An earth-shattering piece of news swallowed another that had already stunned the realm.
The latter was a memorandum personally penned by Song Dongming, the deputy strategist widely regarded outside Beiliang as a man whose title did not match his deeds, and sent to Tai’an City. This caused a tremor throughout the court of Liyang. At a critical moment when Beiliang was under the pressure of a massive Beiman invasion, Prince of Beiliang, Xu Fengnian, had the audacity to volunteer for a campaign to quell the rebellion in Guangling. Many cynically speculated that Beiliang was finally rebelling, perhaps even with the personal approval of the Beiman Empress. They argued that “quelling rebellion” was merely a pretense to invite wolves into the fold. The heart of Xu Fengnian, the new ruler of Beiliang, was deemed unforgivable!
But soon another piece of news, unrelated to political affairs but more tantalizing to both officials and commoners, began to spread widely across the land. It soon reached every corner of the empire, especially the capital, where people were buzzing with excitement. The fervor rivaled the days when Wang Xianzhi left Wudi City and the subsequent arrival of Qi Yanglong in Tai’an.
The Wujia Sword Tomb, long known for its sword masters who lived like deadwood awaiting their fate, had not only seen someone openly leave the place regarded as both a death trap and a sacred ground by centuries of exceptional swordsmen, but nearly a hundred people had left in one fell swoop!
The Wujia Sword Tomb was considered a death trap because any swordsman seeking true fame had to pass through Wujia. Only those who had bested a Wujia swordsman or a Wujia sword servant and emerged with a renowned blade from the Sword Grave could be considered masters of the sword path. Even Song Nianqing, the former patriarch of Dongyue Sword Pond, had suffered a crushing defeat to Wang Xianzhi in his youth, dragging down the reputation of the Sword Pond. It was only when Song Nianqing, in his prime, visited the Sword Tomb and returned safely that Dongyue Sword Pond regained its former glory. Though he did not draw a single famed blade from the Tomb, his return alone helped Dongyue rise again. Though some close to the Sword Pond often claimed that Song Nianqing’s return signified his swordsmanship had surpassed that of Wujia, most dismissed it as mere banter. Song Nianqing himself never made such claims in his later years.
Wujia’s reputation had lasted eight hundred years, tracing back to the Qin Dynasty. In the great dynasties that followed, such as six hundred years ago when the greatest swordsman in the world was Wu Qiong, the Sword Crown of Wujia who dominated the martial world at the age of thirty-one, and during the early years of the Feng Dynasty, the greatest swordsman was still the head of Wujia, Wu He. It was said that on his deathbed, Wu He laughed and said, “After waiting sixty years, there is still no sword in the world,” a testament to his pride and confidence. Thus, all martial cultivators could not deny one fact: no matter how many swordsmen there were in the world, there were only two sword forests—one was Wujia, and the other was all the swordsmen outside of Wujia.
With generations of sword geniuses guarding the Sword Tomb, every hundred years saw countless young martial artists and self-proclaimed sword masters heading to Wujia to prove themselves, hoping to show that the swords of Wujia were not the only ones in the world, and that Wujia swordsmanship was not the highest. But aside from a few rare swordsmen who succeeded and retired, most remained in the Sword Tomb for the rest of their lives, serving as Wujia slaves and practicing the legendary Sitting Sword Technique and Withered Sword Technique. After Wujia established this extremely harsh and inhumane rule, only a few individuals ever left the Sword Tomb, and those few invariably became top sword masters who shook the martial world upon their return.
Thus, the Wujia Sword Tomb was known as the death place of swordsmen.
Yet it was natural for Wujia to become a sacred ground for swordsmen across the world. Generation after generation, Wujia preserved and collected countless famous swords, with treasures of lost and rare sword manuals in abundance. Retrieving even a single sword or manual could benefit a swordsman for life, and the act of entering and leaving the Tomb itself was a shortcut for a swordsman to rise from obscurity to prominence in the sword world overnight.
Though the Wujia’s legendary feat of nine swords defeating ten thousand riders two hundred years ago left the Sword Tomb severely weakened, interrupting many lineages of Inheritance, Wujia has yet to fully recover. However, in the past hundred years, two generations of Sword Saints—Li Chungan visited the Wujia Sword Tomb and obtained the famous blade Muma Niu, while Deng Tai’a was actually born from Wujia, making him half a Wujia man!
In the end, the truth could not be contained. Even though the imperial court and local officials tried to suppress the news, the shocking truth of a hundred swordsmen leaving the Wujia Sword Tomb gradually surfaced and grew more intense. More and more well-informed martial artists began to count on their fingers the sword masters of the past century who had unfortunately become slaves to Wujia, and who among them might still be alive and eligible to be part of this group of a hundred leaving the Tomb. Naturally, the swords these swordsmen used and their respective famous techniques became the most intriguing topics in the martial world and the imperial court.
Zhang Luantai, who rose to fame in Liaodong six years ago as the so-called “Number One Left-handed Sword in the World,” was a master who had lasted a hundred moves against the blade of Gu Jiantang, the former Minister of War and newly appointed Grand Guardian. He had vanished without a trace after entering the Wujia Sword Tomb, but this time he might finally reappear.
Liu Jianzhi, who had competed with Qi Jiajie for the title of “Number One Sword in the Capital” ten years ago, was definitely among them.
Eighteen years ago, the young master of the Apricot Sword Furnace in the Jiangnan region, Yue Zhuowu, was a renowned figure who had disappeared after challenging the swords of the Wujia Sword Tomb.
Twenty-seven years ago, Xie Cheng’an, known as “Han Half-Sword” for narrowly losing to the Sword Emperor of Xishu by a margin of half a sword, was also very likely to ride to Liangzhou with his sword.
More than thirty years ago, there was Cui Meigong, known as “Bodhisattva Sword” and “Monk Swordsman.” Before becoming a monk, he had been a distinguished member of the Cui family of Qinghe.
Forty years ago, there was Gongsun Xiu Shui, born into a humble family of the Southern Tang. Not only was he the top swordsman of the Southern Tang, but also the most formidable martial artist in the court. Though he had no famous epithet, his Overbearing sword techniques were praised by many old martial artists. His reason for going to the Wujia Sword Tomb was quite interesting: he said, “I was born in the wrong era. Since I cannot see the true form of Li Chungan, I will go to the places he has walked.” But once he went, he never returned. At that time, the Emperor of Southern Tang even personally wrote a letter to Wujia with particularly respectful words, but Wujia still did not pay any heed to this earthly monarch.
Looking further back, there were many other renowned sword masters, but in the eyes of today’s martial world, they were all long gone. After all, those who had the audacity to challenge the swords of Wujia were already quite old back then. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have dared to go to Wujia. Even if we take thirty as the starting age, they should all be in their seventies by now, or more likely, reduced to a handful of yellow earth.
Among the most discussed figures, Zhang Luantai and Gongsun Xiu Shui, there were also six or seven female swordswomen frequently mentioned. Though their sword skills might not match these two or Liu Jianzhi and Xie Cheng’an, these women were once the darlings of the martial world, adored by countless young martial artists in their time. Many martial youths were willing to fall at their feet for love. Among these six or seven women, the last one to Unfortunate enter the Wujia Sword Tomb was the “Literary Sword” Nalan Huaiyu, who stirred the most imagination. After all, the time was not too distant, and she had once been listed and even twice topped the list of the most beautiful women in the “Lipstick Evaluation.” Even many accomplished martial experts today would smile knowingly when mentioning this extraordinary female swordsman, and then say to the younger generation with a wink, “The scenery of a certain place of Nalan Fairy is uniquely beautiful, with both gentle grace and fierce grandeur.” And if any of these martial heroes happened to have their wives nearby, they would usually receive a resentful glare.
From the Wujia Sword Tomb in the heart of the Central Plains to Beiliang, countless people in various places were eagerly waiting and hoping to catch a glimpse of the unparalleled sight of a hundred swordsmen from the Sword Tomb riding together.
Even though local officials were instructed by the imperial court to strictly prohibit officials of all ranks from participating, many still shed their official robes and traveled in plain clothes, choosing good spots to quietly wait for the grand spectacle of a hundred swordsmen passing by.
However, many of the so-called reliable rumors were merely hearsay, and the group of swordsmen naturally did not stop anywhere. Wujia had always dared to face kings of all dynasties with cold eyes. Even in the current peaceful era of the Liyang Dynasty, the Zhao Emperor of the F dynasty had invited the current head of Wujia to the capital with the utmost courtesy. This left many people along the route disappointed and regretful. For ordinary people to try to chase this most peculiar group of horsemen in the world was like a dream. Each of the hundred riders was an elite martial artist. Even if a martial artist Reluctantly managed to keep up, they would only dare to watch from afar and not dare to approach.
This became the most thrilling event in the martial world at the time. Anyone who was part of the martial world, whether they were genuine martial experts who dominated a certain state or province, or those who had merely hit someone with a brick and claimed to be martial heroes, all rushed to witness it. Especially the young men and women who had just entered the martial world, those with money naturally spared no expense to buy fast horses and pay handsomely for reliable information, all just to catch a glimpse of the swordsmen. Those with limited funds could only follow in the footsteps of famous martial artists.
But there were indeed many lucky people who had the fortune to witness that unforgettable scene.
In Yunxia Town on the border of Beiliang’s Youzhou, the atmosphere was lively and bustling. Many markets had temporarily opened, and teahouses and taverns were packed with no seats to spare. Inns were overflowing with guests, many of whom had come from Liangzhou and Linzhou, squeezing their way in for the excitement. This was because a heartening message had come from the neighboring Hezhou: the Wujia swordsmen were expected to arrive in the region soon! As for which specific county or town they would enter, and who would be lucky enough to witness it, everyone relied on their own fortune.
In a small, unremarkable inn in Yunxia Town, a young man and woman dressed as master and servant did not stand out. The man’s appearance was fairly decent, but he did not seem to be from a wealthy family, especially since his maid was blind and not particularly attractive. He was also carrying a sword, but it looked like a cheap piece of junk forged by a clumsy blacksmith. From the innkeeper to the waiters, no one paid them any attention, as they were too busy watching the fat, wealthy young masters and noble ladies. These guests, who came from families with power and influence, were the ones who could spend lavishly. If it weren’t for the old masters from the Wujia Sword Tomb, who would usually choose to stay at their humble inn? If it weren’t for the young man’s persistent begging, the innkeeper would have thrown them out long ago. With only a dozen rooms and a few hastily cleared storage rooms, the inn had fewer than twenty rooms in total. Deciding who to let in was a matter of great importance. The innkeeper was somewhat kind-hearted and finally endured the pain of losing money, allowing the two poor souls to stay, though he still refused to give them a second glance. Every time he looked at them, it felt like watching silver coins slip through his fingers, which infuriated him.
That day, the young master and servant had once again taken up a window-side table on the first floor of the inn early. To put it bluntly, they were like someone who occupied the toilet but never used it, ordering nothing but the cheapest hot tea. The waiter, with a cold expression, slammed the tea and a dish of cheap snacks on the table with a loud noise, muttering loudly enough for them to hear, “Tea, tea, every day it’s just tea! We’ve never had a guest like this who only drinks tea and never touches alcohol!”
The young man in the green robe pretended not to hear and smiled foolishly, while the maid, blind and perhaps deaf, remained indifferent to everything.
When the waiter finally walked away to serve a table of wealthy guests with the utmost reverence, the young traveler from afar wrinkled his nose and said, “After seeing all sorts of people from different walks of life, I’ve come to realize that Wen Busheng is the only one who truly suits my taste. This world, sigh, is really hard to understand.”
The woman sitting quietly across from him said nothing. If she had been a beauty, her silence might have been seen as graceful and serene. But with her plain looks, others could only see her as dull and uninteresting.
The young man sitting with her seemed never to find her boring, continuing to talk on his own, “Cuiflower, we’ve walked from the north to the south, then from the southeast to this northwest corner, covering thousands of miles. But I’ve been eating your pickled cabbage every day, and I’m really starting to want to try a slightly different flavor. Just a little bit, really.”
The woman, with a name as unrefined as her demeanor, replied earnestly, “How about pickled cabbage with chili peppers?”
The young man frowned, “That’s still pickled cabbage, and I can’t even eat spicy food.”
The woman thought for a moment and asked, “How about stewed pickled cabbage with meat?”
The young man swallowed hard, hesitating, “That sounds good, but we can’t afford meat.”
The woman gave a faint “oh” and said nothing more.
This was not a matter she was inclined to think about, so she didn’t. She had always been like this.
The young man didn’t dwell on the issue either, having long since gotten used to it. In truth, he hadn’t grown tired of the pickled cabbage. He just needed an excuse to have her talk to him.
Wu Liuding felt that he would never tire of pickled cabbage in his entire life. From the moment he first saw her and tasted her pickled cabbage, he never doubted this.
After all, her pickled cabbage wasn’t bad to begin with, though it was admittedly a bit hard to swallow at first. But since then, day after day, year after year, for over a decade, her skill had only improved, becoming increasingly refined.
To Wu Liuding, the current sword prodigy of the Wu family’s Sword Tombs, there was no greater happiness in the world.
Practicing swordsmanship and aspiring to become the greatest swordsman under heaven was something his family and elders expected of him. As a duty he must bear, he neither avoided nor shirked it, working diligently.
But his love for pickled cabbage was his own choice.
Both matters, big or small, were equally important.
Sipping tea slowly, Wu Liuding asked, “Cuiflower, do you really think we’ll meet all our uncles, grandfathers, aunts, and aunties here?”
Cuiflower nodded gently.
Wu Liuding counted off on his fingers, muttering to himself, “Old Brother Zhang, always boasting—he’s the type you must steer clear of, or else you’ll be drowned in his endless chatter. Uncle Yue, always scheming to get the second half of the Northern Ocean Sword Manual from me, better ignore him to avoid pushing him further into madness. Auntie Nalan, who used to press her chest against my head when I was little, lying that it was because she was tired from walking—it was so heavy! Before we left home, she told me to find a wife resembling her, promising it would be perfect. Though I never really thought about it, after all this time on the road with you, I’ve met few prettier than Auntie Nalan. Sure, there were a few with chests of similar weight, but their figures paled in comparison by a million miles…”
Cuiflower “glanced” at Wu Liuding.
A sword aura surged!
Oh no, probably no pickled cabbage for half a month now.
Wu Liuding coughed, desperately trying to change the topic, “Then there’s Old Master Xie and Master Cui the bald guy, neither are decent people. One insisted on adopting you as his daughter, while the other clearly dislikes pickled cabbage, always sneaking off with a few jars from you. Cuiflower, we should keep our distance from them.”
He continued listing them off, “As for Zhou Lianchi and Xie Cheng’an, our neighbors back home, they really get on my nerves. One is filled with violent intent, wanting to kill everyone under heaven, while the other acts like the entire world owes him millions of silver taels. I just don’t get it—why don’t these two just kill each other and be done with it?”
“However, Auntie Chu and Grandpa Gongsun are genuinely good people, though like you, they don’t talk much.”
“As for that old man I nicknamed ‘Old Man Marrying the Sword,’ Hulian the Sword Obsessive, he’s neither good nor bad. I once asked the Old Ancestor about his background, but the Old Ancestor didn’t say much. But apparently, he is a master so formidable that even within our family, it’s hard to find his equal. The Old Ancestor barely bested him in swordsmanship, and when it came to discussing the Way of the Sword, the Old Ancestor could not match him at all. My grandmother once said that his insights into sword techniques, though I never fully understood them, were probably a hundred years ahead of anyone in the current world.”
“As for that demon surnamed Zhu, if not for his formidable sword skills, I wouldn’t even bother mentioning him. I can’t imagine how such a thoroughly despicable and sinister villain, barely over forty, managed to cultivate such profound sword techniques, forcing even the Old Ancestor to despise the man while begrudgingly admiring his swordsmanship.”
Wu Liuding chattered on, soon finishing a pot of tea and calling for the waiter to refill it. The waiter heard him but pretended not to, lazily leaning against a pillar, his eyes practically glued to a young woman’s bosom. After shouting twice, Wu Liuding gave up and, looking at Cuiflower, couldn’t help but ask, “Do you think it was right or wrong for the Old Ancestor to release so many people from their bindings, even the demon Zhu, granting them a chance to fight for their freedom at the Beiliang border, in exchange for a slim chance to leave the Wu family for good?”
Cuiflower remained expressionless and silent.
Sighing, Wu Liuding asked another question, “Cuiflower, do you think these hundred swordsmen combined could match the power of our nine ancestors from two hundred years ago?”
Cuiflower finally spoke, “One sword plus another does not equal twice the might. If they could achieve one and a half swords’ worth, that would already be remarkable. Back then, when the Wu ancestors went to Northern Mang, those nine swords formed a formation recorded in an unknown ancient manual, at the cost of half their number already facing certain death before the battle even began. Its power was unmatched. Even if today’s greatest swordsmen—led by the Peach Blossom Sword God Deng Tai’a, joined by Wang Xianzhi’s senior apprentice Yu Xinlang, the Tai’an City’s Qi Jiajie, the Tangxi Sword Immortal Lu Baijie, and the Longhu Mountain’s Qi Xianxia—gathered nine people, though their cultivation levels far surpass those of our ancestors, when it comes to the destructive power against an army of thousands, they might not exceed the Wu Nine by much.”
Wu Liuding wasn’t really listening closely, but he was delighted that Cuiflower had spoken so much at once.
Cuiflower, clearly seeing through his thoughts, soon resumed her silent meditation.
Sighing again, Wu Liuding rubbed his stubbled chin, “Forget being the greatest swordsman in the world—I probably can’t even make it into the top five, maybe not even the top ten. Yet the Old Ancestor orchestrated such a grand display, and I feel too embarrassed to drag you into it. Cuiflower, I’m feeling really down right now.”
The last sentence was something Wen Busheng, that freeloading, shameless moocher who once lived with him in the Ta’an City residence, used to say often. In fact, Wu Liuding had omitted the phrase “down there,” but after he once imitated it, he went two or three months without pickled cabbage. Since then, he dared only to say “right now,” not “down there.”
Cuiflower, unwilling to speak further, and Wu Liuding, feeling an inexplicable sadness, both fell silent. The so-called sword prodigy of the Wu family, now without a sword, and the sword Knightant Cuiflower, bearing the “Sukwang” sword, sat in silence.
On the first floor, ten or so tables were occupied by well-dressed, wealthy guests. People often described Beiliang as poor, but just like other regions of Liyang, the rich were no fewer in number. These inn guests were loud and boastful, either pretending to be experts or spouting mystical nonsense, always claiming to know someone who knew someone who had once entered the Sword Tombs and returned successfully. Yet amidst their noisy chatter and mutual flattery, many were clearly exaggerating. In truth, everyone knew that those with connections to top swordsmen would never deign to stay in such a humble inn or drink here.
No one could have imagined that nearby sat Wu Liuding, the prodigious sword prodigy of the Wu family who had gained fame across the land at an early age, and Cuiflower, the sword Knightant bearing the second most famous sword in the world and having mastered Li Chungan’s Two Sleeves of Green Snakes technique. Even if Wu Liuding declared his identity, no one would believe him or dare to.
To those present, if you were really Wu Liuding, how could you dare to walk out without a retinue of a dozen sword heroes attending you, serving tea, massaging your shoulders? How could you dare to claim to be the one and only Sword Prodigy in the world? Therefore, he must be an imposter!
About an hour later, the entire Yunxia Town was thrown into an uproar.
The Wu family’s hundred riders were truly passing through!
Cuiflower stood up, reached behind her back, and gently placed her hand on the ancient Sukwang sword.
The Wu family’s hundred riders, who were originally supposed to bypass the town according to tradition, suddenly changed their plan under the leadership of a Wu clansman at the forefront and entered the town.
The hundred riders entered Yunxia Town’s main street.
Only the sound of hooves could be heard, without a single other noise.
Each rider bore the same expressionless, lifeless look.
The oldest had snow-white hair, while the youngest was at least forty years old, male or female.
Each carried a sword on their back, only one sword per person, without exception. None wore swords at their waists or carried swords in scabbards.
“Invade my Wu family, prove inferior to us, and for this life, you shall be my Wu family’s sword slaves, unworthy of calling yourselves swordsmen.”
This was the rule established by Wu Qiong, who became the greatest swordsman in the world at the age of thirty-one. For centuries, the Wu family’s rules had almost become the standard for all swordsmen in the world.
On both sides of the main street, everyone in the shops dared not step outside, only daring to peek through windows and doors, eyes filled with awe and fear. Almost everyone had sweat on their brows and palms.
Even the waiter had no time to ogle the wealthy young woman’s full figure and graceful curves. Without the ability or status to Squeezeto the doorway, he could only move a chair inside the door, standing on it to stretch his neck for a better view.
But that wasn’t even the most exaggerated part. The most exaggerated were those nimble ones who climbed trees and rooftops.
When they saw the Wu family’s hundred riders galloping past their very eyes, some gasped in fear at the name of the Wu Sword Tombs, others cheered because they were coming to aid Beiliang, but most were simply stunned and bewildered.
When the horsemen suddenly halted without reason along the straight street, stopping right in front of the unremarkable inn, the people at the entrance were instantly startled and scrambled backward, many falling over in their haste to crawl back inside the inn.
Thus, they finally cleared a path for Wu Liuding and his sword Knightant Cuiflower.
When the innkeeper and waiter saw the second and third riders of the Wu family’s formation dismounting to make way for the young, seemingly poor master and servant, their minds were utterly blank, completely stunned.
The waiter, who had often given the pair a hard time in recent days, fell to the ground in shock, his pants soaked with urine.
Wu Liuding mounted the horse of the elderly swordsman Hulian, who had dismounted to offer it, while Cuiflower rode the horse of an old woman long forgotten by the martial world.
The two sword slaves showed no resentment. As the formation resumed, they silently followed beside the two riders on foot.
This was the Wu family’s rule.
No matter how renowned or skilled a swordsman you were before entering the Wu Sword Tombs, if your sword skills were inferior to ours, even the right to wield a sword again in your lifetime would be decided by the Wu family.
The middle-aged leader of the formation, upon encountering Wu Liuding and Cuiflower, said not a word, turned his horse around, and returned alone to the Wu family.
Wu Liuding turned his head, watching his uncle Wu Wuxuan’s lonely back receding into the distance, biting his lip, then slowly turning his head, saying nothing either.
In the Wu family, descendants, regardless of gender, were only allowed to wield swords. Each generation had one Sword Prodigy who would travel the martial world. If he failed to become the greatest swordsman, he was forbidden from returning to the Wu family in life and could not be buried within it after death.
This was another family rule established by the ancestor Wu He.
Since the Wu Nine Swords shattered ten thousand riders, for two centuries, nearly every Wu family member who had the honor of bearing one of the numbers one through nine in their name had shown extraordinary talent from childhood. Except for the number nine, which had never been used, all others had been claimed. Yet strangely, only Wu Liuding, bearing the number six, eventually became the Sword Prodigy. His uncle Wu Wuxuan had once been defeated by Wu Su, who later became the Beiliang Princess, and thus the famous sword he carried was destined to remain unknown, like its master.
This time, the Wu family had dispatched over a hundred riders, all to support Wu Liuding, the nephew who would represent the family in challenging the martial world. Regardless of how exceptional Wu Wuxuan’s sword skills were, he could only remain a fleeting figure in the martial world, destined to die within the family.
The Wu family was ruthless not only toward those who challenged their sword tombs but even more so toward their own kin.
For two centuries, countless Wu family members had died by their elders’ swords simply for wanting to glimpse the outside world. Many had secretly taken their own lives, and countless others had gone mad from sword cultivation, living their lives in madness.
Wu Liuding was grateful to have been born into a family that lived and died for the sword, bearing no resentment. But he was even more grateful to have Cuiflower by his side on this journey through the martial world.
A martial world without Cuiflower and pickled cabbage was no martial world at all.
Just like that fool who believed until the end, the martial world was still his as long as his brother Xiaonian remained in it.
Wu Liuding had only ever acknowledged that fool as a friend, paying no heed to any so-called prince or emperor. Even if he became the Beiliang King and the greatest swordsman in the world, Wu Liuding never thought much of it.
This time, coming to Beiliang, Wu Liuding had only one question he wanted to ask in person.
Xu, do you still remember that wandering swordsman who carried only a wooden sword his entire life?
If you dare to forget him, well, go ahead and be Xu Fengnian, the mighty one whom even Wang Xianzhi couldn’t defeat. I, Wu Liuding, may not have the power to kill you, but I can still take my hundred riders and leave Beiliang on my own.
But as he brooded, riding through Yunxia Town on horseback, Wu Liuding felt helpless. Even as the Sword Prodigy, he probably couldn’t take these Wu family sword slaves with him.
Only the Old Ancestor of the Wu family had that power.
Not long after, at a roadside tavern where the roads of You and Liang provinces diverged, a middle-aged beauty who had once been ogled by passing drunkards now stared intently at an exceptionally handsome young man sitting alone. He had ordered a pot of wine and two cups, but the tavern only used large bowls. He smiled and said that bowls were fine.
The woman leaned on the neighboring table, watching the young man lost in thought, wondering, perhaps he was thinking of someone he wished to drink with.
The wind howled across the desolate expanse of the Northern Wilderness, where endless sands stretched beneath a blood-red sky. At the foot of a weathered, skeletal hill, a lone figure strode forward, his silhouette sharp against the horizon. His name was Xu Xiao, and behind him trailed a small group of followers, their cloaks billowing in the wind.
Beyond the skeletal hill lay the ruins of an ancient battlefield, where remnants of shattered swords and broken armor lay buried beneath the sand. Somewhere in that wasteland rested the Grand Pillar of the State, a legendary artifact said to hold the power to shake heaven and earth. But few dared to seek it, for the land was cursed, haunted by the restless spirits of fallen warriors.
Xu Xiao’s journey had begun at Qing Yang Palace, where he had trained under the watchful eye of the Palace Master. From there, he had crossed the mist-laden peaks of Huishan Mountain and ventured into the depths of the Martial Arts World, facing trials both mortal and mystical. He had stood before the gates of Nanhai Guanyin Sect, dueled disciples of the Zhanglu School, and unraveled the secrets of the Gulu School’s hidden techniques.
Now, he walked with purpose, his destination known only to the wind. By his side was his trusted companion, Lu Qiuer, a girl with eyes as sharp as a Yan Goose’s flight and a tongue as quick as a Yan Swallow’s dive. She had once been a mere servant of Qing Cheng King, but now she followed Xu Xiao without hesitation, her fate entwined with his.
Behind them, the sky darkened as storm clouds gathered. A distant rumble echoed like the growl of a slumbering beast. Somewhere in the distance, the Jiang Ni stirred, and the Kui Beast awoke from its slumber.
But Xu Xiao did not falter. He had read the Compendium of Thousand Swords, had trained beneath the Chu Lu Shan stars, and had faced the wrath of the Jiang Ni himself. He had walked the path of the sword, and the sword had accepted him.
As the storm closed in, a lone figure appeared atop the skeletal hill. Cloaked in shadow, the stranger bore the aura of a true cultivator. His voice, when he spoke, was like the whisper of steel against stone.
“Xu Xiao,” he called, his tone unreadable. “The path ahead is not for the weak. Turn back, while you still can.”
Xu Xiao lifted his gaze, his eyes burning with the fire of unyielding resolve. “I have come too far,” he said. “And I will go further still.”
The storm broke. Lightning split the sky, and thunder rolled like the drums of war. The wind howled, and the sands rose like the ghosts of the past.
And so, the legend began anew.
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