The next morning at dawn, Li Haime roused Xue Nu from her slumber. Waiting for her to wake naturally? They'd be stuck another day.
"Sleep more in the carriage—it's got a brocade quilt and pillow." Once she was settled inside, Li Haime whipped up the horse and cart, departing Sanghai City. The pace was steady, not swift, but far quicker than on foot.
"Teacher, Grand-Teacher—they've left." In the Little Sage Village, a disciple reported to Yan Lu.
"I know." Yan Lu nodded. Li Haime had insisted—no send-off. He couldn't stomach the Confucian rituals; better the Daoists' free-spirited ways.
Leaving Sanghai, they pressed west. As for the route? The road lay underfoot—and at the nose's end. No Gaode or Baidu for navigation here; just a lodestone for bearings, and even that wasn't foolproof. From Sanghai onward, towns and hamlets dotted the path thickly, easing the way.
"Master, where are we?" Xue Nu stirred from her nap, parting the curtain to ask.
Li Haime glanced back—a flash of white. "No clue. Fix your clothes."
She looked down, dropped the flap in a hurry, cheeks burning like fresh blood.
Beyond Sanghai, days blurred without a settlement in sight. Absent the rutted tracks, they'd have sworn they'd strayed. From coast to heartland, winter's chill deepened; even the horse struggled for forage. They kindled a blaze for light and warmth, snared two snow hares, skinned and gutted them by the water's edge, then roasted them crisp. Li Haime devoured one and a half; Xue Nu nibbled half.
"Master, if you quit being sect leader, you could make a fortune as a chef with skills like that." Xue Nu praised.
"Quit, and I'd just open my own Daoist temple as abbot. Chef? What are you on about? Count yourself lucky you get this at all—besides you and Xiaomeng, who else has tasted rabbit grilled by the Human Sect's leader himself?" Li Haime rolled his eyes. With his station, who'd dare put him in an apron?
"Master, once you hit Unity of Heaven and Man, is your inner energy endless, like an ocean?" Xue Nu eyed a nearby pond.
"Yes—long as the world's spiritual qi holds, it won't falter," Li Haime replied.
"So those legends of scorching heavens or boiling seas... possible?" she pressed.
"Overthinking it. You saw the sea's scale in Sanghai." He snorted.
"What about this little pond, then?" Xue Nu pointed to the basin beside them—barely two or three meters across, a meter deep at most.
"Dry it out? No chance. Bring it to a boil? That I can manage."
"No need for boiling—just warm it to bathwater temp." Her eyes sparkled.
"What're you scheming?" Li Haime sensed trouble; Xiaomeng wore that gleam for her wild ideas.
"I wanna bathe, but it's freezing." Xue Nu wheedled, pitiful as a stray.
"No, you don't." Li Haime had imagined plenty, but not this. Channeling inner energy to heat a whole pond for her soak? Why not levitate while you're at it?
Her lips pouted. Turning back, she spied steam rising from the surface. Li Haime sat by the fire, back turned to the pool.
Under heaven, a bath powered by inner force? This house exclusive, no branches.
"Speed it up, will you? Endless energy or not, it's exhausting." Li Haime griped. Half an hour in—draining.
"Oh." Xue Nu emerged reluctantly, loath to leave; better than any wooden tub.
Once dressed, Li Haime hopped in himself—water still toasty. Flowing fresh, sure, but he could reheat on the fly. If Unity of Heaven and Man can't brew a hot spring, what's the damn point?
"Wow, Master's build is amazing!" Xue Nu perched nearby, knees hugged, wide eyes glued.
"I—you don't know girls aren't supposed to ogle guys like that?" Li Haime itched to throttle someone. Buck naked here!
"Didn't know. I just heard girls' bodies aren't for casual viewing by guys!" Xue Nu shot back.
"You're right." Li Haime surrendered. Hidden trait of white-haired girls? Xiaomeng stripped bare on day one, peering at my bath; now Xue Nu pulls the same.
"Master, not coming to bed?" From the carriage, Xue Nu started up again.
"You sleep—I stand watch, or beasts'll snatch the horse." Li Haime said. Cramped quarters for two; always some vixen eyeing his form. Boys abroad, guard yourselves. Even road-edge stones, freezing to death—he'd sooner bunk there than squeeze in.
"But I'm cold." Xue Nu whimpered.
"Isn't there the brocade quilt?" Li Haime sighed. If that didn't warm her, what would?
"Still cold!" Innocent as ever.
A first-rate Daoist Human Sect expert whining about chill? Fine—plausible; girl can't even pluck apricots.
"Eyes shut, no squirming." Li Haime slid in, drawing her close, stern.
"Okay." Xue Nu obeyed, nestling in; soon, soft snores.
Mmm, she smells nice!
Two more days' carting brought them to a city. They restocked; Xue Nu waved off lingering. Back on the road—another wild camp. Snow fell now, bite worsening.
That night, cozy in the cart, a horse's whinny jolted them. Li Haime's eyes snapped open; Xue Nu stirred too. He signaled: stay put, silent.
Outside, a tiger—glaring whites, tawny stripes—stalked the yellow nag, coiling for the pounce.
"Supper's served." Li Haime salivated. Tigers aplenty on Xiaomeng jaunts—barbecued or stewed, all chew and vigor, prime tonic. Plus, a pelt.
Lingxu Sword flashed—a streak of light, bloodless return. The beast crumpled. He soothed the nag, then set to skinning: deft, unsoiled. Heart aside, guts discarded. Seal the heart in clay, bury under coals. Cube tiger loin for the pot—slow simmer; dawn's bone broth.
Over an hour's toil, back to the cart. Xue Nu awake still. "Why up?"
No words—just arms outstretched for a hug. Li Haime sighed, lay down, enfolded her.
Dawn: a pot of rib stew, clay-baked heart. They ate till sweat beaded. Two haunches slung rearward—frozen stiff in the cold. Tail stewed too; whip preserved. Prime cuts hoarded—meals for days. Pelt tanned, cart-floor cushion.
Nigh half a month, out of Qi into Wei. Stark shift: Qi's folk content, prosperous in their bubble. Wei's? Gaunt wraiths everywhere, villages half-rotted, just women and elders. Youths vanished; at cart-sight, beggars swarmed.
"No giving—they'll mob us." Li Haime bundled Xue Nu inside. He'd faced this with Xiaomeng—worse in Zhao. Yield once, and you'd strip bare. Not every inch, but rural rot uniform: men conscripted. Zhao-Wei, endless Qin routs. Zhao's horrors: Bai Qi's Changping pit—400,000 surrendered slain. Nine in ten homes sonless. Then Handan siege—youths butchered anew; survivors border-bound.
"This is war—ten homes, nine hollow. No men, fields lie fallow. Poorer with each clash." Li Haime sighed. Unification alone brings respite; else, endless.
Three from Jin: Han richest start, squandered to weakest. Zhao surged under Wuling—top-tier power; still spars with Qin, lone holdout.
Without Yan's Zhao war—Qin's stab—the Six wouldn't fall so swift. Zhao stalled them: Changping to Handan defense, bottling Qin west of Taihang. Han as eastern gate; Zhao the roadblock. Fell Zhao, then Han crumbles. Wei, sandwiched, folds. Three Jin: Qin's.
Yan's fate clearer now—why after Chu? This meddler: Qi frozen, watches Qin-Chu grind. Chu gone, Yan next.
Yan's enigma: Zhou blood, dreams of Six-fall, Zhou-revival. Le Yi's Qi blitz—two cities spared—self-sabotage lets Qi rebound, invades Yan. Then Zhao poke—soft target? Lian Po's counter: five forts lost.
"Winds keen, Yi River cold"—all peg Yan anti-Qin. Truth: Zhao-Qi bled Yan white. Yan-Zhao feud from founding; Yan strikes, Yan bleeds.
Through Wei: ex-hegemon that pinned Qin to two commanderies, now downhill post-peak. Qin, reformed, to old An Yi. Capital fled to Daliang—mid-plains bid? Qi-Qin vise, meat in the sandwich. Qin's distant alliances roast Wei slow.
Early Warring: Wei teems talent—Sun Bin to Qi, Shang Yang to Qin, Shen Buhai to Han. Even now, Xinling's poison cup. Squandered deck; Lü Buwei Wei-born. Talent vault deep.
"Had Wei court backed Pang Juan's Qin wipe in Duke Xiao's day—no today's Qin. Or heeded Gongshu Zuao, ditch Qin for mid-plains hegemony—Wei'd be this Qin. But straddle both: miss prime window, gift reforms to Qin-Han-Qi. Skewered and sizzling." Li Haime sighed. Daoists share blame—but Wei all-in on Qin? Even full Dao muster couldn't blunt that edge.
Past glory bred envy: Qi-Zhao-Han wary. Strikeable, none merciful.
"Pity no Xinling—yearn to meet the Four's foremost. This Xinling Lord nears his end." Li Haime lamented. Exemplar in virtue, ability—worthy world-pattern. Not king? No Wei to rival Qin.
"Guiling ahead." Li Haime eyed the horizon's sprawl. Wei's decline dawned in Guiling, Maling with Qi. "Besiege Wei, save Zhao"—staged here.
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