A Road Never Envisioned

This time, Du Chengfeng finally gained a rough understanding of his current strength.

Perhaps he was not as weak as he had imagined. As a man of peace, he had always considered himself a pacifist who had scarcely ever fought, even something of a frail scholar. Yet judging by the result, he had at least defeated a swordsmanship expert who had practiced the sword for fifteen years and killed without blinking.

In other words, rounding things off, it was as though he too had practiced the sword for fifteen years and killed without blinking.

"Perhaps I'm not as weak as I imagined?"

With that thought, Du Chengfeng could not help lowering his head to look at the broadsword in his hand.

Though he said so, Du Chengfeng knew deep down that at least ninety percent of the credit for cutting a sword in two with one stroke belonged to this broadsword.

To put it plainly, the powerful one was the blade, not him.

"I'm still too weak. I'm still far too weak."

Whenever he thought of Hexi Qing's inhuman figure, like some demon god descended into the world, Du Chengfeng felt a heavy weight settle in his heart. Faced with such a terrifying monster, could he truly survive?

Perhaps it was not something he needed to dwell on. He had to survive.

After all, once he died, he would truly be dead.

"So, do you want to die or live?"

With the broadsword resting on his shoulder, Du Chengfeng turned back to look at Cui Yuan before him.

"Since you've attacked me twice already, I assume you've prepared yourself for this?"

"Ah, ahhh..."

To Du Chengfeng's surprise, Cui Yuan no longer had any intention of responding to him.

He merely stared at the broken sword in his hand, unable to form a single complete sentence for a long while.

"I... ah, Master... ah, this... Wind-Riding, why did you..."

"..."

Du Chengfeng suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

If he remembered correctly, he had seen something like this before. Not long ago, on a dark and windy night, there had been a thrown spear...

"Du Chengfeng! Give me back my blade!"

Just as Du Chengfeng was recalling it, a hoarse shout suddenly came from outside.

"Du Chengfeng! Kill me! Du Chengfeng... Don't stop me! None of you stop me! I'm not going back! I'm not sick! I'm perfectly healthy!"

The voice only shouted twice before a commotion arose outside the courtyard. After a bout of struggling and scuffling, silence returned beyond the walls.

Having heard the entire affair, Du Chengfeng could not help sighing.

He could say with certainty that he had really done nothing. Heaven knew why Yang Sanlang had turned out like this.

And now, Cui Yuan before him seemed to be close to the same state.

"First of all, calm down."

After some thought, Du Chengfeng decided he should first offer Cui Yuan a word of advice.

There was no other reason. It was mainly because that sword had such a rotten name. Wind-Riding this, Wind-Riding that—it kept making him think Cui Yuan was calling for him.

"Then, the sword's been sharpened, and you wanted to exchange blows with me, so we've already fought. Look, it's getting late. Shouldn't you..."

"Kill me."

Before Du Chengfeng could finish, the despondent Cui Yuan collapsed onto the ground.

"I lost. Kill me."

"You..."

Du Chengfeng slapped a hand against his own forehead.

He knew it. He knew it. He had sensed something was off just now, and sure enough, Cui Yuan had finally forced out those words.

Killing him would not be entirely without reason. After all, Cui Yuan had attacked him twice just now. Killing him would be killing him. Besides, if he really could not find a reason, Cui Yuan had conveniently not worn a hat today—that would be a fine excuse to bring down the blade.

But when he thought of the trouble of cleaning the ground, especially the hard work of scrubbing bloodstains and disposing of a corpse, Du Chengfeng abandoned the idea.

Killing one lunatic only to spend an entire morning doing housework was far too poor a trade.

Besides, he had just learned an entire set of sword techniques from this lunatic.

"So why don't you hurry up and leave? Don't you still have a duel to fight?"

After thinking it over, Du Chengfeng finally found a reason to send him away.

"Go on. That whatever Swift Blade is waiting for you."

"A duel? Hahaha, a duel..."

At Du Chengfeng's words, Cui Yuan merely shook his head and laughed bitterly from where he sat on the ground.

A duel, yes, he did indeed have a duel yet to fight. But did he still have the right to fight that duel now?

He had lost. For the first time, he had lost so completely. He had wanted to see that blade, to witness its strength—but who could have imagined that with just one stroke, one single stroke, everything he had would be reduced to nothing.

His labor, his sweat, the sword moves he had painstakingly honed for more than a decade—even the sword his master had given him, a fine sword that had not chipped or curled in fifteen years, had actually...

"Wind-Riding! Oh, Wind-Riding!"

Clutching the broken sword, Cui Yuan burst into loud, wailing sobs.

The miserable sound made Du Chengfeng's scalp prickle.

Clenching his fists, Du Chengfeng finally kicked him. He truly could not stand someone wailing like at a funeral in front of him—especially while crying out his name.

"Pull yourself together! Pull yourself together!"

Du Chengfeng slapped Cui Yuan twice across the face, his eyes blazing with anger.

"So what if the sword broke? Can't you just get another one?"

"Haha, hahahaha..."

Cui Yuan only laughed foolishly as he hugged the broken sword, his face streaked with tears, looking like a madman.

"The sword broke. The sword's already broken. How can I replace it? Replace it with what..."

"Wake up!"

Du Chengfeng slapped Cui Yuan twice more, but for a moment, he did not know what else to say.

If he had been an outsider who knew nothing, he could naturally have tossed out a few pretty words. But having sharpened the Wind-Riding Sword, he already understood just how profound the sword's significance was to Cui Yuan.

Both his parents were dead, and the master who had raised him had left after gifting him this sword. For fifteen years, this sword had been the only one by Cui Yuan's side. They ate and slept together, cultivated together. With such deep feelings between them, it would not be an exaggeration to say that this sword was Cui Yuan's own father.

And now, this father who represented everything had been cut in two by a single stroke.

No matter how accomplished Cui Yuan was in swordsmanship, faced with such a devastating blow, he ultimately still...

"Right!"

A flash of inspiration suddenly struck Du Chengfeng.

"Have you ever considered that this might also be part of cultivation?"

"...Huh?"

Cui Yuan, his face covered in tear tracks, suddenly froze.

"What did you say?"

"I said, this is also part of cultivation."

Du Chengfeng gripped Cui Yuan's shoulders tightly.

"The sword broke. Does that mean it is no longer a sword?"

"The sword broke, and it is still a sword?"

Cui Yuan was left utterly bewildered by the question.

"The sword broke. Is it still a sword?"

"Don't ask me. Go back and think about it yourself."

Patting Cui Yuan on the shoulder, Du Chengfeng helped him up from the ground.

Then, supporting him all the way, he escorted the swordsman out of the small courtyard.

Immediately afterward came a bang as he shut the courtyard gate.

With his back against the gate, Du Chengfeng let out a long breath. After all that counseling, he had finally sent the lunatic away and could get a good night's sleep.

After all, once he woke up, he had more important matters to attend to.

Cui Yuan's sword had given him a crucial inspiration. He needed to try some roads he had never imagined before.

Thanks to book friend Haishan Shuyou-jun, Wish to Read All the Books in the World, book friend 20220903230735693, Cloth That Cuts Stone, and xiaoxyy for their recommendation votes. Everyone's encouragement and support are the driving force that keeps me moving forward. Thank you all.