Looking at this tattered bamboo sword, An Le truly did not know what to say.
If not for the Time Qi around the old man swaying enchantingly like seaweed, dense beyond count, marking him as a peerless expert, An Le would truly have thought the other man was toying with him.
The spring rain pattered softly, leaving the little courtyard hushed and still.
An Le accepted the bamboo sword the old man offered. It was feather-light in his hand, naturally far lighter than a metal sword. The sword hilt, sword pommel, and blade were all made of bamboo, looking like a toy bamboo sword a grandfather might have whittled with a woodcutter's knife to amuse his grandson.
"What? Are you disappointed?"
The old man seemed to see through An Le's astonishment and smiled somewhat mischievously.
"A gift from an elder is not to be declined by one younger." Holding the sword, An Le said, "Besides, a bamboo sword is still a sword. Since Senior has gifted me a sword, it is a gift. How could I show disappointment merely because I am dissatisfied with it?"
The old man looked at An Le, seeming to see straight through his thoughts. "I know you want a good sword. This bamboo sword indeed looks shabby, but it has accompanied this old man through long years. It is an old companion, and I wanted to find it a good new owner."
"That Ink Wash Bamboo and Stone Painting of yours suited my tastes quite well. One could see the proud, upright character of a gentleman in the painting. Perhaps you will make a fine sword-bearer, and thus a good destination for this bamboo sword."
"If you are truly suited to it, you will naturally discover what is good about the bamboo sword."
The old man drew back his wide plain-clothed sleeve, dampened by rain. His gaze remained fixed upon the bamboo sword, and deep in his eyes lay traces of reluctance, even a little unwillingness.
An Le's gaze fell upon the bamboo sword. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed utterly ordinary.
The bamboo sword was two feet and seven inches long. It was not a longsword, but it still possessed the bearing of a sword. It had no scabbard, not even an edge. An Le did not know whether a swing of it could even cut through a cultivator's skin.
Yet the old man's words made An Le take it seriously. This was no simple sword—it was the old man's entrustment.
"I will take good care of this sword."
An Le spoke solemnly, as if making an oath.
Hearing this, the old man immediately stroked his beard and burst into laughter. "You are quite the interesting lad. Though it is a bamboo sword, it is not delicate. Swing it when it should be swung, clash it when it should clash. Do not fear damaging the sword."
"Even the number one person under heaven could not break this tattered bamboo sword, so what are you afraid of?"
"A sword is a sword—a weapon for battle and killing. Trying to protect a sword is an insult to the sword."
The old man looked at An Le and instructed him.
Hearing this, An Le immediately understood. He nodded, and a subtle change came over his eyes. Since the old man had put it this way, there was surely something extraordinary about this sword that he had yet to discover.
"This sword originally had no name. It was made from a green bamboo I happened upon, so I named it 'Green Hills.' It happens to connect with the poem in your bamboo and stone painting, so that may be called fate. Green Hills has accompanied me through many years, but for you, little friend, it is a new beginning. You may rename the sword as you please." The old man was very carefree about it.
"I find the green hills so alluring; the green hills must see me the same way." An Le suddenly thought of the line and said with a light smile, "The sword's name is quite good."
The old man froze for a moment. Light rippled through his eyes, and then he stroked his beard and laughed heartily.
After that, they spoke no more of the sword. A sword once given would not be taken back.
Looking at An Le, the old man smiled. "You still have work at Lin Manor, do you not? Remember to take leave in three days. This old man will take you somewhere."
Hearing this, An Le did not ask where they were going. He simply nodded.
"Off I go. Tonight, I shall come again to discuss that Ink Bamboo painting with you. Remember to prepare wine and food. The Old Yellow Wine at the tavern in Yanchun Lane has enough flavor, though their meat is only so-so. For meat, you still need that beef shop in Dingya Alley—it has real flavor."
The old man waved his hand, opened his umbrella, and left the little courtyard. His soft laughter lingered through the alleyways: "I find the green hills so alluring..."
Just as he stepped out of the courtyard, hurried footsteps rang out from Imperial Ancestral Temple Alley.
Huang Xian, captain of the Black Office, wore an official's uniform soaked through by rain as he arrived outside the courtyard. Seeing the plain-clothed old man walking toward the mouth of the alley, he paid him little mind. There was not a trace of spiritual energy fluctuation around the old man; he was merely an ordinary person.
"Young Master An..."
Seeing the courtyard gate wide open, Huang Xian hurried inside and called for An Le.
The moment he entered, he saw the headless corpse on the ground. The words he had begun to speak instantly froze in his throat.
"Captain Huang, you came at just the right time. I was preparing to look for you."
An Le held the yellowed bamboo sword and smiled when he saw Captain Huang.
But Captain Huang could not smile. His expression was grave. "Hu Jingang?"
Bathed in the spring rain, An Le wore a gentle smile, like an exiled immortal descended from the dust of this world. He gave a slight nod.
"You killed him?" Captain Huang drew a breath, disbelief already mixed into his voice.
An Le walked toward the room, took a towel to dry his hair, and said, "Hu Jingang attacked last night. He said the wanted portrait I drew had made him suffer relentless pursuit and capture, so he came to kill me."
"I naturally could not sit and await death, so I could only defend myself and strike back, killing him."
Huang Xian slowly suppressed the shock in his heart. That morning, the yamen had received a report from the night watchman: an unidentified head had been found on Qingbo Street. After its identity was confirmed, it turned out to belong to the notorious bandit Hu Jingang, so the case was transferred to the Black Office.
Huang Xian had led his men here. Upon realizing the location was at the entrance to Imperial Ancestral Temple Alley, he could not help thinking of An Le and immediately hurried over. Yet Hu Jingang had truly been killed by An Le.
"Young Master An, it is good that you are unharmed. Hu Jingang was guilty of monstrous crimes. Killing him counts as punishing evil and upholding good. The Black Office will not pursue this matter, and may even reward you with a bounty." Knowing this was An Le's first time killing someone, Huang Xian sought to comfort him.
An Le had earned quite a substantial sum from drawing several sketch portraits for the young masters of Lin Manor, so he did not care much about the bounty. Entering the room, he changed into a clean white robe, fastened the tattered bamboo sword at his waist, took an oil-paper umbrella, and prepared to head to Lin Manor for work.
"Captain Huang, Hu Jingang was a Black Office fugitive. Please send someone to deal with this corpse."
An Le opened his umbrella. Raindrops fell in succession, striking the canopy with dull thuds.
Wearing a bamboo rain hat, Huang Xian smiled. "Rest assured, leave everything to me."
Before long, he summoned men to handle Hu Jingang's corpse. Huang Xian said nothing further, only clasped his hands toward An Le. In his heart, his estimation of An Le rose ever higher.
Though this boy had only completed his cultivation initiation at eighteen, he was like a hidden dragon emerging from an abyss, destined to shine with dazzling brilliance!
"Another day, I shall come drink wine and eat meat with Young Master An, and personally thank you for killing that utterly wicked Hu Jingang."
Huang Xian solemnly clasped his hands in salute, and An Le returned the gesture.
After Huang Xian and the constables vanished into the alleyways,
An Le locked the courtyard gate. With one umbrella, one sword, and one white robe, he left the rainy alley and headed west toward West Lake.
Distant peaks faintly showed clustered dark brows; no wonder spring had brought such chill.
West Lake lay beneath mist and rain, dotted with circles of ripples, possessing a flavor all its own.
After waiting for some time amid the throng of scholars and poets, he still did not see Fairy Yun Rou arrive in sword control. He could not help feeling rather regretful.
He had failed to pluck the first strand of Time Qi wool for the day.
Without seeing Fairy Yun Rou, even the misty rain scenery of West Lake seemed several degrees less interesting. An Le did not linger long by the lake embankment and turned toward Lin Manor.
As usual, he came to work for the day. The one opening the door was still the maid Liu Xiang. Seeing An Le in white robes whiter than snow amid the spring rain, the girl's eyes shimmered with the tenderness of springtime longing.
"Miss Liu Xiang, please trouble yourself to inform Madam Hua that I have something to request an audience over."
An Le smiled gently.
Liu Xiang's pretty face reddened. "Young Master An, Madam Hua has said that if you wish to see her, you may go directly to Tianbo Water Pavilion."
An Le nodded. After bidding Liu Xiang farewell, he held his umbrella and headed for Tianbo Water Pavilion. With a bamboo sword at his waist and the hems of his white robes fluttering, he appeared increasingly carefree and elegant.
At Tianbo Water Pavilion, spring rain fell from the high sky like countless crystalline ice pearls descending into the mortal world.
It struck the black tiles of the pavilion's upturned eaves, ringing out in crisp, unbroken notes.
Within the main hall, the spring breeze flowing through the corridor carried misty droplets of spring rain. It drifted and swayed, lifting the gauzy hem beneath Madam Hua's brocaded robes as she reclined upon a couch.
Every morning, Madam Hua brewed tea and read in the main hall of the water pavilion. This had been her habit for many years.
An Le closed his umbrella and entered the main hall. Its tip dragged across the floor, leaving a rain trail that gradually thinned and faded.
Madam Hua lowered her book. Her delicate, exquisitely sculpted features turned toward the visiting young painter.
Hm?
At that glance, Madam Hua was immediately stunned. Within her Primordial Spirit, she could not sense An Le's physique-forging blood qi or his spirit-refining mental power.
It was as though a layer of hazy gauze obscured An Le's cultivation realm, preventing her from probing it.
Such a situation was truly rare.
Madam Hua's long eyelashes trembled lightly. Her gaze shifted downward from An Le's handsome, refined face and settled at his waist, where she saw a tattered, yellowed bamboo sword.
At first glance, Madam Hua had thought it was merely an ordinary ruined bamboo sword.
But after examining it closely, her Primordial Spirit shuddered, as though she had thought of something.
A flash of horror immediately appeared on Madam Hua's delicate, elegant face.
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