I was a mineral prospector in Chengdu, who transmigrated into the body of a mortal sword immortal.

Autumn rain dripped from the eaves, tapping on the bluestone slabs and making a soft, continuous sound.

Li Bai sat by the window of the east wing of the courtyard, holding a scroll of the *Tao Te Ching* in his hands, but his gaze was fixed on the paulownia tree in the yard. Rainwater slid down the broad leaves, gathering into glistening droplets at the tips before falling with a "plop" into a small puddle beneath the tree, creating ripples. The air was filled with the earthy smell of soil, the dampness of the paulownia bark, and the distant, muffled cries of vendors from the market.

This is the third residence he rented in the western part of Chang'an.

The first location was near the East Market, too bustling with people, unsuitable for clandestine operations. The second was in the south of the city, where the neighbors were mostly minor officials who constantly peeked around. This third location was in Chongxianfang on the edge of the West Market, surrounded by artisans' workshops, where the sounds of hammering and sawing filled the daytime, but became unusually quiet at night. The courtyard was small, with one entrance and one exit, three main rooms, two rooms each in the east and west wings, a well in the courtyard, a paulownia tree, and a few clumps of half-withered chrysanthemums growing in the corner.

Most importantly, this place is neither too far nor too close to Zuixianlou, about a quarter of an hour's walk away. This makes it convenient for him to occasionally show his face to maintain his image as a "poet and wine madman," without making people easily associate the two.

Seven days have passed since the confrontation with Li Linfu at Zuixianlou.

During these seven days, Li Bai became increasingly cautious. By day, he still frequented the Drunken Immortal Pavilion, still drank wine and composed poetry, and still engaged in lively discussions with the literary figures who came to admire him. However, his alcohol tolerance seemed to have "deteriorated," often becoming quite drunk after only a few drinks, rambling incoherently before being helped away by the waiters. His poems also lost some of their sharpness, gaining a more leisurely, pastoral feel, as if he were truly just a madman indulging in poetry, wine, and romance.

Only when he returned to this small courtyard and closed that heavy elm door could he shed all his pretenses.

At that moment, he put down the book in his hand, got up and walked to the window. The rain had dampened the window frame, making the wood grain stand out clearly, and it emitted a faint musty smell. He pushed open the window halfway, and a cold wind mixed with rain rushed in, carrying the unique chill of autumn in Chang'an.

"Li Linfu..."

Li Bai murmured the name, his eyes sharp as swords.

That day at Zuixianlou, every word and expression of Li Linfu was etched into his mind like a brand. He repeatedly reviewed it, trying to peel away the true intentions from those seemingly gentle words.

The recruitment was a sham.

A powerful minister of Li Linfu's caliber, with countless advisors under his command, would he really lack a scholar who could write poetry? The so-called "recommendation for an official position" was merely bait to test him. He wanted to see if this suddenly appearing "Poet Immortal" was truly indifferent to fame and fortune, or just feigning aloofness; whether he wanted to take the proper path of the imperial examinations, or was trying to curry favor with the powerful and influential.

Mentioning Yang Yuhuan is an even more blatant warning.

Li Linfu was telling him: I know your past, I know your old relationship with Princess Shou. My ability to "accidentally" meet her and "transfer her poems" means I have the power to influence her, even her fate. You have no secrets from me.

The final phrase, "There's plenty of time in the future," declares: You're already on my chessboard; there's no escaping you.

"A poisonous snake..." Li Bai murmured.

He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs and clearing his mind. Being targeted by Li Linfu was dangerous, but not necessarily all bad. At least, it proved that his "high-profile return" strategy had worked—he had successfully attracted the attention of the core of power.

The next step is to weave your own web right under the nose of this venomous snake.

Li Bai turned and walked to his desk. On the desk lay a simple map of Chang'an, which he had drawn from memory over the past few days. The map marked various important locations: the imperial city, the palace city, the east and west markets, the neighborhoods and alleys, as well as the residences of some people he had "accidentally" met in the past few days.

He lightly tapped several spots on the map with his fingertip.

Pingkangfang was Duan Qiniang's brothel. It was one of the most well-informed places in Chang'an, a gathering place for all sorts of people, from high-ranking officials and nobles to wandering knights and literati. Duan Qiniang had feelings for him, but she was also shrewd and could not be relied upon completely; she could only be used as one of his information channels.

The West Market was a gathering place for merchants from the Western Regions, Persia, and Arabia. These merchants had their own information networks and often heard things that court officials couldn't. The other day, he had a "chance" encounter with an Arabian merchant who sold spices. They exchanged poems for incense, had a pleasant conversation, and the merchant promised to bring him some strange and wonderful stories from the Western Regions next time.

and also……

Li Bai's fingertip stopped at the location of Chongrenfang.

There lived a member of the imperial family named Li, a distant cousin of Emperor Xuanzong. However, due to his father's early death and the decline of his family, he now eked out a living on a meager salary and by selling off his possessions. The other day at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion, this young Master Li, after drinking too much, wept bitterly while reciting Li Bai's poem "Bring in the Wine," lamenting that he possessed only the title of imperial relative but had no way to serve his country. Li Bai drank a few cups with him and listened to him ramble on about palace affairs for half a day—mostly trivial matters, but occasionally some useful information could be pieced together.

For example, Consort Wu Hui's illness seems to be more serious than the rumors suggest.

For example, Prince Shou, Li Mao, has been summoned to the palace more frequently recently.

For example, His Majesty has recently been drinking alone in the Hua'e Xianghui Tower, sometimes sitting there for half a day. The eunuchs serving him said that they had heard His Majesty sigh softly, saying something like, "It's hard to find a flower that understands my words"...

These fragmented pieces of information, like scattered beads, need a thread to string them together.

What Li Bai was looking for was that thread.

He put away the map and went into the courtyard.

The rain had lessened, turning into fine, misty drizzle. The bluestone slabs in the courtyard gleamed from the rain, reflecting the hazy sky. The leaves of the sycamore trees swayed gently in the wind, making a rustling sound.

Li Bai stood in the center of the courtyard, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

In addition to the dampness of the rain, the air also carried the sweet, earthy scent of soil, the faint aroma of wood wafting from the distant workshops, and... a faint, almost imperceptible, bloody smell diluted by the rain.

It was wafting from the tanner's workshop next door. That workshop mainly tanned sheepskin and deerskin, and was filled with the smell of leather and chemicals all day long, with the occasional sound of slaughtering livestock. This smell might be pungent to ordinary people, but for Li Bai, it was a good cover-up—the strong leather smell could mask many other unpleasant odors.

For example, sword energy.

Li Bai opened his eyes, his right hand clenched as if holding an invisible sword.

He didn't draw the Azure Lotus Sword. That immortal sword was too conspicuous; its blade glowed with azure light, and it emitted a dragon-like roar when drawn. Using it in Chang'an would be tantamount to revealing his identity. He usually carried only an ordinary longsword bought from a blacksmith's shop, with a heavy blade and a plain edge, no different from those used by wandering swordsmen in the marketplace.

But swords are inanimate, while people are alive.

The true way of the sword lies not in the sword itself, but in the person who wields it.

Li Bai slowly raised his right hand, using his fingers as a sword to draw an arc in the air. The movement was slow and light, as if afraid of disturbing the autumn rain. But as he moved, the raindrops in the courtyard seemed to be drawn by some invisible force, deviating from their original downward trajectory and slowly swirling around his fingertips.

A raindrop hovered three inches from his fingertip, crystal clear, reflecting his calm face.

Then, the second drop, the third drop...

More and more raindrops were drawn in, forming a slowly rotating water ring around him. The water ring spun faster and faster, emitting a faint hum, as the raindrops collided, merged, and split within it, as if they had come to life.

This is the "Water Control Sword Intent" that he comprehended in the Shu Mountain Secret Realm.

Water is both the softest and the strongest. It can nourish things silently, and it can also destroy cities and fortresses. The way of the sword is the same.

Li Bai's eyes narrowed slightly, and his fingertips trembled slightly.

"laugh--"

The suspended raindrops suddenly exploded, transforming into countless fine water needles that shot towards the courtyard wall. The water needles pierced the air with a sharp whistling sound, but vanished silently the moment they touched the wall, leaving only a dense array of tiny, needle-like wet streaks.

The control of force is so precise.

Li Bai finished his movement and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air. The white breath condensed into mist in the cold air, then quickly dissipated.

His cultivation at the early stage of the Golden Core realm had stabilized. The golden core, the size of a pigeon egg, in his dantian rotated day and night, absorbing and exhaling spiritual energy, transforming the essence of heaven and earth into pure true essence to nourish his meridians, bones, and flesh. His five senses were several times more acute than ordinary people; he could hear the sound of raindrops falling a hundred paces away, smell the scent of herbs wafting from next wall, and see clearly even in the dark.

His body also underwent subtle changes.

His skin became firmer, his muscles were smooth and powerful, and his bone density increased, making him difficult to injure with ordinary swords and blades. The most obvious change was in his eyes—deep in his pupils, a faint golden hue would occasionally flash, which was the "Dan Hua" unique to Golden Core cultivators, only appearing when their emotions were intense or when they were exerting their full power.

But that's not enough.

Faced with a powerful minister like Li Linfu, and the impending historical tide, the cultivation level of the early Golden Core stage was only enough to protect oneself, not to break the deadlock.

He needs greater power.

More advanced swordsmanship.

More covert methods.

Li Bai walked back to the eaves and took out a thin booklet from his robes. The booklet was made of some kind of animal hide, yellowed in color, with worn edges, clearly indicating its age. There were no words on the cover, only a faint sword mark.

This is another item he obtained in the secret realm of the Western Mausoleum Divine Kingdom, besides the Azure Lotus Sword.

The booklet doesn't record specific sword techniques, but rather a cultivation method called "Red Dust Sword Heart." According to the booklet, the true way of the sword is not found in deep mountains or secret realms, but in the bustling world of mortals. One must temper one's heart amidst the mundane world, comprehend the Dao amidst love and hate, and discern the sword's true nature amidst life-or-death choices.

The saying "killing one person in ten steps, leaving no trace for a thousand miles" is not about the pleasure of killing, but about the resolute determination to sever worldly ties.

The saying "After accomplishing one's task, one dusts off one's clothes and departs, concealing one's identity and fame" is not a carefree escape, but a clear understanding of the vanity of fame and fortune.

Li Bai flipped through the booklet, his brows furrowed slightly.

This method of practice is fundamentally in conflict with the modern knowledge he learned in his previous life. Modern science emphasizes rationality, logic, and empirical evidence, while "Red Dust Sword Heart" emphasizes perception, state of mind, and the mysterious. The two are like fire and water, incompatible.

Strangely, when he tried to cultivate according to the methods in the book, the modern knowledge in his mind—the structural theories of geology, the mechanical principles of physics, and the periodic table of elements in chemistry—would resonate wonderfully with his understanding of swordsmanship.

For example, when he contemplates the "Sword Intent of Water," he unconsciously associates it with the molecular structure of water, surface tension, fluid dynamics, and so on.

For example, when he ponders the "way of speed," he thinks of the time dilation in relativity, the conversion of speed and energy...

It's as if modern science is explaining the underlying rules of this world from another perspective.

The path of immortal cultivation through swordsmanship involves touching upon the same truths from the level of enlightenment.

This fusion of understanding allowed Li Bai to cultivate at a speed far exceeding that of ordinary people. What others needed years or even decades to comprehend, he could often grasp in just a few days.

But this also brought new problems.

His swordsmanship neither fully belongs to the cultivation system of this era, nor fully conforms to the framework of modern science. It has become something unique, something that belongs only to him.

An "anomaly" that even he himself has not fully understood.

Li Bai closed the book and looked up at the sky.

The rain had stopped sometime earlier. A crack appeared in the clouds, letting in the last rays of the setting sun, painting the western sky a magnificent orange-red. The wet leaves of the sycamore trees in the courtyard shimmered with a golden-green sheen in the sunlight. The air was refreshingly clean, carrying the unique fragrance of rain, a blend of earth and grass.

But Li Bai's heart sank.

Just now, he overheard two workers chatting in the leatherworker's workshop next door.

"Have you heard? That one in the palace... I'm afraid she's not going to make it."

"Who is it?"

"Who else could it be? Consort Wu Hui! My cousin works at the Imperial Medical Bureau. He said that the Imperial Physician has been running to the palace every day for the past few days, and the prescription has been changed seven or eight times, but there is still no improvement."

"Alas... His Majesty must be so heartbroken. Over the years, she has been the most favored among them."

"That's right. My cousin also said that His Majesty has been in a particularly bad mood these past few days. A minor eunuch accidentally knocked over a teacup and was immediately dragged out and given thirty strokes of the cane..."

"commit a sin……"

The sound was very low, but to Li Bai it was as clear as a drumbeat.

Consort Wu Hui is seriously ill.

Emperor Xuanzong was in a bad mood.

History is slowly advancing along its predetermined trajectory.

Li Bai clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white.

He knew what was going to happen next. After Consort Wu Hui's death, Emperor Xuanzong would be plunged into a long period of grief and emptiness. His close attendants, including Gao Lishi, would try every means to find a new "confidante" for the emperor. And Princess Yang Yuhuan, the seventeen-year-old girl with unparalleled beauty and proficiency in music and dance, would be the most suitable candidate.

Then came the "First Meeting at the Onsen Palace," which changed the fate of countless people.

Then came the phrase "once chosen to serve by the emperor's side."

Then came the phrase, "From then on, the emperor no longer held morning court."

Then came her tragic end at Mawei Slope...

"No."

Li Bai spoke in a low voice, which sounded particularly clear in the empty courtyard.

He couldn't just stand by and watch all of this happen.

We cannot bear to watch that girl who looks just like Yang Xiaohuan walk step by step toward her predetermined tragedy.

Even if the wheels of history are as heavy as mountains.

Even if it means facing the entire imperial system.

Even if it means... going against the world.

He wanted to give it a try too.

Li Bai turned and went back into his room, lighting an oil lamp. The dim light illuminated his desk and the resolute light in his eyes. He spread out paper, ground ink, and began to write a letter.

It is neither poetry nor prose.

Instead, they were seemingly ordinary "greeting letters" that actually concealed hidden meanings.

The recipients of the letters included the down-on-his-luck young master Li from the imperial family, Duan Qiniang from Pingkang Ward, a wealthy merchant from the West Market, a musician who had been "accidentally" acquainted with the family in the past few days and who worked in the palace music hall, and a minor clerk who worked as a clerk in the eunuch's office...

The letters varied in content. Some discussed poetry and literature, some inquired about customs and scenery in the Western Regions, and some were merely casual greetings. But in every letter, a few topics were "casually" mentioned: What's new in Chang'an lately? What interesting things are happening in the palace? How is His Majesty's mood? ...

These letters will be sent out tomorrow through different channels.

They stretched silently to every corner of Chang'an City, like spider webs.

Li Bai is like the spider sitting in the center of its web.

Waiting for feedback.

Wait for the right time.

Waiting... for the moment when it breaks through the net.

It was late at night when I finished writing the last letter.

Li Bai blew out the oil lamp and walked into the courtyard. The night sky was clear and bright, dotted with countless stars, and a crescent moon hung on the top of the paulownia tree, casting a cool, clear light. The puddles in the courtyard reflected the moonlight, like shattered mirrors.

He stood in the center of the courtyard, closed his eyes, and began to cultivate.

It's not about practicing swordsmanship, but about training the "mind".

Following the methods of "Red Dust Sword Heart," he sank his consciousness into his dantian, feeling the rotation of the golden core. Each time the golden core rotated, it would absorb and release a wisp of spiritual energy from heaven and earth, transforming it into pure true essence that flowed throughout his limbs and bones. At the same time, he was also sensing the "qi" of this courtyard.

The heaviness of the soil.

The fluidity of rain.

The life of the parasol tree.

And then there's... the hustle and bustle, desires, joys and sorrows, partings and reunions of Chang'an in the distance.

The atmosphere of the mundane world surged in like a tide, impacting his mind and spirit.

Li Bai remained steadfast in his spiritual realm, neither rejecting nor retaining anything, letting these influences flow by. He was like a reef, standing firm in the torrent of the mortal world, being washed and polished, yet remaining unmoved.

I don't know how much time passed.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

Because outside the courtyard wall, there was a very slight, almost imperceptible noise.

It's neither a cat nor a dog.

It was the sound of footsteps.

It was very light and fast, almost making no sound when it landed, clearly the person was skilled in martial arts. But even the lightest footsteps could not escape the perception of Li Bai, a Golden Core cultivator.

Li Bai did not move.

He simply stood there quietly, his gaze fixed on the courtyard wall.

The footsteps stopped outside the wall.

Then, there was a very slight "tap" sound, as if something had been thrown in.

The object landed on the bluestone slab in the courtyard with a dull thud.

Li Bai walked over, bent down, and picked it up.

It's a small object wrapped in oiled paper. It feels slightly heavy in your hand, about the size of your palm. The oiled paper is wrapped very tightly, and there are no words or writing on the surface.

Li Bai tore open the oil paper.

There was a letter inside.

Ordinary letter paper, neatly folded. When unfolded, it contains only one line of text, written in upright but deliberately distorted regular script:

"When Consort Hui passed away, the Emperor was deeply saddened. He often drank alone in the palace, reciting the old saying, 'Her natural beauty is perfect for serving in the inner palace.'"

The handwriting was clear and legible under the moonlight.

Li Bai's fingers, which were holding the letter, trembled slightly.

It's not fear.

It's anger.

It was a chilling, bone-chilling anger that seemed to burst from the chest.

"With her naturally outstanding appearance, she is suitable to serve in the imperial harem."

He was all too familiar with those eight words.

In fragments of historical records and in unofficial accounts, these eight characters were once used to describe a person.

Yang Yuhuan.

It is said that when she first entered the Prince Shou's residence, someone commented that she was exceptionally beautiful and gifted, and should have entered the palace to serve the emperor.

Now, these eight characters have reappeared.

When Consort Wu Hui had just passed away.

While Emperor Xuanzong was drinking alone in grief.

While Gao Lishi and others were searching for a new "confidante" for the emperor.

What does this mean?

This means that the invisible hand has already begun to act.

This means that Yang Yuhuan's name has already been placed on someone's desk.

This means that the gears of history have meshed at the most crucial point.

storm……

It's really coming.

Li Bai raised his head and looked towards the direction of the imperial palace.

The Daming Palace in the night resembled a crouching behemoth, silent and majestic. Its towering walls separated the inside from the outside, and also isolated the fates of countless people.

But in Li Bai's eyes, it was no longer an insurmountable barrier.

That was a city he had to conquer.

For one person.

For a promise.

For the love and obsession that have never been extinguished across three lifetimes.

He slowly folded up the letter and put it in his pocket.

Then, he turned around and went back to his room.

His steps were steady and heavy.

Every step feels like measuring the distance from this moment to the future.

The distance from mortal to sword immortal.

The distance from compromise to resistance.

The distance from history to change.

The door closed.

The courtyard returned to silence.

Only the moonlight shone coldly on the damp stains on the bluestone slabs.

And in the corner, there were a few clumps of chrysanthemums shivering in the autumn wind.