The martial world is indeed vast. Even if an immortal were to drop a mountain the size of Mount Tai into its waters, creating a tremendous splash, after ten or a hundred years, not even ripples would remain.
Therefore, martial cultivators within this world tend to have short memories. Life rarely exceeds a century, and reaching seventy is already rare. Li Chungan rose to fame far too early, achieving the pinnacle at a young age, and by thirty, he was nearly unmatched across the land. Who could rival him? The former old Sword Sage rose early and also faded early. After being defeated by his peer Wang Xianzhi, his sword “Muma Niu” was broken, and his name seldom appeared in the martial world. Over time, as friends and beauties turned to dust, even the older generation of martial cultivators today find Li Chungan’s name hazy and unclear. What more then for the younger martial artists?
To these people, even without mentioning the formidable Wang Xianzhi who grows stronger with age, in terms of swordsmanship across the land, the Daoist sects’ Qi Xianxia of Dragon and Tiger Mountain and Wudang’s Wang Xiaoping shine brightly. Yet compared to Deng Tai’e, who exudes an aura of immortality, they still fall short by far. The martial world constantly changes, yet one thing remains unchanged—swordsmen remain the most numerous, like swarms of shad crossing a river. Among them, Deng Tai’e is undoubtedly the sole Sword Sage in the hearts of today’s martial cultivators. Oddly enough, this Sword Sage dislikes carrying a sword, a most peculiar matter indeed.
Those who wield swords may lose to those who use blades or spears, but they can still boast, “So what if I lost? Bring forth the top experts among you blade and spear users—who can rival the swordless Sword Sage Deng?” Rumors say this Sword Sage was born with a tiger’s back and bear’s waist, capable of transforming into a figure with three heads and six arms. His satchel holds a small yellow pearwood sword case, containing over a dozen tiny swords. Cultivated with the secret techniques of the Wu Clan Sword Tombs, these swords are as lively and sentient as living beings, feeding on flesh when hungry and drinking blood when thirsty, their mystique profound. Once released from the case, they need no cultivation energy to control them and can sever heads of their own accord. Alas, such a miraculous display of sword immortal artistry has only ever been witnessed by the city lord of Wudi City. Indeed, no matter how vast the martial world may be, for Sword Sage Deng, he truly possesses the qualifications to look down upon all others.
Within Wudi City, nearly two thousand swords leapt from their sheaths, hovering in midair to form an astonishing curtain of steel.
Outside the city gate, a weary old donkey clopped its hooves slowly into the city. A boy dressed as a page rode the donkey backwards, a sword scabbard hanging at his waist though the sword itself was gone, his face filled with regret and annoyance. He lowered his head to speak to the middle-aged man leading the donkey: “Master, I saved up so hard to buy that sword with my coins and silver. Li Chungan said he was only borrowing swords from the city—why did he take mine too? We haven’t even reached Wudi City yet! And you, Master, you just watched the sword fly from its sheath without even trying to stop it. This will be so embarrassing when word gets out. Where will that leave your reputation?”
The middle-aged man had an unremarkable appearance, but his lips habitually curled upward, giving the impression of constant smiling, which softened his otherwise plain features. He held a peach blossom branch plucked from somewhere, fingers gently spinning it. Looking up at the boy’s gloomy face, he teased with a smile: “Isn’t reputation simply on one’s own face?”
The boy, serving as a page, carried himself with a certain arrogance, riding the donkey while the master walked, leading it, and even making the master carry his luggage and book chest. Hearing his master’s teasing, the boy first glared, then sighed, asking anxiously: “Li Chungan said he was only borrowing swords—what if he doesn’t return them?”
The man chuckled: “If Master Li doesn’t actually fight, just making a show, I’d say you’re in trouble. Think about it—nearly two thousand swords, suddenly without their masters, would crash down from the sky in chaos, scattered everywhere. Then, how would you ever recognize your own? Even if you could, with so many martial heroes scrambling to grab them, and opportunists sneaking off with whatever they can, do you really think your small frame could wrestle it back? If you ever get it back, you’ll be lucky to burn the highest incense. And that’s assuming the best-case scenario. If they really do fight, and Master Wang really swings his sword, then out of those nineteen hundred blades, eight or nine will be lost. Your sword, of average quality, won’t even survive a casual swing from Master Wang. But in my opinion, this borrowing of swords by Master Li is actually a good thing. It saves me from you being too distracted by your sword to do your chores. Be honest—have you been half as focused on cooking and housework these past days?”
The boy, more accurately a sword attendant, huffed: “You always talk the most. Once you start, you never stop. My ears are already calloused!”
The middle-aged man in coarse cotton clothes was indeed a man of unparalleled patience, smiling: “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up.”
The sword attendant, who had never once carried his master’s sword despite the title, sighed: “Master, can I tell you something?”
The man leading the donkey into the city, gazing toward the inner city walls, smiled: “Master Li and Old Man Wang are about to have a divine battle. You’re really putting me on the spot.”
The boy, settling for second best, grinned slyly: “Then why don’t you, during the chaos, pick up seventeen or eighteen swords for me? After all, you’ll just be picking them up, not stealing or robbing. What’s the harm?”
The man smiled knowingly: “Look at you—just a moment ago you were worried about where my reputation would go. If I ran through the streets with a dozen swords on my shoulders, would that make me look more dignified?”
The sword attendant’s heart sank, his face falling: “I’ve been by your side for over six hundred days, working like an ox and horse, finally scraping together seventeen taels of silver to buy a sword, and now it’s all gone. If I’d known, I’d rather die than come to this cursed Wudi City. What a mess!”
Seeing the boy’s eyes welling up faintly, the man sighed: “Alright, alright. When no one’s around, I’ll help you pick up a good sword.”
The boy’s face suddenly brightened: “Master, are you tired? Let me carry your book chest for you.”
The man laughed in exasperation: “Your nature’s showing. If you carry the chest, it’s still the donkey that gets tired. I’d rather carry it myself.”
The sword attendant grinned, then looked up at the ominous curtain of swords hanging over the city, his expression distant as he softly asked: “Master, if this fight really happens, who do you think has the better chance?”
The man smiled, carelessly replying: “Unless they fight to the death, the advantage still leans heavily toward Old Man Wang.”
The boy curled his lip, rolling his eyes: “This Li Chungan is too useless. All he can do is create a scary scene like this. Isn’t he just a hollow show?”
The man’s expression turned rare and serious: “San Lu! You must not speak disrespectfully of Master Li!”
Seeing his master’s anger, the boy finally dared not speak rashly and obediently murmured, “Okay.” But he still couldn’t help but mutter resentfully: “That Old Man Wang is just a dog sitting on a pile of dung, calling himself king. If you, Master, gave it your all, you’d beat him so badly he wouldn’t recognize his own parents.”
The man chuckled silently, shaking his head: “Don’t even dream of it in this lifetime.”
The sword attendant, who had always been informal with his master, seemed angered by his lack of ambition, huffing in frustration.
The man remained unperturbed, slightly wistful: “You young ones naturally don’t understand what it means—‘Had Heaven not born Li Chungan, the sword way would have been dark through endless ages.’ In the past five hundred years, countless sword talents have emerged, yet only this old master approached the sword cultivation of Master Lü. As for me, perhaps I might be slightly better at killing, but even that is only a slight edge. In terms of sword cultivation, I fall far short.”
The boy only listened to what pleased him, his face brightening: “So the whole point of sword cultivation is to fight and kill people.”
The man smiled: “You do think clearly.”
The young sword attendant, riding atop the donkey, struck a lofty pose.
The man stopped spinning the peach blossom branch, surprised with a soft “Ah!” and chuckled: “Here it comes! You’re in luck, kid. The fight really is starting, not just thunder without rain.”
From the inner city pavilion came a voice like a booming bell: “Let Li Chungan come forth from the city, and let Wang duel him in the sea!”
Countless people in Wudi City looked up at once. A mighty white figure, like a comet, launched from the pavilion roof toward the East Sea.
Nineteen hundred swords turned their points toward the East Sea in unison. A lone figure leapt onto the foremost blade, riding it toward the sea.
The greatest battle of the age!
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage