A Thousand Gold for Bones, a Sword Named Short-Lived

Capital City, Qianjin Platform.

This was the largest gambling house in the capital, and also the place where news traveled fastest. At this moment, two lines of bold words stood out on the enormous rosewood plaque in the center of the main hall.

[Qin family's qilin son Qin Wuji wins (one pays ten)]

[Grand Princess's Manor Sword Attendant Ji Ye wins (one pays fifty)]

The disparity in odds was outrageous.

"One pays ten? Young Master Qin is guaranteed to win, but the profit is far too meager—not even enough for tea money."

"Nonsense! That's Qin Wuji! A monster with one foot already in the Meridian Opening Realm. They say even renowned veterans of the older generation can't last ten moves against him. That Ji Ye fellow, nobody's even heard of him. What does he have to win with?"

The gamblers clustered around the tables, clutching banknotes in their hands. Most wanted to bet on Qin Wuji. Though a mosquito's leg was still meat, it was better than tossing meat buns to a dog.

"Everyone, everyone! Hold on before placing your bets!"

The bookmaker was a rosy-faced middle-aged man. Fanning himself with a folding fan, he smiled as he pressed a hand down.

"I know everyone trusts Young Master Qin's abilities. But we run a gambling house, and we value fairness. There are some inside details I might as well reveal."

He lowered his voice and said mysteriously:

"This Attendant Ji is a reclusive expert personally unearthed from the martial world by Her Highness the Grand Princess. They say that on the day he entered the manor, he used only one sword strike at Tingxue Tower to make Liu Bai, the 'Water-Severing Sword,' throw down his sword and admit defeat. It even moved Her Highness to personally serve him tea."

A wave of astonished cries rose from the crowd. Liu Bai's name rang like thunder throughout Capital City.

"And besides," the bookmaker said, snapping his fan shut and tapping the table, "think about it. What status does the Grand Princess have? She is His Majesty's own elder sister, known far and wide as the 'Female Prime Minister.' Would she send some nameless nobody to the Qin family's grounds just to make a fool of himself? Behind this... there may be an expert giving counsel, with a trump card hidden away!"

With those words, the overwhelmingly one-sided tide immediately began to waver.

Gamblers all shared the same failing: they feared losing, yet always believed they could pick up a bargain. One pays fifty—if an upset truly happened, they would become rich overnight and never have to worry for the rest of their lives.

"Damn it, wealth and honor must be sought amid danger! I'm betting ten taels on Ji Ye!"

"I'll bet five taels too! The Grand Princess's judgment can't be wrong!"

Banknotes began piling into the square marked "Ji Ye."

The smile at the corners of the bookmaker's mouth deepened.

Only when the water was muddied could fish be caught. If he did not build Ji Ye up into a dark horse, how could Qianjin Platform's turnover possibly double?

There was none of gold and silver's vulgar air here, only a grim, icy chill.

Hundreds of famous swords hung upon the walls, some ancient and unadorned, others splendid and ornate. Each radiated an edge that made hearts tremble. This was the royal family's collection of several centuries, and the treasure vault countless swordsmen dreamed of.

"To do a good job, one must first sharpen one's tools."

Xiao Hongxiu walked ahead, pointing at the famous swords covering the walls, her voice cool. "That iron sword of yours is fine for killing street thugs. Against Qin Wuji's Chixiao, it will shatter at the first clash."

Ji Ye followed behind her, still carrying that fifty-copper iron sword in his hand.

When masters crossed blades, the slightest difference meant life or death. The quality of one's weapon often decided who would survive. His iron sword truly could not withstand the Qin family's heirloom blade, a weapon that cut iron like mud.

"Pick one."

Xiao Hongxiu stopped and turned to look at him. "There is Juque, a work left behind by the great swordsmith Ou Yezi of the previous dynasty, and Tanlang, forged from cold iron of the Western Regions. So long as you can wield it, it is yours."

Ji Ye's gaze swept across those famous swords.

Juque was heavy and powerful, suited for charging through battlefields, but not for his swift sword.

Tanlang was sharp, but its sword qi was too fierce and could easily backlash against its wielder.

Liuguang was light and nimble, yet lacked the ruthless decisiveness of slaughter.

In the end, his gaze passed over the famous swords polished to a gleaming shine and settled on a corner.

There rested a dark iron chest. It was unlocked and covered in dust, as though it had been forgotten for many years.

Yet Ji Ye's [Martial Dao Heavenly Eye] saw that the aura seeping from that chest was more savage than all the famous swords in the room combined.

It was a pure, utterly unforgiving aura of death.

"I want to see that one."

Ji Ye pointed at the iron chest.

Xiao Hongxiu followed his finger, and her brows furrowed slightly.

"Open it."

A man in black stepped forward and lifted the lid of the iron chest.

Dust rose into the air.

Inside the chest lay a sword.

Its blade was extremely narrow, blue-gray throughout, and covered in fine cracks, as though it might crumble apart at any moment. Its hilt was polished from the bone of some unknown beast—ghastly white, rough, and steeped in ill omen.

It had no scabbard.

Because it had no need to hide.

"This sword is called 'Short-Lived.'"

Xiao Hongxiu's voice was somewhat cold. "It was forged three hundred years ago by Yan Shisan, the 'Life-Ending Swordsman,' in his later years. The blade was made from the most brittle piece of meteoric iron. Though incomparably sharp, it is also exceptionally easy to break."

"Every sword master who possessed it met a bad end. Often, when the sword broke, its wielder died with it."

"An inauspicious sword, named Short-Lived."

Ji Ye stepped forward and reached out to grip that ghastly white bone hilt.

Cold.

Piercingly cold.

It was like gripping ice that had not melted for ten thousand years, and like gripping Death's hand.

On the contrary, the Myriad Forms Furnace Body within him began to circulate on its own, forcefully suppressing that chill and transforming it into an even keener edge.

"Buzz."

The sword trembled faintly. The cracks seemed to shift, releasing a low hum thirsty for blood.

"A good sword."

Ji Ye lifted the sword and gave it a light swing.

There was no sound of wind.

The air before him seemed to have been cut open directly, the wound unable to close for a long while.

For ultimate sharpness, this sword had abandoned resilience and abandoned longevity.

It was like an assassin burning away his life for revenge.

"Are you sure you want to choose it?" Xiao Hongxiu looked at Ji Ye. "This sword is too brittle. If it meets Qin Wuji's Chixiao, it may break with the slightest mistake."

"Why collide with it head-on?"

Ji Ye looked at the cracks on the blade, his eyes as still as a pool of dead water.

"It is brittle because it traded all its lifespan for sharpness."

He raised a hand and lightly flicked the sword's ridge with his finger.

"If a man is short-lived, he must seize every moment."

"If a sword is short-lived, it must kill in one strike."

So long as it severed the other man's throat before it broke, what did it matter whether it was brittle?

Xiao Hongxiu looked at Ji Ye. After a long while, she suddenly smiled.

"A madman and a vicious sword—truly a perfect match."

She waved a hand.

"Take it."

Ji Ye did not look for a scabbard.

He tore a strip from his garment, casually wrapped the blue-gray blade, and carried it on his back.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Ji Ye turned and walked out.

As he reached the doorway, the sound of an evening bell drifted over.

Dong—dong—dong—

The dusk of Capital City always carried a hint of desolation.

"Three days from now will be Old Madam Qin's eightieth birthday."

Ji Ye stopped, tilting his head slightly as he looked in the direction of the Qin residence.

The lights there shone brighter than those of the imperial palace.

He touched Short-Lived on his back, and a chilling curve lifted at the corner of his mouth.

"Old Madam's eightieth birthday."

"I'll bring Short-Lived to offer my birthday wishes."

"This gift is heavy enough."