Chapter 95: Bamboo Rider Meets the Fisherman

Shangguan Han fell silent again.

If he still didn’t understand now, he really was a fool.

He just couldn’t figure out how this person knew everything. He hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone.

Shangguan Han said, “I’m curious how my senior learned these things.”

Chen Changsheng simply gave a warm smile and said, “Chen made a guess.”

Seeing the smile on the Green-Robed Gentleman’s face, Shangguan Han suddenly became wary.

Chen Changsheng abruptly stood up, saying, “Talking too long grows dull. Perhaps in some days, your thoughts will differ from today’s.”

Shangguan Han followed him out of the boat canopy.

He watched this Green-Robed Gentleman before him.

The man’s back was fully exposed to his view.

A flicker of fierce intent shone in Shangguan Han’s eyes for an instant, the hand gripping his blade tightening.

But that instant passed; his tension vanished, the fierceness fading from his gaze.

Chen Changsheng turned back, looking toward the blade he cradled in his arms.

“A sword might suit you better.”

Chen Changsheng spoke, then stepped onto the long bamboo.

Shangguan Han paused, his words catching in his throat.

He watched that figure clad entirely in green ride the bamboo forward.

“We’ll meet again if fate allows.”

The Green-Robed Gentleman called this farewell, then vanished down the river’s flow.

Shangguan Han stared ahead, where the blue robes fluttered in the river breeze.

As he watched, his mind began to drift.

That figure in green paused like an immortal treading a celestial river. Wind couldn’t block it; water couldn’t stop it.

Shangguan Han took a deep breath. “Who was that man?”

He held a blade against his chest. From start to finish, he hadn’t drawn it.

He owned only this one strike.

Three years it had been fed, all for one moment.

Shangguan Han snapped back and recalled the man’s final words.

“A sword?”

He shook his head, not dwelling on it.

The Shangguan family had made its name through blades through the generations of Jianghu. Why should he change to a sword now?

Still, he’d remember this Green-Robed Gentleman after this.

Chen? When had such a figure emerged in Jianghu?

…

Chen Changsheng rode the bamboo onward when his immortal sword suddenly trembled.

“Hmm.”

The Rain-Listening Sword hovered beside its master, seemingly curious about recent events.

“Hmm?”

Chen Changsheng looked at the sword, smiling as he asked, “Curious too?”

The Rain-Listening Sword swayed like a nodding head.

“That swordsman wanted to kill someone extraordinary. She was once the Imperial Majesty of Great Jing’s most beloved consort.”

😁😁😁Golden Novel translates the best Chinese web novels for you!😁😁😁

Chen Changsheng gazed ahead as he spoke. “But her identity mattered most. She wasn’t from Great Jing. She came from beyond the frontier passes, the Northern Desert.”

Chen Changsheng continued, “Truthfully, the Imperial Majesty’s fault. If he hadn’t failed control, trouble wouldn’t brew now.”

The Rain-Listening Sword seemed confused, still hovering patiently.

Chen Changsheng explained, “Since ancient times, empires seal ties with neighbor lands by marrying princesses away. Few women from neighboring states ever enter Great Jing’s Imperial Court.”

The Rain-Listening Sword tilted as if asking, “Why?”

“More than ten years ago, the Great Jing Imperial Majesty broke this precedent. His realm is vast. He could have found countless beauties. Yet he foolishly craved that Northern Desert princess. Against all ministers’ protests, he wedded her.”

Chen Changsheng said, “Years prior, the princess bore him an imperial son. With no Empress Dowager in Great Jing, the Northern Desert Tribes pressured the Imperial Majesty to crown her Empress.”

“Since that day, the Northern Desert stirred. This gave them cause. Though the Imperial Majesty refused, raids have plagued the frontier ever since. Northern Desert plots a march south.”

“That princess cannot be killed. Else the frontier erupts in chaos. Plus, the Northern Desert faces the Kingdom of Beixiang. War with both would doom Great Jing.”

“Yet letting her claim the throne? Impossible. Northern Desert Tribes would meddle freely in Great Jing’s Imperial Court.”

“The Imperial Majesty is cornered now. He pacifies the Northern Desert people, seeking a way out.”

Chen Changsheng chuckled. “But with or without her, turmoil would have come. Just later or sooner.”

The Rain-Listening Sword seemed to grasp it then. One woman could cause such upheaval?

Chen Changsheng said, “Men’s hearts remain a mystery. Imperial rivalries surge unseen. Make one wrong move on the board? No undoing it.”

“We? Mere spectators of the show.”

The Rain-Listening Sword half-understood. It stayed close, asking no more.

The figure entirely in blue journeyed on the river, growing distant.

A thin mist rose on the waters.

His hands behind his back, he walked as if through emptiness and mist. No river water touched his robes as he drifted downstream.

…

Following the Tongtian River.

Many fishing boats dotted the wide banks. Who knew how many this great river fed?

Chen Changsheng took a swig from his wine jug. “Mighty river indeed.”

“Simply grand.”

He faintly nodded when a shout came from shore.

“Hey!!”

Chen Changsheng turned. A sturdy man stood calling from a fishing boat.

“Someone there? In the river?”

The man yelled again, unsure if what he saw was human.

Chen Changsheng pivoted the bamboo pole toward the boat, propelled swiftly by his magical power.

“A real man?!”

The boatman rubbed his eyes, scarcely believing.

Only when he saw the rider approaching on a bamboo pole did he gape in stunned realization.

This man rode a mere bamboo stick down the river!

Chen Changsheng stood atop the pole, clasping his hands. “Young friend, did you call for me?”

The man snapped back, stammering, “Y-yes…”

He stared at the man before him: green robes, handsome face—clearly no commoner.

The man blurted, “You… Jianghu fighter?”

Chen Changsheng paused briefly before replying, “You might say so.”

Too awed to invite him aboard, the boatman cautioned, “Your martial skill! Riding bamboo downriver! But at fifth hour of dusk… storm hits the riverbanks. Better head back shore!”

“Fifth hour of dusk?”

Chen Changsheng frowned. “How do you know a storm’s coming?”

The man didn’t explain. He rowed away quickly.

He seemed afraid of this gentleman. A simple riverside fisherman avoided Jianghu troubles.

Chen Changsheng didn’t stop him, sighing instead. “Seems being too flashy harms more than helps.”

He glanced skyward, then began tracing lines on his palm.

That young fisherman spoke true.

Dusk’s fifth hour—rains loomed. More strangely, something stirred beneath the river waves.

Another calculation confirmed it.

“So… a master of the Art of Divination dwells nearby?”

“Worth visiting.”

Decision made, Chen Changsheng left his bamboo pole and reached the bank. He strode toward the nearest civic district.