Swordsman Cui Yuan

Back in the courtyard, Du Chengfeng examined the longsword in his hand.

The blade was three chi long, the hilt eight cun and two fen. Its body was narrow, long, and keen-edged. Simply holding it gave him the urge to find something to stab, pierce, and carve apart. This was not even the influence of any Sha Qi from a weapon—it was simply because the sword fit his hand too perfectly.

"This sword really is quite good."

Though Du Chengfeng had never seen many fine swords, with his current understanding of weapons and combat, a single touch was enough for him to judge a weapon's quality.

Like the sword in his hand: its steel was sharp enough to sever hairs blown against it, and its balance and feel were first-rate as well.

This was not something an ordinary civilian workshop could have forged.

"It is called Wind-Riding."

The scarred man named Cui Yuan spoke, his words full of tenderness.

"I ask that you treat it with care, sir."

Du Chengfeng pretended not to hear him.

Naming a weapon and treating it like a person—no wonder this Cui Yuan had spoken politely just now while suddenly attacking him. Du Chengfeng had once thought mental illness was merely an adjective, but now it seemed Cui Yuan's symptoms were no mild matter.

Yet when Du Chengfeng laid the blade against the whetstone, he learned that there was a reason Cui Yuan had named the sword.

That had been fifteen years ago. Cui Yuan had only been fourteen then, still very young. Orphaned by the deaths of both parents, he had followed his teacher in studying both letters and martial arts, never tiring in his efforts.

But one day, his teacher suddenly gave Cui Yuan his own sword as a farewell gift.

"When the great roc rises one day upon the wind, it soars straight up ninety thousand li. I hope that, like this straight sword, you will become an upright man."

Before leaving, Cui Yuan's teacher had offered his disciple this blessing and told him to make sure he ate properly.

But the young Cui Yuan merely shook his head.

"Master, I'll go with you. Wherever you go, I'll go."

"I told you not to call me Master. Call me Teacher."

The tall man crouched down and placed his hands on Cui Yuan's shoulders.

"This time, Teacher is going somewhere dangerous, to accomplish a great undertaking. Just as you have your own aspirations, Teacher has his own as well. From now on, you will be on your own. Live well..."

"Then why can't I go?"

Cui Yuan clenched his teeth as hot tears streamed down his face.

"Is it because I'm a bandit's son? Because of where I came from?"

"It has nothing to do with your origins."

The tall man raised a hand and wiped the tears from Cui Yuan's face.

"It is because this matter truly is dangerous. Teacher can do it, but your strength right now is still far from enough."

It was precisely because of that parting and that gifted sword that young Cui Yuan found the resolve to practice the sword.

At this point, Du Chengfeng still found it normal enough. On the Northern Ji frontier, partings like this happened not every day, perhaps, but at least three to five times a month. Before long, Jizhou would gain a few more saber wielders or martial men, who would shout about becoming stronger before dying in some inexplicable vendetta.

But what he saw next made even Du Chengfeng look askance.

Even after his teacher had left, Cui Yuan did not slacken. On the contrary, his training grew even harsher. He tempered his body, practiced the paths of force, drilled thrusts and parries, hanging cuts, lifts, wipes, and slices. Though they were only the most basic sword forms, Cui Yuan practiced them with extreme seriousness.

Du Chengfeng had only heard people boast of swinging a sword three thousand times a day. He had never witnessed it himself.

But Cui Yuan had persisted for a full fifteen years.

The only witness to it all was the longsword called Wind-Riding.

Over those fifteen years, Cui Yuan struck out a total of one hundred and thirty-five times. The Wind-Riding Sword never slew nameless ghosts. Any saber wielder of even some renown across Jizhou and Youzhou had been sought out by Cui Yuan, challenged face-to-face, and then killed with a single sword stroke.

They bore neither grudge nor grievance against one another, yet he struck ruthlessly every time. Such vicious conduct was terrifying even among saber wielders who made their living by taking lives, and curses aimed at Cui Yuan never ceased.

But Cui Yuan did not care. He only believed it was part of his cultivation, a way to grow stronger.

This time, it was not only Du Chengfeng. Even all the saber wielders of Northern Ji began to think Cui Yuan was not right in the head.

Thus, as his fame rose, Cui Yuan quickly became a target for all. After a brief alliance, around a hundred saber wielders simply organized themselves, intending to kill this scourge who refused to follow the rules.

But when Cui Yuan drew his sword, these saber wielders learned that what stood before them had long ceased to be human.

It was a one-sided slaughter. The saber wielders, who had been certain victory was in their grasp, fell like harvested wheat. Even those who fled were caught by Cui Yuan and had their throats pierced. Every saber wielder who had taken part in that siege became a ghost beneath Cui Yuan's sword.

And that one-against-a-hundred battle finally convinced Cui Yuan that his swordsmanship had achieved minor success.

So, in order to bring his swordsmanship to great success, Cui Yuan, already twenty-nine years old, had to challenge one final opponent.

That man was Liu Qingyun, Jizhou's famed saber wielder known as the "Swift Saber." When Cui Yuan had still been young, this youthful chivalrous swordsman had wielded nothing but the long saber in his hand to single-handedly slaughter an entire bandit stronghold in Youzhou.

And he had killed Cui Yuan's parents as well.

But Cui Yuan knew clearly that this journey was not for revenge or a blood debt. Compared to such boring matters, what he truly wanted was to defeat the fear and unease that had been carved into his heart since childhood.

Only by crossing that final—and first—great mountain could his sword become unstoppable and unrivaled beneath heaven.

Only then could it cleave through every hardship and perilous obstacle.

"Hiss..."

Having finished sharpening the sword, Du Chengfeng looked at the blade in his hand, then at Cui Yuan before him, and could not help feeling his teeth ache.

Strictly speaking, this was the first time he had truly encountered a living person who wielded a vicious, Baleful weapon yet retained his reason. Though Cui Yuan's manner of speaking and conduct looked rather like that of a madman, Du Chengfeng had only thought he looked the part. After all, the man knew to knock before visiting, knew to apologize when he was wrong, and knew to wash his hands after using the toilet. At the very least, he was fairly normal.

But who could have imagined that this swordsman Cui Yuan really did have some mental problems?

The longsword had indeed accumulated a vast amount of Sha Qi, but Cui Yuan's obsession with becoming stronger had already surpassed slaughter itself. Rather than the sword driving Cui Yuan to kill, it was Cui Yuan driving the sword, using slaughter to test the measure of his own strength.

Just like now.

"I mean, I didn't even charge you money, right?"

Seeing Cui Yuan take the longsword and point its tip at him, Du Chengfeng's expression darkened.

"Is this how you treat a kindhearted person?"

"You did not use your full strength just now."

As he spoke, Cui Yuan stood with sword in hand and looked beside Du Chengfeng.

A heavy two-handed saber lay there in silence.

Its Sha Qi surged to the heavens.

"This is your usual weapon! This is where your true skill lies!"

Cui Yuan gripped the longsword tightly and stared fixedly into Du Chengfeng's eyes.

Reflected in Du Chengfeng's gaze was the calm madness he had seen countless times upon the Wind-Riding Sword.

"I never expected to meet such an opponent before my swordsmanship reached great success! Please enlighten me!"

Ssh—

As he spoke, the sharp longsword named Wind-Riding thrust straight at Du Chengfeng's face, swift as lightning.

But Du Chengfeng still retreated and evaded it.

After sharpening the sword just now, Du Chengfeng had become thoroughly familiar with Cui Yuan's sword paths. As he weaved and dodged, Cui Yuan could not touch him with a single stroke—but this only made Cui Yuan more excited, and the longsword in his hand grew more urgent and faster still!

"Yes! This is it! This is what I want!"

The longsword swept through the air. Cui Yuan had never felt so exhilarated. In that moment, he even felt for no reason that the opponent before him was another version of himself.

What could be more exhilarating than fighting oneself?

Of course there was something: fighting someone stronger than oneself.

Only by stepping upon the bones of the strong could he become stronger!

"Come!"

Sixteen linked sword strikes came one after another, and Du Chengfeng was finally driven into a corner by Cui Yuan's edge.

And at that moment, Cui Yuan finally saw the man named Du Chengfeng grasp that heavy saber.

"Good!"

Cui Yuan thrust out his sword and shouted. Sword light flashed.

"Clang—"

The piercing clash of metal echoed through the room.

And Cui Yuan's longsword had already swept across his opponent's neck.

"Whew..."

Letting out a long breath of stale air, Cui Yuan could not help feeling his heart lighten.

He had already known that the sharpener Du Chengfeng possessed some skill, but that heavy saber had still shocked him. From the savage ferocity nearly overflowing from its blade, it was clearly a weapon only a valiant warrior tempered through countless battles could wield.

Fortunately, he was the victor once again.

Once again, he had defeated a powerful enemy through his own strength. Once again, he had used the edge in his hand to split apart the fear in his heart.

His sword had once again cut through hardship and perilous obstacles, just as his teacher had once instructed.

When the great roc rises one day upon the wind, it soars straight up ninety thousand li.

Like the sword in his hand, he had finally become a powerful man who understood both books and reason, and whose swordsmanship was unmatched.

Like the sword in his hand...

"...Hm?"

Cui Yuan, about to sheath his sword, froze.

The longsword that had originally been more than three chi long was somehow only a chi and a half long now.

The half of its tip that should have passed through his opponent's neck had long since vanished without a trace.

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