Let Me Tell You About the Foundation Establishment Heavenly Venerable's Pose
"It's incurable."
The old man shook his head and said with a bitter smile, "My hand has been useless for so long. The nerves inside are dead. No matter how skilled Medicine doctor is, they can't reattach it."
"I never said I'd cure you with Medicine."
The White Hair man shook his head.
"I could only tell from the longing in your eyes, sir, that you are a true seeker of the sword, and I felt it was a pity. Whether or not you need your hand healed, whether you believe me or not, is entirely up to you... If you have that thought, come find me tonight at the newly built ancestral hall in Clear Water Village."
Having said that, the White Hair man sheathed his long sword. The mountain wind blew, stirring up the wild grass on the field that he had cut with his Sword Qi. The next moment, the man's figure disappeared without a trace.
Nighttime in Clear Water Village.
After hesitating in his home for half a day, the one-armed old man finally couldn't resist and sneaked into Clear Water Village under the cover of darkness.
The temptation of limb regeneration was too great for him; for a swordsman who had devoted his life to the sword, the sword was the meaning of his life.
An old steed in its stall may still aspire to gallop a thousand miles; a hero in his twilight years may still cherish lofty ambitions. Even though the one-armed old man is over fifty years old, which is considered extremely old in this era, he still harbors a desire to reach even greater heights in the realm of swordsmanship.
If he knew there was a chance to regain his dominant hand, the one-armed old man would surely do it without hesitation.
Such a coincidence was obvious to him; he could tell that the boy and the White Hair man were trying to trick him. But as long as his arm could be healed, the old man didn't care about their motives. He was willing to give his life to get his hand back.
After entering the village, he was very careful in his every move, because he knew that the people living in this village were all formidable figures in the martial arts world of the Great Xia Jianghu, and some of them were no weaker than him.
The one-armed old man knew his identity was special. Because of his nationality, he was not accepted by the village. Entering without permission would be an illegal intrusion, and given the nature of the Martial Artist of the Great Xia, they would probably gang up on him and beat him badly on the spot.
However, Clear Water Village was as quiet as usual tonight. Even the village's restaurants and Inn had turned off their lights and closed early. The chickens and dogs that used to run around in the streets had been chased into the courtyards. In the darkness, only the trees were swaying gently in the wind.
The one-armed old man easily reached the newly built ancestral hall near the village entrance without disturbing any of the adults in the village.
He knew about this ancestral hall. Since his arm was cut off, he had been wandering in a foreign land and had come to this village for two or three years. When he last came to the village to trade, there was no ancestral hall, and the villagers did not seem as energetic as they do now.
The villagers at that time, though a group of carefree and unconventional people, shared a similar air about them.
That's the taste of an old salted fish, either with unfulfilled ambitions, troubled by love, or forced to retire from the Jianghu.
However, this group of people suddenly showed a strange fighting spirit, making the old man feel as if they had returned to the feeling of when they first entered the Jianghu.
The old man touched the door of the ancestral hall; it wasn't locked. He pushed the door open and went inside.
Even at night, the ancestral hall was kept lit. Several rows of red candles burned on the shelves on both sides, illuminating the hall with a hazy, warm light. Inside the hall was a Deity that the old man had never seen before, which he guessed might be a local belief of Clear Water Village.
Generally speaking, although ancestral halls are places to worship ancestors or deities, they can be particularly eerie and frightening at night. However, this newly built ancestral hall gave the one-armed old man a sense of peace.
This ancestral hall felt like a true divine realm, possessing a power that calmed and soothed the mind.
However, the White Hair man who had asked him to come here that afternoon was not here, which disappointed the old man.
The one-armed old man circled the ancestral hall, carefully examining every corner, but still couldn't find any trace of him.
"He didn't come after all... Was I dreaming this afternoon?"
The one-armed old man shook his head, sighed deeply, and prepared to leave the village and return to his dilapidated house.
But at that moment, a whooshing sound rang out, and something pierced through the window beside it, grazed the old man's face, and shot into the pillar of the ancestral hall.
"Sword Qi?"
The one-armed old man was very perceptive. He immediately ran to the window and looked out through the hole, but saw nothing.
He returned to the pillar and reached out to touch the sword mark left by the Sword Qi.
Several words were engraved on it.
"Offer three sticks of incense, and the problem will be solved."
"He's actually a charlatan?"
The one-armed old man was somewhat surprised.
It's not surprising that powerless people would place their hopes on Wooden Puppet or stone statues, but the White Hair man's swordsmanship was far superior to his own. It was truly unexpected that such a powerful figure would engage in such a ritual of praying to gods and Buddhas.
"Never mind, I'm already here anyway."
The one-armed old man gave a wry smile.
"Given my current situation, I have no right to judge others."
He walked up to the God Statue, looked up and saw God Statue faceless male figure with a dragon coiled on his shoulder and Sword Case on his back. On the platform in front of the God Statue, there was a large pile of incense and tinder for people to use at any time.
The old man took the incense sticks, lit them with some difficulty, bowed casually to the God Statue, and then placed them in the large cauldron in front of the God Statue.
Amidst the swirling incense smoke, the one-armed old man suddenly felt drowsy for some reason.
He waited for a while, but nothing happened, so he took a futon and sat down cross-legged to wait.
As he waited, the old man fell asleep without realizing it.
"!"
The old man suddenly woke up from his sleep, his head covered in cold sweat.
He dreamt that a man whose face he couldn't see appeared in his dream and fought him with a sword. In the dream, his body was completely unharmed, so he fought the man with his sword for several rounds. However, the man's swordsmanship was extraordinary, exceeding the old man's imagination. The old man was hung up and beaten. Just as the last sword was about to pierce his throat, the old man woke up in fright.
He Consciousness clenched his fists, then Consciousness something was wrong.
It wasn't just my left arm; it seemed like I could feel it in my right arm too.
Remnants of a dream?
The old man turned his head in confusion and looked to his right, where his right arm was intact and as smooth as new.
Somewhat bewildered, he tried clenching his fist, then pinched his face hard; the pain from his face and the Book of Questions filled him with ecstatic joy.
"It's true!"
He blurted out something Consciousness, then covered his mouth and looked around.
He hadn't forgotten that he was still in Clear Water Village, and had illegally infiltrated under the cover of night.
Looking out the window at the light, it seemed to be early morning. If he acted quickly, he might be able to sneak out of the village before the first villagers woke up.
The old man respectfully bowed towards the direction from which the Sword Qi had shot out of the window, then pushed open the door of the ancestral hall and went out.
Are you leaving already?
Suddenly someone shouted.
The one-armed old man looked up and saw the White Hair man who had practiced swordsmanship that day, and the child prodigy who had beaten him up with a bamboo sword, standing outside the ancestral hall, watching him leisurely.
"So you were all in cahoots."
The old man smiled wryly.
"Yes."
Bai Li shrugged.
"We're in cahoots."
"Anyway, I have to thank you."
The old man bowed to the two of them.
"Whatever your purpose, the fact that you healed my sword-wielding hand is the most important thing to me. Thank you for this kindness. I will repay you in any way I can in the future."
"That's perfect, we don't have many requirements."
Bai Qiuran smiled at the one-armed old man and said, "Stay here now, we'll treat you to breakfast, and then we'll tell you the story of the Foundation Establishment Heavenly Venerable."