsiness.

One day, Guo Fu sat on a painted boat on the moat, drinking peach blossom wine, and said angrily, "Old Shi, do you think my father is getting senile? Why does he insist on marrying me off to that Yang Guo? What good is he besides his mediocre kung fu?"

Shi Feiyang poured her a drink, his movements as practiced as when he served He Yao years ago, and teased, "What kind of wine does Miss want?" In truth, he knew perfectly well that Guo Fu loved Yang Guo.

"At least he has to be like my father, able to defend Xiangyang!" Guo Fu's cheeks flushed with wine as she offered a compelling reason: "Ideally... ideally he should also have some refined tastes, like someone like you, skilled at ice carving. Hehe!"

She blushed as soon as she finished speaking and quickly changed the subject.

Shi Feiyang understood that Guo Fu couldn't let go of Yang Guo because she couldn't marry him. So, she deliberately picked fights with Yang Guo, finding fault with everything he did.

In fact, apart from being a bit arrogant, Yang Guo had no other flaws; he was a cold-faced but warm-hearted person.

……

The drill ground at Dasheng Pass was covered in blood from the previous battles, and the setting sun gave it a rusty, fishy smell.

Guo Jing's iron bow leaned against the flagpole, the arrowhead still splattered with the brains of a Tibetan warrior. He was handing half a wheat cake to a beggar with a missing arm, patting the man's back with his rough hand and encouraging him, "Have a good meal and drink. Tomorrow, come with me to inspect the city."

Huang Rong's dog-beating stick circled three times in the air, its tip picking out a bloodstained piece of Tibetan felt: "Elder Lu, the messenger from the Duan family of Dali should have arrived by now. Tell Duan Zhixing that if he continues to hold back, once Xiangyang falls, the camellias of Dali will be replaced by the Mongolian scimitars."

Shi Feiyang hid behind a broken pillar in the corner of the training ground, his tattered straw hat covering half of his face.

He watched as Guo Fu tossed half a piece of bread to a lame dog, which rubbed against the hem of her skirt with the bread in its mouth. She scraped away the mud stains on the pale yellow fabric with the tip of her boot—this girl showed a hint of arrogance even towards a dog, yet she was still impossible to look away from.

Guo Fu cursed, "This cake is nowhere near as good as the one Yang Guo gave me." She kicked the dog's belly, her voice filled with grievance, like bubbling water that hadn't boiled. Shi Feiyang's fingertips traced ice patterns on the broken pillar, freezing the two characters "Yang Guo" into ice crystals, then wiped them away with his sleeve—he had witnessed Yang Guo's "beauty fist technique," the tenderness in the fist's wind clashing with Guo Fu's arrogance, a symphony most discordant in the world.

"Fu'er!" Huang Rong called out urgently, the wine gourd on the Dog-Beating Stick shook, spilling amber-colored wine droplets, and she said urgently, "The disciples of the Golden Wheel Monk are provoking us at the West Gate, and your father is arguing with them."

Guo Fu drew her sword with a "whoosh," the scabbard colliding with the jade pendant at her waist, making a crisp sound. She roared, "If that foreign monk dares to come, I'll chop off his Mongolian fur hat!" She raised her sword to leave, but Shi Feiyang's tattered sleeve caught the hem of her skirt.

“Young Miss,” Shi Feiyang’s voice was deeper than the wind on the training ground. He held an ice-sculpted rose in his palm, the morning dew on the petals condensing into tiny diamonds. He said with concern, “This flower… can block three bone-piercing nails.”

He saw this kind of hidden weapon in the quiver of the Mongol warrior last night; the core of the ice sculpture was just right to catch the nail tip.

Guo Fu's sword tassel swept across the ice sculpture, and shards of ice fell onto her boots as she cursed, "Who cares about your rubbish?"

However, when she received the rose, her fingertips involuntarily clenched tightly, and she did not loosen her grip even when ice shards pierced her palms.

Shi Feiyang watched her turn and leave. The hem of her pale yellow skirt swept across the bloodstains on the ground, making the crimson stain seem vivid. (End of Chapter)