Chapter 403 – Forget the Bridal Chamber, Temper the Soul, Greet a New Dawn - Part 3

Ceremonial wine finished, the newlyweds were escorted to the bridal chamber.

The door shut; both instantly peeled off their ornate wedding robes with matching expressions of distaste and summoned maids for hot water. Their unspoken harmony was almost eerie.

Xie Yu’s eyes curved into crescent moons. “Husband, I’m a woman. It’s normal that I like to stay clean. But what about you?”

“Out on the sea,” Li Yuan replied, “clouds are everywhere. I love clouds, pure white ones. When a cloud gets dirty it turns to rain, and rain turns the world to mud. No matter where you step everything is wet and filthy. I can’t abide filth.”

“I don’t like rain either,” she said.

Li Yuan stood beneath the lantern hanging from the eaves, head tilted to drink in moonlight and the starry sky. His thoughts drifted.

After their first awkward hours, he had begun to lose himself, not in pretending but in becoming. Acting was for actors; he refused to fake his way through life as Ximen Gucheng.

He wanted, for a brief span, to forget the past, remember only his mission, and sink wholly into the proud, cold, immaculate mind of a blade obsessed wanderer. At first the skin chafed; now it fit.

Xie Yu watched his profile, never tiring of it. Drawing a steady breath, she reminded him, “Tonight is our wedding night.”

He nodded lightly. “Do you use a blade?”

“I do.”

“Then let’s test ourselves. No strength, only skill.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I’ve often wondered how I’d spend my first wedding night, what sort of woman I’d share my life with...”

“And?” she prompted, cheeks warming.

“I decided it might be best if there were someone to practice the blade with.”

“Ha, what??”

A sudden idea flashed through him; he caught her hand. Her heart fluttered. Yet he tugged her straight to the weapon rack, selected two blades, and offered one.

The last thing she wanted on her bridal night was a blade, but under the starlight he seemed almost incandescent, eyes bright as twin moons; she couldn’t refuse. She took the blade.

“People chase raw power,” Li Yuan said, “and ignore skill and finesse. When they heed skill at all, it’s only to wield power more efficiently. But has anyone asked, can the finest skill be powerless yet brim with wisdom, a distillation of the soul?

“Shadow blood, source blood, these are vigor. Skill shelters blade‑intent. A blade holds strength, yes, but it must also hold intent. Strength is Yang; intent is Yin. Intent is the carving of the soul, and the road to intent is skill.”

Speaking the words, Li Yuan felt a sudden, electric excitement. Immersed in that austere, blade‑obsessed persona, he’d stumbled upon a new thought. He recalled every skill he’d honed since ninth rank. Then he thought about the restraining force he’d comprehended from maxing his skills out.

The explosive force granted by the Yang flame, the vibrational force born of his chaotic ancestral seal and source blood..

Yet restraint was only a way to contain power; it spoke nothing of trajectory, nothing of true craft.

Was the peak of Master level merely what ordinary folk called complete? Real skills, perhaps, demanded the soul’s perception and in turn refined that soul.

Take Tai Chi, for example. The martial art’s forms appeared slow because the practitioner moved according to the philosophy of the great Taiji. By perceiving the revolution of Yin and Yang, they could nourish both body and soul.

Nourishing the soul, that’s it!

Li Yuan’s eyes sparkled, his enthusiasm flaring.

“Come,” he urged, “let’s practice. Move slower than a snail, think faster than lightning. Find every way to dissolve the slash coming at you.”

Xie Yu was still dazed.

Li Yuan raised his blade, utterly strengthless, and swung in slow motion. She understood and mirrored him.

“Keep every motion, every pace perfectly steady,” he said. “No sudden bursts, no slackening. Only then does it mean something.”

With that, Li Yuan flowed into new patterns, body and blade shifting as one.

Xie Yu saw him slipping past her line and hurried to adjust her stance, but no matter how she angled her slash the two of them kept drifting closer—until, before her edge even brushed his sleeve, the chill of his blade touched the side of her neck.

Li Yuan’s brow lifted in sudden insight. “Again.”

She nodded, and they tried three more times. Three times she lost. Disappointment flickered in his eyes. What had been a playful exchange of the blade now felt serious.

She closed her eyes for a moment. The game sounded childish, even ridiculous, yet it was fiendishly hard—first to hold both body and blade at an absolutely steady speed, then to keep shifting patterns while inevitably drawn together, like two players seated at a board, matching wits on every breath.

She opened her eyes. “Once more.”

He took a guard; she raised her blade in earnest—the very first form from her clan’s childhood drills, practically worthless in real combat because it could bear neither shadow blood nor source blood. But worthless only in power.

“At every instant,” Li Yuan said, eyes shining, “your mind must flash through every possible path of my blade, every ounce of force, rehearse every outcome, then alter your own edge to meet it.”

“If it’s a real fight,” she protested, “it’s just speed and strength. Skill hardly matters.”

“You’re wrong. Train the mind and other people’s speed, their strength, may end up looking laughable.” He smiled. “Use your normal power. I’ll stick to

worthless

skill.”

“Ha, what?”

“Come on.”

“Then be careful, Husband.” She gathered shadow blood; fire seemed to coil around her arms. With a boom she sprang, arc of light slicing the air like a colossal white moon.

Li Yuan traced the trajectory, dammed his strength, and raised two fingers, meaning to borrow her momentum and flick the blade aside where it could never reach him.

BANG!

Instead, her blade struck his arm. Li Yuan’s speed, and his grip on skill, had slipped.

The two stared at each other, and embarrassing silence ensued.

Xie Yu sheathed her blade in a hurry.

“Are you all right?”

“I overestimated myself. I knew what to do, but I was too slow,” he said, brushing his sleeve. “I’ll bump up my power to ninth rank.”

She rushed forward, finding not even a white mark on his skin.

“You’re built like iron.” She laughed.

“Nothing special. Again.”

She changed forms. He moved.

BANG!

Her blade halted on his shoulder. She blinked. He scratched his head. “Let’s try eighth rank.”

BOOM!

She looked down. Her edge now rested against his chest, ringing dully.

He frowned. “That shouldn’t... Let’s keep going.”

Crack! Thud! Smack!

“Kyaaaah!” A shriek rang out from the doorway.

Li Yuan paid it no mind. Xie Yu glanced over. A maid with the bath tub stood frozen, eyes and mouth round as saucers at the sight of her third miss hacking at the groom.

“I-I saw nothing!” The girl dropped the tub and bolted.

Li Yuan’s eyes were bright. “Now the nuisance is gone. Shall we continue?”

“Bath first,” Xie Yu insisted.

He frowned. “She only brought one tub.”

Blushing, she stammered, “Th‑then you wash first, I’ll go after.”

“Filthy,” he said calmly.

“I don’t mind you.”

“But I would mind you.”

Her small fists clenched; the rosy cheeks went pale, murderous glint flashing. He strolled out. “I’ll have another tub heated.”

Much later. well past midnight, they were finally clean, each in simple nightclothes.

“Drats.” Li Yuan sighed. “I bathed too early. No time left for practice.”

“It’s already past midnight,” Xie Yu pointed out.

“If the mood hits, I’ll practice three days and nights straight.”

“Then—”

“I’ll be outside.”

He picked up his blade and stepped into the moonlight.

He liked beautiful women, true. And tonight Xie Yu was as enticing as blossom on a bough, ripe and fragrant. Yet once he had fully sunk into the persona of Ximen Gucheng, it was the blade, not the bride, that called to him.

Ximen Gucheng was a composite of two figures he’d cherished long before crossing over to this world. That was the Sword God, Ximen Chuixue, and the White Cloud Lord, Ye Gucheng. Different creeds, same essence. They were pure masters of the sword, utterly devoted, drifting above mortal dust like gods in exile.

On the peak of the Forbidden City, Ximen Chuixue had actually, in fact, lost by half a stride in that night’s duel. Why? Because he was once like a god. But that god had allowed the smell of worldly hearthfire to cling to him.

His once pure swordsmanship became weighed down by emotional attachments, responsibilities, and love. The Sword God fell from Heaven and became human. His divine sword transformed into mortal steel..

Ye Gucheng’s edge, still unsullied, remained celestial. That was why the White Cloud Lord’s image was encapsulated by the phrase,

One sword from the West, an Immortal descends from the Heavens.

Ximen Chuixue might have won the duel physically, but the spirit Ye Gucheng displayed with his sword remained loftier.

[1]

Tonight, after months of reflection and pure immersion, Li Yuan truly began to become this crafted Ximen Gucheng. In acting you’d call it losing yourself in the part. He needed exactly that.

From the bridal‑chamber window, Xie Yu watched the red candles weep and sputter, watched moonlight sink while a lone shadow danced its blade.

Anger bubbled up; she whirled, dove under the brocade quilt, and thrashed her long legs, muttering, “Blockhead, wooden block, biggest blockhead alive!”

At dawn, she peeked out. Her groom was still in nightclothes, still practicing different blade forms.

Three days later he was still going, eyes bright as ever. Suddenly his mind slipped into selflessness.

“If this world is truly woven of Yin and Yang,” he mused, “can I feel the pulse of Taiji itself?”

‘The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao...’

He’d skimmed Lao‑Zhuang once, enough to plant seeds.

[2]

Over and over, Li Yuan replayed Xie Yu’s moves, looking for the lightest touch that could break them. What he sought was victory by skill over force. To most ears the notion was absurd; to him it was worth a try.

Elsewhere in the estate, Xie Yu, dark circles smudging both eyes, was pouring out her new‑marriage woes to Xie Wei. The future empress rocked with laughter.

“I swear he doesn’t understand what husband and wife even means,” Xie Yu groaned.

“What man could fail to grasp

that

?” her sister teased.

“Well, our big brother doesn’t,” Xie Yu shot back.

Xie Wei broke into laughter again, her flower hairpin shaking.

“Shall we let him share a room with our big brother, then?”

“Not till I’ve shared it first!” Xie Yu snarled. “Tonight I will claim my husband.”

Seeing her sister’s vexed determination, Xie Wei actually felt relieved. If her little sister could talk like this, she’d plainly found a good match, and she could face her own political marriage with an easier heart.

The Emperor was no simple foe. So, she had to be anything but simple.

When Xie Yu left, Xie Wei clapped softly. From her shadow stepped two grey‑clad agents, arms full of scrolls. They bowed and laid the documents before her.

Within Bright Moon Prefecture, Xie Feng commanded 30,000 armored cavalry, but the master of Ocean Province’s shadow guard had always been a mystery—some guessed the two sisters, only to dismiss the thought.

Yet the truth was simple. The shadow guard answered to Xie Wei. One spear, one shield. The eldest son wielded open force, she held hidden knowledge. With such balance, the governor dared wager his daughter on a throne.

She skimmed the scrolls. “What of Ximen Gucheng?”

“Nothing, my lady,” the grey men murmured. “He appeared from thin air, no trail at all.”

“And the islands in the outer seas?”

“Still investigating. The Eastern Sea is treacherous, full of all sorts of frightening beings. Progress is slow...”

“Understood.” Xie Wei lowered her lashes.

The shadows swallowed her agents; silence returned.

1. I believe this is a reference to a wuxia novel series called the

Lu Xiaofeng Series by Gu Long

.

For the purpose of our story here, and after digging deeper into the reference, I’ve added this line here as well as some additional context throughout the passage to provide some additional clarity for the readers.

I haven’t read the series before, but feel free to comment on any further insights if you have. ☜

2.

Refer to Lao Zi, the founder of Taoism

. ☜