Chapter 524: I Have My Sword, You Have Your Jianghu

Two riders leisurely departed Beiliang. The young master rode a Ferghana horse, a priceless steed rarely seen even in the vast grasslands and deserts. Beside him was a gap-toothed old man, clearly a servant, who presented a stark contrast. He rode an old, inferior horse and carried a long cloth bag. Along their journey, whenever the richly dressed young master spurred his horse to a gallop, he would have to stop and wait for several hours, rolling his eyes, before the old servant finally came into view. During this time, they frequently encountered highwaymen after their wealth. Multiple times, the young master galloped away, only to look back and find no sign of the old servant. He would then have to put himself at risk again to rescue the slow-footed old man. The first time, he scattered a large stack of banknotes on the ground to ensure the old servant's safe escape. Later, he threw out one or two secret manuals from his robes. The last time, he even abandoned the famous jewel-encrusted sword at his waist.

Upon entering Hezhou territory, the young master, with his charming, almond-shaped eyes, glanced sideways at the boundary marker. He then turned to see the old servant meticulously combing his grey hair with an old sandalwood comb, pulled from his sleeve. The young noble was instantly exasperated and, sighing with resignation, said helplessly, "Old Huang! All I have left are some small silver pieces, a light jade pendant, and four or five precious secret manuals. Can you move faster next time? If we go any further east, it won't be my family's territory. What if we run into bandits again? Even if I had the nerve to announce my name, no one would believe me. If you get stopped again, I'm really not going to help you! How can we roam the martial world without money? We won't even be able to afford food and drink. Are we really going to become beggars?"

The old servant carefully put away his comb, smiling brightly and nodding vigorously, revealing his comical gap-toothed grin. The young master, who had been somewhat annoyed, immediately burst into laughter, exasperated. He deliberately turned his head away, feigning anger. "Damn it," he thought, "other young masters roam the martial world with their swords or travel far and wide for studies, what a glorious sight! But I'm stuck with this old servant who only holds me back." Yet, despite his irritation, every time they narrowly escaped danger, he would later recall it with amusement, celebrating their survival at the best taverns with his dependent old servant, drinking and feasting. Besides the lingering fear, he still found it enjoyable.

They didn't have even half a month of peaceful days before they were once again brazenly intercepted and robbed by a group of sixteen or seventeen young, robust mountain bandits. The young master then had to "cut his flesh" and part with all his loose silver. Fortunately, both master and servant had become experienced in making a quick getaway, and they once again managed to avert disaster by losing money, still avoiding capture by the bandits. After getting off the mountain path, the old servant looked remorsefully at his panting young master. The young noble glared at him and, in a fit of pique, refused to speak to him for most of the day. They then entered a bustling city in Hezhou, where the young master pawned a mutton-fat jade pendant. Naturally, it was sold for a fraction of its true value. It took the old servant much persuasion to restrain the young master, who was about to draw his sword and attack. Finally, they went to a tavern for a hearty meal, and the sulking young master still silently refilled the old servant's jug with yellow wine.

Afterward, while casually strolling around the city, the young master's Ferghana horse and expensive sword were recognized and seized by a group of discerning wastrels. To make matters worse, one of them used a privately carried Beiliang blade to smack a swollen red lump onto his forehead. Old Huang, seemingly timidly leading the horse and hiding not far away, watched his master's enraged face but ultimately restrained his impulse to intervene. The young master charged forward, intent on fighting to the death, but a roughly-skilled henchman kicked him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling and sliding several yards across the ground. The group laughed loudly and walked away. Old Huang went to help his master up, but was pushed away. That time, master and servant left the city in a sorry state. The young master, no longer resembling a wealthy young noble, could only walk out of the city gate, with Old Huang following behind, leading the horse. Once outside the city, the young master stood by the city wall, pursed his lips, kicked something, and then limped along the post road. After walking over ten *li*, heavy bloodstains began to seep from the front of his boots. Later, the young master drank himself into a stupor at a roadside wine stall. Old Huang helped him onto the horse, where he lay prone, while Old Huang himself led the horse for dozens of *li*. They spent the night in the wilderness. Old Huang lay on a hillside, watching his master, who, after sobering up, sat there in a daze and didn't sleep all night.

From then on, the master and servant went from being wealthy to almost penniless, as their only two remaining jade pendants were hidden away as family heirlooms, too precious to part with. The young master finally understood the old saying about roaming the martial world without revealing one's wealth. He stopped deliberately dressing in luxurious clothes, to the point where even mountain bandits and outlaws weren't interested in bothering them. Later, seeing that his master's boots were worn through, Old Huang wove him a pair of straw sandals. The young master grumbled and absolutely refused to wear them, but after stumbling barefoot for half a *li* and developing several blood blisters on the soles of his feet, he finally, with a cold expression, reached out for the straw sandals. As they trekked over mountains and through valleys, the young master quickly grew accustomed to his new way of life. They traversed two more provinces, and needing to travel south by boat, the young master pawned another jade pendant. Both master and servant changed into inexpensive but clean clothes and boots. Besides a bag of loose silver, a stack of banknotes was hidden in his boots. However, not long after, all of it was swindled away by a self-proclaimed *wuxia*. From then on, the young master abandoned any notion of dealing with heroes or heroines of the martial world. Only occasionally before sleep would he grumble that life was unbearable, and that even village women who resembled sows looked pretty to him. Later, in a Jiangnan water town, at a ferry crossing, they encountered a boatwoman. Such pitiable women were, in essence, no different from common prostitutes. The young master, who constantly boasted he would "take up arms" with any woman who disrobed, nevertheless gave her all the loose silver he had. Although the boatwoman was of plain appearance but looked clean, after the young master gave her the money, she immediately fled with him onshore, without him even touching her hand in the end.

At that moment, Old Huang felt that while his young master’s generosity when wealthy—spending a fortune on a whim—was nothing remarkable, his ability to treat people with respect even when he was completely penniless was truly commendable.

Afterward, they met a generous young girl named Li. The girl said she wanted to become a chivalrous heroine. If they called her "Miss Li Zi," she wouldn't bother to respond, but if they called her "Lady Li, the Heroine," her eyes would curve into crescent moons. He and the young master then sponged off the girl, eating and drinking with her. But when it was time to part ways, the young master gave her his last jade pendant, claiming it was a cheap trinket bought from a street stall, worth only a few copper coins. Miss Li Zi evidently didn't pay much attention, taking the young master at his word, truly believing that the dragon-carved jade pendant, which had once hung for years at the waist of a Southern Tang emperor, was worthless. After parting ways with the kind-hearted girl, the young master said he had two elder sisters and one younger brother, and still lacked a younger sister. He vowed that if he ever returned to Beiliang and met her again, he would buy her mountains of cosmetics. Although Miss Li Zi, who was short on cash, had left, the young man named Wen, who carried a wooden sword, did not. He spent all day scheming about Old Huang's horse, hoping to ride it to trick naive young women. However, every time Old Huang saw his master leading the horse for this fellow, acting as a servant, and yet those girls still only laughed and chatted happily with the handsome young master, Old Huang couldn't help but feel amused. Old Huang hadn't originally thought much of young Wen, but later, seeing him get beaten repeatedly in the arena and carried back by the young master time and again, and once, when Wen had stolen a chicken to stew in a dilapidated temple, Old Huang asked him why he wanted to practice swordsmanship. The young man chuckled and said, "I just do. I like it. What reason do I need?" Old Huang thought of his own life: starting as an unknown blacksmith with only brute strength, he was unexpectedly chosen by a wandering master who taught him a mere two sword techniques. He never felt that practicing swordsmanship meant he had to become a world-renowned hero; he simply wanted to leave his hometown, to travel and see the outside world. If he succeeded, it was good fortune; if he died, it was fate. Heaven had already treated him well; to be discontent would invite divine wrath. He knew his master enjoyed consuming swords, so the six famous swords in his sword box were all reserved for his old mentor, thinking that when they met again, they would serve as the long-overdue apprenticeship gifts. It was only a pity that the Huanglu Sword, even more famous than the six in the box, had been left on the walls of Wudi City years ago due to his lack of skill in practice. Later, young Wen and the young master became increasingly close, no longer just exchanging polite pleasantries as brothers, but sharing more heartfelt and sincere conversations. Wen spoke of how he wanted to practice his own unique sword style, to forge a path that no previous master had ever walked. Perhaps to others, these were just the wild words of an inexperienced youth, but in Old Huang's ears, he couldn't help but nod and give the young man a thumbs-up.

Old Huang had lived his entire life without a wife or children, unburdened by attachments, possessing nothing but the swords hidden in his zitan sword box. Having spent so long with the young master, he had come to regard the young man as his own junior. Each time he squatted with his master on the street or at the village entrance, eyeing the bosoms and backsides of young women, Old Huang was merely indulging his master's curiosity. For Old Huang himself to marry a wife would be more terrifying than asking him to stop practicing swordsmanship.

In his youth, Old Huang had never been dashing or romantic. As he himself put it, even in an emperor's robe, he'd look like an opera performer. He simply felt that this last journey through the martial world with his sword box should show his young master just how formidable his seemingly "mediocre" skills truly were, and how much greater his young master, who would surely surpass him, could become.

He had long passed the age of fearing death.

To die for a sword, and to die without disgrace, was simply a blessing for a swordsman.

If one day he became too old to lift a sword, that would truly be a disservice to all the swords he had ever wielded.

That year, Old Huang, who had spent his entire life mastering only blacksmithing and swordsmanship, left Beiliang, traveled to the East Sea, led his horse into the city, and drank a bowl of warm yellow wine before ascending the city wall.

At that time, several of the martial world's top masters, including Cao Changqing, were observing the battle in Wudi City.

Old Huang never bothered with the flamboyant, flying tactics of other high-level masters. He didn't, as later legends claimed, soar over the city walls like a rainbow to directly confront Wang Xianzhi. Instead, he walked steadily, step by step, up the stone stairs.

Just before reaching the top of the city wall, the old man stopped. He untied the knot on his cloth bag, revealing the zitan sword box, then stood on his tiptoes and gazed toward the northwest.

In Old Huang's past martial life, having a sword was enough.

In the martial world after Old Huang's death, for even one person to remember him would be enough.

At that moment, Old Huang suddenly slapped his head, remembering he had forgotten to tell his young master that his name was Huang Zhentu.

Old Huang had always felt that this name, given to him by his master, was more impressive and presentable than the swords hidden in his sword box.

However, Old Huang then recalled the three years of wandering and hardship he had spent with his young master, and the ninth sword technique he had newly comprehended, which his young master had named "Six Thousand Li."

Old Huang grinned foolishly, then quickly jogged up the tower.

With this one sword technique...

Nothing else mattered.

"Young master, you still have a long road ahead. Don't be like Old Huang. Remember to make a swift exit when things get hairy."