With a Sharp Blade in Hand, the Urge to Kill Rises on Its Own

"How is it in there?"

"Is he still alive?"

"Go in. Go in and take a look first."

Outside the ancestral hall where the Yang Clan's hereditary treasured saber was kept, Yang Xuan and Yang Sanlang waited anxiously with over a dozen strong young clansmen. The youths held brand-new spears in their hands, clearly prepared for any eventuality.

The ideal outcome was for the man inside to finish sharpening the blade before he went completely mad. Losing his mind and becoming a walking corpse might be cruel to that sturdy refugee called Du Chengfeng—perhaps no different from death—but at least it would give the people of Yang Family Fort the strength to fight when the Hu raiders came.

As for the less ideal outcome... they would have to use those spears.

Even if that refugee had Sha Qi enter his body and became a homicidal madman capable of slaughtering all of Yang Family Fort, before he could truly kill anyone, he would at least have to raise his saber first—and that would be Yang Family Fort's chance to escape disaster. After all, no matter how ferocious a homicidal madman was, he was still flesh and blood.

In the end, flesh and blood was fragile. Once the body was pierced and enough blood was lost, one would still be unable to move and die on the spot.

Just like butchering pigs and slaughtering sheep.

So what exactly was happening inside? Had the saber been sharpened or not? What had the refugee sent inside become by now?

"...We can't wait any longer! Open the door!"

Seeing that there was still no movement within the ancestral hall, Yang Sanlang, his heart full of unease, simply strode forward and shoved open its doors.

It was at that very moment that Du Chengfeng opened his eyes.

Their eyes met.

Yang Sanlang instantly averted his gaze.

As one of the outstanding younger men of Yang Family Fort, Yang Sanlang should not have acted this way. Let alone a mere refugee, even when facing his own clan uncle, this man with a leopard's head and ringed eyes still dared to glare furiously without yielding an inch.

Yet at this moment, Yang Sanlang did not dare look into that refugee's eyes at all.

The instant that cold gaze fixed upon him, a chill ran through Yang Sanlang's entire body. Those were not human eyes. That gaze did not regard him as a human being at all.

Under that gaze, Yang Sanlang felt as though he were a live pig tied up tight, about to be slaughtered with a single stroke.

His nighttime conversation with his clan uncle surfaced in his mind once more, and Yang Sanlang could not help but fall into a daze.

No wonder his clan uncle had stopped him time and again, refusing to let him touch the saber. So Sha Qi entering the body was actually this terrifying.

What exactly stood before him? A god? A demon? Or something even stranger?

"Who exactly are you?"

"I'm a human."

Du Chengfeng, having regained consciousness, answered instinctively.

"I'm a human. Can't you tell... hm?"

As his vision focused, Du Chengfeng finally saw who had asked that question.

Distant memories surged up from his mind, and Du Chengfeng vaguely recalled the scene from back then—it was true. At that time, he had not yet been a saber; he had only been a refugee seeking a livelihood at Yang Family Fort. Yet it was this man before him, Yang Sanlang, who had deliberately selected him. Knowing full well that the saber was wreathed in Sha Qi and that ordinary people would go mad at the slightest touch, he had still lured Du Chengfeng over and made him sharpen it!

At that moment, enemies met, and their eyes blazed red!

"The saber... the saber!"

Clenching his fists, Du Chengfeng only then realized that he was still gripping the great saber in his hands.

With a sharp blade in hand, the urge to kill rose on its own.

Icy Sha Qi surged up along his arms. Today, he would slaughter everyone inside and outside this ancestral hall—even all of Yang Family Fort—clean!

"Ha!"

With a great shout, Du Chengfeng swung up the saber. Butcher's Pig Dissection, which he had repeated in his mind countless times, had already imprinted itself upon his body. With one sweep of the saber, killing a man was like killing a pig!

But at that moment, a pair of aged hands, weak and feeble, firmly braced the hands holding his saber before it could fall.

"Do it! Do it now!"

Yang Xuan, already frail with age, seemed to find strength from nowhere. He forcibly held Du Chengfeng's descending saber suspended in midair!

"Don't worry about me! Hurry! If he strikes, Yang Family Fort will all die!"

"Clan Uncle, you..."

Hearing Yang Xuan's roar, Yang Sanlang, already frightened stiff by that stroke, was even more unable to speak for a long while.

Though the most rational choice now was to have the strong young clansmen thrust out their spears and impale the saber-wielding refugee together with his own clan uncle, that was still his clan uncle—his elder kinsman, who had watched him grow up and shown him countless kindnesses over the years. How could he possibly steel his heart and give such a cruel order?

But while Yang Sanlang hesitated, Du Chengfeng did not hesitate in the slightest.

Icy Sha Qi flooded into his skull, and he seemed to return to those days when he had been a great saber. Splitting flesh, tearing open bodies—as a sharp blade, this was his mission, and nothing gave him greater exhilaration.

Yet just as Du Chengfeng drew back his gaze and prepared to kill the man before him first, his pupils suddenly contracted.

There was no other reason: he knew this old man before him.

Not from when he had been a refugee, but from when he had been a great saber. As the Yang Clan's inherited treasured saber, after Fatty Yang died, Du Chengfeng had practically watched the Yang Clan grow up generation by generation. Though most of the time, as an ancestral relic, he was kept in the ancestral hall and forbidden from being touched lightly, there were always unlucky children who ignored the warnings and slipped into the hall when no one was around to touch him, hoping to bask in a little of their ancestors' lingering radiance.

Du Chengfeng had always let these touches happen. For one thing, as a great saber, he had no way to refuse. For another, he was lonely. Having someone come speak to him or amuse him a little counted as some small pleasure in his dull life of being displayed atop the offering table.

And this old man before him had likewise been one of those unruly brats when he was young.

Du Chengfeng had also watched this old man called Yang Xuan grow up all the way. From sneaking into the ancestral hall as a child to steal offerings from the ancestors, to coming there as a youth to complain about the hardships of studying, to taking charge of the Yang Clan in his prime and running to the hall whenever he had nothing to do to sigh before his ancestors about how hard life was, to coming every day in his old age with long sighs and short laments, regretting that he had failed to maintain the Yang Clan... Yang Xuan's father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all done nearly the same things. It was hard for Du Chengfeng, placed atop the offering table, not to feel as though a lifetime had passed.

And now, this junior whom he had watched grow up, who could practically be counted as some unknown generation of grandson, stood in front of him.

The bone-chilling Sha Qi made Du Chengfeng's blood race, and the great saber in his hand only wanted to drink deeply of blood.

But should he kill him?

"You..."

Looking at Yang Xuan before him, Du Chengfeng suddenly thought of Fatty Yang from long ago.

Though one was thin and one fat, one old and one strong, those eyes—the expression within those eyes—now overlapped.

And the instant their gazes met, Yang Xuan's eyes lit up as well.

"Don't! Don't make a move yet!"

The aged Yang Xuan shouted out almost instinctively.

"Don't attack! It isn't Sha Qi entering his body! Don't attack!"

As he gave this order to the clansmen behind him, Yang Xuan stared fixedly into Du Chengfeng's eyes.

He was certain he had not seen wrong. The refugee's eyes, which had nearly been completely dyed red with blood, had regained the clarity of reason!

The ancestors had blessed them. This time, the Yang Clan was not facing a great military calamity at all—they had drawn the finest possible lot!

"Good sir!"

Overjoyed, Yang Xuan hurriedly tried to press down Du Chengfeng's saber-holding hands.

"Who would have thought that you possessed such extraordinary talent, good sir? Even this weapon's Sha Qi is but a breeze brushing your face, hardly worth mentioning. This is simply... uh."

Yang Xuan's voice froze.

Those hands holding the saber still hung in midair, with no intention whatsoever of lowering it.

"Go on. Why did you stop talking?"

Seeing the old man's ingratiating yet somewhat embarrassed expression, Du Chengfeng's eyes narrowed.

"Keep talking. Say a few more nice things. Or have you already learned what your grandnephew did?"

As he spoke, Du Chengfeng grabbed Yang Xuan by the collar.

"You old bastard. Your nephew Yang Sanlang tricked me into coming here to sharpen the saber, trying to get me killed, and you think you can smooth it over with a few words? Who do you take me for?"

"I-I-I-I-I..."

Yang Xuan, already old and gaunt, was practically lifted off the ground. Facing the refugee before him, whose hair seemed to stand on end in fury, he stammered and could not form a complete sentence for a long time.

At that moment, looking at the refugee wielding the great saber before him, Yang Xuan vaguely felt as though he were facing the ancestor in the genealogy who had ridden across battlefields and slain countless enemies!

"Put down my clan uncle!"

Just as Yang Xuan was seized, Yang Sanlang hurriedly grabbed a spear and charged over.

Yet Du Chengfeng needed only cast him a single glance, and Yang Sanlang collapsed onto the ground in fright.

If Du Chengfeng's killing intent earlier had only been caused by the corruption of the weapon's Sha Qi, then now he truly wanted to kill from the depths of his heart. During his time as a great saber, beginning with Fatty Yang splashing blood across the Governor's Residence, he had already taken hundreds of lives. Now that he knew he had been framed and nearly died on the spot, how could he possibly not repay an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth?

"Good sir, wait!"

Seeing that the great saber in Du Chengfeng's hand was about to swing down, Yang Xuan hurriedly stepped in to stop him again.

But when he met Du Chengfeng's gaze, Yang Xuan once more stammered without being able to say anything. In the end, the Yang family was in the wrong first. Who could have imagined that what had originally been nothing more than dragging a refugee inside to fill a death quota would provoke a fearsome outsider who did not even fear a weapon's Sha Qi?

Looking at how man and saber moved as one, it was likely already too late to say anything. The dozen or so strong young clansmen behind him probably would not be enough for that great saber even if they were tied together. After all, the Yang Clan's ancestor had been a commanding general who followed the Founding Emperor Gao on his eastern and western campaigns, and that great saber had slain countless foes. Killing a few young men with little martial skill—would that not be easier than killing chickens?

"Good sir, let us talk this through. This time, the Yang Clan has failed in its treatment of a guest. Whatever compensation you ask for afterward will be only right. But a great enemy stands before us, and the Hu are about to attack. Should we not first stand united against the enemy and resist the Hu cavalry?"

"Hmm?"

Du Chengfeng could not help furrowing his brow.

In his very distant memories, something like this seemed to have happened. Back then, he had also been handed a wooden spear and nearly dragged to the front lines...

Thud-thud-thud-thud—

Just as Du Chengfeng was still immersed in his memories, the sound of countless horses' hooves suddenly rose from outside the fort!

The chaotic hoofbeats shook the earth, rumbling like thunder!

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