"Go now—deliver the Cheng Ying sword to Yan Chun Jun's mansion."
Yan Dan had timed it precisely: right as Yan Chun Jun was heading back to his estate, while simultaneously spreading the word through the Feixue Pavilion that the Cheng Ying had fallen into Yan Chun Jun's hands.
"Yan Chun Jun, hand over the Cheng Ying sword!"
Just as Yan Chun Jun's mood was souring, a sword master blocked his carriage. Countless others lurked in the shadows, watching.
"What Cheng Ying sword?" Yan Chun Jun stepped out, frowning.
"Everyone knows the Cheng Ying is in Jiyang City, yet the Chancellor claims ignorance—is that meant to cover your tracks?" A mocking voice echoed from the darkness. Word of the rumor—that Yan Chun Jun had obtained the Cheng Ying—had everyone on edge, waiting to see how he'd explain himself.
In ordinary times, even if they knew the Cheng Ying was in Yan Chun Jun's mansion, no one would dare act. But with sword cultivators from across the world gathered now, fear had evaporated.
"I don't know what you're talking about. In any case, I haven't obtained the Cheng Ying sword," Yan Chun Jun insisted. He absolutely couldn't admit to possessing it.
The two sides stood frozen on the main avenue, neither daring to strike first. Yan Chun Jun waited for the city guards to arrive—otherwise, tonight would be dire. But he didn't know Yan Dan had already accounted for that: a fire had been set in the east city, drawing off all the troops near the Feixue Pavilion.
"Make way!" Yan Chun Jun barked, realizing he'd been ensnared. In all of Jiyang City, only Crown Prince Dan could pull this off.
"Only you in Jiyang have the means to claim the Cheng Ying!" Another voice called from the gloom.
"I'm no sword master—what use would I have for the Cheng Ying?" Though Yan Chun Jun desperately wanted to drag that voice's owner into the light, he knew any move would unleash a storm of blades. He'd figured it out too: the Cheng Ying must be in the crown prince's residence. But he couldn't say it aloud—King Xi of Yan would be the first to silence him.
The sword masters finally parted the road, but they trailed the carriage back to Yan Chun Jun's mansion.
Once home, Yan Chun Jun exhaled in relief. With armored guards at the ready and no solid proof, these interlopers wouldn't risk a desperate charge.
"Congratulations, my lord—your humble servant chanced upon a treasure sword and presents it to you." A retainer rushed up, beaming, cradling a sword case.
The man truly felt fortune had smiled on him. Roused by clashing sounds in the night, he'd peeked out to see two figures fighting—one with this very case on his back. The retainer was no weakling; he startled one off and slew the bearer, opening the case to reveal the very Cheng Ying that had Jiyang in a frenzy.
"The Cheng Ying sword is in Yan Chun Jun's mansion!" A sudden shout rang out as a sword master burst from the estate.
Yan Chun Jun knew he'd been played. He took the case, his expression shifting—too light. Inside was indeed a sword: finely crafted, indistinguishable from the famed Cheng Ying at a glance. But gripping it, he realized: it was wood.
"We're done for!" Yan Chun Jun knew explanations were futile now. He could only hope his guards held back the swarm of sword masters.
"We seek only the Cheng Ying—no desire for needless slaughter. Lord Chancellor, surrender the sword." A booming voice cut through. A black-clad figure, sword in hand, repelled several guards in a flash. Behind him followed a sizable group, all in black robes and masks.
Yan Chun Jun emerged at the gate, the so-called Cheng Ying in his grasp—though it was mere wood.
"The famed Cheng Ying!" The sword masters went berserk at the sight. The guards fought desperately, but their lines thinned. At first, the attackers held back, but upon spotting the wooden sword, mercy vanished—every strike now meant death.
"The sword's a fake—see for yourselves!" As his defenses crumbled, Yan Chun Jun hurled the wooden blade. A sword master caught it but fell silent, run through the heart by his neighbor before he could speak.
The melee reignited, though true experts still hung back, observing. Only as the fray thinned did the truth emerge: it was wood.
"The sword isn't in Yan Chun Jun's mansion. Trespass further, and this chancellor isn't one to trifle with," Yan Chun Jun declared as the fighting paused.
"The Cheng Ying casts a shadow without form—an elegant blade. You think a wooden imitation fools us all?" someone retorted.
No one had ever seen the Cheng Ying—only heard its legends. Now, the insight dawned: the true blade had no visible body, just a hilt. Without firsthand knowledge, how could anyone craft such a convincing wooden twin?
"Kill!"
This time, it wasn't the rabble—renowned sword masters from afar charged in. Yan Chun Jun's retainers resisted fiercely but faltered against these seasoned killers.
Yan Chun Jun watched bitterly as his men dwindled to nothing, leaving a dozen blades encircling him.
"Lord Chancellor, reveal the Cheng Ying's whereabouts—or no one guarantees your life," a sword master warned.
"I don't know!" Yan Chun Jun truly didn't—the "find" had come mere moments after his arrival, and it was that wooden fake.
A sword flash severed his arm. The circle regarded him coldly.
"The Cheng Ying isn't in Yan Chun Jun's mansion!" A voice rang out. All turned to see the Confucian second-in-command, Yan Lu, with the purple-robed Xue Nu at his side.
"Master Yan, where is the Cheng Ying?" Eyes locked on him.
"It has been claimed by the Daoist Renzong's former leader, Senior Xiao Yao Zi," Yan Lu announced.
"The Cheng Ying belongs to our Daoist sect now. Let no further slaughter harm the innocent." The Thousand-Li Voice Transmission echoed across Jiyang City.
In the crown prince's residence, Yan Dan froze. The Daoists had arrived too—he'd stirred a hornet's nest. I wonder if Yan Chun Jun's dead.
"Crown Prince Dan of Yan, daring to scheme against Daoists and Confucians—this debt will be repaid in kind." A voice resounded in Yan Dan's mind.
Yan Dan went blank. This pinned all the fury on the prince's estate. Talk about reaping what you sow. Word spread through Jiyang: this was Crown Prince Dan's plot to borrow blades for murder. No one might storm the residence now, but tonight's deaths for the Cheng Ying would all tally to him. Plotting against the chancellor? The court would offer no refuge—especially since Yan Chun Jun was his uncle.
"Sigh, have you forgotten the Changping Lord's fate?" Six-Fingered Black Hero appeared in the prince's residence, sighing. He didn't mind propping Yan Dan as Yan's king, but he wouldn't shield him from the Hundred Schools. Theirs was mere alliance.
Six-Fingered Black Hero couldn't quite fathom Yan Dan. Talented, yes—exceptional, even, on the path to emperorship. But he lacks that regal bearing, that imperial poise. Too scheming, forgetting true emperors face foes head-on, not with jianghu backstabs. In this, he fell short of even Changping Lord, who kept his dignity to the end—serene in the face of Daoist targeting, arranging affairs before facing death calmly.
But Yan Dan reeked of wandering knight vibes, ever plotting court affairs through jianghu channels. He'd ignored how the Daoists handled Changping: a warning shot to the Seven Kingdoms' courts—meddle with the Hundred Schools, and pay dearly. Yan Dan turned a blind eye, deluding himself he could wield the schools like a knife.
"I'm curious—how did you obtain the Cheng Ying?" Yan Lu asked, examining the hilt-only blade that, under moonlight, revealed its elegant form.
Li Haimo and Xiao Meng exchanged an awkward glance. Can't exactly say we've already "visited" Yan Chun Jun's mansion twice, can we? So they knew the Cheng Ying couldn't be there. In all Jiyang, only the crown prince's residence could hold it without a whisper. Thus, they'd staked out the prince's estate, guided by Han Guang's resonance—waiting for Yan Dan's ploy against Yan Chun Jun. But before delivery, the sword had been swapped.
"Actually, before you arrived, we'd already paid Yan Chun Jun's mansion two visits," Li Haimo admitted sheepishly.
Yan Lu blinked. What a charming euphemism for "robbing"—only the Daoists could make Kong Kong'er sound so poetic.
"If Yan Chun Jun knew he survived because of your two visits, would he feel relieved... or tragic?" Yan Lu couldn't quite critique further.
"Could we see Xiao Lian?" Li Haimo asked.
Yan Lu nodded, merging Han Guang with Cheng Ying. The hilts fused into a perfect circle. Under moonlight, the blades emerged—clear and refined. Their shadows cast two more: one azure-white, the other faint crimson, barely there.
"These visible blades: the central one is Cheng Ying, the azure-white is Han Guang. That ethereal, half-there presence is Xiao Lian. It can't exist apart from Cheng Ying—like the three realms of inquiry. 'Mountains are not mountains, waters not waters'—without the first realm's 'mountains are mountains, waters are waters,' the second can't arise. Thus with Xiao Lian: it exists yet doesn't, doesn't yet does. That's the wondrous uniqueness of the three Kong Zhou swords." Yan Lu demonstrated the special technique to reveal them temporarily. Without him, it might have taken them ages to discern Xiao Lian.
"A sword attendant for Cheng Ying and its twin—only your Daoists would strike such a deal." Yan Lu glanced at Xue Nu beside him, shaking his head with a smile. As Teacher Xun Zi says: those who cultivate the Daoist Scripture have minds askew—otherwise, who'd dream this up?
"Thank you, Master!" Xue Nu's eyes reddened. She'd witnessed the Cheng Ying draw sword masters and Hundred Schools alike—the bloodbath at Yan Chun Jun's mansion still vivid. To think her teacher had traded those twin blades to save her.
"No need to ache for him—his famed swords are plentiful. As his sword attendant, you'll probably need the Mohists to design a sword case for you," Xiao Meng said, pulling her up.
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