Chapter 403: Eating the Sword Ancestor

The Beacon Towers Amused the Vassals

This year's heavy snowfall in the capital, occurring just before the Beginning of Winter, was exceptionally grand and relentless. While many children in the capital rejoiced, they also wondered how many white geese the Old Man in the Sky must be raising to produce such a blizzard.

This small courtyard, imbued with spiritual energy as if a dragon resided there, once housed three prodigious talents, all poised to become pillars of swordsmanship. Yet, overnight, one of them vanished? When bored, Wu Liuding liked to take out his green bamboo pole, just slightly longer than a sword. Now, he squatted under the eaves, the pole resting on his shoulder, a hint of loneliness about him. Even with his childhood sweetheart, Cuihua, standing nearby, this young sword master, who learned the Way of the Tyrant Sword instead of the Way of the King Sword, showed a trace of sorrow. Every word from the carefree wandering swordsman Wen echoed in his ears: "Only a lingering life allowed to leave the courtyard, with one arm severed, one Achilles tendon cut, and meridians self-destroyed." And then he was gone. "Wen Busheng," Wu Liuding thought, "didn't you say you wanted to become one of the greatest swordsmen in the world? Didn't you just meet the woman you admired? Wouldn't it have been better to kill a man with no kin, a mere year's acquaintance, and then achieve renown throughout the land?"

Cuihua noticed her young sword master turn his head. With an unspoken understanding between them, she spoke before Wu Liuding could ask, "I don't understand either."

Wang Mingyin, ranked eleventh in the world after the Battle of Reed Marsh, was lured back into the martial arts world by Old Prince Jing'an, Zhao Xun. The prince used the bond of brotherhood between Wang Mingyin and Wang Mingyang, a renowned general from the Spring and Autumn Period, as a means to draw him away from his peaceful life amidst the green hills, clear waters, and few acres of land.

Wen Hua had only just entered the martial arts world and made a name for himself. How could he leave it so tragically?

Wu Liuding, who had often bickered with Wen Busheng in recent days, released his grip, letting the bamboo pole roll to the ground. He vigorously rubbed his cheeks. "I have no brothers, no friends; my heart is set on the Way of the Sword, but I will remember this fool for the rest of my life," he muttered. "How about we see Wen Hua off? In this icy, snowy weather, he might leave the courtyard, but he won't be able to leave the capital."

Cuihua remained silent. Wu Liuding, the sword master nicknamed "Six Jars," exhaled a deep sigh of pent-up frustration and calmly stood up. "Don't bother with that old schemer in the house, who keeps plotting without knowing who he's truly scheming against," he declared. "If he truly annoys me, we'll just fall out completely, no big deal. I don't like this capital city; it lacks the spirit of the martial arts world and human warmth. Just when I finally found a hint of swordsmanship that even the Wu Family Sword Tomb didn't possess, it's too late. Cuihua, how about we escort Wen Busheng out of the capital, and then travel to the South Sea? I hear Deng Tai'a went out to sea to visit immortals; maybe we'll run into him."

Cuihua merely patted the Suwang Sword strapped to her back, and Wu Liuding laughed loudly as he strode out of the courtyard.

Huang Sanjia slowly emerged from the house, holding the ancient Baxiu sword that had been left behind. His face was impassive, showing not a ripple of emotion, as he simply tossed the Baxiu sword towards the top of the wall.

The ancient sword landed in the hand of an old man with an empty sleeve, who squatted atop the wall. With one hand, he caught the last remaining sword forged by the Tangxi Sword Forge. Discarding the scabbard, he opened his palm and placed the ancient, renowned blade there. With a flick of his thumb and forefinger, the Baxiu sword—whose edge didn't rank among the world's top three but whose resilience held the second-highest position—instantly bent. The tip and hilt clanged together, like a serpent biting its own tail. Propelled by the sword qi from his two fingers, this celebrated sword of the age was forcibly shattered. It broke into two, then four, then eight sections, and so on, until the Baxiu was broken inch by inch, each fragment falling into the sleeve of his severed arm. Then, the old man selected a sword tip, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed it like soybeans—crunchy and full of bite. The old man might not have been truly nameless, but he had indeed remained obscure for sixty years. In recent years, when he occasionally ventured into the world, it was always to do business with Huang Longshi. Whenever he killed or injured someone, Huang Longshi was responsible for providing him with a good sword to consume.

Though his grand deeds were never embellished in the martial arts world, he had been utterly devoted to swordsmanship his entire life. Nearing a hundred years old, he had taken only two and a half disciples: the "half" was the wooden-sword wandering swordsman who greatly disappointed him, and the other, more famous, was the Sword Emperor of Western Shu. However, the old man had explicitly told Huang Sanjia that even his two principal disciples couldn't compare to Wen Hua, his half-way disciple. This wasn't about talent; talent didn't equate to fundamental potential. In the thousand-year history of the martial arts world, the nearly divine Way of the Sword wasn't something where one could simply succeed by being stunningly brilliant. Therefore, even as he slowly chewed and swallowed the Baxiu sword, the old man was quite displeased; its taste was simply not good enough. He had come for the Spring and Autumn Sword. The Suwang Sword from the Sword Tomb was actually quite decent, but for the past twenty years, what he had most longed for was the Great Liang Dragon Sparrow Sword. The old man was missing an arm, but due to his robust physique, he didn't appear particularly old or frail. His extremely long eyebrows and a snow-white braid gave him the imposing air of the tripartite balance of Beiliang, Liyang, and Beimang.

The old man with eyebrows as long as willow branches cackled, his voice hoarse and grating like a night owl. He said sinisterly, "Huang Longshi, oh Huang Longshi, there are always people you can't predict and things you can't foresee in this world!"

Huang Sanjia said calmly, "Where in the world are there people who can calculate everything perfectly? When planting crops, their growth depends on both human effort and favorable weather. I, Huang Longshi, am not so arrogant as to think I can surpass Heaven. Wen Hua's willingness to destroy his own future doesn't hinder the overall plan."

The old man of unknown identity was clearly pleased to see Huang Longshi rebuffed, and he continued to rub salt into the wound. "Wen Hua, that kid, killed the Prince of Beiliang in the capital," he began, "preventing Beiliang and Liyang from having even half a day of harmonious relations. At the very least, he was supposed to leave that poor boy Xu Fengnian with a deep emotional scar, allowing you to continue fishing in troubled waters. Only you could concoct such a cruel scheme. So, do you still value Chen Zhibao? Do you think he is the fated ruler of both empires? I'm too lazy to ponder these matters, but there's an account I need to settle with you right now. You invited Old Wu from the Sword Tomb to emerge, so I couldn't lay claim to the Suwang Sword. But Wen Hua, my half-disciple, is worth more than just one Baxiu sword. Since the Suwang sword couldn't satisfy me, how will you appease my appetite with Xu Fengnian's Spring and Autumn sword, which we agreed upon?"

Huang Longshi stepped into the courtyard, looking up at the swirling snowflakes. "I never believe anyone is destined to rule," he said. "I just can't bear to see a stagnant era, nor can I tolerate so many things taken for granted in this world. To me, there are no enemies, no benefactors. Everything I've done in this life is merely to make new sprouts grow from decaying wood."

Rarely hearing such a revelation of inner thoughts, the old man, who didn't have a good temper, uncharacteristically didn't press about the Spring and Autumn Sword. He continued to slowly put broken sword fragments into his mouth, one by one.

Huang Longshi smiled and muttered to himself, "Fairness is the hardest thing to achieve. Since Cao Changqing dared to take the exiled princess Jiang Si and disrupt my grand plan—the 'White Robe and Dragon Python Slaying' I'd arranged for years—then I can make Xu Fengnian suffer greatly. But if Xu Fengnian wins, I'm not one to cling to things. Forget about the Spring and Autumn Sword; I'll find a way to satisfy your appetite. Come, let's go to Wudi City. Do you dare?"

The old man finished eating the Baxiu sword blade and discarded the hilt. "There are indeed many appetizers there. Why wouldn't I dare?" he scoffed. "That Old Wang II has called himself the second best in the world for sixty years; I've disliked him for a long time. What nonsense, 'second best in the world'? Third best would be more like it."

Huang Sanjia nodded and smiled, "Indeed, you're the only one in the world who would dare to exchange an arm with Li Chungang."

The old man fell into deep thought. Huang Sanjia didn't rush him to leave the city. "Most extraordinary figures in this world—those driven by love, righteousness, or benevolence—inevitably become trapped by their own creations," Huang Sanjia mused. "Wang Xianzhi confined himself to one city, Xuanyuan Jingcheng to one mountain, Cao Changqing to one nation, Li Yishan to one tower, and Li Dangxin to one Zen. Truly transcendent individuals are you, Yuan Benxi who is currently seeking revenge against me everywhere, and Deng Tai'a who went out to sea—they don't quite count. Counting on my fingers, there are only Hong Xixiang who rode a crane down Wudang, Li Chungang after losing an arm, and now Wen Hua, who broke his sword and no longer practices swordsmanship. The martial arts world is bound to forget Wen Hua quickly, but it is precisely such figures who make the martial arts world vibrant and lively. Did I, Huang Longshi, lose? Perhaps, but I lost willingly. Because of Wen Hua, I will give Xu Fengnian a great gift. Otherwise, that kid's life would be too bleak; at such a young age, he'd have to contend with old foxes like Yuan Benxi."

The old man, who had no sword in hand and enjoyed eating them, leaped down from the wall. His height was intimidating, a full two heads taller than Huang Longshi. "They say a dying man's words are good," he quipped. "Huang Longshi, you're not implying you know your time is short, are you?"

Huang Sanjia smiled calmly, "How many years have you been hoping for my death?"

The old man's eyebrows actually reached his knees. "Whether you live or die, it doesn't matter," he scoffed. "Where would I find a good talent to inherit my sword technique?"

Huang Sanjia chuckled softly, "If you ask me, it would be perfect for you to exchange your sword technique for his Spring and Autumn Sword. The Spring and Autumn era is already gone; what good is a Spring and Autumn Sword now?"

The old man sneered, "So this is the great gift you're giving that kid?"

Huang Sanjia shook his head and walked towards the courtyard gate. He waited for the old man, who once single-handedly bore the prestige of the Wu Family Sword Tomb, to walk out of the courtyard first. Only then did he close the door. "Wen Hua was not truly your disciple; it was merely a transaction between us," he stated. "Truly, you've only taken two disciples, and both died because of Beiliang."

The old man chuckled softly, "What does that matter? A swordsman dying for his sword is the greatest fortune; there's no better way to die. Since you've piqued my interest, Huang Longshi, don't hold back. Tell me, besides having Wen Hua kill that Xu boy, who else was involved? I need to go see. Li Chungang is the only swordsman I've ever considered both a great rival and a confidant. Since he taught that kid 'Two Sleeves Green Snake' and 'Sword Opening Heavenly Gate,' I must take a look. That female sword attendant only learned half of 'Two Sleeves Green Snake'; that's too little. If that kid is truly as interesting as Li Chungang values him, I wouldn't mind asking him to learn my sword technique."

Huang Longshi dismissed it with a smile. This reclusive and eccentric old man taught swordsmanship in such a way that the worse one's apparent talent, the less he taught. The Sword Emperor of Western Shu received four sword techniques and comprehended a hundred, yet despite dedicating his life to swordsmanship, not a single one entered the old man's discerning eye. A later disciple was only taught three sword techniques, but one of them earned the old man's highest praise. Huang Longshi then tricked him out of two sword techniques and passed them to Wen Hua, but unfortunately, this time he didn't get to see the "crop" mature. In the end, that kid chose a "dream of Handan"—a fleeting illusion—instead of the famous sword with the potential to reach the pinnacle and the most beautiful woman in the world. As for whether this picky old man would indeed meet Xu Fengnian and then, upon a disagreement, mercilessly kill him to consume the Spring and Autumn Sword, or absentmindedly teach him that sword technique—that was no longer something Huang Sanjia needed to worry about. The reason he brought this up was only because of one sentence, or rather, two sentences: "I will guard the Northwest for the Central Plains," and "Beyond Beiliang's three prefectures, no hooves of Beimang's million cavalry will bring disaster!"

Huang Longshi smiled; it reminded him of his younger self.

Huang Longshi looked at the vast, white alley, bent down to scoop up a handful of snow, and asked, "So, shall we leave the city first, and then you re-enter?"

The old man offered no comment.

The world does not know that between heaven and earth exists a righteous qi, which takes on various forms as it flows. This qi is vast and magnificent, fiercely enduring through the ages.

Huang Longshi tilted his head back and smiled faintly. "Yuan Benxi, oh Yuan Benxi," he said, "no matter how I die, it won't be by your hand. But you should wait; someone will naturally deal with you. The capital's White Robe Case, new scores and old—let's see how you settle them!"