Tang Nian yelped, rubbing the sore spot. “Ow, Pops! Ugh, that hurts!”
He shot her a look. “You’re playing it up.”
“I’m not...I mean, it really hurts,” she whined. “Come on, rub it for me?”
Li Yuan relented and tousled her hair.
That left Tang Nian momentarily speechless. Glancing shyly at him, she gave a faint smile. “All right, all right, I get it. I’ll keep my short hair and my white clothes, and I won’t go down a dark path when I’m on Cloudpeak Province. Satisfied?”
Li Yuan pondered for a moment, then added another reminder. “And if, at some point, you meet someone you like—if you fall in love—tell me. I’ll get someone else to take over for you, and you can leave. But remember that leaving doesn’t mean severing our bond. You’ll always be welcome to come home.”
Tang Nian was already 20 years old—about the age many young women would be married with children. Li Yuan wanted to be sure she didn’t bury herself in the underworld only to have love come knocking later, sparking some tragic drama that destroyed everything. He’d seen enough similar plots in his former life on television—the villain’s daughter would fall for the hero, secretly aid him, and eventually betray her own father for a nobler cause.
With this in mind, he added carefully, “If you need money or resources for romance, come talk to me. Don’t do anything rash or try something shady. And if you’re hurting inside...don’t let some random guy’s smile be all it takes to heal you.”
Tang Nian rolled her eyes at Li Yuan and clutched her head in mock alarm. “Healed by some guy’s smile? Pops, do you really think I’m that dumb?”
“I’m being serious here,” Li Yuan said.
“All right, all right, I get it,” she muttered with exasperation.
Then, as if something dawned on her, Tang Nian leaned in. “Wait, you’re not trying to pressure me into marriage, are you?”
“What? No.” Li Yuan shook his head.
“Whew, good.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I like my puppets way more than men. A man would only slow down my research. What good would that do me? I’ve got too much to accomplish; I don’t need a useless man dragging me down.”
Forging spirit artifacts had earned Li Yuan another tidy sum of money. As the Cui Clan’s weaponsmith, he also received 120 taels of blood gold every month. It was more than enough for his cultivation needs. But his current problem wasn’t about resources.
He was stuck. He had forced himself to the threshold of fifth rank through the Five-Viscera Gold-Swallowing Art and by devouring sixth rank demonic beast flesh. Finding a spirit artifact was no longer a concern. He’d solved that before attempting the breakthrough, ensuring that once he reached fifth rank, he’d have a proper weapon at hand.
Now, however, he faced a greater obstacle. He simply couldn’t advance further. So what to do?
That night, under the moonlight, Li Yuan sat in the courtyard. Pale beams illuminated the papers on the small wooden table before him, each filled with scattered sketches—his attempts to capture the essence of the Thousand-Mile Hero.
He knew that to break into fifth rank, he needed seeds. He needed to wait for those disciples he left behind to mature in their understanding. Once they fully grasped the intent behind his teachings, he could claim that shared insight and perfect it as his own.
After all, a single person could truly devote themselves to just one unwavering conviction. To reach the pinnacle of sixth rank, you had to commit to one path wholeheartedly. But only seven years had passed since he’d established the Martial Lodge and Grand Abode. It would take much longer for those seeds to fully ripen.
In frustration, Li Yuan found himself thinking, I created three distinct forms of intent—why can’t I just perfect each one on my own? Who says I must rely solely on them to cultivate it?
So he tried. He wanted to draw out those hidden depths himself, rather than waiting for years for others to hand it to him.
By the moon’s glow, he wielded his brush like a sword, drawing and slashing across the paper in a frenzy. Yet when nothing came of it, he set the brush aside and leaned against an old tree to think. His mind felt tangled. Countless ideas clashed against each other, leaving him restless and on edge.
Just then, a voice carried over the courtyard wall.
A soft face peeked over the white wall. It was Yao Jue.
Li Yuan beckoned. “Yao Jue, what is it?”
The long-legged maid approached with a gentle laugh. “Sheng’er said you’ve been trying to paint, but the pictures look...pretty bad.”
“I’m afraid she’s right,” Li Yuan admitted glumly.
Yao Jue stepped closer and glanced at the half-finished sketches scattered on the table. With a shy flush, she said, “My lady asked me to come stay with you tonight...”
He remembered now. Cui Huayin had mentioned it a few times, but apparently had decided words weren’t enough; she’d just sent Yao Jue directly. Li Yuan took a moment to look the maid over.
Her oval face was framed by twin braids; her features were delicate but bright, and there was a lively sparkle in her eyes. Her lips curved into a constant, cheerful smile that would put anyone in a good mood. A woman like that could have easily caught an emperor’s attention in the palace, given the right opportunity.
Even Li Yuan felt some of her sunny energy lifting his spirits.
“You’re frustrated about something, aren’t you?” she asked in a gentle tone.
She ventured another question. “Maybe...you’d like to paint something happy?”
“More or less,” he replied, not wanting to explain the Thousand-Mile Hero in detail.
With a playful, somewhat bashful smile, Yao Jue leaned in. “Why not do something that makes you happy first? Once you’re happy, you can paint whatever you like with ease.”
Will being happy really let me paint a happy picture? Li Yuan wanted to retort but the words died on his lips. He froze, his eyes widening as a torrent of ideas surged in his mind. How had I forgotten something so simple?
He’d used poems and paintings from his previous life—works far beyond the norm in this world—to create the Thousand-Mile Hero, Southern Mountain’s Ghostly Rain, and Young Master Riding The Deer.
Each weapon style he developed brought out a different side of him—
The Ruling Blade kindled righteous fury and a thirst for justice.
The Phantom Blade awakened sorrow and eerie malevolence.
The Final Blade evoked a carefree detachment.
Why had he never realized? These were entire emotional realms, each one could be a unique path. If he fully embraced the different feelings they inspired, even if only briefly losing himself in each persona, might he not perfect each intent on his own?
So what if it changed who he was for a time? Like a traveler journeying far from home, as long as he remembered his way back, it would simply be another step on his road. Every experience, every shift in perspective, was nourishment for growth. What was there to fear?
“Action and understanding must become one.” Li Yuan murmured those words under his breath. He’d understood the principle long ago but had never truly put it into practice. If he did, would he be able to cultivate those intents on his own? At least it was worth trying.
The simplest truths in life were often forgotten by overcomplicating things, only to resurface like a sudden bolt of lightning after a casual reminder, bringing with it a rush of excitement.
Li Yuan felt a burst of joy seize him. Swept up in that emotion, he wrapped an arm around the long-legged maid beside him, slipping his left hand under her knees and his right around her back. Holding her in his arms, he spun in circles under the moonlight before coming to a stop.
Yao Jue curled her arms around his neck, the tips of her embroidered shoes swinging lazily in midair. Smiling, she teased, “Have you just achieved some grand enlightenment?”
Li Yuan answered, “If I want to paint a joyful picture, I need to do something that brings me joy.”
And with that, he carried her into the house.
Yao Jue’s heart raced like a startled deer. On the bed, Li Yuan showed her only the gentlest of attentions. She threw her head back, a delicate white neck catching the glow of the red candlelight as though touched by flame. She poured her longing, her hopes for love, into his arms.
In the quiet that followed, Li Yuan felt an unfamiliar sense of deep satisfaction.
He had known all kinds of intimacy—
With Yan Yu, there was the mutual affection of two people deeply in love.
With Xue Ning, the gentle respect of a husband and wife.
With Cui Huayin, it was fascination laced with indulgence in beauty.
With the four maids—Mei, Lan, Zhu, and Ju—it was a more casual, master-servant routine.
Yet with Yao Jue, another maid, it felt as if they truly merged into one—an unexpected harmony that left him both startled and grateful.
“Thank you, Yao Jue,” he murmured.
She paused, then nestled even closer. “Thank you too.”
Snuggling against him, she added, “Tonight, you belong to me.”
Li Yuan blinked at the childlike possessiveness in her voice but quickly pulled her in with a grin. “It’s not just tonight.”
She pouted, teasingly dramatic. “Well, I’d have to wait a long time for that. And that’s so unfair...” Her tone was part coquettish, part plaintive—reminiscent of Xue Ning’s style in earlier years, though perhaps more skilled. She glanced up, eyes bright. “So...tomorrow night is mine, too.”
A sudden thought struck Li Yuan. He nearly suggested asking Cui Huayin for permission so Yao Jue could stay by his side at all times, to share in his pursuits. But the words died in his throat.
Time would reveal a person’s true heart. They hadn’t really been together long enough.
So he simply said, “All right. Tomorrow night is yours as well.”