Chapter Thirteen: Words That Pierce the Heart

Lei Wanchun’s face was full of disbelief. “You, a pampered young master living in luxury, would really use your own life to exchange for the lives of us common folk? I bet if you so much as got a scratch, you’d be bawling for your parents in fear.”

Li Yu calmly flipped a dagger from his right hand, and, unhurriedly, drew a long cut across his chest. Crimson blood welled up, but he performed the act with the grace of slicing off a piece of meat wholly unrelated to himself.

“I’d like to see if anyone dares question my courage,” Li Yu said, savoring the astonished expressions on everyone’s faces. To him, their surprise was a form of praise, one that exhilarated him.

“Speaking of which, I should thank you, Yu Lang. This move I learned from you in the Yangzhou prison. As long as the price of death is high enough and one is fearless, the opponent has no choice but to follow your lead. Turning certain death into a chance for life, converting passivity into initiative — truly inspired. It’s a madman’s tactic, and I like it. Amusing.” Li Yu stepped forward two paces.

Zhang Xun spoke with cool composure, “We could simply kill you right here, destroy the body, and erase all traces. Does Lord Li suspect us incapable of such methods?”

“I don’t doubt your wisdom, but I came here with my own arrangements. If you don’t believe me, give it a try. Perhaps Scholar Zhang, you’re bold enough to wager your own life against mine, but would you risk your cousin’s life? Would you gamble the lives of everyone in this room, old and young? You wouldn’t dare. Even if you thought your chances of winning were ninety percent, you wouldn’t risk it, because you can’t afford to lose. But I can. I, Li Yu, am a madman — everyone knows it. I’ve long grown weary of living.” Li Yu truly felt himself unmatched in wit and courage, for the people in this room were not mere nobodies, and yet he had them dancing to his tune.

Having been stifled in Chang’an for years, Li Yu always felt his stage too small and his opponents too feeble — too many noble wastrels had fallen by his hand, and it had grown dull. Here, however, he finally tasted the thrill of the game. Especially facing Yu Lang, who had bested him in their first encounter; now, to defeat Yu Lang with his own methods brought Li Yu genuine joy.

Zhang Jiuling’s expression grew solemn. “Nephew Li Yu, say what you want to do directly. Suicide is merely your bargaining chip, not your true aim. Mutual destruction is always the worst plan. The best strategy is to use the process to gain advantage, just as in negotiations between nations.”

Li Yu applauded. “Prime Minister Zhang is indeed wise. I’ve come today for two things. Cooperate with me obediently and I’ll leave once these are done, or else I die here. Simple logic.” Of course, he hadn’t come to die — it was all a psychological game, a show of force.

Qingqing scoffed, “This is just the routine of a shameless debt collector. What’s so special? You really think you’re clever? How laughable.”

Li Yu nodded approvingly. “I like your way of speaking, young lady. Threatening death is hardly novel — but if the son of the sitting prime minister throws a tantrum and threatens suicide, isn’t that something new? The weight behind it is different.”

Yu Lang had remained silent, staring fixedly at Li Yu, as if searching for a flaw.

“The first matter: I want Li Taibai to duel me with swords.”

Yu Lang was startled, unable to grasp Li Yu’s intentions.

Li Bai trembled violently, as if Li Yu had struck his deepest weakness.

Li Yu smiled. “To kill a man every ten steps, to travel a thousand miles without pause. What a verse, what a verse. Li Taibai, in his youth, was known not only as the Poet Immortal but also as the Sword Immortal. Do you know why the Light Ripple Sword has been sealed away for over a decade, and why Li Taibai, disciple of the Sword Sage, never dared draw his sword again?”

No one answered Li Yu. In the martial world, there were many rumors about Li Bai, some claiming his skills had been ruined. Everyone here except Yu Lang had heard such tales, and thus avoided mentioning the Sword Immortal’s past tonight, fearing to reopen Li Bai’s wounds.

Yu Lang mused privately: Li Bai’s reluctance to instruct me in martial arts might not only be because my dantian is blocked, but for his own reasons too.

Li Yu continued, “Years ago, Li Taibai and Yu Jia’ao joined forces to challenge Kunlun — the only two direct disciples of the Sword Sage, united against the old demon of Kunlun. The outcome: the demon vanished, Yu Jia’ao died, Li Taibai survived. According to my family’s spies, Yu Jia’ao need not have died — at the three hundred twenty-sixth exchange, Li Taibai deliberately slowed his counterattack by a fraction, resulting in this outcome.”

“I need not spell out the motive, do I? Our Sword Immortal’s thoughts at the time — if Senior Brother Yu Jia’ao died, perhaps Junior Sister’s heart would turn to him. Yet ironically, upon hearing of Yu Jia’ao’s death, Junior Sister abandoned her one-year-old son, Yu Lang, and chose to die for love, never giving Li Taibai a chance.”

These were merely Li Yu’s deductions, yet Li Bai did not refute him, tacitly admitting them.

Li Yu pointed at Li Bai’s face, speaking word by word, each a stab to the soul: “You, Li Taibai, disregarded brotherhood and caused Senior Brother Yu Jia’ao’s death!”

The words thundered in everyone’s ears. Even Yu Lang could not suppress his inner turmoil — could his so-called third uncle, Li Taibai, truly be such a traitorous villain?

Li Bai desperately gulped wine, knocking over the jar in his panic, his former elegance gone. Li Yu had surely kindled his inner demons.

Li Yu laughed. “And according to our family’s spies, Li Taibai still has a drunken sword technique. If he gets sufficiently drunk, he can regain a fraction of his former prowess, which is why he always carries a wine gourd.”

“Unfortunately, tonight’s wine has been carefully selected by me — no matter how much you drink, you won’t get drunk. It’s just a concoction of sugar water. I doubt you’ll get to use your drunken sword. You’re nothing but a coward, numbing yourself with drink, afraid to face the past!”

Everything was unfolding according to Li Yu’s plan. He had two goals tonight: to utterly destroy Li Taibai’s martial heart and eliminate future threats, and to force Zhang Jiuling to his doom for revenge. And now, half of his aim was achieved.

“A dignified Sword Immortal, yet you don’t even know how to draw a sword?” Li Yu pulled his soft sword from his waist, pressing forward.

Li Bai collapsed onto the floor, limp as mud.

Yu Chaoran’s feelings toward Li Bai grew conflicted. Previously, he’d regarded Li Bai not only as the late Yu Jia’ao’s junior but also as a friend. Yet deep down, he was unconditionally loyal to the Xu family; if Li Bai had truly caused Yu Jia’ao’s death, he would never forgive him, and thus offered no aid now.

Li Yu kicked Li Bai’s chest several times, as if punting a stray dog in the street.

Lei Wanchun erupted in rage, sinking his waist and swinging a fist toward Li Yu’s face. Li Yu blocked with his elbow, then drove his knee into Lei Wanchun.

This time, Li Yu used his full strength — enough to shatter a stone. Yet after falling, Lei Wanchun immediately leapt up and attacked again.

“Interesting. You clearly haven’t trained, yet you must possess innate Vajra and Dragon attributes. Lei Wanchun, if you swear loyalty to my Li family, I’ll recommend you for the rank of General of Far Defense, fifth grade.”

Lei Wanchun spat and punched again. To a man of honor like him, riches were an insult.

Yu Lang observed that though Lei Wanchun’s boxing was crude, it was extremely simple and forceful, forcing Li Yu to defend with all his might, leaving no chance to beat Li Bai further. Clearly, Lei Wanchun had honed his skills in countless street brawls.

Li Yu’s movements were agile and elegant, swift as the wind, but Lei Wanchun’s unrefined yet masterful technique kept him under control. Li Yu’s strength lay in his inner energy, having reached the realm of Hundredfold Tempering, but Lei Wanchun’s thick skin made him nearly immune, and neither could gain the upper hand.

Suddenly, Li Yu stopped, bracing himself to take two punches from Lei Wanchun, then spat out a mouthful of blood and shouted, “Go on, kill me — and you’ll all die with me!”

Though impulsive, Lei Wanchun was not reckless. Owing to Li Yu’s status, he withdrew his attack. “You dog official, watch your neck after tonight. I’ll be thinking about it constantly.” Li Yu was infuriating, always obstructing him, and Lei Wanchun simmered with rage, unable to vent it.

Li Yu scoffed at Lei Wanchun’s threats. “With masters everywhere in the Prime Minister’s residence, why should I fear a brute like you?”

Yu Lang knew that only he could resolve the situation now. He said to Li Yu, “I won’t believe a word of your slander against my uncle. Compared to your so-called spies, I trust what I’ve seen with my own eyes. Li Taibai is a bold, carefree Poet Immortal. Whatever happened back then, it wasn’t as simple as you claim. Besides, my father chose to challenge Kunlun with his own hand. I trust his judgment of people. If he misjudged, that’s his own fault, not anyone else’s.”

Li Bai’s mood gradually settled after Yu Lang’s words, though he seemed lost in memories, sleeping heavily against the wall. Whatever inner conflict he endured, no one else could know.

Li Yu wiped the blood from his mouth. “Heh, finally I’ve drawn you out.”

Yu Lang met Li Yu’s gaze, unflinching. “Our duel has only just begun.”