Sword City

In the hall, Ning Chen stopped eating abruptly. He turned to look at the shopkeeper, a terrifying green glint rising in his eyes. "Shopkeeper, the dishes haven't all been served yet, have they?"

"I... I'll bring them right away."

Under that dreadful gaze, the shopkeeper broke out in a cold sweat and stammered his reply.

Once the shopkeeper left, Ning Chen turned his gaze toward the others nearby. Killing intent overflowed from him, frightening them into scattering like startled birds as they hurried back to fetch the food.

The remaining dishes were quickly brought out. The shopkeeper, the waiters, the chef, the vegetable washers, and the rest began gathering around to watch again, and their numbers showed every sign of growing.

Several laborers sleeping in the back hall were alarmed by the commotion. Curious, they came over for a glance—and were so shocked their jaws nearly dropped.

How could one even describe it? The sight of a man and a horse eating was simply like swallowing mountains and rivers, utterly insane...

Everyone had unforgettable moments in life, one kind or another. Yet in the pitiful memories of everyone present, the pair of starving ghosts before them was destined to leave behind a horrifying image—more terrifying than the snow that day, something seen once in a hundred years.

Half an hour later, the man and horse finally stopped. They looked at each other, grinned broadly, and wore the same satisfaction, the same happiness.

The battle was over. The chef and the others drifted back to sleep in a daze, unable to come back to their senses the entire way.

Little White Horse was led by a waiter to rest in the stable, while Ning Chen rented a room and prepared to sleep properly for the night.

He had experienced too much these past days. His mind had been forcibly stuffed with too many inconceivable things and had long since been overloaded.

In the end, he was still an ordinary person, capable of joy and sorrow, with thoughts of his own. He could not accept so many unimaginable ideas all at once.

That night was peaceful beyond compare. Little White Horse in the stable and Ning Chen in the guest room both slept like the sky had darkened and the earth had turned black; not even thunder could wake them.

It was nearly noon the next day before Ning Chen pushed open his door. He dragged awake Little White Horse, which was still sleeping, and prepared to continue their journey.

Little White Horse had not slept enough and was in a foul mood—or rather, an utterly terrible one. So it threw a tantrum, rolling about on the ground and refusing to leave.

Ning Chen sat to one side, watching it sulk with a cold sneer. After a moment, he drew Ink Sword with a clang and drove it into the stone paving. "Are you going or not?"

At the sight of Ink Sword embedded in the ground, Little White Horse jolted violently. Its mind instantly cleared, and it let out a whinny before scrambling to its feet and taking its place.

"At least you know what's good for you." Ning Chen sheathed Ink Sword, smiling without warmth.

With some horses, you simply could not treat them too well. Give them the slightest bit of color, and they would climb onto your nose and start a dye shop.

Ning Chen made up his mind to return to the palace and see Changsun.

It had been a difficult decision. He did not yet know how he would return, but he had to go back.

The letter in his hands was of tremendous importance. More importantly, the Western Palace's successive assassination attempts had thoroughly infuriated him.

Within the imperial palace, Changsun was the only person he trusted. If he wanted the Western Palace to have some scruples, the letter was safest in Changsun's hands.

But a decision was one thing. The moment he thought of seeing Changsun, Ning Chen's heart quailed. Trust and fear were entirely different matters. If he had not been forced into it, he truly would not have dared to return.

He wondered whether, after so much time had passed, the anger in Changsun's heart had subsided.

Frightened, Ning Chen muttered to Little White Horse as they traveled, "Little White, in a few days, I'll take you to meet someone."

Little White Horse snorted in surprise, turning its head and blinking its eyes as if asking, "Who?"

Ning Chen's body trembled slightly. He gave a dry laugh. "You'll know when you see her."

For most of the morning, Ning Chen wheeled himself around the city, buying many things along the way before tossing all of them onto Little White Horse's back.

They had carried their own things before because they were unfamiliar with each other. Now that they knew each other so well, why distinguish between yours and mine?

Besides, this fellow ate his food and drank his supplies. It had to pay some price somehow.

Little White Horse accepted the oppression with grievance and did not dare resist. That morning's threat was still vivid in its mind, so it could only swallow this mute loss in silence.

Half a day later, the man and horse set off, heading south. The imperial capital lay in that direction.

Before that, though, he still had to return to the academy. After seeing Changsun, he wanted to visit Sword City in the east.

Tiancang Academy and the imperial capital were not actually far apart. To a very small number of people, they could even be considered extremely close.

Great Xia's peak martial strength was not particularly formidable. The reason it could still suppress the four directions was, first, its invincible military strength, and second, the existence of the academy.

The Headmaster of the academy was one of the five strongest people in the world. Even though a sixth innate expert had now appeared, it did not change the fact that the Headmaster remained one of the strongest five.

Innate experts also needed time to accumulate strength. Reaching the innate realm in a single step did not mean one could immediately possess the world-shaking power of those five.

Though the sixth innate expert was extraordinarily gifted, that person still needed time to settle and mature.

In this world, perhaps no one but Ning Chen could be certain who the sixth innate expert was. That desolate city in the east was too mysterious; even Great Xia was unwilling to provoke it lightly.

One of Great Xia's strongest Martial Marquises had been stationed there for years, making the world ever more curious about the origins of that eastern city.

Yet over the years, not a single spy sent into that city had returned alive. Whenever swordsmen looked toward it, their hearts grew heavy, because they saw a sword within the city.

Or rather, what they saw was an entire city that was itself a sword.

Thus, swordsmen throughout the world called that desolate city Sword City.

It was a supreme sword, all its edge concealed, yet it made swordsmen across the world submit.

People said that Sword City might contain an incomparably powerful swordsman, one even innate experts feared.

The rumor was absurd. Everyone knew the innate realm was the sacred realm of martial arts, wholly different from the acquired realm. If someone could battle an innate expert, that person would surely also be innate.

Yet even such an absurd rumor was deeply believed by many swordsmen. They believed that one who entered the Dao through proving the sword could contend against innate experts even if their physical cultivation had not broken into the innate realm.

Whether the rumor was true or false, Sword City's power was beyond doubt. It had forced Great Xia to send a Martial Marquis with troops to guard it year-round, showing just how terrifying a deterrent martial force could become once it reached a certain level.

Tiancang Academy, Du'e Temple, Eternal Night Temple, the Northern Mongol Golden Tent, and Sword City—these were forbidden lands for martial artists throughout the world. No expert dared enter them without authorization.

Ning Chen did not know what relationship Mu Chengxue had with Sword City, but sooner or later, he had to go there. Perhaps after this return to the palace.

He wanted to see what had happened to that woman. He still could not forget the aura from that day. It had been a cold indifference that severed everything, so cold that it chilled his heart.

Mu Chengxue had been the first person he encountered in this life, and she held an extraordinary significance for him. He hated the feeling that had floated in his heart that day. Unless he confirmed with his own eyes whether his premonition was true, he would never be able to set down the stone weighing on his heart.

His purpose in returning to the academy was simple. Whether he returned to the palace or went to Sword City in the east, he might encounter dangers beyond imagination. He needed to move faster, and the wheelchair beneath him was truly too slow already.

There was a Mr. Lu at the academy, and what he excelled at most was the art of ingenious craftsmanship. Back then, Mr. Lu had said it was his first time making a wheelchair, so he was bound to be a little rusty at it. Ning Chen should just make do with it.

Although Ning Chen had always felt that the wheelchair far exceeded Old Lu's claim of merely making do, it was still too slow now. He had to return and replace it.

Originally, he had wanted to wait until he was stronger—strong enough to protect himself—before going to Sword City in the east to find Mu Chengxue. But he was not a patient person after all. Enduring for this long had already been his limit.

He had listened to The Master and taken a trip north. It had untied the knot in his heart and served as a form of training. He had always lived beneath Changsun's protection, experiencing much but growing little. In the end, every person had to walk their own road, and he was no exception.

With a clear goal in mind, the return journey was much faster than the trip there. Every time they passed through a new place, Little White Horse was full of excitement, but Ning Chen could not lift his spirits at all, because he discovered that the Golden Pages he had obtained on the sacrificial platform were truly maddening.

The cultivation art recorded on the page was powerful, but its requirements were frighteningly high. The techniques in particular directly required one to be at least above the innate realm before cultivating them.

Ning Chen felt deeply indignant. If he had the innate realm, why would he train such damned techniques? He could simply rely on his cultivation and slap his enemies to death.

He could not train the techniques, but he could study the cultivation technique. The dantian's vortex space in the human body was vast. As long as one was not afraid of death, it could hold true qi of however many attributes one wished.

Unfortunately, the essence of the page lay in the techniques recorded at the end. Though the cultivation technique was also extraordinary, without the techniques to support it, it could not display more than a fraction of its power.

The only good news was that the circulation methods of the two Golden Pages did not conflict. In other words, even if he trained it, it would not train him to death.

And so, he trained it.

Naturally, he still focused on the cultivation art from the first Golden Page. This one was only for emergencies.

Ten days later, the travel-worn man and horse finally returned to the academy.

By then, the academy's students had also begun their term.

After returning, Ning Chen first paid his respects to The Master. Only a little over a month had passed, yet The Master had grown older. Still, he appeared to be in good spirits.

The Master liked Little White Horse very much, so Ning Chen simply left the fellow there and went to find Mr. Lu himself.

Old Lu's residence was not within the academy, but in a solitary courtyard roughly three li away.

Old Lu liked peace and quiet. He particularly hated being disturbed when researching new ideas, but Ning Chen felt that he got along quite well with this strange old man.

When Ning Chen arrived at Mr. Lu's residence, the door to the solitary courtyard was closed. The meaning was obvious: no one was welcome inside.

He knew that at this hour, the strange old man was probably still studying those frames and contraptions of his. So Ning Chen did not rush. Instead, he sat quietly outside and waited.

Before long, an irritable voice came from the courtyard. "Come in."

Ning Chen smiled faintly. He pushed open the door and entered, only to see a disheveled old man tinkering with something amid a pile of wood.

"Old Lu."

"You're not dead yet?"

Without even raising his head, Old Lu already knew who had come. He had made the wheelchair; he could tell just from its sound.

Ning Chen laughed helplessly. "Old Lu worries too much. This kid still doesn't want to die."

Yet before his words had even faded, Ning Chen's pupils contracted sharply. His right hand instantly drew Ink Sword and held it across his body. With a bang, he and his wheelchair slid backward more than three zhang.

"Not bad. You've improved quite a bit."

Old Lu clapped his hands and more or less understood why Ning Chen had come. This wheelchair truly was too slow.

Cough, cough.

Ning Chen felt a heaviness in his chest and spat out a mouthful of blood. He immediately glared at the old man before him and snapped, "Old Lu, hasn't your menopause passed yet?"

"Menopause?"

Old Lu did not understand and asked in confusion.

Ning Chen wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "It means I'm praising you for being clever."

Old Lu nodded. "Oh. Then your whole family is menopausal."