Landing in Xiuyu
One could say Xiuyu had quite the personality. Birds wouldn’t have any challenge flying over the city walls, but good luck to any human who thinks they can climb it. There weren’t a lot of guards, so it wasn’t difficult to conquer the city. If a gang of commoners pick a fight, however, nobody with their head screwed on right would bet on the gang winning. Though it wasn’t a large city, around a hundred thousand people called it home. The city didn’t have an abundance of food and money in circulation, but they could afford to pay their taxes in advance. The citizens couldn’t afford to live lavish lives, but they were all beaming. There were never any cases of incriminating the innocent.
Given how many city lords had come and gone, it was no surprise that nobody remembered how long ago the ancient city was constructed. Like swallows in spring, no matter how many centuries go by, they’re still spring swallows; red maples are still red maples; Xiuyu still stands as Xiuyu. Nevertheless, the scenery had changed. The current lord of Xiuyu was Li Lyumao, Emperor Yuansheng’s fourth son and reigning Green Prince.
Morcher’s former capital, Xiuyu, wasn’t part of the Central Plain’s land despite what the scenery nowadays suggests. The reason the Central Plain could dip their hands in there and control seventy percent of it was because they beat Baimu and Xuaner to the punch when Morcher perished twenty years ago.
Morcher built the high-rise walls in the north, dug underground tunnels and assigned heavy patrols to protect themselves from others. Once the Central Plain occupied the city, they hurriedly did the same thing in the city’s south to barricade the other states in Nanjiang from troubling them.
Since Green Prince didn’t get into military issues, Xiuyu’s economy developed rapidly, and the signs of the development were visible. At this point in time, it had become one of the most important diplomatic keys for communication between Xiacang Anxi and the Central Plain.
The above is taken from Black and White Reflection’s “Xiacang Anxi Discussion”.
As much as Green Prince wanted to throw an exuberant welcome party for Emperor Yuansheng’s escort on the day they arrived, it wasn’t possible since they were trying to operate covertly. Nonetheless, he provided them with a secluded manor to lodge at and had his people deliver sumptuous food for dinner.
Su Xiao, still dressed in his pyjamas in the wee hours of the morning, meditated in the flower garden instead of opting for some rest despite it being the first morning in the city. While Shen Yiren and Tang Ye were outliers at Liu Shan Men – in regards to their sleep and wake times – Su Xiao wasn’t like a certain lazy someone. Therefore, Su Xiao had adapted to waking early.
The temperature in Xiuyu was still low early April, yet Su Xiao didn’t shiver. Prior to the trip to Huzhou, he didn’t have the mentality of a warrior. He didn’t improve exponentially after the event at Luo Sword Manor. His experience and knowledge expanded drastically, thought, thanks to the exposure to people and events.
Su Xiao’s breathing pattern was devoid of a pattern for he constantly varied it. The interval between each breath lengthened. If someone were to walk past and sense the warm air in his vicinity or see the white smoke that lingered despite the breeze, they’d praise him for having exceptionally potent internal energy at his age. If they knew the true reason, however, they’d be touting the discipline he practiced.
Whenever Su Xiao was walking around, he was practicing the Yijin-Jing-combined-with-Night-Steps’ mental cultivation that Ming Feizhen imparted. Given Su Xiao’s mileage, it stood to reason he completed the first level upon opening his eyes.
Yijin Jing’s thousands of words can be summed up as profound and meaningful. One didn’t have to be Shaolin’s abbot to bless their eyes on the words, be strong or venerated. Even though mostly abbots learnt the discipline, they didn’t have to as there was no rule demanding who had to learn or any concrete criteria restricting their monks from learning.
In Buddhism, they do not speak of worthiness; they spoke of fate. The culture persisted even in martial arts. The best proof of this was the fact that they didn’t stop anyone from learning it if the individual could find the book. By the same account, they didn’t give Ming Huayu grief for stealing it from their temple.
When Shaolin’s abbot and Ming Huayu met at a martial arts community conference after the theft, the abbot said with a smile, “This one’s best manual (Yijin Jing) has vanished (I know you stole it). He shall not make a note of it (I won’t write an invoice) to remind you, Patriarch Ming (remember to pay).”
“Bless you, abbot.” (All right, you win, baldy)
Nobody present at the venue picked up anything implied in the high-level, profound, esteemed conversation. They also never knew about Mount Daluo sending Shaolin a cheque of seven million taels.
As you can see, it was the work of fate.
Su Xiao got to his feet and gazed in the direction of the luminous light, then went off to the bathroom. Once he finished doing his hair and getting dressed, he went to Ancient Cold. He placed his hands together devoutly and closed his eyes, then smiled: “… Thank you for giving me the chance to appreciate another day. Please bless me with another day of peace.”
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