This year’s snowfall in the capital city before the start of winter was particularly grand and relentless. While many children in the capital rejoiced, they wondered how many giant white geese the old heavens must have raised to produce such a spectacle.
In this small courtyard, which could be described as spiritually alive due to the presence of dragons, three prodigies with the potential to become pillars of the sword path once resided. In just one night, one of the three had vanished? When Wu Liuding grew bored, he liked to grab a green bamboo pole slightly longer than a sword. Now he squatted beneath the eaves, resting the pole on his shoulder, feeling rather lonely, even though Cuiflower, his childhood companion, stood beside him. This young sword prodigy, who had chosen the Overbearing (domineering sword path) over the The King’s Path (benevolent sword path), wore a gloomy expression. The words of the carefree swordsman Wen Youxia rang in his ears: “Leave this place alive, but with one arm severed, one leg tendon cut, and your own acupoints destroyed.” Thus, Wen Busheng left. “Wen Busheng, weren’t you the one who said you’d become one of the greatest swordsmen in the land? Didn’t you just meet the woman you love? Why not kill a man you barely know, someone with no family or close ties, and gain fame across the land?”
Cuiflower noticed the young swordsman turn his head. The two shared an unspoken understanding. Without Wu Liuding needing to ask, she spoke first: “I don’t understand either.”
Wang Mingyin, the eleventh strongest in the world, was lured out of his peaceful life in the mountains by the late Prince Jing’an Zhao Xun, who used the emotional bond between Wang and the Spring and Autumn general Wang Mingyang to drag him into the martial world.
Wen Hua had just entered the martial world and gained fame, so why did he leave so tragically?
Wu Liuding, who often quarreled with Wen Busheng in recent days, released his grip on the bamboo pole. It rolled to the ground as he rubbed his face hard. “I have no brothers, no friends. I’ve devoted my heart to the sword path, but I’ll remember this fool for the rest of my life. How about we see Wen Hua off? It’s freezing out here, and though he may leave this courtyard, he won’t leave the capital easily.”
Cuiflower remained silent. After a long moment, the swordsman nicknamed Liu Zhigang exhaled deeply and stood up calmly. “Don’t worry about that scheming old tortoise inside. If he really angers me, I’ll just break ties and be done with it. I don’t like this place in the capital—it lacks the scent of the martial world and the warmth of human connection. I finally found a hint of sword aura I never felt even in the Wu family’s sword tombs, but it came too late. Cuiflower, how about we escort Wen Busheng out of the capital and then head to the South Sea? I heard Deng Tai’a is sailing overseas in search of immortals. Perhaps we might meet him.”
Cuiflower simply patted the Suwang Sword strapped to her back. Wu Liuding laughed loudly and strode out of the courtyard.
Huang Sanjia slowly stepped out from the house, holding the ancient sword Bashiu. His expression remained calm, showing no emotion, as he simply tossed the Bashiu sword toward the rooftop.
The ancient sword landed in the hands of an old man with one empty sleeve, crouched on the rooftop. With one hand, he caught the last surviving sword from the Tangxi Sword Furnace. Discarding the scabbard, he laid the ancient sword on his palm. With a swipe of his thumb and index finger, the sword, though not among the top three sharpest swords in the world, ranked second for its durability. Bashiu bent instantly, its tip and hilt clashing like a dragon and snake biting their own tails. The sword qi from his two fingers caused the famed blade to snap in two, then into four, then eight, and so on. Each piece of the shattered sword fell into the folds of the old man’s torn sleeve. He picked out a fragment of the blade tip, tossed it into his mouth like a soybean, and crunched it with a satisfying sound.
Though this old man may have had a name, he had lived anonymously for sixty years. Occasionally, he reemerged into the world to conduct business with Huang Longshi. Whenever he killed or injured someone, Huang Longshi would provide him with a fine sword to “eat.”
Though the martial world never recorded any great feats of his, he was deeply obsessed with the sword, living nearly a century and taking only two and a half disciples. The “half” was a wooden-sword swordsman who disappointed him greatly, while the other was the more famous Western Shu Sword Emperor. Yet the old man once told Huang Sanjia plainly that neither of his two senior disciples could compare to Wen Hua, his half-disciple met along the way. Not because of talent alone—talent does not equal true potential. In a thousand years of martial cultivation, the sword path close to heavenly Dao does not favor brilliance alone. Therefore, even after receiving the Bashiu sword into his stomach, the old man remained dissatisfied. The taste of this sword was not enough. He had hoped for the Spring and Autumn Sword instead. The Sword Tomb’s Suwang Sword was also quite good, but what he had missed most in the past twenty years was still the Great Liang Longque Sword.
Though missing an arm, the old man’s tall and sturdy build made him seem anything but aged. His eyebrows were long, and he wore a long white braid like the three great powers of Northern Liang, Southern Liang, and Northern Man.
The old man with eyebrows as long as willow branches laughed maniacally, his voice raspy like an owl’s, chilling and eerie. “Huang Longshi, there are people and events in this world you cannot calculate!”
Huang Sanjia replied calmly, “Who in the world can predict everything perfectly? Planting crops depends on both human effort and the timing of heaven. I, Huang Longshi, have never been so arrogant as to think myself above heaven. If Wen Hua is willing to destroy his future, it won’t affect the grand scheme.”
The old man, whose identity was unclear, clearly enjoyed seeing Huang Longshi at a disadvantage and continued to salt the wound. “Wen Hua killed the heir of Northern Liang in the capital, ensuring that Northern Liang and Southern Liang would never enjoy a moment of peace. At the very least, he would leave a deep emotional scar on Xu Fengnian, allowing you to continue profiting from the chaos. Only you could devise such a ruthless plan. What? Do you still favor Chen Zhibao? Do you believe he is the destined ruler of two empires? I’m too lazy to dwell on such matters, but there’s one debt I must settle with you. You summoned Old Wu from the Sword Tomb, so I refrained from eating the Suwang Sword. But Wen Hua, my half-disciple, is worth more than just one Bashiu Sword. Since I can’t have the Suwang Sword, what will you do to satisfy my appetite for the Spring and Autumn Sword?”
Huang Longshi stepped into the courtyard, gazing at the swirling snowflakes above. “I never believed anyone was destined by heaven. I simply cannot bear the stagnant Spring and Autumn, nor the many things people take for granted. To me, there are no enemies, no benefactors. All I have ever done is to make new shoots grow from decaying wood.”
It was rare for Huang Longshi to reveal his thoughts, and the ill-tempered old man unusually refrained from pressing further about the Spring and Autumn Sword. Instead, he slowly placed another piece of the broken sword into his mouth.
Huang Longshi smiled slightly, speaking to himself, “Fairness is the rarest thing. Since Cao Changqing dared to ruin my carefully laid plans by taking the The Fallen Princess of a Lost Kingdom Jiang Si and executing the White Robe and Slaying the Dragon Python, I can make Xu Fengnian suffer the consequences. But if Xu Fengnian wins, I won’t hold a grudge. Forget about the Spring and Autumn Sword. I’ll make sure you’re well-fed. Come, let’s go to the Martial Emperor City. Are you brave enough?”
The old man finished eating the Bashiu blade and tossed the hilt away. “That place has plenty of appetizers. Why wouldn’t I go? Wang Laoer has claimed to be the second strongest in the world for sixty years. I’ve wanted to take him down for a long time. What a joke—’second strongest’? More like third.”
Huang Sanjia nodded with a smile. “Indeed, only you dare to exchange arms with Li Chungang.”
The old man fell into thought, and Huang Sanjia did not rush him. “All over the world, heroes are bound by love, righteousness, and benevolence. Wang Xianzhi trapped himself in a city, Xuan Yuanjingcheng in a mountain, Cao Changqing in a nation, Li Yishan in a tower, and Li Dangxin in a monastery. Truly free from worldly bonds are you, Yuan Benxi, who now seeks revenge against me, and Deng Tai’a, who sails the seas. Counting them, only Hong Xixiang, who rode a crane down Mount Wudang, Li Chungang after losing an arm, and Wen Hua, who broke his sword and abandoned swordsmanship, are truly free. The martial world will soon forget Wen Hua, but it is precisely such figures that make the martial world vibrant and alive. Did I lose? Perhaps, but I accept it willingly. Because of Wen Hua, I will give Xu Fengnian a great gift. Otherwise, the poor boy’s life is too pitiful, forced to contend with Yuan Benxi, that old fox spirit.”
The sword-eating old man leaped down from the rooftop, his towering height intimidating—easily two heads taller than Huang Longshi. “They say a man’s final words are kind. Huang Longshi, have you finally realized your time is near?”
Huang Sanjia smiled faintly. “You’ve been wishing for my death for years. Why stop now?”
The old man’s eyebrows nearly reached his knees. “Whether you die or not doesn’t matter. Where will I find a worthy successor to inherit my sword?”
Huang Sanjia chuckled softly. “If I were you, I’d trade your sword for his Spring and Autumn Sword. After all, Spring and Autumn is gone—what use is the Spring and Autumn Sword?”
The old man sneered. “So that’s the gift you have for that boy?”
Huang Sanjia shook his head. He walked toward the courtyard gate, allowing the old man, who once bore the weight of the Wu family sword tomb alone, to walk ahead first before closing the gate behind them. “Wen Hua isn’t truly your disciple. It was just a deal between you and me. In truth, you only had two disciples, and both died because of Northern Liang.”
The old man chuckled. “What of it? A swordsman dying for the sword is the most honorable death. Since you’ve piqued my interest, Huang Longshi, stop hiding things from me. Tell me, besides sending Wen Hua to kill Xu’s son, who else was involved? I must see for myself. Li Chungang was the only swordsman I ever considered a rival and friend. Since he taught that boy the Two-Sleeve Green Snake and the Sword Opens Heaven’s Gate, I must see for myself. That female sword Knight learned only half of the Two-Sleeve Green Snake—it’s far too little. If that boy truly lives up to Li Chungang’s praise, I won’t mind teaching him my sword technique.”
Huang Longshi merely smiled. This eccentric old swordsman taught differently: the worse your talent, the less he taught you. The Western Shu Sword Emperor learned four techniques and mastered hundreds on his own, yet none impressed the old man. His next disciple learned only three techniques, but one of them earned the old man’s highest praise. Huang Longshi had tricked him into teaching Wen Hua two techniques, but unfortunately, the harvest never came to fruition. In the end, that boy chose a fleeting dream over the chance to become a legendary swordsman and the most beautiful woman in the world. As for whether this picky old swordsman would kill Xu Fengnian upon meeting him or teach him that sword technique, it was no longer a matter of Huang Longshi’s concern. He brought up this topic simply because of one phrase—or rather, two phrases.
“I shall guard the northwest for the Central Plains.”
“Beyond the three provinces of Northern Liang, not a single hoof of the Northern Man cavalry shall enter!”
Huang Longshi smiled slightly, reminiscent of his younger days.
Huang Longshi gazed at the snow-covered alleyway, bent down, and scooped up a handful of snow. “So, we leave the city first, and then you re-enter?”
The old man said nothing.
The world knows not that between heaven and earth flows a righteous energy, vast and mighty, enduring through the ages.
Huang Longshi tilted his head and smiled. “Yuan Benxi, no matter how I die, I won’t die by your hand. But you must wait—someone else will come for you. The White Robe Case in the capital, old debts and new, let’s see how you’ll repay them!”
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