Peace Order

Chapter 1838 - 90: The Sun Will Set, But It Will Rise Again

Nan Hanwen smiled and said, "I’m just helping Your Majesty resolve a few hidden worries, that’s all. It’s Lord Ashina who’s been running all over the realm—truly hard work."

Ashina’s expression was calm as he said, "It’s all for the world, that’s all."

The two of them were actually not that familiar; after a few idle exchanges, they began talking about the current situation on all sides: the Southwest Prince Duan Qingyu had returned to the Southwest, and the Formation Leader had gone to the border city between Jiangnan and Ying Country to begin strengthening the city’s Great Formation.

Zhenbei City was the number one Heroic City under heaven, so that could be considered something to set one’s mind at ease.

But the defenses elsewhere were still insufficient and needed to be further reinforced.

General Chen Wenmian, through campaign after campaign, had successfully broken through the passes and reached the Eighth Layer Heaven realm. At such an age, with such Martial skill and such military merit, he had fully inherited the Wolf King’s mantle. To be honest, when the Wolf King was this age back then, he couldn’t have beaten Chen Wenmian at this age.

Xiao Wuliang’s arm was ruined again, and Guan Shier’s temper had become a bit irritable.

General Xue had not gone and destroyed the mechanism devices he’d cobbled together, which counted as a rare good mood.

But this good matter and good mood would rapidly collapse the moment that fellow opened his mouth; not a single scrap of it would be left.

The schools opened by Wen Zhongzi’s Disciples carried great weight throughout Jiangnan, but when they entered the Heavenly Strategy Mansion, they heard that Mr. Wen Qingyu was not there.

"Wen Qingyu’s not here—could he have run off?!"

Feng Xiao, wine jar in hand, fell into deep thought.

Yan Daiqing irritably waved his hand and said, "Run off what?"

"There are still several of them in the Academy. He and Stick Monk Thirteen went to the Academy to find a way to ’invite’ those few back."

Feng Xiao said, "Oh, oh, so that’s how it is."

Nan Hanwen was somewhat surprised and said, "Is it Su Wang, Qilin, Purple Sun Master and the living Buddha, them? I only heard that Mr. Wen Qingyu’s ingenious stratagems have become quite famed under heaven."

"Could it be he is also adept at the art of invitation and persuasion?"

"Those few are all eminent men of this age; they are not that easily talked into anything."

Yan Daiqing said, "True, but it doesn’t matter—they brought gifts."

Nan Hanwen said, "Oh? What sort of gifts?"

Yan Daiqing said offhandedly, "A mystical weapon–grade rope, a small bench, a Thousand-Day Drunk strong enough to make even a Martial Arts Legend and a Great Grandmaster feel tipsy, and a Compound Anesthesia Powder blended from one hundred and seventy-three medicinal effects."

Nan Hanwen’s smile froze. "???"

His eyes went wide.

Mr. Yan Daiqing, what are you even talking about?!

Feng Xiao patted Mr. Nan Hanwen on the shoulder and comforted him, "You’ll get used to it. Back in the day, all of us were ’invited’ with this exact same set."

Nan Hanwen’s expression grew more and more blank.

What?

The others merely laughed; to them, this could be counted as something from their youth that they could now joke about. Yan Daiqing picked up the dossier Nan Hanwen had written, which was the section on rites to supplement the statutes.

Nan Hanwen said, "Speaking of which, has Your Majesty gotten any better?"

Yan Daiqing said, "Your Majesty is naturally unharmed. He has already awakened and is still recuperating. His Martial Arts are peerless, already at a level that stands alone under heaven; the wounds from the battlefield are no problem."

He had, after all, concealed quite a bit.

Li Guanyi had awakened and looked the same as in past days, but Yan Daiqing had known him since they were young and understood his nature. Vaguely, he could sense that even if Li Guanyi showed no abnormality, his heart might not be so.

That day when Li Guanyi berated the Historian was already some time ago now.

In the ebb and flow of daily life, Li Guanyi was slowly laying down what weighed on his heart, gradually accepting Grandpa’s passing. Only in such a state could he pull himself free from the deliberately busy everyday affairs and go to tidy and put in order Murong Longtu’s residence.

When he pushed open the door, the sunlight from outside followed Li Guanyi’s figure in, spilling into the room. The tables and chairs within were all neatly arranged, as if that old man had merely gone out for a stroll, to fish, and would still be coming back.

Li Guanyi stood still for quite a while, then slowly walked in.

Looking at everything here, he paced about slowly.

The belongings of the departed were still here, giving him the illusion that the departed was still present—as if, in a moment of absentmindedness, that old man would once more walk up behind him, pat his shoulder, and chat and laugh with him.

Li Guanyi quietly walked through every corner of this place. When he reached the elder’s writing desk and saw that there was still a scroll and some things on the table, he opened the scroll and saw that it was the basic Sword Manual the old man had prepared.

This was the very Sword Manual that had now spread throughout the lands where Qilin dwelt, one that Mongolian children everywhere learned: concise and effective, pointing straight at the vital core acupoints of Martial Arts. Murong Longtu had revised it many times, trimming the dross and retaining the essence, combining it with the Martial Magic Skills of the Sky-reaching Sect, enough to make a Cultivator’s foundation exceptionally solid.

Li Guanyi gazed at this Sword Manual left by Grandpa. Every move and every stance on it had been personally pondered out by the elder and then set down with his brush. Li Guanyi’s fingers brushed across the sword moves drawn by the old man; as he flipped the page, something suddenly slipped out.

A letter fell onto the desktop. Li Guanyi froze, set the Sword Manual aside, picked up this letter, and sat in silence for a long time before he finally seemed to make up his mind and opened it.

"Guanyi."

It was Murong Longtu’s handwriting.

Li Guanyi’s thoughts halted for a moment, then he quietly read on:

"If you are able to see this letter, then in all likelihood, I will not be coming back."

"I, this old man, heard of the changes in the world and knew that you were holding Zhenbei Pass alone, and that Jiang Wanxiang had come bearing eight hundred years of Qi Fortune. Matters of us old ones should not be entirely handed over to you all. How could there be any reason, in affairs of the world, for everything to be left for the younger generation to shoulder?"