Wu Liuding carried a man who was half-dead yet still muttering about wanting Cui Hua to carry him, feeling resentful yet relieved at the same time. If he could still talk so flippantly, it meant his heart hadn’t truly died. “With my sword, I cultivate the Heavenly Dao. The most precious thing is a clear and pure sword heart; the body is secondary. If the sword heart becomes tainted, one is destined never to reach the ultimate realm.”
Wu Liuding dashed across the snowy ground, while ahead, Cui Hua carried the Sword Suwang, leading the way. The night curfew in the capital was stricter than one could imagine. However, the patrolling soldiers and elite spies in the capital region had already received orders from above to turn a blind eye to the trio’s movements, as long as they didn’t commit murder or robbery. Thus, the Sword Crown and his sword attendant could travel at night without hindrance.
Upon reaching a courtyard, Wu Liuding didn’t bother knocking on the gate but instead attempted to leap over the wall. However, a sudden surge of snow within the courtyard transformed into countless swords, forcing him back. Cui Hua, who simply walked up to the gate and pushed it open without a care, ignored him entirely. Wu Liuding was forced to retreat into an alley, shivering slightly, and reluctantly followed Cui Hua through the courtyard entrance. Inside, the courtyard was empty, and Wu Liuding hurriedly shouted, “Ancestor, Ancestor! We’re in a rush to leave the city. With your great reputation, could you guide us out?”
Inside the house, only a dim lamp flickered silently. Wu Liuding frowned at Cui Hua, who calmly said, “I hope the Tomb Master will intervene.”
A plain, unremarkable voice emerged, asking, “How much have you learned of those two sword techniques?”
Cui Hua opened his eyes slowly and replied, “Nine parts form, six parts essence.”
Inside the house, a soft hum was heard. A thin, elderly man extended a single index finger, his figure hunched as he stepped out. A small flame hovered at his fingertip. Without even glancing at Wu Liuding, he frowned and asked, “What happened?”
Before Wu Liuding could speak, the old man snapped his finger, sending the flame flying. Cui Hua remained unmoved, and Wu Liuding shut his eyes, bracing for death. The flame gently swirled back to the old man’s fingertip. Like a guest, the withered old man, exuding the aura of a dead tree, “held the lamp” and stepped out of the courtyard into a waiting carriage. The coachman was an even older man, so aged that one might believe him to be two hundred years old. In truth, this man had once deemed his sword cultivation stuck at forty, so he went to the Wu family sword tomb to draw a sword. Since then, he had become a withered swordsman imprisoned by the Wu family. After sixty years, he had become the sword attendant of the old man in the carriage, and his years of experience could rival even Song Zhiming, the renowned alchemist of Wudang Mountain.
Wu Liuding carried Wen Hua into the carriage, while Cui Hua continued to lead the way. The carriage drove toward the central imperial road. The old man gently snapped his finger, and the flame left the carriage, hovering before Cui Hua. The snow-covered road, a foot thick, instantly melted away.
The old man sat still and quietly asked, “So this is Wen Hua?”
Wu Liuding, a man who couldn’t keep secrets, blurted everything out: “This kid is stubborn. Huang Longshi, that thousand-year-old turtle, taught him swordsmanship so he could kill Xu Fengnian, the younger brother of the Prince of Beiliang. But he refused. Not only did he leave the Domineering Beauty sword he won from Lu Baijie to that old turtle, but he even broke the wooden sword he valued more than his life. Losing an arm and a leg might not be so bad—after all, Li Chungan set the example, and maybe he could rise again. But this kid threw away his wooden sword, destroyed his vital points, like water breaching a dam, leaving nothing behind. How can he ever practice swordsmanship again? He says he’ll repay me ten taels with twelve or thirteen. That’s a total loss! Twenty taels wouldn’t even cover it! Wen Busheng, did a donkey kick your head?”
Leaning against the carriage wall, Wen Hua was soaked in blood, gritting his teeth without a word.
The old man said calmly, “If he hadn’t done that, do you think Huang Longshi would have let him live? Huang Longshi is a madman. When has he ever shown sentimentality? The logic in his heart is beyond anyone’s understanding. If you’re his pawn, to leave the chessboard alive, you must be as good as dead.”
Wu Liuding snorted coldly.
The old man kept his eyes closed but remained gentle in tone, “Liuding, if it were you in his place, would you still be able to practice swordsmanship? If you truly believe that, I’ll sever one of your arms and legs, strip you of your cultivation, and throw you into the sword mountain. You can talk about swordsmanship again when you feel ready.”
Wu Liuding didn’t think the ancestor was joking at all. He quickly smiled apologetically, “Ancestor, please don’t be angry. I’m just upset for Wen Busheng. He can still practice swordsmanship—ten thousand times he can!”
The old man opened his eyes and looked at the young swordsman, drenched in blood, asking, “One man’s affairs should be settled by himself. Now that you’re empty, it’s time for fortune to turn. Have you considered returning to the sword tomb with me?”
Wen Hua, one hand clutching his severed arm, his face pale as the snow outside, shook his head. His eyes were unusually clear as he said, “I know you’re a great ancestor of the Wu family sword tomb, but I’ve said I won’t practice swordsmanship anymore. I won’t touch a sword in this lifetime.”
The old man simply smiled, not pressing further, and closed his eyes again.
The floating lamp on the street was a sword. The countless snowflakes outside the carriage were swords. Even the entire capital could be a sword. The very essence of the sword itself was a sword. The coming and going of swords—how could it be explained so simply by whether one held a sword or not?
Wu Liuding’s eyes widened in shock. The ancestor was actually smiling?!
Before the carriage reached the city gate, it slowly opened, showing that the Wu family sword tomb wasn’t entirely detached from worldly affairs as rumors suggested. The coachman stepped down and handed the reins to Cui Hua, the other sword attendant. Before stepping out, the head of the Wu family gently extinguished the lamp outside the carriage with two fingers and said, “Wen Hua, I’ll remember that name. When you realize you need a sword, come to the sword tomb. Eight hundred years of collecting, storing, and seizing swords have piled tens of thousands into a mountain. If you can’t find the sword you want there, you can leave the tomb and descend the mountain later.”
Wen Hua still stubbornly shook his head, lost in his own thoughts.
Wu Liuding wished he could slap the ungrateful Wen Busheng and bury him in snow.
Known as the “Sword King” of swordsmanship, the Wu family elder and his sword attendant stood on the street, watching the carriage leave the city. The heavy snow soon covered the seemingly endless imperial road behind them.
The old man murmured to himself, “Outsiders mistakenly believe that the Wu family’s withered swords are emotionless swords. That’s a grave misunderstanding. Liuding, this time, you should understand this truth. The Heavenly Dao is impartial, not meaning the cold-heartedness of the world, but fairness itself. If a person is emotionless, not only are they unworthy of wielding a sword, but even unworthy of being human.”
Beside Sword King, the sword attendant stood unmoving.
The old man turned back, “For some reason, from here to the palace, there are eighteen gates in total. I always feel that one day, a descendant will pass through them with a single sword strike.”
Half a mile beyond the capital’s gates, Wen Busheng suddenly said from inside the carriage, “Let me see it one last time.”
Cui Hua stopped the carriage and lifted the curtain. Wu Liuding helped the man look back at the capital.
Wu Liuding whispered, “Regretting it? It’s not too late. My ancestor rarely acknowledges swordsmen, at most with one hand. If you want to go to the sword tomb, I’ll take you.”
Wen Hua sat upright, gazing at the capital, and said, “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you two for a long time. Before, I was narrow-minded, afraid that if you listened to me, your sword cultivation would advance rapidly, so I held back. Now that I’ve given up swordsmanship, I’ll say a few words, whether they make sense or not is up to you. Six Casks, you practice the Overbearing sword, but since I now know that Xu Fengnian is truly the son of the Butcher Xu Xiao, I believe even more that Overbearing cannot truly be emotionless. Because I believe that the Prince of Beiliang, who flattened the Spring and Autumn, must be a good old man. Also, Cui Hua, the sword of the Beiliang Princess, from the sword of the world to the sword of the mortal world, you can learn how to reverse them. I can’t explain how, you’ll have to figure it out yourself. After all, you’re smart, really smart. As for me, I don’t really know anything about swordsmanship. I just make things up.”
Wu Liuding cursed, “You’re saying your last words to me? I don’t want to hear it!”
Wen Hua shook his head, “Why should I die? I still need to find a wife and have children. My brother isn’t up to the task, having only daughters. I have to carry on the family line. I’m going back to my hometown to open a small restaurant. I’m good at noodles with chopped green onions. Unfortunately, sour cabbage noodles probably no one in my hometown likes—they’ll rot your teeth, only you Six Casks would eat them. Cui Hua, let me tell you something from my heart. Six Casks is a good guy. Don’t look down on him just because he’s not as capable as you. Unambitious men are more reliable. Also, don’t come looking for me in the future. I’m too embarrassed, I can’t bear the shame. When I’m almost healed, just drop me off somewhere, and we’ll go our separate ways. Oh, and Six Casks, I can’t repay the money I owe you in the capital. But no matter how you see it, I consider you half a brother. I won’t be polite. Just consider it the red envelope you owe me when I get married.”
Wu Liuding spat, though his eyes were slightly damp.
Wen Hua raised his one arm and rubbed his face, only to realize he was covered in tears. He grinned, trying hard to shout toward the capital, “Xiao Nian, we’re parting ways here. Knowing you, I don’t regret this life! You better not dare to be a nobody in the future. If you don’t become the number one swordsman in the world, taking my share into account, I won’t recognize you as my brother anymore!”
Wen Hua chuckled with difficulty, “It’s just talk. How could I really stop considering you my brother?”
Wen Hua waved his hand, “Xiao Nian, take care.”
Wen Hua, a nobody who had sunk into the dirt, had wandered into the martial world, and during hard times, he had shared hardships with Xiao Nian. He had been called a young master, ridden a poor horse and even a mule, mastered two sword techniques, and in the end, his last breath of martial spirit had not betrayed his brother. This life was worth it!
Wen Hua felt tired and closed his eyes, his lips gently curling upward.
Because before he fell asleep, he remembered that year, when they sang their off-key little tune together.
The steamed bun is white, white, whiter than a maiden’s bosom.
The tip of the lotus is high, high, higher than a young girl’s bottom.
…
Wen Hua didn’t know that in the capital, a man was running wildly along the central imperial road, his head full of white hair.
He leaped onto the city wall.
“Wen Hua, I curse your ancestors eighteen generations! Who the hell allowed you to give up swordsmanship!”
He fiercely threw a sword out of the capital.
“If you don’t want it, forget it, I’ll pretend I never had this sword!”
The white-haired man threw the sword “Chunqiu.”
He lowered his head, his eyes blurred with tears, his lips trembling, softly sobbing, unable to speak.
“Who allowed you to give up swordsmanship? I won’t allow it. We promised to make everyone respect us together.”
“You’re so stupid. How come you don’t know how to pretend to kill me, like we used to con people together? What if Xu Fengnian lets you stab him with a sword? Back then, how many times did I play the villain to help you trick those girls?”
“You can be my brother, but I can’t be yours? Is that how you treat a brother?”
Xu Fengnian’s voice was hoarse with crying, sobbing until he bent over.
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