Volume One: The Awakening of All Things, Where Every Season is Spring Chapter Forty-Nine: The Northern Capital Must Be Taken

Mo Wen knelt, but Zhao Tiansheng seemed unmoved, barely suppressing a smile as he kept a stern face and snorted coldly. Seeing more and more students gathering, murmuring in curiosity, the elder in traditional attire waved his hand, and Mo Wen vanished from sight.

The scene shifted. In the next moment, Mo Wen found himself in an immense office. Zhao Tiansheng entered, speaking gruffly, “If you’re alive, show some manners. This is the principal!”

Principal Yu Zhengxiong?

Mo Wen was taken aback. He had only heard of the principal, never seen him in person. He remembered Zhao Tiansheng had mentioned the principal when Mo Wen was ambushed by Murong Xiu outside the school, but Mo Wen had never expected that the head of Shanghai Traffic College would be a figure of such profound mastery.

“Student Mo Wen greets the principal.”

Mo Wen clasped his fists in salute again. Yu Zhengxiong smiled warmly, nodding and praising, “Very good, very good! A sword heart that pierces illusion—you’ve truly inherited Old Zhao’s teachings!”

But Zhao Tiansheng sighed, pondering for a moment before speaking gravely, “You really managed it. What heart did you use to forge your sword?”

Mo Wen scratched his head, always feeling like a child in Zhao Tiansheng’s presence, answering shyly, “With emotion, I forged my sword.”

“Haha, your student is far more interesting than you. Unlike you, cultivating the Sword of Destiny, solitary and aloof—looks like you’ll be lonely for life!”

The principal was in high spirits, teasing Zhao Tiansheng as he invited them to sit and personally poured tea for Mo Wen and Zhao Tiansheng, whose face had grown somewhat gloomy.

“Rest assured, Principal, I’ll personally send Teacher Zhao off when the time comes!”

Mo Wen uttered the words without thinking, and the principal laughed even more heartily, while Zhao Tiansheng’s face darkened, teeth clenched, “Such a good student I have!”

After the laughter, Mo Wen recounted the tale of failing to slay the Buddhist master Wuwo, being imprisoned by the man in green for over a year. The two listened, spellbound. When Mo Wen described blending Buddhist inner breath with sword intent, Zhao Tiansheng grabbed Mo Wen’s wrist, examining closely.

“Strange. These two should be incompatible. You ought to have perished from internal explosion!”

Mo Wen shrugged it off—he’d survived, so what was impossible now?

His careless demeanor irritated Zhao Tiansheng, who scolded him harshly, “Don’t mess around next time. You were lucky this time, but you won’t always have such good fortune!”

Mo Wen nodded obediently, sensing Zhao Tiansheng’s rising anger, transforming instantly into a well-behaved child. In his heart, he thought, “Didn’t the method of breaking illusion with the sword seem impossible before? Yet you succeeded!”

Afraid of being beaten, Mo Wen kept these thoughts to himself.

The principal suddenly asked, “Do you recall the face of the man in green?”

Mo Wen tried to remember, but found his memory strangely blank—he could not recall that immense face.

He shook his head helplessly. The principal seemed unsurprised, as if he’d expected it, and said, “Just as I thought. This matter must never be spoken of to others. Remember!”

Mo Wen sensed the gravity on the principal’s face and quickly promised. The principal, not wishing to dwell on the topic, smiled cheerfully and said, “Everyone else believes you’re dead—only Old Zhao and your little sweetheart insist you’re alive. Old Zhao had it tough. To avenge you, he stormed Shaolin on Mount Song alone, fought a great battle with the Shaolin master, both suffering heavy injuries, and he still hasn’t recovered!”

Mo Wen was stunned, looking at Zhao Tiansheng. Zhao Tiansheng coughed lightly, brushing it off, “Nothing much, just sparring. Their sword skills weren’t up to scratch.”

Mo Wen was deeply moved, though he wasn’t good at expressing it. He truly believed that if he hadn’t returned, Zhao Tiansheng would have slaughtered the Buddhist disciples to the last.

By noon, Zhao Tiansheng, who had been silent, suddenly suggested, “Shall we go to my place for some drinks? There’s still a jar from last time that Lin brought over. Today’s a happy day, let’s finish it.”

The principal’s eyes lit up, teasing, “Well, the iron rooster finally plucks a feather. How many times have I asked you for this in the past year? At last, you’ll let me taste it?”

Mo Wen saw the principal’s sly tone and pretended not to notice, focusing inwardly.

The principal smiled meaningfully, “Wine without dishes is pointless. Your cooking is hopeless—I can’t swallow it. Why not have someone make a few dishes?”

A faint blush crept over Zhao Tiansheng’s face. He struggled briefly before conceding, “Fine, call them. I am, after all, this boy’s advisor.”

Mo Wen was puzzled, but when they arrived at Zhao Tiansheng’s small house, he suddenly understood.

Aunt Huang!

Aunt Huang was wearing an apron, transformed into the chef, her face unable to hide a smile as she glanced at Zhao Tiansheng now and then.

Mo Wen’s intuition told him something was going on between these two.

Soon, the table was laden with dishes. Zhao Tiansheng fetched his precious wine, and the four drank together, chatting until night fell and the gathering ended in delight.

Leaving the academy, Mo Wen felt once again he had nowhere to go.

Under the influence of alcohol, he found himself at the door of Lin Xi’s home in Purple Garden. The handle was covered with dust.

Lin Xi hadn't been back in a long time.

He opened the door; the furnishings were unchanged, but she was absent. Suddenly, Mo Wen noticed a slip of paper on the table.

“I’ll wait for you, forever.”

At that moment, all of Mo Wen’s worries vanished. He laughed heartily, ashamed of his own petty doubts—how could he have doubted Lin Xi’s feelings for him!

He found the charger, plugged in his phone. As soon as it powered up, a flood of messages surged in, the notification chimes lasting a long time.

They were all from Lin Xi.

He had thought the phone would be disconnected after so long, but discovered that Lin Xi, ever thoughtful, had paid his bill every month.

With trembling hands, Mo Wen dialed Lin Xi’s number. The call connected almost instantly.

There was no anguished sobbing, no tender concern—only long silence.

“I’m back, Sister Lin,” Mo Wen said softly, sensing her slightly rapid breathing.

“If you’re back, then so be it. Who cares!” Lin Xi’s voice was choked, struggling to remain calm. Before Mo Wen could speak again, she hung up abruptly.

“That girl, still angry!”

Mo Wen smiled—clearly, he had to make a trip to Northern Capital. He’d once sworn not to go unless he broke through illusion; now that he had, it was time.

He slept in Purple Garden that night, the bedding still carrying Lin Xi’s lingering scent. The next morning, before he was fully awake, his phone rang.

“Mo Wen, check the news!”

It was Mi Lu. She said little and hung up quickly. Mo Wen leisurely opened the webpage, and a massive headline leapt out.

“Heaven and earth celebrate: Lin family’s third-generation only daughter is engaged to the Zhuo family!”

Mo Wen’s heart shuddered as he clicked through.

“Last night, reliable sources revealed that Lin Xi, the Lin family’s third-generation only daughter, suddenly agreed to an engagement with Zhuo family’s third-generation heir Zhuo Yu! As the Lin family is a long-standing cultivator lineage, and Lin Xi is the sole girl among seven branches, cherished above all, this alliance with the Zhuo family is truly a union of strength—cause for celebration!”

Mo Wen smiled wryly, not angry, understanding Lin Xi’s intent.

Zhuo Yu had coveted Lin Xi for ages; now, right after Mo Wen’s return, Lin Xi suddenly agreed to the engagement, clearly sulking at him.

Lin Xi was waiting in Northern Capital for Mo Wen’s resolve and gesture.

The feud with the Zhuo family was already irreconcilable, so Mo Wen didn’t mind humiliating them further.

This trip to Northern Capital was destined to stir up a storm.