Chapter Eighty-One: Winning Hearts with Virtue, Taming Horses with Strength

Wu Xian and Wu Jie were utterly dumbfounded, their expressions so awkward and complex that words could hardly describe them. Having just arrived in Jiangning, they knew little about Kong Sheng. Seeing this young scholar, whose legendary strength matched the rumors, nearly made their eyes pop from their heads.

Both brothers were considered quite formidable in the imperial guard, but before Kong Sheng's miraculous power, they were nothing. Such prowess recalled the mighty Li Xuanba, the famed King of Wei, and in the army, Kong Sheng would indeed be a hero none could withstand.

Wu Xian drew a sharp breath. His astonished gaze shifted from the long sword slung across Kong Sheng's back to the youth's face, his heart secretly awed: so the Kong family's young master possessed not only remarkable literary talent, but also true martial skills. No wonder he dared to take up his post in Henan alone!

Their eyes held newfound respect for Kong Sheng. For rough and proud officers like them, literary excellence meant little; they cared not for poetic airs and the arrogance of scholars. But to be bested in strength by a young scholar shook them far more than any verse could.

Standing atop the steps, Kong Sheng brushed the dust from his hands and smiled calmly. "All right, gentlemen, bring the horses in and rest. Have a bite, take a short nap, and when dawn comes, we’ll continue our journey!"

He led the way into the ruined temple. Swiftwind let out a gentle whinny, darted inside like a flash of white lightning, and settled boldly on a windswept corridor outside the hall, his proud tail flicking idly.

Kong Sheng laughed heartily at this. Mu Changfeng, gazing enviously at Swiftwind, praised, "Master, this white steed is a rare divine horse from the steppes. Its stamina and speed are extraordinary, and it even senses people's moods. Truly enviable."

Kong Sheng strode over and gave Swiftwind’s plump hindquarters a firm slap. "The horse is decent enough, but it’s full of bad habits. Show it a little kindness, and it’ll get too proud!" He then scolded, "You rascal, tuck your tail in! What are you showing off for in the dead of night?"

Swiftwind snorted in fear and frustration, lowered his proud head, and obediently tucked his tail between his haunches. Such human-like behavior left Mu Changfeng stunned. After a long moment, he said, "Master, that’s a fine horse, yet you treat it so roughly? My word, what a waste!"

If someone else owned such a steed, they would cherish it, pamper it, and build a bond, believing in winning both men and horses with virtue. But Kong Sheng took another path, subduing his mount with sheer strength, ensuring the horse was truly convinced—or at least dared not disobey.

It was obvious even to a fool that Swiftwind harbored deep-rooted fear of his master; Kong Sheng must have “disciplined” him plenty. Indeed, the finer the horse, the fiercer its temper, and if Kong Sheng hadn’t cowed him early on, Swiftwind would never be so obedient.

Building a bond the conventional way wasn’t impossible, but it took time and effort, and Kong Sheng lacked the time. Patience he had, but not hours to spare. Thus, he forged his own path, and from the results, it worked well enough.

Fear aside, Swiftwind still felt some affection for Kong Sheng. As time passed, man and steed would inevitably forge a shared bond of life and honor. Most importantly, Kong Sheng regarded Swiftwind as a friend. Beneath the show of strength lay attentive care, which even the horse could sense. A true steed possessed the spirit and wisdom that ordinary horses lacked.

Wu Xian and Wu Jie were amazed; this divine horse, Swiftwind, was rare and precious. They wondered how Kong Sheng had acquired it—perhaps it had come too easily, so he didn’t treasure it?

Wu Xian slowly walked over, intending to emulate Kong Sheng and pat Swiftwind’s hindquarters. But before his hand could touch, the horse let out a loud whinny, glared fiercely, lifted his head, mane flying, hooves scraping the ground, and prepared to attack.

Had Wu Xian dared to touch him, he would have been kicked away.

Wu Xian grumbled and withdrew his hand, muttering, "Stupid beast! Not a tiger, yet I can't even touch your hindquarters?"

Wu Jie shrugged and chuckled.

"Tiger’s tail you can't touch, and neither Swiftwind’s! Honestly, Wu Xian, you're a fool—why on earth do you want to pat its backside?" Mu Changfeng laughed heartily, his laughter echoing in the silent night and the desolate temple, sending chills through the air.

Wu Xian’s face fell, but he dared not provoke Swiftwind again. He stamped his foot in frustration, then took out his anger on his own black horse, cracking his whip through the air with a loud snap, spitting disdainfully on the ground.

Suddenly, Swiftwind charged at him. The distance was only several yards, and before Wu Xian could react, Swiftwind’s forelegs lashed out, kicking him aside.

Wu Xian cried out, tumbling to one side, rolling quickly to avoid injury.

Wu Jie and Mu Changfeng stared, stunned, wondering why Swiftwind had suddenly lashed out—and at Wu Xian, no less.

Wu Xian, furious and humiliated, scrambled to his feet, drew his curved blade, and rushed at Swiftwind, eyes blazing.

Swiftwind was unafraid. He stepped back slightly, forelegs bent, tail flying, body leaning forward in a bold fighting stance.

Kong Sheng frowned and darted forward, grabbing Wu Xian’s arm and pulling him aside.

"Wu Xian, this horse is wild and gave you a bit of trouble. I’ll discipline him. But surely you wouldn’t fight to the death with a horse?" Kong Sheng smiled lightly. "You creature, get out of here!"

Swiftwind, hearing this, shot Wu Xian a provocative glance, then tossed his head and whinnied. Proudly, he trotted out of the main hall, settling in a sheltered corner outside.

Mu Changfeng was both amused and amazed. This horse truly was exceptional—it seemed to understand human speech, held grudges, and knew when to lash out.