Long Blade, Broken Horse

Long Blade, Broken Horse

Du Chengfeng had some recollection of the name Liu Qingyun.

From the memories of that great heap of knives hidden in his clothes, Du Chengfeng had heard this name before. This martial artist famed for his swift blade often came up in people's idle chatter. He sounded rather formidable.

But what truly made Du Chengfeng remember the name was when he had sharpened the Wind-Riding Sword. That swordsman named Cui Yuan had once wanted to challenge Liu Qingyun, even preparing for the fight as though facing a mortal enemy.

Du Chengfeng knew Cui Yuan's skill: fifteen years of sword practice, over two hundred men killed. Yet even at that level, he had considered Liu Qingyun stronger... which meant Liu Qingyun's abilities were in fact a cut above Cui Yuan's?

"Give me the blade."

Du Chengfeng was immediately intrigued.

On one hand, he was curious about how this duel had played out. If he remembered correctly, Cui Yuan had gone mad after his sword broke. On the other hand, Liu Qingyun used a blade.

And as it happened, Du Chengfeng's strongest means of fighting at present was also the blade.

"Then let me see your blade technique!"

With that thought, Du Chengfeng drew the blade and laid its edge upon the whetstone.

Sunlight glinted across the blade, and in its shining edge flickered the stirring years of old.

As he carefully sharpened it, Du Chengfeng gradually sensed the life this blade had lived.

This blade had originally been a blacksmith's casual side project. Its blade was exceptionally long, a full three chi and eight cun. Add its one-chi-three-cun hilt, and it measured more than five chi in all. Yet unlike Du Chengfeng's broad, heavy saber, this long blade was not wide. It was narrow, long, and keenly pointed. Its straight body resembled a sword more than a saber.

The blacksmith had thought this long blade, modeled after the horse-cutting swords of ancient times, ought to fetch a good price.

Unfortunately, the people of Ji Town mostly did not know good steel when they saw it.

The blades popular among Northern Ji blade fighters measured less than three chi even with the hilt included. They could be wielded one-handed or swung in powerful two-handed chops. Whether staying at home, traveling abroad, killing men, or robbing them, such neither-too-long-nor-too-short blades made fine companions. By comparison, however imposing the blacksmith's horse-cutting blade might have been, a great saber five chi long was ultimately inconvenient to carry.

Helpless, the blacksmith could only mark down the price. He did not even hope to recover his costs; losing a little less would have been enough.

It was then that the young Liu Qingyun came before his stall.

Perhaps there truly was some bond between man and blade. Liu Qingyun, whose purse was empty, happened upon the discounted long blade. For just one string of cash, he obtained this blade that measured a full five chi from end to end.

At the time, Liu Qingyun himself stood only around six chi tall. When the five-chi blade was propped against the ground, its hilt reached his chin.

From that day onward, Liu Qingyun officially became a Northern Ji blade fighter.

In other people's mouths, the life of a blade fighter was carefree and dashing: drinking wine by the bowl, eating meat by the mouthful, drawing blades at a word of disagreement; blade rose, blade fell, and life or death was decided, a life of sweet vengeance and unbridled delight. But for the young Liu Qingyun, a blade fighter's life was one of hardship. With no reputation to speak of, he could not get commissions. No one would pay him to guard their safety, either. Everyone thought this young man clutching a five-chi blade did not even have a beard yet and looked anything but dependable.

So Liu Qingyun desperately needed to prove himself, to prove that he was mature enough.

Before long, he found his target.

It was a band of horse bandits that roamed back and forth between Youzhou and Jizhou. The authorities of both provinces had headaches over them. If he could eliminate them, Liu Qingyun's name would surely spread far and wide.

Thus, the young Liu Qingyun hung the long blade at his waist and set out alone to track them down.

He followed their trail all the way to the horse bandits' camp. Liu Qingyun was about to draw his blade. Having trained in martial arts for years, he believed his skills were not poor. They were only a few horse bandits—he would take them as easily as turning over his hand.

But at that very moment, the horse bandits' scouts spotted him.

It turned out that the bandits had not been in the camp earlier. They had only just returned from a raid, and when they saw someone carrying a blade sneaking toward their camp, they immediately spurred their horses and charged over.

And Liu Qingyun no longer had time to draw his blade.

The five-chi blade hung at his waist could not be fully drawn by ordinary means. Even when Liu Qingyun drew it in daily practice, he first had to unfasten the sheathed blade from his waist and toss it aside.

But with a fine horse charging straight at him, where would it give him the chance to unfasten his blade?

"I'm going to die!"

Liu Qingyun's soul nearly fled his body. Cold sweat instantly soaked his entire back.

"Draw the blade, draw the blade... Hurry! Draw it!"

In his panic, Liu Qingyun instinctively hunched his body, his tightly coiled spine like that of a great cat.

Then his entire spine sprang open like a compressed spring, soaring like a dragon.

In that instant, the three-chi-eight-cun blade flew from its sheath with unimaginable speed.

And the horse bandit who had swept past Liu Qingyun had already half fallen from his saddle, blood splashing across the ground.

Along with the severed horse's head.

The facts proved that Liu Qingyun had not exaggerated his fighting ability. Once he drew his blade, these horse bandits truly were no match for him. As his figure rose and fell, he slaughtered the dozen-odd bandits to the last man, and the plundered goods naturally fell into Liu Qingyun's hands as well.

But compared to such ill-gotten wealth, Liu Qingyun cared more about the posture with which he had just drawn his blade.

So after returning, Liu Qingyun devoted himself to studying it.

Before long, the name Swift Blade Liu Qingyun rang throughout Northern Ji. His blade-drawing technique known as Tiger-and-Dragon Two Forms was even more astonishingly powerful: rising like a dragon in flight, falling like a tiger's leap. Coupled with Broken Horse, the blade far longer than an ordinary blade fighter's weapon, Liu Qingyun's brilliance was unmatched for a time.

His blade could leave its sheath as swiftly as the wind, and its reach far exceeded that of ordinary long blades. There were scarcely any blade fighters who could stand against Liu Qingyun.

After that, Liu Qingyun finally achieved what he had wanted. He not only became a Northern Ji blade fighter, but one of Northern Ji's most renowned blade fighters. Drinking wine by the bowl, eating meat by the mouthful, drawing blades at a word of disagreement; blade rose, blade fell, and life or death was decided—his days were endlessly carefree and joyous.

Of course, Liu Qingyun did encounter challengers along the way, but almost no one could withstand his Tiger-and-Dragon Two Forms and the Broken Horse in his hand.

Until a swordsman came knocking.

Liu Qingyun, being a local power, knew the swordsman's origins well. He was the surviving spawn left behind by the horse bandits Liu Qingyun had slaughtered years ago, come now for revenge. As for all that talk of "sword cultivation," Liu Qingyun took it as a joke. If they wanted to fight, then fight—why so much nonsense?

Even if he was no longer young, he could not possibly lose to a horse bandit's son. What was more, his long blade had only recently been sharpened in Yanzhou. It was the perfect time for bloodshed.

Yet contrary to Liu Qingyun's expectations, the swordsman named Cui Yuan came for him earlier than expected.

"So that's it. You wanted to catch me unprepared and launch a sudden attack?"

Looking at Cui Yuan before him, Liu Qingyun could not help shaking his head.

How could such petty tricks deceive him? As a Northern Ji blade fighter who had clawed his way through life-and-death struggles, Liu Qingyun had long developed the habit of being able to strike at any moment.

But after examining the sword sheath at Cui Yuan's waist, Liu Qingyun frowned.

The sword's blade was a full three chi long, only eight cun shorter than his Broken Horse. In other words, the advantage in reach that Broken Horse gave him might not come into play this time.

That made Liu Qingyun give Cui Yuan a second look.

He had not expected this brat to have come prepared.

Still, it did not matter.

Even if their weapons were similar in length, Liu Qingyun had absolute confidence in the speed of his strike. That swift blade draw, once only in its infancy, had now been perfected into the Tiger-and-Dragon Two Forms. Compared to the swift blade that had severed a horse in the past, his drawing speed today had surpassed it by far.

So long as his blade was faster than the sword, he could sever this surviving spawn's head first.

So long as his blade was faster than the sword...

Shhk—

Just as Liu Qingyun had drawn his long blade halfway, the sword edge had already swept across his throat.

Liu Qingyun could not understand it. He had clearly trained Tiger-and-Dragon Two Forms to perfection, and his blade-drawing speed had reached its pinnacle. Why had he still been half a beat too slow?

What demonic art had that surviving spawn Cui Yuan practiced? Why was his sword so fast?

"You..."

Liu Qingyun tried desperately to find the truth, but no longer had the strength even to lift his head and look.

With most of his neck cut open by the sword, Liu Qingyun lost his life within only a few breaths.

"This..."

Du Chengfeng, who had watched it all, fell silent.

Liu Qingyun had not seen that strike clearly, but Du Chengfeng had. Liu Qingyun had been half a beat slower not because his blade draw was too slow, but simply because Cui Yuan's sword blade was too short.

Holding a broken sword in his hand, Cui Yuan, who had trained with the sword for fifteen years, naturally drew it from its sheath far faster than Liu Qingyun could draw his own blade.

"Of course! This really is part of cultivation!"

Cui Yuan sheathed his sword and left in high spirits, drenched in blood. His crazed, muttering appearance left no one daring to stop him for a time.

And Du Chengfeng finally returned to himself from that memory.

Seeing that madman again did not feel particularly good to Du Chengfeng. Fortunately, the Tiger-and-Dragon Two Forms recorded in the long blade called Broken Horse truly was the advancement in blade technique that he urgently needed. Yet what concerned Du Chengfeng most was a blind spot hidden in this memory, one so easily overlooked.

That was, the long blade named Broken Horse had once been sharpened in Yanzhou.

This was the first time Du Chengfeng had learned anything about other sharpeners.

Yet unexpectedly, that sharpening experience had not appeared on the long blade like the memories of killing had.

Thanks to fellow readers Haishan Shuyoujun, Kongshan Mingyue Zhu, and Xiang Gaige Mingzi You Zheme Nan for their recommendation votes. Everyone's support is what drives me forward. Thank you all. Also, please bookmark and recommend the new book. Many thanks, everyone.