He paid no further mind to Jing Ke and Gao Jianli—these were just two hot-blooded radicals, forever charging ahead on impulse. In his previous life, Li Haimo had been a keyboard warrior himself, but under the Daoists' guidance, he'd gained a broader worldview. He'd learned to think deeply, to discern what could and couldn't be done.
This highlighted the gap between formal schooling and self-taught wanderers. Self-taught types, unless blessed by destiny—like Jing Tianming, unkillable no matter the odds, with allies swarming and enemies oddly merciful, like monks sparing Tang Seng—were doomed. If Li Haimo were from the Yin-Yang Clan, he'd just eliminate the threat outright. No need for fancy curses like the Six Souls Terror to let them bounce around causing chaos.
"Senior Brother, do you think they'll go?" Xiao Meng asked.
"They'll go for sure—and fail the rescue just as surely. Whether they make it back alive? That's anyone's guess," Li Haimo chuckled.
"Then why not tell them you're the Human Sect leader of the Daoists? You could save Kuang Xiu," Xiao Meng puzzled. She knew her brother shared a mentor-student bond with the King of Qin; a word from him, and Kuang Xiu would walk free. No need for those two to risk their necks.
"Because we're Daoists. Heaven and earth follow their own rhythms; everyone has their fate. Besides, we're strangers to them—I've already given them a nudge, which is plenty. If they charge in half-cocked anyway, Qin might suspect ulterior motives. That'd be unfair to our tens of thousands of Daoist disciples," Li Haimo explained.
Favors weren't for squandering. As Human Sect leader—and wed to Xiao Meng—his stance spoke for the entire Daoist school. Even a pure-hearted bid to save Kuang Xiu could twist in politicians' eyes, ballooning into something sinister. He was a Daoist first; himself second.
"Fancy a peek at the Mohist Mechanism City?" Li Haimo suggested abruptly.
"Isn't the Mohist Mechanism City in Han-Wei territory?" Xiao Meng asked, confused.
"That's the Qin Mohists' site—their ancestral ground. The real Mohist Mechanism City hides in Yan's deep mountains. And there's more than one. The biggest one's in Yan. Otherwise, where do you think those mechanism white tigers came from for our wedding? Shipped straight from the Qin Mohist base. Like a cunning rabbit with three burrows—one lone city, and the Mohists couldn't hold their spot as one of the era's two great schools," Li Haimo grinned.
Before the Daoist intel, he'd assumed the Mechanism City lay near Qin—based on the tales: Gai Nie hunted in Qin lands, fleeing to Mirror Lake Clinic, then zipping into the city via a mechanism vermilion bird. And the Quicksand gang operated in Han. All pointed south.
But the Daoist network revealed: with Yan's backing, the Mohists had built a massive stronghold in Yan's wilds. Han's was just the old heartland.
"Anything fun there?" Xiao Meng inquired.
"Who knows? But Mohist mechanisms are pretty impressive," Li Haimo said with a smile.
"Pass!" Xiao Meng vetoed flatly. And fair enough—not like she was a boy; what girl cared for giant robots? Save for the tomboys—and Xiao Meng was no such thing.
"Then let's hunt down a hot spring spot for a spell, then head to Qi's Linzi and Sanghai's Little Sage Village," Li Haimo said indulgently, pulling her into a hug.
Next morning, Xiao Meng straightened her rumpled robes, waiting for him to comb her hair. She'd learned the skill over the years, but why bother? The view wasn't for her eyes anyway.
Bathed and ready, they donned their bear pelts again. The innkeep pointed them north: hot springs bubbled in the mountains near Yan's capital.
Thus, they trekked: bundled thick, her graceful figure hidden to ward off trouble. The pelts screamed "tough customer"—even bandits steered clear, ensuring smooth passage.
Nearly two months of meandering brought them to the outskirts of Yan's capital. Li Haimo couldn't help a wry smile: this was a future imperial seat, yet among the Seven States' hubs, it felt so... puny. No match for Daliang, Xianyang, Linzi, Handan, or Yingdu. Barely edged out Xinzheng. Not even a hint of its later grandeur.
They'd entered Yan in Qin Wang Year Six's winter; now it was Year Seven's first month. Jiyang City brimmed with New Year's cheer: merchants hauling carts of wares to market, woodcutters with ox-drawn loads of firewood and charcoal, all queuing at the gates.
"Wonder if Xue Nu's still honing her dances in Handan, or back in Jiyang already," Li Haimo mused. Meeting Gao Jianli jogged the memory: he and Xue Nu crossed paths at Feixue Pavilion in Jiyang. Him plucking qin to her steps, the brooding artist too shy to confess. Only when she got snatched did he play the hero, saving the day for the damsel. Wait, did he even win her?
But Gao Jianli's bullheaded streak: sold out by Yan Dan, yet still loyal. Xue Nu likely sniffed Yan Dan's schemes early—joined the Mohists for Gao's sake, plotting her exit. But his hot blood kept dragging her back, leaving her on ice.
As the saying went: If she's innocent to the world, show her its splendor. If her heart's scarred deep, give her a carousel ride.
Xue Nu's past? Riddled with wounds. Yet the Mohists? A crew of oddballs. The lookers? Just Gao Jianli. The rest: hulking Da Tie Chui, roguish Dao Zhi, potbellied Pao Ding. White-bearded elders like Master Ban and Xu Fuzi—grandpa material.
If some halfway handsome guy crooked a finger—"Come with me for that carousel, a quiet mountain life"—Gao Jianli would weep rivers.
Of course, Li Haimo's Xue Nu thoughts weren't about her famed beauty in Qin Shi Ming Yue. No—it was the white hair she shared with Xiao Meng. Were they linked? Their temperaments mirrored too: Xiao Meng, thawed to liveliness these years by Li Haimo, had once been an ice queen herself.
Timeline check: Gao Jianli hits Feixue after the Kuang Xiu fiasco with Jing Ke. Then they bolt Jiyang, scooped by Mohist leader Six-Fingered Black Xia—Gao rising to command. So now? Xue Nu's either at Feixue or still dancing in Zhao.
"Know what Jiyang's most famous for?" Li Haimo asked with a grin.
"What?" Xiao Meng replied.
"Feixue Pavilion's Feixue Yuhua Terrace. They say only the Seven States' top dancers grace it. The whole platform's pure jade: dancers whirl, water cascades like splashing gems and blooming flowers—hence the name," Li Haimo explained.
"You sure you're not just itching to ogle beauties?" If not for the thick pelts blocking her pinch, her woman's divine art—the waist-twist kidney-grab—would've struck.
Li Haimo laughed awkwardly. Men, after all, couldn't resist appreciating beauty.
"Then let's check it out," Xiao Meng said. Not just men eyeing women—women did too. Difference? Men's gazes carried ulterior motives; women's were comparisons. Spot one flaw lesser than her own? Bliss for days.
They scouted Feixue's spot—and the entry fee: ten gold per night, booze and bites extra. Request a dance? Thousand gold minimum.
Thus, to an inn for the night. Then the dynamic duo revived: one on lookout, one on the heist. Slick as ever.
Come morning, Jiyang buzzed: Yan Chun Jun's manor raided, treasures gone—fenced at the Farmers' Qianlong Hall.
"Filthy rich," Li Haimo marveled. He'd grabbed a handful on whim—netted ten thousand gold at Qianlong.
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