Three Heads

Li Wu had no interest in discussing a return to pristine simplicity, let alone the Immortal Dao to Longevity, with two rookies who had not even reached the Innate Realm. Those things were plainly too distant. After a brief mention, he changed the subject. With a casual beckon, he drew a dried human head over to them, where it hung motionless in midair.

"I don't know this fellow's real name. I only know he called himself the 'Sowing King.' His lust knew no bounds, and he cared nothing for whether his partners were men or women. He roamed the Black Gobi for over a decade and changed bedmates almost every day." Li Wu chuckled. "Pervert though he was, he had real skill. Four of us Innate fighters surrounded him, and we fought for a day and a night. He took forty or fifty wounds and was still fighting. More than once, I thought I couldn't hold out and he'd turn the tables and kill me."

"What happened then?" Han Feng asked, his curiosity caught.

"When one of my comrades was on the brink of death, he broke through in the middle of the fight. His strength surged, and he ran the man through with one stroke." Li Wu moved a finger, parting the head's hair to reveal a sword scar on its forehead.

"But a centipede still twitches after death. His last counterattack was ferocious, and my comrade fell in the line of duty. He was twenty-nine."

Li Wu sighed softly, looking a little sorrowful.

Pan Long was secretly shaken. To become an Innate Master at twenty-nine and then break through in battle—that comrade must have cultivated at least one or two manifestations. His talent was staggering. Yet even a genius like that had died, and then there had been nothing left of him but a few words of remembrance on someone else's lips...

No wonder his grandfather and father had warned him again and again before he left to be careful. If necessary, he must forget his pride and even his companions. He should bow his head when he had to and flee when he had to. Staying alive mattered most. No wonder they had insisted he take that bottle of Holy Spirit Potion and stressed repeatedly that he must not use it on anyone else...

They must have seen plenty of cases like this.

A fallen genius was just another dead man!

Li Wu sighed, sent the head back to its place, then beckoned another one over.

This man's face was covered in a thick beard. Every hair stood on end, and several Zheng Ning scars crossed his face. Though only his head remained, it still radiated boundless killing intent, enough to chill anyone who looked at it.

Pan Long fared a little better. Han Feng glanced at the head and met its long-dead eyes. He gave a violent shudder and nearly lost his footing.

Only after Pan Long had caught Han Feng did Li Wu say, "This man was no ordinary figure. He was the Northlands' greatest bandit in four hundred years. You should both have heard his name."

The Northlands' greatest bandit in four hundred years?

Pan Long was still searching his memory when Han Feng asked in a trembling voice, "Was... was he Shang Peng, the Heaven-Flattening King?"

Realization struck Pan Long. When he looked at the head again, he could not help feeling a measure of awe.

Shang Peng had lived more than three hundred years ago. Back then, Great Xia had produced two capable rulers in succession. At home, they put the court in order and stripped away redundant local officials and fiefs. Abroad, they abandoned the traditional policy of "campaigning without occupying." They advanced steadily, building fortified settlements to expand their territory. Great Xia's strength had nearly reached its peak again. It was an age of dazzling prosperity.

Yet one man had shattered that "golden age" with his fists!

That man was Shang Peng. He was a descendant of the Count of Shangluo in Yong Province. For generations, the Count of Shangluo's family had won no merit in war and had repeatedly been demoted. By then, its title had fallen to the lowest rank of fifth-class nobility and was on the verge of being abolished. Shang Peng could not stomach a world where a ruler who tricked commoners into marching thousands of miles to their deaths was called enlightened, while a lord who honestly defended his lands and kept his people safe was branded mediocre. In fury, he raised the banner of rebellion.

Shang Peng's political and military abilities were ordinary, but he was a once-in-an-age martial prodigy. Rarer still, he was the sort who could train with his head down for ages and gain nothing, only to reach sudden Cheerfulness the moment he fought someone.

Over the next dozen years or so, he fought more battles than anyone could count against the armies and experts Great Xia sent after him. He fought his way from a spoiled heir of middling skill to a grandmaster at one with heaven and man.

Nor was that all. Calling himself the "Heaven-Flattening King," Shang Peng attacked the lineages that supported Great Xia wherever he went. He plundered all their property, but worse, he tied up every member, young and old, man and woman alike, and drenched them in piss and shit.

To an upper class that prized its standing, that was crueler than killing them.

Shang Peng did not make trouble indiscriminately. He was quite friendly toward those whose loyalties were uncertain, even those who had set themselves up as independent rulers, so he never lacked supporters.

In this fashion, he fought his way across Yong Province and Jizhou. He lost more battles than he won, yet he utterly wrecked the governing Order in both provinces.

Even today, Great Xia's hold over Yong Province and Jizhou remained relatively weak. It had to station large armies there and build its system of rule around them.

The Immortals and Buddhas of Longevity refused to intervene in such an embarrassing affair. As a result, Great Xia could do little about Shang Peng except keep driving him toward the desolate frontier.

At last, after yet another defeat, the man who called himself the "Heaven-Flattening King" led the battered remnants of his forces into the Black Gobi.

A few years later, someone brought his head to a military garrison in northern Yong Province. The man claimed the Heaven-Flattening King had eaten and drunk so much that he had burst, and he demanded the bounty.

The manner of death was so absurd that no one believed him. Worse, an Officer who wanted to steal the credit killed the man. Shang Peng's death became a mystery for the ages.

Even today, many people claimed the Heaven-Flattening King had never died. Instead, he had become one of the Immortals and Buddhas, achieved Longevity and freedom, and was still looking for ways to trouble the Great Xia Dynasty.

Others said he had left behind a vast fortune hidden in the Black Gobi. So besides robbing travelers, the horse bandits of the Black Gobi had another important daily task: digging three feet into the earth in search of his treasure...

As Pan Long recalled the stories, he could not help marveling.

He, too, had once believed Shang Peng was still alive. But seeing this astonishing head with his own eyes changed his mind.

Who else could such a head belong to but the Heaven-Flattening King?

Han Feng, however, asked, "Is this head... really his?"

"I asked the same question back then," Li Wu replied. "The answer I got was, 'Heaven knows.'"

He shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "Heaven knows. Whoever owned this head was certainly far stronger than me. I even wonder whether it came from an Immortal of Longevity."

That made Pan Long and Han Feng more curious still. They studied the head closely, hoping to spot something extraordinary.

Of course, they could not. This head had hung on Jade Gate City's walls for centuries, and who knew how many people had examined it. If there were anything remarkable about it, someone would have found it long ago. There was no chance the two of them would be first.

Li Wu went on to tell them the stories behind several more heads. Most had belonged to notorious thieves and fierce bandits. As Han Feng listened, a sudden thought struck him. "So everyone hanging from these walls was a wicked villain? Were any of them better than that?"

Pan Long thought it was an exceptionally stupid question. Could anyone whose head was hung from the city walls have been a good person?

But Li Wu fell silent, his expression turning melancholy.

Damn! There really was one?!

After a moment, Li Wu walked to one side and took down a head that hung in the middle of the drum tower, sheltered so well that not a drop of rain or flake of snow could touch it, no matter how fierce the weather. He brought it back to them.

Though only his head remained, the man still looked imposing and dignified. A stern, upright spirit lingered between his brows, enough to win the respect of anyone who saw him.

"His name was Yan Xiong. We knew each other from childhood," Li Wu said. "He was an honest man who treated people fairly. I always respected him as an elder brother. Later, we both joined the army. I went to Central Province, and he went to Jizhou. A few years afterward, I heard that a superior had stolen credit for his achievements. In a fury, he killed the officer and rebelled, taking a band of brothers into the Black Gobi. He robbed only the Imperial Court's supply convoys and never touched a single thing belonging to a civilian merchant."

Han Feng immediately understood who he meant. "Was he the Grand General of Peace?"

The Grand General of Peace had been the Black Gobi's most famous horse bandit twenty-odd years ago. His name was known throughout the Northlands, and his stories were still told today.

Few people knew how he had died, though. Accounts of his death had always differed.

"Yes, that was what he called himself," Li Wu continued. "I went to the Black Gobi and fought him three times. None of those fights had a winner. I thought we'd go on fighting, but when I saw him for the fourth time, all that was left of him was the head hanging here..."

Pan Long and Han Feng both fell silent.

After a while, Han Feng asked, "How did he die?"

"The superior he killed had a son of exceptional talent. He entered the Eastern Splendor Sword School and reached the Innate Realm in just twelve years. His elders were very fond of him. To help him dispel the demon in his heart, the Eastern Splendor Sword School sent a True Person. His Sword Qi flew, and he subdued Yan Xiong and his brothers. Then the son cut off Yan Xiong's head with a single stroke and brought it here. He let everyone else go."

Pan Long did not know what to say. He could only let out a long sigh.

There was nothing wrong with taking revenge on a superior who had stolen credit for his deeds. Avenging one's father was only right, too. Grudges and debts, rights and wrongs—who could ever sort them out?

"What became of the superior's son?" Han Feng asked.

"I don't know. I haven't heard anything about him in over twenty years," Li Wu said lightly. "He's probably still alive."

He abruptly seemed desolate. He looked up at the sky and said nothing.

"It's all that damned Nine Provinces Cauldron's resonance!" Li Wu snorted unhappily. "The thing's ancient. What's so strange about it having a problem? But no, they had to make a huge fuss, send us all off to guard different places, and stress again and again that we should watch for Bamboo Slips that water can't soak, fire can't scorch, and blades can't damage... Good heavens! There must be tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of millions of Bamboo Slips in the world. How are we supposed to check them all?"

Pan Long's heart tightened. He understood the reason now.

This Real Person Grandmaster had been sent to search for the Classic of Mountains and Seas!

Not only that, the Imperial Court had dispatched a great many experts in every direction. It was plainly determined to find the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

"We heard about it too. They say anyone who finds those bamboo slips and presents them to the Imperial Court will be richly rewarded." Despite the alarm in his heart, Pan Long smiled. The Disguise skill he had spent skill points to improve now came into play, hiding his true thoughts without letting the slightest trace show. "Senior Li, do you think... that reward can be trusted?"

Li Wu gave a Cold Snicker. "Duke of Peace and Comfort, first class, hereditary forever, with a Red-Inscribed Iron Certificate granted to boot—even I wouldn't dare dream of such rewards. If I came across the slips, I'd give them a wide berth. What do you think?"

"The Imperial Court's promised reward is certainly real. Whose hands it ends up in—that's another matter."

Pan Long could tell he meant every word.

"Then what should we do?" Han Feng asked. "If we come across them, should we go out of our way to avoid them?"

"Obviously!" Li Wu said irritably. "Don't say I didn't warn you. If you really see those Bamboo Slips, or even learn a clue to where they are, don't go poking your noses in. Run as far as you can. Otherwise, you might die without ever knowing how!"

"It's that dangerous?!"

"It's that dangerous!" Li Wu said sternly. "Great rewards always come with great risks. This is a matter that has shaken the Nine Provinces. If you aren't an Immortal, stay out of it. At the end of the day, the Nine Provinces Cauldron belongs to the Di Lineage, and those Bamboo Slips probably do too. Heaven knows what's happened in their family... Whatever it is, it's their business. What's it to us? Eating well, drinking well, and getting on with our lives—that's our business!"

"Right. I've had enough to eat and drink today, and I've talked enough too. Time for me to go back and sleep. You two should go home as well. The Martial World is rough these days. Best not to go out for a while."

With that, Li Wu rose. Without any visible effort, he vanished before their eyes.