Edict of Peace 59
Chapter 59: Grasping Divine Weapons Again!
Li Guanyi’s appearance brought the entire literary gathering to a standstill. Those scholars had just moments ago extolled this young man to the heavens, claiming him unparalleled. However, such accolades were only fitting for the dead. If this person was still alive, their earlier praises were nothing short of using their own reputations to adorn him.
A raucous, aged laugh pierced the air.
Li Guanyi, his right hand gripping a blade, his left holding the identity tokens of the assassins and escaped convicts, strode forward. Numerous scholars saw his bloodstained clothes—his shoulders, legs, and chest bore torn patches, clearly wounds inflicted by crossbow bolts—emanating an aura of slaughter.
The complex emotions swirling within the literary gathering were palpable. The scholars’ earlier glee at Li Guanyi’s supposed demise, their feigned sorrow and regret, blended into a uniquely hypocritical atmosphere. The weakness and effeminacy of the literati—all shattered in an instant.
Li Guanyi tossed the wooden tokens into the air; they clattered to the ground.
The seventh giant of the Mohist school’s expression darkened. He recognized the origins of these assassins.
As Li Guanyi approached, a scholar stammered, his voice slightly choked, “You… you’re back, Brother Li! It’s… it’s wonderful!” A warm smile touched his lips, yet his hand, holding his fan, unconsciously tightened.
Li Guanyi nodded in acknowledgment, his eyebrows slightly raised. An elderly man, simply dressed, sat cross-legged in a corner. Raising a ceramic bowl, he boomed, “Hey! Li Guanyi, how many did you kill?!”
Li Guanyi replied, “Seven.”
Si Wei asked, “What realm have you reached?!”
Li Guanyi walked forward, saying, “Beyond the entry level.”
Si Wei laughed again, “Thirsty? Here, I have something to quench your thirst.”
Li Guanyi, not seeing any familiar faces, strode through the clearing. The other scholars parted to let him pass. Li Guanyi saw countless scrolls around him, adorned with elegantly written poems and essays. They either praised bravery and righteousness or lamented premature death, expressing melancholy and ambition, wishing they could be as brave and valiant as this deceased youth, drawing their swords like clouds. They described even death as radiant as the celestial glow.
These scrolls and verses hung on either side, cascading down, gently swaying in the breeze. But unfortunately, the literary style of Chen Kingdom was famously ornate. Even this topic felt soft and limp. Having spent his youth fleeing, he had seen countless people; even the rough commoners in the marketplace were rarely as insincere as these present. Their eyes betrayed a hint of regret that he had returned alive, yet their faces wore a look of delight—an unsettling combination.
Li Guanyi picked up a cup of wine and drank it down in one gulp. The liquid was not the rice wine of this world, but strong liquor. His body was unaccustomed to alcohol; yet the burning sensation felt invigorating. Glancing at the hanging verses and the assembled scholars, he looked at Wei Xuancheng and said,
“I have another poem I haven’t written.”
Wei Xuancheng offered him a brush, saying, “Please.”
The youth, one hand resting on his sword, picked up the brush. His movements were as decisive as wielding a blade. Wei Xuancheng stood beside him, watching Li Guanyi write with the same force as he wielded his sword. He quietly read the poem:
“Ten years I’ve honed my blade,”
Silence fell over the gathering. These simple words, unlike the elaborate style prevalent in Jiangnan, seemed to possess an inherent energy, or perhaps it was the sharp edge of Li Guanyi himself, having just walked in after killing seven martial artists who have entered the realm.
“Untested, its frost-edged might.”
“Today, I show it to you.”
Wei Xuancheng straightened, softly asking,
“Who has an injustice to right!”
The Mohist giant looked at the upright youth, his eyes filled with surprise.
Li Guanyi finished the last line, throwing the brush onto the table. He expelled a breath of pent-up air and liquor, feeling a surge of exhilaration and relief. He decided these scholars were utterly uninteresting. He was better suited as a martial artist.
“I’m finished.”
With a bow, he strode out to find the elder Xue.
His poem and actions exuded such spirit and vigor that the elder scholars sighed.
Then, hurried footsteps approached. Before anyone could speak, a figure appeared. Xue Shuangtao, her eyes wide, stared at Li Guanyi. The youth’s earlier display of killing on horseback and writing poetry dismounted vanished. She opened her mouth, about to ask who had touched her bow, and whether the fifteen hundred guan could be…
Xue Shuangtao gritted her teeth and suddenly rushed forward, unyielding. She collided with Li Guanyi’s chest.
Li Guanyi suddenly recalled the many times the young lady had angrily kicked his shin, and remembered Xue Changqing’s words: “She’s a tigress.”
Before he could react, he was knocked to the ground by Xue Shuangtao. His fatigue surged, his vision swam, everything blurred, and he fell. Xue Shuangtao landed on top of him, the jade ornaments in her hair jingling, the sound merging with the clang of the youth’s falling sword.
Xue Shuangtao gritted her teeth, whispering rapidly,
“You big oaf.”
Li Guanyi cracked a smile, murmuring, “Young Miss, some ruffian got my bow, can I get reimbursement? I mean, can I get a… a slightly less fancy…”
Xue Shuangtao unexpectedly laughed. Tears still streamed down her fair face. She laughed despite her tears, her tear-stained cheeks more radiant than the finest rouge.
… … …
The literary gathering eventually ended. Many scholars and the sons of prominent families looked pale, whether from Li Guanyi’s slaughter or something else, Li Guanyi didn’t know who Master Wang Tong ultimately chose.
Only Xue Dao Yong rushed back from the city, personally using his vast inner strength to cleanse Li Guanyi’s wounds and administer the finest medicinal pills. Li Guanyi wanted to get a discount on those pills, but the old man waved him off, saying the pills were free, but the money, no.
“You have to earn your money. You only learn to be frugal when you earn your own money.”
After a medicinal bath that night, Li Guanyi changed his clothes and drank tea in the Listening Wind Pavilion. He recounted the day’s battle to the old man, concealing anything involving Yao Guang. Xue Daoyong, listening to the perilous tale, sighed after a long silence,
“If it hadn’t been for your arrow warning, old man, I’d be done for.”
“But how did you discover him? That’s one of the top ten assassins in the land.”
“He’s assassinated princes and escaped unscathed.”
Li Guanyi, already prepared, pointed to his eyes, saying sincerely,
“It was a matter of perspective.”
“Perspective?”
“Yes, you were high up, engaged in combat, your attention focused on your opponent. You couldn’t easily notice him. I, from below, could see the reflection of a blade from behind you, so I shot the warning arrow.”
Xue Daoyong pondered, “So that’s it…”
“I never imagined his movements had such a flaw.”
Li Guanyi said, “Perhaps it was the disruption of your aura that caused a break in his movements.”
The old man laughed, “Don’t flatter yourself, between us.”
“You’ve called me an old geezer, and you still say this?”
Li Guanyi looked down demurely, refusing to answer. The old man poured him a cup of tea, saying,
“Today, those literati wrote poems in your memory. I was so angry, I went outside and missed your slapping them in the face. Wang Tong said your poem was perfectly natural, simple in language, and clear in thought—a masterpiece.”
“They were praising you as if you were dead. Those sycophants.”
The old man cursed, “Those pretentious scholars!”
He took another sip of tea, saying, “But I have some good news.”
“I’ll ensure you get the top scholar title in Guan Yi city! They can try to take it back if they dare. Humph, I’ll have your poem printed in hundreds of thousands of copies and distribute them across the Western Regions, Turkestan, Jiangnan, the north, and the Central Plains.”
“Let’s get you famous first.”
“Also, that stubborn old fool Lu Youxian, though slow-witted, is a man of his word. He secured you a seventh-rank military post, the Zhenwei Xiao Wei (Junior Officer), a fitting reward for your wounds. It could have been higher, but it’s beyond his authority.”
Xue Daoyong chuckled. This seventh-rank position, though initially unofficial, became firmly established thanks to numerous scholars and Xue Daoyong’s presence. Li Guanyi asked, “What’s so special about a seventh-rank military official?”
Xue Daoyong explained, “You’re exempt from taxes and land taxes.”
“If you’re out in the regions, people will be eager to be your tenant farmers, placing their farmland under your name to save on land taxes. You’ll receive a significant share of the land’s produce annually, plus a yearly salary and rewards from the court, and you’ll have official robes. As an official in Jiangzhou’s border regions, you’ll attend court on important matters.”
“Most importantly, you can wear full battle armor, not just leather.”
“You can get your equipment.”
“In a few days, I’ll personally accompany you to the armory so you can pick out a good suit of armor.”
“Also, if I’m not mistaken, your travel permits with your aunt will arrive soon. This seventh-rank position is Lu Youxian’s own; he has a wife, a family, and talented nephews and nieces. This position…”
“He himself is upright, but he has a wife, a family, and some less-than-stellar children.”
Li Guanyi nodded, silent for a moment, then said,
“Elder Xue, there’s something I need to tell you.”
The old man raised his eyebrows, smiling, “Go ahead.”
Li Guanyi looked at him. The old man understood and gestured, like that time Changsun Wuchao spoke of the great trends of the world.
The spies in the Listening Wind Pavilion withdrew. The doors and windows were closed, the night pearls illuminating the room. Li Guanyi produced a jade bottle. Xue Daoyong’s relaxed expression vanished as Li Guanyi smashed the bottle on the ground, revealing the assassin’s recorded words and appearance. The White Tiger Law Physique behind the old man remained still, its claws retracted, but its eyes glowed with a faint crimson. It endured, restraining its power.
Xue Daoyong’s expression became serious as he looked at Li Guanyi, asking,
“Who else knows about this?”
Li Guanyi shook his head. The old man thought of Si Wei, of the Broken Army Eight Swords Li Guanyi learned “on the road,” and of Yu Qianfeng, saying, “So you’ve learned Yin-Yang school techniques. By the way, you really did learn your swordsmanship from Yu Qianfeng while fleeing?”
Li Guanyi remained composed, saying, “I have not lied.”
The old man chuckled, “I thought the people you met during your escape were all fabricated to deceive me and Shuangtao. It seems you’re a truly honest gentleman, Guanyi.”
Li Guanyi didn’t directly answer, merely stating,
“I am a martial artist.”
The old man pointed at Li Guanyi and laughed helplessly. Finally, his hand rested on the shattered jade bottle, his eyes complex, saying,
“Good, good, Dantài Xiànmíng.”
Li Guanyi asked, “Elder Xue, do you know him?”
Xue Daoyong said,
“Know him? Of course. He’s a scholar-warrior statesman, with formidable inner strength.”
“He rose from humble beginnings to his present position—a remarkable talent. Before he became famous in Chen Kingdom, I met him once. We sheltered together in a dilapidated temple, breaking out from a siege by bandits. He drove the carriage, his face pale with fear, while I smashed people with a club.”
“When we escaped, we were both exhausted but exhilarated, laughing together.”
“So hungry that we stole some taro. When we returned, our carriage was gone, only two wheels left. We were stunned, hahaha.”
The old man laughed, stroking the jade bottle, “He once held up his family’s jade pendant, pledging loyalty, unwavering. Now, it seems that the scholar who would rather starve than eat that steamed bun has become a high-ranking official.”
“And he’s learned how to be a good official.”
“He’d even plot against his Xue Brother, trying to kill his niece’s unborn child.”
“I’m glad he’s finally become a truly great official.”
Xue Daoyong carefully stored the jade bottle, saying nothing more about Dantài Xiànmíng.
Li Guanyi wanted to ask about the Regent King, but this was a sensitive matter involving a crucial secret involving him and his aunt, requiring careful consideration. He decided to first consult historical records, searching for clues, then seek his aunt.
As he prepared to leave after finishing his tea, the old man called him back, pointing to the Po Yun Zhen Tian Bow (Break Cloud Shock Heaven Bow), saying,
“Try it.”
“It resonated strongly when you entered the realm earlier.”
“My guards tried to subdue it, but were injured, losing at least ten years of cultivation. Divine weapons are sentient. The change must be related to you.”
Li Guanyi felt drawn to the bow. He had the means to cultivate his skills; and Xue Shenjiang’s story held many secrets and mysteries. A new technique was available after the cold light of an arrow. Li Guanyi approached the divine bow, extending his left hand to grasp the divine weapon. The bow hummed and vibrated.
The White Tiger Law Physique appeared beside Li Guanyi. Li Guanyi felt the familiar resonance, and within the Bronze Tripod, the jade liquid gently stirred, indicating the part of the jade liquid corresponding to the White Tiger Law Physique was about to be filled.
But at that moment, the bow changed, its resonance intensifying. Li Guanyi suddenly saw images rise before him, coalescing into a vision: a boundless desert stretching to the horizon, stars scattered across the vast sky, and a halberd appearing before him. The halberd had a dark-colored shaft with dark gold markings. A tiger’s head adorned the head, and when the wind blew, it seemed to roar like a tiger, pointing towards the heavens!
Li Guanyi, his left hand gripping the Po Yun Zhen Tian Bow, hesitated, then raised his right hand, reaching out as if touching the halberd in the vision. It felt surprisingly real. His fingers spread and clenched. Li Guanyi held two divine weapons simultaneously.
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