He Was Not a Sword Cultivator, but the Sword Had Always Been There

"You've come at the perfect time, could you write something for me?"

"Character?"

"Sigh, it's all because of that 'Record' character on the sign outside; it disappeared sometime ago," Manager Li said with a sigh.

"You just dropped it like that, and who picked it up? I've looked all over and can't find it."

Qin Wangchuan glanced at the door, then at him:

"I really didn't notice that."

"Sigh, it does look bad if you don't look up," Manager Li waved his hand, "But it's still the storefront, isn't it?"

"I was thinking of writing something down and asking Old Zhang from the next town to make an iron plaque to hang it up."

"Let my unfilial son write one, but his handwriting is too ugly, crooked and messy, it's embarrassing to show him."

"I wrote a few myself, but I'm not very satisfied with them either."

He brandished the pen in his hand and laughed, "Well, I was just about to go find the teacher when you arrived."

Without further ado, Manager Li continued speaking.

He reached out and pulled the waiter behind the counter aside.

He then pulled a piece of paper from under the counter, laid it on the counter, and handed the pen to Qin Wangchuan.

"Please write one for me."

Qin Wangchuan did not refuse and took the pen. "What word do you want?"

"Just the word 'note'." Shopkeeper Li supported the counter with one hand and leaned forward slightly, "The note from Li's Note Paper Shop is enough."

Qin Wangchuan up his pen and put it down.

It's strange; it's just an ordinary calligraphy brush, but in his hands, it seems to have gained strength and power.

The brushstrokes fall with a measured pace, conveying a sense of composure in every transition.

Manager Li was watching intently, his eyes glued to the screen.

But just as he finished the last stroke, he suddenly felt a moment of distraction.

The character seemed to come alive, its strokes sharp and pointed at every turn, like a sword drawn from its sheath.

Cold, sharp, piercing straight into the eyes.

He blinked sharply.

Upon closer inspection, there was only one character on the paper, neatly and quietly written.

"Alright."

Qin Wangchuan put down his pen.

Manager Li reached out and picked up the paper, holding it up to his eyes.

The strokes are indeed powerful, but they completely lack the feeling from before.

There was no sword, no edge, nothing at all.

He rubbed his eyes and muttered, "That's strange."

I looked again, but there was still nothing.

"What's wrong?" Qin Wangchuan asked.

"It's nothing, I probably just didn't sleep well."

Shopkeeper Li waved his hand, picked up the paper again, and then examined it carefully. "Tsk tsk, no wonder the teacher often praises you."

"With just this handwriting, you could set up a stall and make a living."

You flatter me.

Qin Wangchuan shook his head, then asked, "Should this be sent to the next town?"

"Otherwise, what can we do? There's no blacksmith in our village."

Manager Li carefully placed the paper on the counter and pressed down the corners with his fingers.

"The martial arts school has it," Qin Wangchuan said. "I can go run errands for you."

Manager Li was taken aback. "Really?"

Although Martial Practitioner are also of commoner origin, they possess martial arts skills and therefore have a certain degree of self-esteem.

The blacksmith at the martial arts school only makes weapons; he never takes on jobs for ordinary people.

But Qin Wangchuan is different--

His relationship with the martial arts school was something Qin Rang risked his life for.

Manager Li's eyes darted around, and he slapped his thigh. "Alright!"

He turned his head and gave the waiter next to him a wink.

The waiter understood, crawled behind the counter, and pulled out two strings of copper coins.

Manager Li took it and shoved it into Qin Wangchuan's hand.

"Take this as a small token of my appreciation for running errands."

"That's too much, we can't..."

Just as Qin Wangchuan was about to decline, Manager Li had already pressed his hand down.

"Sure, sure, just don't think it's too little."

"Rather than let someone else profit from it, I'd rather give it to you."

"But I have one condition."

"What are the conditions?"

"It's nothing, I just wanted you to write one more word for me."

Shopkeeper Li pointed to the empty wall behind him, "I'm not putting it anywhere else, I'm just hanging it on this wall."

"From now on, whoever enters my shop will see this first thing."

Qin Wangchuan glanced at the wall and shook his head. "You flatter me."

Despite saying that, he did not refuse and picked up his pen again.

"Write what?"

Just write --

Manager Li opened his mouth, but suddenly choked.

He originally intended to say the four words "honest and fair to all, young and old".

You can see Qin Wangchuan's eyes; they are gentle and clear, yet they subtly reveal something indescribable.

Like the water in a deep pool, it looks calm, but who knows what lies hidden beneath.

Manager Li stroked his chin, thinking it over and over.

The sharp edge of that word suddenly popped into my mind, like a ray of light.

"Just write the character 'sword'!"

Upon suddenly hearing this word, Qin Wangchuan's heart stirred.

She withdrew the pen she was about to use, looked up at him, and asked, "A sword?"

"Yes, a sword."

Why a sword?

Manager Li was stumped by his question.

Why?

He himself couldn't explain it clearly.

I just felt that the sharpness in that word shouldn't be buried.

I just felt that the young man in front of me shouldn't only write such bland words as "honest and trustworthy to all ages."

"Why..."

"Of course it's because the character for 'sword' looks good!"

"A balance of strength and gentleness, with flexibility and control."

"You can write it; it's appropriate."

"A sword that combines strength and gentleness? This is the first time I've heard of such a thing." Qin Wangchuan shook his head.

"I'm talking about you." Manager Li looked at him, his gaze becoming more serious. "A balance of strength and gentleness, a mastery of control."

I?

Qin Wangchuan was slightly taken aback upon hearing this, but did not respond.

I wielded a sword in the Immortal Court, thinking that once I entered this mortal Outer Domain, I should lay down the sword.

Unexpectedly, in the paper shop of this small town, a shopkeeper inadvertently revealed the truth.

Even if they are not Sword Cultivator.

In the Unseen, the Dao Sword always followed him.

Lay out the paper, dip it in ink, and begin writing.

The character for "sword" was written in one breath, with a continuous and fluid stroke.

When the last stroke was made, the whole character seemed to come alive.

Its sharpness is fully revealed, like a blade drawn from its sheath.

Manager Li leaned over to take a look, his eyes lighting up, repeatedly saying, "Good, good!"

He carefully picked up the paper, blew on the ink, and handed it to the waiter, saying, "Go and get someone to frame it."

"Hang it right in the middle, or I'll make you pay."

The waiter responded and ran to the back room with the paper in his hands.

Looking at Manager Li's wide grin, Qin Wangchuan couldn't help but smile as well.

But that smile quickly faded.

Without hesitation, he reached into his sleeve, took out the two strings of coins, and placed them on the counter.

"Uncle Li."

Manager Li turned his head, saw the two strings of coins, and his smile faltered.

Qin Wangchuan pushed the money forward:

"I can't accept this money."

"Running an errand is a small matter for me."

"Minor matters will be reported; I'll just grab a pen and a bowl of ink and leave."

Manager Li opened his mouth, as if to say something.

But seeing the determination in Qin Wangchuan's eyes, she swallowed back the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

He chuckled and shook his head.

"You really are different from your father."

"He wouldn't refuse in something like this."

Qin Wangchuan didn't reply.

Shopkeeper Li didn't insist any further. He turned around, walked to the shelf, picked out a pen, and took a bowl of ink.

Wrap it in paper and hand it over.

"Qin Chuan."

He suddenly spoke, his tone much more casual, "You're so smart, and you write so well, wouldn't you like to continue your studies?"

Qin Wangchuan shook his head. "I want to be a blacksmith."

"A blacksmith?" Manager Li was taken aback for a moment, then his expression turned serious. "With handwriting like that, you want to be a blacksmith?"

"Isn't that ridiculous!"

"Having good handwriting doesn't affect your blacksmithing skills."

"And Uncle Li, I've changed my name. I'm now Qin Wangchuan."

"Qin Wangchuan..."

Manager Li repeated it twice, "This name is quite interesting."

"Alright, Qin Wangchuan."

He paused, then lowered his voice. "But you really don't plan to continue reading?"

"Listen to Uncle Li—your father is gone, but your studies must continue."

"If you're willing, Uncle Li will support you. You can pay me back when you become successful in the future."

Qin Wangchuan turned around and looked into Manager Li's eyes.

"Uncle Li, I know you're doing this for my own good."

"But that's not a small amount of money."

"And what will others think?"

Manager Li opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.

Qin Wangchuan had already rolled up the written "note" and held it in his hand.

"I'm leaving now, Uncle Li."

He turned and walked out.

When I got to the door, I looked up and realized that a word was indeed missing.

Li's Paper Shop became Li Paper Shop.

Manager Li stood there, watching the slender figure leave through the door.

She opened her mouth, but ultimately didn't call out to him again.

"Poor child."

He sighed, then bent down and put the two strings of coins into the counter.

Just as Qin Wangchuan left, Li's Paper Shop welcomed a special guest.

The newcomer, dressed in Green Robe, entered with his hands behind his back.

His face was thin and refined, his eyes were clear and bright, and although his hair and beard were white, he did not look old. He had an air of otherworldly refinement about him.

He stepped across the threshold, his gaze casually sweeping across the shop, but suddenly stopped.

His gaze was fixed on the newly hung character for "sword" on the wall.