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Chapter 75: King's Plan for Hegemony

Aunt, you don’t know martial arts?
Li Guanyi really wanted to refute.

But now he understood cultivation better, and said, "Auntie, are you referring to a crude warrior?"

"Is there another way to practice?"

Murong Qiushui blinked his eyes, rubbed the boy's head with his palm, and said, "Don't interrupt, Li Nuer, sit still."

"You are gradually growing up. You look a bit like your father in your features."

"But overall, you look like your mother. You are much better looking than your father."

Li Guanyi rarely heard Murong Qiushui mention his parents, so he asked, "So, my father doesn't look good at all?"

Murong Qiushui frowned and smiled, "You can't say you don't look good. Men look heroic. Let's not talk about that. You look like your parents. But when your father was fighting in all directions, he wore a mask. Ninety-nine percent of the people in the capital couldn't recognize him. But those who could recognize him all wanted you to disappear."

Li Guanyi thought about this question and said, "What about disguise?"

Murong Qiushui said: "But there are many ways to recognize people in this world. Even if they are burned to ashes, you can still recognize whether it is the real person or a substitute."

"Perhaps it's because in the troubled times, there are too many fights between people and too many games between kings."

"The skills to identify whether it is a genuine body have developed faster than in the previous peaceful era of a thousand years."

"Some people call it qi-reading, some call it fate. In fact, it is related to [God]. Different people's auras may change and conceal, and the body can shrink and change its appearance, but [God] is difficult to change. For example, the soul mentioned in many legends is God."

A ripple flashed across Li Guanyi's eyes, and he said, "Will it really not change?"

He thought of himself.

Murong Qiushui smiled and said, "Of course. When I first saw you, you were still a wrinkled little fellow, not cute at all. Your spirit was curled up like a flower bud. When we were hunted down that year, it might have stimulated you, and your spirit stretched out."

"Then he suddenly became sensible."

She whispered, "The book says that these disasters can temper people. It's really true."

Murong Qiu Shui did not continue, but she sometimes felt that she would rather the boy in front of her be a little dumber and willful, and live a hundred years in peace, rather than go through these ten years of escape. However, she would never say such words in front of her own slave, Li Nuer.

In front of Li Nuer, she is always lazy and bright, and never has the slightest sadness.

Li Guan got the hint when he heard it, and he said deliberately:
"Where can I find such a rare method?"

The young man sighed and said, "There is no other way. What can I do?"

Then seeing his aunt's eyebrows raised, Murong Qiushui smiled and said:

"So, Auntie just happened to know a way to cover up God."

The young man responded exaggeratedly: "Is it really so?"

Murong Qiushui was amused and laughed so hard that he leaned forward and backward. He stretched out his hands to pinch the boy's cheeks on the left and right, then rubbed them and complained, "Okay, I know you are smart, don't give me such an actor's play expression."

“It’s just a little trick.”

“God is hard to hide, but he can disguise himself.”

Li Guanyi looked at Murong Qiushui and asked in confusion: "God, how do you disguise yourself?"

Murong Qiushui smiled and said casually:

“It’s just something that a lot of people know.”

“It’s the technique of playing the piano.”

Li Guanyi was suspicious: "Everyone knows?"

Murong Qiushui widened his eyes and said, "Of course, would Auntie lie to Li Nuer?"

Li Guanyi groaned for a long time, not knowing how to answer. How could he say that he would? He couldn't open his mouth, because once he opened his mouth, the beautiful woman in front of him might suddenly lower her head and shed tears, as if she had suffered some great harm. Once Li Guanyi admitted defeat, she would immediately laugh.

It really feels like the wind from Jiangnan.

Sometimes it rains mistily, and sometimes it is gentle.

Murong Qiushui took out the zither, played it and said, "The zither is the sound of the heart."

"It can be the frontier warfare, it can be the desert beauty, it can be the south spring breeze, it can be the central plains loneliness."

"Have I really been to these places, to those majestic sounds of weapons, to those fierce and murderous knights? Am I an old general, an unruly knight? If I am, then who am I? If I am not them, then why can I convey all of this through the sound of the piano?"

"Neither, it's just that I made all this up in my mind, and then it fell on the sound of the piano."

"Li Nu'er, do you still remember what your aunt said?"

When Li Guan heard his aunt playing the zither, he seemed to see the south and north of the Yangtze River and hear the sound of the wind. It was because of his aunt's music that he always felt that he was just a disciple who had not yet entered the door. He sat there quietly, with his back straight, and answered softly:

"Overtones resemble the sky, pressed notes resemble people, and scattered notes resemble the earth."

Murong Qiushui put his hands on the strings and replied, "This sentence needs to be separated."

“It is heaven, earth, and man; it is the three talents; it is all things.”

"Li Nu'er, this sentence is for internal practice, and it is only used when playing the zither. If you want to use it to deceive others, you have to do it the other way around. This is the difference between [practice] and [use]. One is for the inside, and the other is for the outside."

"look--"

Murong Qiu Shui's fingers fell on the strings and she smiled slightly. Her eyes were gentle. When she played the piano, Li Guan's eyes widened. He seemed to feel the ends of his hair rising slightly. The surrounding environment suddenly changed. He seemed to have come to the south of the Yangtze River and saw the willow banks in the spring breeze.

It was as if I had arrived at the mountains of the Central Plains, sitting on the highest authentic peak in the world, and looking at the sea of ​​clouds.

It seems as if I have come to the northern frontier again, as if I see the clash of swords and the reunion of the iron cavalry. On the left, the women from the south of the Yangtze River are singing softly, and on the right, the fast horses from the northern frontier are galloping across the world. The ambitions of men, the tenderness of women, the fighting of swords, and the many emotions in the world are surging like a river.

He seemed to see the world.

Suddenly lost consciousness.

Finally, the piano music ended, and Li Guanyi was unable to come back to his senses for a long time.

It wasn't until something poked his cheek that he came to his senses.

Raising his head, Murong Qiushui squatted in front of him with a smile on his face. He stretched out his finger, pointed at Li Guanyi's brow, and said softly:
"The qin is the sound of the heart, and the next sentence is, [The heart is divine]."

"Overtones resemble the sky, pressed notes resemble people, and scattered notes resemble the earth."

“Thus, one can [describe human emotions and thoughts, and understand the principles of the universe].”

“Then all the images in my mind fell on the strings of the harp.”

Murong Qiushui stood up, put his hands in front of him, his hair slightly raised, and smiled:

"It is everything in the heavens and on the earth."

………………

When Li Guanyi was stopped.

Old man Siming returned to his residence like lightning. He picked up a pen and wrote letters one by one, briefly describing what had happened here. Then he blew on them, and the letters seemed to come alive, fluttering like butterflies and flying into the sky.

The letter flew away by itself, riding on the wind, faster than a flying eagle.

The Yin and Yang energies are blocked and cannot be seen by the naked eye.

Those who can see through the methods of the God of Destiny will not lower themselves to gain trust.

Siming sighed and said, "There is a king's seal, which is used to temper one's body."

"Golden muscles and jade bones, dragon tendons and tiger marrow."

“It requires extremely demanding conditions, which are often difficult to come together.”

"But it just so happens that this place will become a vortex in the world. In the capital, there are really old men who are good at calculating the perfect formation, there are great Confucian scholars who can use their aura to cover up his breakthrough, and there are also great Mohists who know how to temper their bodies. And they are also coming to see him."

"My old friend, I don't understand." The old man closed his eyes and the black turtle raised his head.

Siming pointed his finger at the sky and said:

"In the end, he was very lucky. It was the destiny of the White Tiger that swept through this situation."

"Or have we all become the times here?"

"Only then can we create a White Tiger Sect that cultivates both the inner and the outer?"

The long-lived black tortoise shook his head and said slowly:
"You've seen a lot, too. Who can explain it clearly?"

“Before something happened, everything was possible. The world is so big that you can go anywhere. But when you look back later, it seems like there is only one choice. In fact, it is not a choice. It is just looking back at what has happened in the past. There is no way to change it.”

Siming sent all the letters. He looked at the seal, thought for a while, put it in his arms, and strolled out. The old man took a walk and went to the restaurant again, asking for strong liquor. This time there was no water in the liquor, as if he had forgotten that he had drunk alcohol before and vomited all over the place.

Strong liquor, two glasses.

The fat shopkeeper was curious, wiped his hands with a rag, and said with a smile: "Old man, our wine is a bit strong. How about drinking something ordinary today? I'll give you a plate of peanuts."

He was worried that something had happened to the old man.

The old man laughed and said, "It doesn't matter. Today I want to meet an old friend."

"It's been years since we last met, so we should have a drink together."

"Don't worry, just one cup."

When the fat shopkeeper heard the old man say this, he also agreed and said with a smile, "That's fine."

“It’s really a good thing to meet up with old friends.”

Siming held a glass of wine, smelled it, grinned and said it was good wine. In fact, it was just strong liquor made from sweet potatoes. It had no fragrance, and only the strong taste that went into the throat. People with some spare money would not like such wine. Siming rummaged through his arms and took out the seal.

The old man looked at the seal and suddenly laughed.

He placed the seal in front of it, and then placed the full bottle of liquor in front of the seal.

After a long time, he whispered:

"Chai, after three hundred years, your seal is now back in my hands."

"My friend, your ambition, that long dream, is over."

He raised his glass, his face no longer showing the previous carefree and arrogant look.

Jackal.

He was a slave who had escaped and was severely beaten. He met a young swindler who was walking around the streets. At that time, the young slave stared at him like a jackal. The young man was a feng shui reader, but he didn't even know how to read qi. He was beaten with a black eye and a swollen face. In the end, he snatched a steamed bun.

At that time, the young Siming didn't know what he was thinking. He tore the steamed bun in half and gave half to the young man.

It's like taming a jackal, actually becoming best friends.

They traveled across most of the world together, but in the end, the dark-skinned boy went back. He raised the banner of rebellion under the mine, swept through the Western Regions as a slave, and unified the thirty-six tribes.

By now, only the remnants of the Tanguts and Tiele remain of the Thirty-Six Kingdoms.

Siming tilted his head back and drank the wine.

The wine was really strong. After just one sip, he was drunk and fell on the table.

The wind from the south of the Yangtze River blows on my face, and it feels like I’m back in my youth, when I used to steal sweet potatoes with that skinny boy from the Western Regions.

The wind of youth finally came to him again. He was drunk, but seemed to wake up in his memory.

It was as if I could still see that dark young man from the Western Regions three hundred years ago, lying on a haystack, with blood marks on his buttocks and back from being whipped, pointing at the stars, gritting his teeth:
"I'm going back to the Western Regions. One day, I'll become the greatest king and build a country in my name. You have to come when the time comes, brother. I'll treat you to sweet potatoes. Let's eat one and throw one away!"

"No one dares to whip me again!"

"I wouldn't dare hit you!"

"I will hit anyone who hits you!"

He picked up the stolen wine and threw it to the fourteen-year-old teenage swindler next to him.

The young man who relied on his mouth to cheat the world wiped the wine off and was still alive three hundred years later.

Siming drunkenly raised his cup. He was in a trance for a moment, as if he saw the young man holding up a broken bowl with wine in it, raising it towards him, opening his mouth, revealing a missing tooth, and smiling, "What's wrong? Don't you want to drink?"

"Hey, we stole it, it smells really good, I've seen this stuff everywhere in my hometown, it's what the big shots drink, it's spicy and cuts your throat."

"Hey, Feng, do all the heroes like this?"

"If we drink this, can we become heroes?"

Sima Ming laughed.

He raised his glass to the memory of his friend.

Then he fell drunk, and the golden seal in his eyes looked just like the one the old man had cast himself.

The leaders of the thirty-five tribes were beheaded, and their blood fell into the furnace, and the flames seemed to be blood-red.

It was he who conducted the casting.

His good friend is called Achai, who is like a jackal on the grassland, despicable, lowly, looked down upon by others, chased away by lions, but he can survive no matter what. His name is Achai, and he has his real name, which is very difficult to pronounce.

It's called Tuyuhun.

The greatest hero of the Western Regions in the past thousand years.

The fat shopkeeper brought out the peanuts and looked at the old man lying on the table. He had already passed out drunk, with his gray hair dancing in the wind. The fat shopkeeper put the plate of perfectly cooked peanuts on the table and closed the door for the old man to prevent him from being blown by the wind. He said in confusion, "Strange."

"Didn't the old man say he wanted to drink with his friends?"

"And his friends?"

The old man closed his eyes and fell asleep, mumbling drunkenly: "The king's ambitions and hegemony are just a joke."

"Life is a drunkenness."

The boy in the dream turned around with bright eyes.

What a pity.

Three hundred years ago, there were heroes who raised their swords to fight against injustice and tear the world apart for the people.

He was the only one left alive.

...............

It took Li Guanyi a long time to come back to his senses. He looked at his aunt and said, "This is..."

Murong Qiushui smiled and said, "It's just a little trick. What you learned before was the basics, which is the first chapter. This is the second to fifth chapter."

Li Guanyi asked: "How many chapters are there in total?"

Murong Qiu Shui blinked.

Smiling calmly:

“It was twelve before.”

“I’ve been thinking about it over the past few years.”

"Now, there are fifteen articles."

(End of this chapter)