The Story of the Curved Saber

Du Chengfeng only wanted to live a peaceful life.

It was not some grand wish. In fact, he had already achieved it. Through his own diligence, coupled with Carpenter Li's help, he had acquired a small courtyard in Yang Family Fort—a place of his own to settle down.

But now, the entire little courtyard lay ruined, a complete mess.

Diligence could give him the life he wanted, but it could not keep that life intact.

If he wanted to preserve that peace, to live an ordinary life, to survive in this chaotic age, then so-called diligence alone was far from enough.

He needed strength—strength that would allow a peaceful man like him, too weak to truss even a chicken and scarcely ever in a fight, to gain a foothold in this troubled world.

Fortunately, in this mad world, such a path did exist.

Though that path might be a little dangerous.

"If you see me rushing into your house with red eyes, shoot me with this bow."

Before everything began, Du Chengfeng first pulled Carpenter Li aside and handed him a bow and arrows.

"At that time, I might not recognize friend from foe, so even if it's just to protect your wife and children... forget it, that probably won't help. If something really happens, you'd better run as fast as you can."

Thinking of what he would be like once Sha Qi entered his body, Du Chengfeng took the bow and arrows back.

Rather than waste time shooting, Carpenter Li might as well run a few more steps. The man was slow to react already; Du Chengfeng should not make things harder for him.

After making his final arrangements, Du Chengfeng returned to his little courtyard. The collapsed house could not even hold a lamp, so he simply sat in the yard and, by moonlight, placed the whetstones within reach.

Then, from the pile of weapons at his side, he picked out a curved saber.

These weapons were spoils left behind by the Hu men. Once the Yang family learned that Du Chengfeng needed them, they had delivered them overnight. There were even spears used by the young and able men who had died in battle, which Du Chengfeng had specifically asked for.

At present, every weapon in Yang Family Fort that had killed someone was laid out in this courtyard.

And Du Chengfeng intended to polish them clean, one by one.

"All right, I know you want to be sharpened too, but we already know each other quite well. For now, let me make some new friends first."

He patted the heavy broadsword leaning against one side, then turned back and focused once more on the curved saber in his hands.

To be fair, this was not a good saber. From the handle material to the blade shape, it reeked of shoddy workmanship. Rather than a saber, it was more like a sharpened sheet of iron. Yet this battered curved saber carried bloodlust so dense it could not be dissolved; a single glance was enough to send chills through one's entire body.

"This saber has killed at least ten people."

Feeling the dense Sha Qi on the blade, Du Chengfeng made a rough judgment.

It could not help but delight him.

Anyone who could kill ten people on a battlefield had to possess some martial skill. And that meant that if he kept sharpening this saber, he would gain complete mastery of its former owner's skills—the martial arts of some Hu cavalryman.

Of course, in terms of achievements, this saber could not compare with the thick, heavy broadsword beside him. But what that blade carried was Fatty Yang's saber technique, which had ultimately only been used for slaughtering pigs. It was still far from genuine battlefield saber arts.

"Of course, I'm not saying you're weak. What I mean is, the stones of other hills may polish the jade of this one."

After soothing the broadsword at his side once again, Du Chengfeng set the curved saber in his hands against the whetstone and began to sharpen it.

Every chip and curl in its edge was something this saber had experienced, a road it had traveled.

And as he carefully repaired those damaged edges, he gradually came to understand the life of this curved saber.

Just as he had thought, this curved saber truly was crudely made. A grassland blacksmith had merely hammered out the rough shape of a saber, fitted it with a handle, and sold it to a Hu rider. After receiving the saber, the first thing the Hu rider did was find a sheep to test it on.

The test result was rather awkward. The blade lodged in the sheep's neck, and a small chip broke off on the spot.

The goods were faulty, so naturally the Hu warrior carried the saber back to demand an explanation from the blacksmith. He had traded several sheep for this saber, after all, only to receive this thing. No matter how good-tempered he was, he could not stand it.

But the blacksmith had no intention of taking it back. No matter how furious the Hu rider became, the blacksmith insisted there was nothing wrong with his work.

"This is a saber I forged with my own hands. How could it possibly have a problem?"

Faced with the Hu rider's repeated questioning, the blacksmith grew a little impatient as well.

"Where is it chipped? Give it to me. Bring it here and let me see."

Hearing that the blacksmith was still arguing, the Hu rider naturally had to reason it out with him. He handed over the saber immediately.

Then came a crack, and the Hu rider's head and body were separated on the spot.

The enraged blacksmith proved with facts that there was nothing wrong with his craftsmanship.

But after killing a man, he could no longer remain in that tribe. The Hu rider's brothers would come and hack him to death in a storm of blades. So before anyone discovered what had happened, the blacksmith packed up and fled overnight to another tribe.

As for the saber, the blacksmith did not throw it away. It was still merchandise, after all. Perhaps he could sell it somewhere else.

The idea was a fine one, and Du Chengfeng felt there was nothing wrong with such thrift. The only flaw was that he still had not seen any of the Hu men's battlefield martial arts in the saber's memories.

Since there was nothing wrong with the saber itself, surely the blacksmith had later sold it to some warrior?

"How can your saber not even kill a sheep?!"

Another Hu rider who had bought the saber began shouting at the blacksmith.

The blacksmith had originally wanted to brush it off, but the Hu rider would not let up. These grassland men seemed to despise dishonest merchants. They insisted on grabbing hold of the blacksmith and getting to the bottom of it.

After arguing too many times, the blacksmith grew fed up. He simply took the saber back, raised his hand, and swung it.

A head as large as a bucket fell to the ground. There was still nothing wrong with the saber.

It was just that he could no longer stay in this tribe either.

"...No."

Du Chengfeng had already begun to sense that something seemed off, but the journey of the blacksmith and the saber continued.

He did not know whether the blacksmith was simply too unlucky, or whether this curved saber was too unlucky. The blacksmith passed through nine tribes and sold the saber nine times, and every single sale ended in trouble. Each time, the buyer came to argue with him, and each time, the blacksmith was provoked until his temper flared.

Sometimes, the blacksmith even regretted it afterward. But in the instant his temper rose, with the saber still in his hand, he simply could not suppress the urge to bring it down in a strike.

"Uh..."

After seeing it all, even Du Chengfeng felt that the blacksmith should just throw the saber away. Was it worth scurrying about in such a miserable state everywhere for a piece of scrap iron?

By coincidence, the blacksmith thought the same. After nine consecutive incidents, even a pig would have realized something was wrong. Trembling with fear, the blacksmith ran to a large tribe called the Azure Sheep Tribe, hoping to find a renowned great shaman to take a look at him.

But just as the blacksmith was about to reach the great shaman's door, passing soldiers seized him and dragged him straight into the army camp.

Only after being locked up in the camp did the blacksmith learn that the Azure Sheep Tribe was preparing to head south to seize grain. Everyone taller than a cartwheel had to go south. His luck had truly turned foul for him to arrive at precisely this time, and the saber that had killed nine people already bore some fierce, baleful blood aura, making him seem even more like a warrior who had seen blood and killed men.

As for his blacksmithing tools, the soldiers had tossed them aside.

The Azure Sheep Tribe had no need for another blacksmith right now. The craft he had thought could take him anywhere under heaven was utterly meaningless here.

So, mounted on a horse with a saber at his waist, the blacksmith rode south with the soldiers. Though he had been somewhat panicked at first, he soon came to think this might be his good fortune. How could the income from burying his head in blacksmithing compare to raiding the south?

He had heard that the south was unlike the northern desert grasslands. Not only was the climate warm and the land rich in goods, but every Southern Chen person was fabulously wealthy, their homes filled with silks, gold, silver, and treasure. If he could make one good haul, why would he ever need to forge iron again?

With that thought, the blacksmith carried the curved saber and followed behind the armored Hu general, charging into Yang Family Fort with the first wave, ready to seize a great fortune.

Then, within that memory, Du Chengfeng saw his own face.

"This..."

Du Chengfeng fell silent for a moment after returning to consciousness from the memory.

This time, he had not lost consciousness. The Sha Qi on the curved saber seemed nowhere near enough to affect his reason. It was simply that the memory the saber had given him was rather tooth-grindingly awkward.

Especially when he saw the blacksmith chopped down by his own blade, that subtle embarrassment made him toss the saber aside at once.

Perhaps this saber's greatest use was as a gift for friends and family. Whoever he disliked, he could give them this saber. With how unlucky it was, anyone who received it would surely live in perfect happiness and enjoy a prosperous household.

Still, sharpening this unlucky curved saber had not left him entirely empty-handed.

Though he had failed to learn the battlefield martial arts he wanted most, he had seen the blacksmith's forging skills clearly. He was not yet at the level of being called a master craftsman, but when it came to selecting iron materials and working steel, Du Chengfeng had at least stepped through the gate.

"That counts as a good thing."

Thinking this, Du Chengfeng turned his gaze to the pile of weapons beside him.

This time, he could tell the quality of those weapons at a glance.

Which ones looked imposing but were actually crudely made, and which looked unimpressive but became as obedient as one's own arm once held—among these several hundred weapons, Du Chengfeng understood all their merits and flaws with a single sweep of his eyes.

But soon, Du Chengfeng's gaze stopped on an axe.

It was the finest weapon in the pile, and also the one that had left the deepest impression on him.

It was the great axe left behind by the armored Hu general he had slain.

Thanks to Dreams of Writing for the recommendation votes, and thanks to Eight Clusters of Clouds and Crab-Fed King 39 for the monthly votes. Thank you all for your encouragement and support. Your encouragement is my greatest motivation.