novelnext Chapter 12: The Nameless Swordsman of the Southern Tang Dynasty
Chapter 12: The Nameless Swordsman of the Southern Tang Dynasty
Zhou Yi pushed open the hidden door of the statue.
The blinding sunlight illuminated the dilapidated temple courtyard, where the old Taoist priest lay supine amidst the overgrown weeds, a pool of blood beneath him that had long since turned dark brown. His eyes were wide open, gazing at the ravaged sky beyond the broken eaves. His withered hands remained in a gesture of some kind of hand seal, as if he were still silently reciting incantations to subdue demons before his death.
Zhou Yi walked silently over, bent down, and gently covered the old Taoist's eyes with his hands, which were no longer trembling but were still unusually cold. He found a relatively dry mound of earth behind the temple, dug up the frozen soil with his own hands, and hastily buried this Taoist, whom he had met by chance but who had given his life for him. There was no tombstone, no inscription, only a handful of fresh soil, accompanying this equally abandoned temple.
After doing all this, he turned around and walked towards home.
The road was no longer the road of my memory. The bluestone slabs were soaked in blood, sticky and slippery. Most of the houses on both sides were just charred frames, still emitting wisps of smoke. Corpses lay in various contorted positions in the streets and alleys, some were townspeople, and some were soldiers who hadn't had time to evacuate or had fallen asleep drunk, casually killed with a flick of their inner energy. The air was filled with an overwhelming, unyielding stench of acrid burning and blood, which even the winter wind could not dispel.
The world was eerily silent, save for the sound of his own footsteps and the faint groans of a dying man coming from some distant place.
The willow tree in front of my house was half scorched, and the other half of its branches drooped helplessly toward the water.
He carefully cleaned the bodies of his father, Xiaoxiao, and Zhang Nian'an, dressing them in the cleanest clothes he could find. Then, under the willow tree, he dug three pits side by side. There were no coffins, only clean straw mats to cover them. He filled the pits with soil and tamped it down.
No monument was erected.
He didn't even leave a trace that could identify them. Because he still didn't understand the true level of "power" in this world. This journey of revenge was fraught with peril, and he absolutely couldn't allow these executioners, or any future enemies, to have any chance to disturb their peace.
Zhou Yi glanced one last time at the three cups of freshly burned earth, then turned and walked toward the abandoned blacksmith's shop in town. The furnace fire had long since died down, leaving only cold ashes. Several rough, unfinished black iron bars lay diagonally stuck into the abandoned forging table, cold and hard.
He casually pulled out two of the heaviest, straightest iron bars, their edges still bristling, and weighed them in his hands. They were unsharpened, unengraved, just raw iron blanks. Then, he strode northward—towards the direction where the stench of battle and blood was strongest, and where the faint sound of horses' hooves could be heard.
The steps were heavy at first, as if dragging the entire town of Nanxun with its dead souls. But gradually, the steps became steady and even, each step perfectly measured. The iron bar dragged on the ground, rubbing against the bluestone, producing a monotonous and piercing "sizzle" sound that broke the silence, like a lament and a pre-battle drumbeat for this silent funeral and departure.
His figure disappeared at the end of the dilapidated streets and alleys in the north, blending into the dark red skyline stained by the flames of war.
Longhu Mountain, Demon-Slaying Platform.
Clouds and mist swirled, and a fierce wind howled.
Qi Xuanzhen, dressed in a simple Taoist robe, stood alone on the edge of the cliff, the whisk in his hand moving without wind. He gazed southward, his eyes seemingly piercing through thousands of mountains and rivers, seeing the scars of blood and fire, and also seeing that seemingly insignificant figure walking northward, seemingly small yet drawing upon overwhelming karma.
After a long while, he let out a long sigh, which echoed through the sea of clouds and caused the surrounding spiritual energy to pause slightly.
"The calamity has arrived... It is not just a calamity for one person, but the beginning of a calamity for the entire world."
He slowly turned around and looked down at the mountain path. There, a disheveled figure in blue robes was staggering down the mountain, his back desolate. It was Li Chungang, who had just failed in his sword challenge, learned that the elixir was illusory, and whose sword heart had shattered, causing his cultivation level to plummet.
"Li Chungang," Qi Xuanzhen's calm voice pierced through the clouds and reached the ears of the distraught Sword God, "before we part, I will grant you one last opportunity. Go down the mountain and head south. If you see a man carrying a sword and saber heading north... observe him."
Li Chungang paused, but did not turn around. His hunched back seemed to bend even more. He then continued to drag his weak steps and disappeared into the winding mountain path.
Deep within the Celestial Master's Mansion lies the Dragon Pool.
The pond water was originally shimmering with golden light, radiating auspicious energy. The twelve "Eternal Life Lotuses," symbolizing the shared prosperity of Longhu Mountain and the Liyang Dynasty, bloomed year-round, their brilliance dazzling.
Right now!
Without warning, the pool water violently trembled!
puff!puff!puff!
The three most radiant golden lotuses, whose roots were deeply embedded in the fate of the Li Yang Kingdom, instantly turned gray, their petals withered, their stems broke, and they sank to the bottom of the pond! Immediately afterward, the remaining nine golden lotuses also dimmed, swayed violently, and withered at a visible speed, as if they were being invaded by an invisible cold wave!
"How could this be?! A backlash from fate? A warning from the Golden Lotus?!"
Zhao Xuansu, the patriarch of Longhu Mountain who had been in seclusion deep within the Dragon Pool, suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils bursting with golden light, and for the first time, his face showed an expression of near-horror. He not only sensed the withering of the Qi Luck Lotus, but also felt a chilling, bone-piercing premonition of impending doom, like the sharpest ice pick piercing his crown chakra!
How could that be! Longhu Mountain is currently at its peak! Externally, the reincarnated Lu Zu Qi Xuanzhen is in charge, dominating the world; internally, Zhao Xuansu, a terrestrial immortal, is cultivating in seclusion; below, the Four Celestial Masters assist him; and moreover, it is connected with the fortune of the Li Yang Dynasty, which is about to unify the nine kingdoms, making its status as the state religion as stable as Mount Tai!
What else in this world could give him such a clear sense of crisis—the destruction of his sect and the severing of his lineage?!
"Senior!" A desperate cry, accompanied by violent coughing and the stench of blood, rang out. Zhao Huangchao, the patriarch of the Li Yang royal family, had disregarded the rules and forced his way outside the Dragon Pool. His breathing was disordered, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth; he had clearly suffered a severe injury. "Senior! The fate of the Li Yang kingdom is in turmoil, and the dragon's aura is mournful! What exactly…?"
"Zhao Huangchao! Is it because of the heinous sins committed by your Liyang royal family that this unpredictable calamity has been brought about?!" Zhao Xuansu's beard and hair stood on end, and a terrifying pressure instantly enveloped Longchi. If it weren't for the fact that their fates were intertwined, he would have almost taken action to suppress him.
"Senior, you are wise!" Zhao Huangchao exclaimed in shock and anger, "My Liyang Zhao clan and the Longhu Zhao clan have long shared the same fate! How dare I destroy our own Great Wall? I have come here precisely to ask you, senior, what kind of deity has Longhu Mountain offended?! How could they remotely sever the fate of my Liyang nation and damage the very foundation of my dragon energy!"
"My Longhu Mountain has provoked you?" Zhao Xuansu laughed angrily, his voice like clashing ice. "This is clearly aimed at your Li Yang's military might and bloodshed! If you can't explain it, I'll risk the Li Yang army surrounding the mountain today, and I'll make sure Xuan Zhen utterly destroys you!"
"Senior! This junior...this junior truly has no idea!" Zhao Huangchao's face was full of bitterness; he was genuinely baffled. He was sitting deep within the palace when disaster struck from the sky.
With Li Yang's current national strength, plus Qi Xuanzhen's presence at Longhu Mountain, what else in this world could pose such a deadly threat to them at the same time?
What trouble has arisen in Western Chu? Is Northern Mang about to invade the south?
The capital of the Liyang Dynasty.
A secret order bearing the emperor's jade seal and conveying an air of extreme urgency was swiftly issued from the depths of the palace.
A master of the highest rank acted as a messenger, changing horses but not people at post stations along the way, delivering the urgent message over three thousand miles!
The command was simple and clear: Something has happened in the Southern Tang Dynasty, investigate immediately!
With thunderous hooves, carrying the empire's shock, anger, and underlying unease, they tore through the official roads and surged madly towards the scorched earth of the Southern Tang territory.
Southern Tang Dynasty, capital city.
The once-prosperous imperial city has now become a battlefield. Black smoke billows, and the sounds of screams and laughter, clashing swords and collapsing buildings intertwine to create a symphony of hell.
Before the main hall of the imperial palace, Gu Jiantang stood, clad in gleaming mountain-patterned armor, his hand resting on the renowned sword "Nanhua" at his waist. He wasn't particularly imposing, but standing there, he was like an insurmountable iron mountain, calm, ruthless, and exuding the chilling aura of a seasoned general. His gaze swept across the capital, now a battlefield, indifferent and merciless.
"General Gu!"
General Lu Shengxiang strode forward, his armor stained with blood, his face showing both exhaustion and excitement after the fierce battle, and in his right hand he held a head with wide-open eyes, wearing the crown of a prince.
"The Southern Tang emperor set himself on fire in his palace, and the empress hanged herself. Eight or nine out of ten officials, nobles, and relatives have surrendered. Only the crown prince has any backbone left, leading the remaining troops in a half-day resistance." Lu Shengxiang tossed the head to his guard, cupped his hands, and said, "Congratulations, General! After defeating Dongyue, you have once again conquered Southern Tang! Your illustrious achievements are no less than Xu Xiao's back then!"
"Southern Tang and Eastern Yue are nothing but minor ailments, insignificant little countries," Gu Jiantang said calmly, his voice devoid of joy. His gaze drifted further northwest, to where Great Chu lay, to where Xu Xiao resided. "They cannot compare to the monumental feat of someone who destroyed five kingdoms and besieged Great Chu."
During the Spring and Autumn Period, among the nine states, the last of the nine, the State of Chu, had its capital besieged for two years. If Zhao Li had not feared that Xu Xiao's achievements would overshadow the emperor and lead to a change of dynasty, and had not cut off half of the food supply, the State of Chu would never have been able to hold out for so long.
Gu Jiantang knew perfectly well that the butcher was likely not far from being "cooked like a dog." He and Xu Xiao were rivals on the battlefield, but privately they shared a mutual respect as heroes. Even faster than he anticipated, Gu Jiantang was unaware that shortly after he led his troops into Southern Tang, Xu Xiao had already been recalled to the capital, Liyang.
The two walked side by side out of the blood-soaked hall, standing on the high steps, overlooking the city being "digested." Gu Jiantang's order was simple: after the city fell, swords would not be sheathed for three days. This was punishment for those who resisted, and also a reward for his fierce and powerful army. And this was only the first day.
"Commander Gu, although the Southern Tang has been destroyed, the martial world is not yet at peace, so we still need to be careful..." Lu Sheng seemed to have thought of something, and his excitement subsided, his tone turning serious.
"Be careful of what?" Gu Jiantang's gaze was sharp as lightning.
"When the Western Shu Kingdom fell, the 'Sword Emperor' guarded its borders alone, drawing a circle around the border as his prison. Within three incense sticks' worth of time, he slew eight hundred elite cavalrymen under the command of the Northern Liang King! Yet, the Western Shu Sword Emperor doesn't even rank among the top three in the current martial arts rankings." Lu Shengxiang lowered his voice, "In the martial arts world of Southern Tang... there is someone whose name is even higher than that Western Shu Sword Emperor's, and who has held the top spot in the martial arts rankings for many years..."
"The number one martial arts master, the nameless swordsman of the Southern Tang Dynasty, whose name is known but whose face is never seen." Gu Jiantang took over the conversation, a cold smile curving his lips. "Shengxiang, you're overthinking it. Even if this nameless swordsman of the Southern Tang Dynasty truly exists, so what?"
He raised his hand and pointed to the military camps outside the city, stretching like a black tide and filled with murderous intent, and then to the elite soldiers inside the city, who were sweeping around like wolves and tigers.
"You command five thousand elite heavily armored cavalrymen, skilled in charging into battle. I, your commander, lead one hundred and fifty thousand battle-hardened soldiers, fresh from conquering the city and brimming with morale. Let alone a elusive swordsman, even if the legendary Lu Zu were to be resurrected and all the celestial beings descend to earth... before this iron-blooded army, it would be nothing more than the entire army forming ranks, making my men exert more effort and cut a few more times."
He patted Lu Shengxiang on the shoulder, his voice resolute: "The martial world is the martial world, and the battlefield is the battlefield. Individual bravery is nothing but a mantis trying to stop a chariot in the face of a real national war machine. There's no need to worry."
Gu Jiantang has more authority to speak on this matter than Lu Shengxiang, after all, he is also a rare master in the world, a great swordsman of the Celestial Phenomenon Realm! He knows that there are limits to what people in the martial arts world can achieve.
But he would never have imagined that neither Lu Zu nor the immortals existed.
There is one celestial being.
Thirty li outside the capital of the Southern Tang Dynasty, on an inconspicuous little hill, stands a half-abandoned viewing pavilion.
On the stone table in the pavilion, there is a simple chessboard carved on it.
There were two people here at that moment.
A man dressed in a faded scholar's robe, with an ordinary face but a gentle and peaceful demeanor, was facing a chessboard alone, his fingers lightly touching the board, as if he were deducing a game that no one could understand.
The other man stood with his arms crossed, his posture as upright as a pine tree, his aura almost blending into the surrounding environment; unless seen with one's own eyes, it would be nearly impossible to detect his presence. His gaze was as sharp as a hawk's, fixed on the official road leading to the capital to the south.
Until a blurry black dot appeared on the horizon, slowly approaching.
The martial artist's spirits lifted, and he whispered, "They're here!"
The scholar didn't even look up, still staring at the chessboard: "Is it him?"
"You're the one who told me to come here and wait for him, and now you're asking me?" The martial artist frowned.
"I won't lie to you," the scholar finally raised his eyes, his gaze clear and deep, as if he could see through many things, yet also filled with deep confusion, "I only know that he will appear here at this moment. The so-called nameless swordsman of the Southern Tang... I don't know who he is, his age, his gender, or his origins."
"You know nothing, yet you ranked him first in the martial arts rankings, surpassing Qi Xuanzhen and Li Chungang?" the martial artist questioned.
The scholar gently placed a non-existent chess piece and said slowly, "I only know one thing—he is strong enough. Strong enough to be unparalleled throughout history."
"Unparalleled throughout history? What a boastful tone! Even Lu Zu would never dare to make such a claim." The martial artist frowned.
"Whether it's boasting or not, you'll soon find out," the scholar said, looking at the approaching figure with a solemn tone as if witnessing history. "What does it mean to be... unparalleled in both sword and saber, the most powerful killer throughout history?"
Later historians meticulously recorded little about this mysterious, nameless swordsman from the Southern Tang Dynasty. His life was shrouded in mystery, yet he shone like a meteor streaking across the long night, his brilliance eclipsing all his contemporaries.
As the undisputed pinnacle of martial arts throughout history, and a figure who redefined the definition of a warrior, the nameless swordsman of the Southern Tang Dynasty holds a place in history comparable to that of emperors who achieved unification.
However, in stark contrast to his dazzling, sun-like power, there are extremely few records of his existence, almost none.
He was like a shooting star that suddenly tore through the night sky—burning the eyes of the era with its most intense brilliance, before disappearing into eternal darkness, leaving behind endless imagination, controversy, and unattainable admiration for posterity.
The rumors circulating in the martial arts world at that time were numerous and varied, but most of them were mere speculation. Later research revealed that the most credible clue actually came from the extraordinary and talented Fu Hua Zhenren of Wudang Mountain, who eventually ascended to immortality. In her secret manual "Three Thousand Years of Forgetting the Dao," there is a chapter called "The Past of Nanxun," in which she is mentioned several times.
It is precisely because of these few words that later historians and scholars of martial arts history were able to deduce that this mysterious swordsman was likely from Nanxun Town in the Southern Tang Dynasty, and had interacted with Fu Hua, a young girl who had not yet entered the Daoist path. However, what is regrettable is that in her notes, Fu Hua referred to herself only as an unnamed swordsman from the Southern Tang Dynasty, remaining completely silent about her true identity, name, and appearance, leaving no concrete record whatsoever, thus becoming an eternal mystery.
The following is recorded in the "Tales of the Nameless Swordsman of the Southern Tang Dynasty," compiled by later generations who organized the secret manuals left behind by Master Fu Hua:
"An unnamed swordsman from the Southern Tang Dynasty, whose origins, age, gender, and lineage are unknown. His nature is like a lone goose, and his whereabouts are like fleeting clouds."
"On the day the Southern Tang dynasty collapsed and the capital fell, 150,000 Li Yang cavalrymen were stationed outside the city, their arrogant soldiers and fierce generals radiating an aura that blotted out the sky. On that day, he appeared outside the capital..."
Historians often pause here before writing the sequel with the most concise and impactful strokes. And at this moment, what the two people in the pavilion are witnessing is the beginning of a scene that will be recorded in history.
The figure on the horizon finally became clear.
He was a teenager.
Their clothes were simple, even somewhat worn, bearing the dust of a long journey.
He held neither sword nor knife, but casually carried two long, dark, unpolished iron blanks.
His pace was slow but exceptionally steady as he calmly walked toward the burning, weeping imperial capital surrounded by 150,000 Li Yang iron cavalry.
It was as if he wasn't heading towards a massacre destined to shock the world and cause rivers of blood to flow.
Instead, they went to... accomplish something that should have been done long ago.