Young Master Bai — Chapter 60

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Chapter 60: Nothing Tastes Better Than Dumplings

Sword Immortal Bai came and went as he pleased. Bai Chen looked at the snow-white fur so much like his own and felt a chill down his back. Even after taking a pill and reshaping his human form, he still pulled a quilt over himself as he lay on the couch, pondering these shocking revelations.

The Bai family’s female yao were highly esteemed — registered at birth, guarded day and night. Even when they took Dao companions, the men always married into the Bai family. By rights, none should have ended up wandering among mortals. Yet Bai Chen had indeed been born within human territory, and he had been hunted down the moment he came into the world. If not for being rescued, he might never have lived long enough for the Fox Immortal to fetch him.

Thinking of this, Sword Immortal Bai’s claim that he was not Bai Wei’s descendant no longer seemed impossible. But if that was the case, how did the Great Snow Mountain know of his existence as a Nine-tailed White Fox? Could it be that someone deliberately placed him under Sword Immortal Bai’s nose to shield the true heir of the Yao King?

Bai Chen’s origins were shrouded in mystery, but what truly troubled him was the issue of bloodlines. The truth about Bai Wei’s identity struck the Bai family like a hammer blow. For a thousand years, they had prided themselves on the purity of their lineage, allowing only the offspring of great yao to serve as guards and attendants, while ordinary little yao weren’t even worthy to speak to them.

Yet in reality, they were nothing more than ordinary snow foxes. It wasn’t mixed blood with outsiders that had weakened the Bai family — rather, their bloodline had dragged down the noble yao they had intermarried with. If such news spread, their rule over the Great Snow Mountain would collapse.

Thus, unraveling the secret of yao bloodline inheritance became the top priority. Bai Chen immediately ordered his guards to summon Chenzui. He was just about to consult Li Wuming when he saw the man lugging in a set of cooking tools from who knew where. With his sleeves rolled up, he was mixing flour and water. Seeing Bai Chen emerge from the bedroom, he greeted him cheerfully:

“I was planning to go down the mountain to buy you something good to restore your strength, but my master scared me back. I don’t dare let you out of my sight today anyway. Since there’s flour in the kitchen, why not make some dumplings myself?”

Silent Pavilion had been personally built by Bai Wei for Bai Weiyue, and for a thousand years it had remained solemn and tranquil. Not a single yao dared profane it. Only Li Wuming had the gall to turn such a place of cultivation into a bustling kitchen in the blink of an eye.

Bai Chen looked at the flour mingled with the white hairs he had just shed, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. At last, he could only say helplessly: “You, a Sword Immortal, are so down-to-earth — completely unlike your master.”

Li Wuming took the words as a compliment, smiling as he kneaded the dough.

“Nothing beats dumplings in the dead of winter. But if you don’t wag your tail later, no dumplings for you.”

Though frivolous, the man was dependable. Seeing him like this, Bai Chen suddenly felt that no matter how difficult things became, they weren’t truly unbearable. His tail twitched unconsciously, though he still cast a stubborn sideways glance at his Dao companion.

“I won’t wag it. If you’ve got the guts, starve me.”

Naturally, Sword Immortal Li had no such guts. He welcomed the little fox’s defiance with delight and even praised him warmly: “Well, well — spoiled and proud already. Progress!”

The secrets revealed by Sword Immortal Bai were earth-shaking, yet Li Wuming behaved as if none of it mattered, doing as he pleased, untroubled by the world. Bai Chen knew he himself could never be so carefree, and could only sigh: “Look at us — clearly it’s you who’s led me astray. Your master fears I’ll harm you, when it’s the opposite.”

At the mention of his master, Li Wuming’s hands paused for a moment, but soon his serious look was gone.

“My master stumbled with his first disciple. It took him a thousand years to get me, his only seedling, so sometimes he’s overprotective. Take what he says with a grain of salt. The rest? Just treat it as keeping a lonely old man company.”

For the disciple to call the great Sword Immortal Bai — the number one swordsman under Heaven — a “lonely old man” was too much. Bai Chen was still shaking his head when Chenzui arrived in a rush, shouting before he had even crossed the threshold: “Ancestor! Something terrible has happened!”

Bai Chen was long used to Yunce’s fiery temper, but it was rare for Chenzui to panic like this. Remembering that this was his successor, he immediately said in a deep voice: “You’re meant to be crown prince. Don’t let the little yao see you flustered.”

Royal authority had to be cultivated through composure. Chenzui, entrusted with high hopes by his father, had grown ever more cautious. Yet today’s news was too dreadful, and he had to report it at once.

“King, the Heavenly Wolf clan… is gone.”

Though he remembered that their status had changed, fear still lingered in his eyes. Bai Chen’s face froze in disbelief.

“Gone?”

Chenzui had been trained as the future Fox King of the Great Snow Mountain. He would not panic over an ordinary mishap. Still shaken, he explained: “Today, our scouts found the Heavenly Wolf clan’s camp utterly silent. When they investigated, they found nothing but corpses. I personally verified the names from old records — the entire Heavenly Wolf clan, save for their leader Starbreaker, has been annihilated.”

Since their defeat a thousand years ago, the Heavenly Wolf clan had never ceased training for war. Even their old, weak, and infirm could match human cultivators at the Golden Core stage. Their camp held not only their general, Starbreaker — a wolf of purest blood and greatest cultivation — but also three Heavenly Wolf commanders, thirty guards, one hundred instructors, and fifteen hundred soldiers. Trained together in formation for years, their combined strength was doubled. Even if faced with Yinrong troops, they could have fought head-on. If they were losing, they still had the power to cover a retreat back to the Great Snow Mountain. How could they have been wiped out in silence upon the snowy plain?

Bai Chen had intended to let the Heavenly Wolf clan taste some suffering at human hands before scooping up a few survivors for his own use. But now that plan had been shattered overnight. He could only turn to Chenzui with grave expression.

“Any trace of Starbreaker?”

“The command tent was in complete disarray. Starbreaker is nowhere to be found.”

As the most powerful of the Heavenly Wolf clan, Starbreaker should have been the one most likely to survive. When Chenzui had arrived, that was the first place he had searched. But all he found was spilled wine and scattered meat. There wasn’t even a trace of battle.

If Starbreaker hadn’t been assassinated, then the attackers must have possessed power enough to subdue a wolf yao of Wandering Immortal level in an instant. If they could so easily destroy the Heavenly Wolf clan, then how much easier would it be to deal with the non-martial yao of the Great Snow Mountain…

This thought only deepened Chenzui’s panic. His gaze shifted instinctively toward Li Wuming.

“King… could it have been the humans?”

The Heavenly Wolf clan had long borne enmity toward the humans. Their sentries were the keenest among wolf yao, yet even they had been obliterated without leaving a trace. To Chenzui, it seemed only the bizarre artifacts of the Unknown Truth Sect could have made such a thing possible.

In terms of suspicion, human cultivators were naturally the most likely culprits. Li Wuming, calm as ever, kneaded the dough and met the doubtful gazes with a plain reply:

“To the humans, wiping out the Heavenly Wolf clan would be a war of vengeance to wash away disgrace. Whoever managed it would lay out banquets for three days and nights in celebration — why bother sneaking in for a midnight raid?”

His words made sense. Even the most righteous of the Hidden Wisdom Sect within the Heaven’s Way Alliance insisted: “The Great Snow Mountain can remain, but the Heavenly Wolf clan must die.” The past few days of hesitation had been no more than the Alliance debating which sect should lead the army, for the honor of a victory destined to be recorded in history. Since the major sects were competing to exterminate the Heavenly Wolves, by human custom they would surely hold rituals before departure, announcing it to the world. There was no need to conceal it.

No matter what, the deed was done and had to be faced. Bai Chen, still unable to make sense of it, asked:

“Have you examined the bodies? How did they die?”

At this, Chenzui’s gaze flicked even more often toward Li Wuming.

“Killed by sword qi. One strike, instant death. Definitely the work of a master swordsman.”

And who, among sword masters, could rival the Sword Immortal lineage? The Heavenly Wolves’ refusal to accept Bai Chen’s departure from the Great Snow Mountain was known far and wide. If word spread that Bai Chen had borne a grudge and secretly ordered Li Wuming to eliminate the traitors, who would doubt it?

Submit, and live as slaves. Defy, and your clan is destroyed. Such had been Bai Wei’s way.

At last, Bai Chen understood why this grave news had not been delivered by Hua Jian Hu, the clan chief, in person. They said “the death of a rabbit grieves the fox.” Seeing the Heavenly Wolves meet such a fate, the Red Fox clan was naturally terrified, fearing they too might share that end should they ever displease him.

“It was your father who sent you here, wasn’t it?”

Bai Chen’s sudden change of tone made Chenzui hesitate, torn between his Ancestor and his father. Bai Chen raised his brows knowingly.

“And he asked you to watch my expression, didn’t he?”

This surprised Chenzui.

“Ancestor… King, how did you know?”

He had long been accustomed to calling him Ancestor, and switching to “King” always felt awkward. Bai Chen didn’t mind. He only smiled lightly.

“You are a fox of the Bai family. Call me Ancestor — it’s more intimate that way.”

There was hidden meaning in his words. Chenzui dared not dwell on it, only nodded respectfully.

“I think so too. Ancestor sounds more natural.”

To Chenzui, he was the Bai Ancestor, not the Yao King. Hua Jian Hu would surely grasp the hint.

Bai Chen idly toyed with the tip of his snowy tail, answering his subordinate’s suspicions with calm indifference:

“Go tell your suspicious father that Li Wuming spent the whole night tossing me about in bed. Spring nights are short — we had no leisure to deal with the Heavenly Wolves.”

The implication left the inexperienced Chenzui at a loss for words. Trapped between the Bai family and the Red Fox clan, he was pitiably torn. Bai Chen found no anger in him, only waved his hand gently:

“Go. See to the Heavenly Wolves’ burial. After a thousand years together, at least don’t let the humans strip even their hides.”

“Yes. Rest assured, Ancestor. I’ll see their bodies handled properly.”

Fearing more questions about his father’s orders, Chenzui seized the chance to slip away. Once gone, Li Wuming, still busy with the dumplings, finally looked up in protest.

“My master keeps me so tightly reined I can’t even fend for myself. And now you’re saying I tossed you about in bed?”

For a fox renowned as the embodiment of charm and seduction, Bai Chen’s nights were embarrassingly proper — curled in fox form beside his Dao companion. Li Wuming, for all he had long since memorized the Demon Lord and Demon Leader’s collection of erotic scrolls, was still seen by his master as a pure and sheltered youth, to be guarded from being taken advantage of by the seductive fox.

Bai Chen found it unfair. By rights, it was Li Wuming who should have been the one to dominate. How could his frail frame possibly overpower Li Wuming? Thinking of this, his gaze grew resentful.

“Someone kneaded my tail like dough last night, kept me awake, and forgot all about it come morning when he changed his trousers, didn’t he?”

His great endeavors faltering, and even his bedroom matters unsatisfying, the little fox’s mood was naturally sour. Li Wuming dared not provoke him further. He smiled instead: “No wonder this dough kneads so smoothly. Practice makes perfect.”

His smile disarmed Bai Chen, who couldn’t stay angry with no one else around. So he asked in earnest: “Could it have been your master who destroyed the Heavenly Wolves?”

At this, Li Wuming’s hand holding the rolling pin didn’t even tremble. “You know the sound my master’s sword makes. Don’t you?”

As for Sword Immortal Bai’s temper, if he said he'd wipe out a family, he wiped out the whole family — the former Yao King whom people once feared was flayed to make a cushion to be sat upon in meditation for a thousand years. If he wanted the Heavenly Wolf clan dead, he’d split the Great Snow Mountain with a single stroke — not only slaughter the wolves, but also frighten the world’s experts into another sleepless night.

Bai Chen and Li Wuming knew his ways, but outsiders did not. With his icy nature, Sword Immortal Bai would never step forward to explain himself. Thus, the blame would inevitably fall upon his lineage.

Bai Chen frowned.

“Clearly the one who slaughtered the Heavenly Wolves meant to cast suspicion upon you or your master — or to make me seem the mastermind.”

Li Wuming understood perfectly. Scooping meat filling onto a dough skin, he carefully folded it closed and sighed.

“To wipe out a clan with one stroke — that reminds everyone of Bai Wei. If those hidden yao clans hear of this, none will dare return to the Great Snow Mountain.”

That was the heart of the trouble. To expand his power, Bai Chen needed to recruit new blood. Yet Bai Wei’s infamous cruelty now hung over him, driving all yao to keep their distance — or worse, to join rival forces.

“I underestimated that descendant of the Yao King. I seized the title, handed him the burden of the Heavenly Wolves, hoping to force him into the open. But instead he abandoned them ruthlessly, leaving me to inherit the Yao King’s infamy and cutting off my path to win over the yao. To lie low so long and strike so viciously… he is no simple opponent.”

For the first time, Bai Chen had suffered a loss in the game of power. His face was grim. But in such struggles, who could win without setback? Li Wuming, knowing comfort was useless, dropped the dumplings into boiling water and asked simply:

“What do you plan to do?”

“Rumors are easy to spread, hard to dispel. The world already mistrusts Nine-tailed White Foxes. To preserve the Bai family’s standing, I cannot expose Bai Wei’s identity. Publicly, I remain the sole descendant of the Yao King. This infamy cannot be washed away.”

The little fox drooped his ears at the thought, clearly troubled. Li Wuming, meaning to toughen him yet unable to bear it, finally offered a hand.

“Want to hear my advice?”

That perked Bai Chen’s ears.

“You have an idea?”

Since he had begun, Li Wuming didn’t hold back. Dipping a finger in water, he traced four words on the table: First Law, Then Benevolence.

Bai Chen read them with dawning understanding, yet still asked humbly:

“What do you mean?”

“To govern, moving from strictness to leniency is benevolent rule. From leniency to strictness becomes tyranny. Yao are wild by nature and hard to control. If you are too lenient now, I worry you won’t be able to rein them in later. At this moment, they all see you as a cruel tyrant. Whether it’s fear or respect, they obey. Seize this chance to set laws and discipline. Gather their strength to build your foundation, raise your military readiness. When the treasury is secure, then grant kindness to win hearts.”

In this, Li Wuming was an old hand, speaking with seasoned clarity. Since the world’s tongues could not be stopped, better to use the slander to cement authority and strengthen what power they already had. The world, after all, is more forgiving of a prodigal turned back than of a saint who errs.

Bai Chen’s mind opened to a new path, though concern lingered.

“But you always told me that only by granting real benefits will subordinates follow sincerely.”

Li Wuming smiled.

“You’ve already given them the greatest benefit.”

This raised Bai Chen’s brows. Li Wuming explained:

“If you weren’t the Yao King, would I have stayed here? Without me, the Heavenly Wolves’ fate would be shared by every yao of the Great Snow Mountain. Their destruction reminds all: even the strongest armies cannot stand alone. They need the protection of the Great Snow Mountain — and of you.”

Safety. That was the benefit no being could discard.

Bai Chen saw the truth at once. The protection of the Sword Immortal made the Great Snow Mountain his greatest bargaining chip. With a plan in mind, he still sought Li Wuming’s counsel.

“What should I do next?”

“Things freely given have no value. If you mean to rule, you must master your people’s hunger. Give them relief only when they are desperate — not so much they forget gratitude, not so little they become enemies. The moment of need, when hardship bites but does not break — that is when aid has the greatest effect.”

In times of war, humanity itself erodes. Li Wuming had forged an iron-blooded army loyal only to him amid chaos. His methods were unique. Now, pinching off a bit of dough before Bai Chen’s eyes, he went on:

“A ruler must not be too kind, nor without kindness. Must have cunning, but not so much his people live in terror. Benevolence and calculation are like flour and water — mixed in the right ratio, the dough comes out best.”

“The ruler’s schemes are the skin. Real benefits are the filling. A dumpling without filling is tasteless — out of the pot, it will be tossed aside and remade.”

He rolled the dough thin, placed meat inside, folded it into neat edges, and held up the plump dumpling before tossing it into the pot.

“The skin is ready, the filling inside. You must pinch them together. Whether cabbage admits it’s married to pork or not, in the pot they’ll cook into one. When their flavors blend, then you lift them out — into a dish that everyone fights over. Luckily, we won’t have children, so you needn’t be like my elder brother, who once snatched his younger brother’s chopsticks to stop him from stealing his son’s dumplings.”

His tone was casual, but his words lit Bai Chen’s vision of the future. No emperor’s teacher had ever lectured by dumpling analogy, yet the wisdom was undeniable. Bai Chen couldn’t help laughing.

“Only dumplings, yet you find so much philosophy in them?”

The little fox laughed, so Li Wuming was satisfied. He ladled out a bowl of dumplings, adding a dish of aged vinegar.

“As for me, I’m the vinegar. With me, you’ll find them delicious.”

Never missing a chance to boast, he still made Bai Chen smile. The fox dipped one in vinegar, and whether from words or taste, he had to admit the odd human dish was indeed fragrant.

With strategy and supper both in hand, Bai Chen’s mood brightened. But as he prodded the dumplings with his chopsticks, a realization struck him.

“I’ve long puzzled over something. All I know of humans comes from books, yet I act as though already familiar. Thinking on it, it was you — five hundred years of subtle teaching during your wanderings. Li Wuming, what scheme have you been plotting?”

The Great Snow Mountain had never dealt with humans. By rights, Bai Chen’s knowledge should be no broader than Chenzui’s. Yet he grasped their ways, held a vision few yao could match. Now he saw — it was all Li Wuming’s doing. He had taught him how to see men, how to grasp the greater picture, the fate of nations.

From the day he found the little fox weeping beneath the covers, ashamed at being unable to protect his clan, Li Wuming had extended a hand. Five hundred years, and that hand had never let go.

Even buried in ice, hiding his name, he was still that young general who once gave up escape overseas to defend a city of refugees with his blade.

Had he been young still, he might have shared drinks and bold words of conquest with the fox. Now, he only brushed oil from the boy’s lips and teased lightly, easing every weight.

“I swore to leave the court behind, to live in seclusion. But you, little fox, fret over clan and kingdom daily, stirring my old heart to save the world. Without knowing it, I’ve shaped you into an emperor fit to my taste. And now, this general finds himself gazing upon his emperor with growing affection — longing to commit treason, addicted to the Yao King’s tail. Without a daily touch, I can’t rest easy. Since you’ve eaten my dumplings today, shouldn’t your tail wag a little in return?”

It sounded like jest, yet Bai Chen knew every word was true. The devotion of old had always been there — he simply hadn’t understood. That devotion was to raise him as emperor, to gift him the world.

Now grown, he understood. For this general who had protected him all along, he would repay tenfold.

“How can the Nine Provinces [Jiuzhou] be without a name [Wuming]? I know you still long for one more glorious battle, though you’ve borne it in silence for the peace of men.”

Li Wuming — once Li Jiuzhou, Heaven’s favored child — had been forced into obscurity. After years of conquest, he had surrendered his power in a day. How could he not resent it? How could he not hate burying his unmatched skill beneath ice?

Yet for the peace of the world, all anger and grief had been buried with the name Li Jiuzhou. Born a Sword Immortal, he had hidden his brilliance, returning to the fields. That was his emotionless path — merciless toward himself, for the sake of the people.

Even now, when Bai Chen pierced his heart with truth, he only returned a calm smile.

“A general’s retirement is a blessing. Come, another bowl, to celebrate.”

But how could Bai Chen let him fade into obscurity forever? To have mastered the world’s greatest sword and never let it sing — how could his beloved live so unsatisfied?

For once, the little fox cast caution aside, willfully insistent.

“Tomorrow, I set out for Lin’an. You’ll obey my command, and together we’ll fight a battle to our hearts’ content.”

Li Wuming knew Bai Chen was courting trouble. He ought to change the subject, guide things away, restrain the course. He could not let war rise anew.

Yet those firm eyes shattered his reason. The warlike spirit, frozen for five centuries, stirred once more. To his surprise, he even felt a thrill of anticipation.

“Very well.”

~ Chapter End ~

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