"How can I help?" Shili Changkong did not question him, merely asking calmly.
"I have a copy of the Yin Tian Sword Art cultivated by the Yin Tian Great Emperor, as well as the Three Talents Sword Formation left behind by the Three Talents Great Emperor," Xu Zimo said slowly.
What Shili Changkong lacked right now was experience, a path left behind by those who had come before him to use as reference.
Do not be fooled by how casually Xu Zimo could name several Great Emperor cultivation arts. The value of such arts was beyond imagination.
At the very least, someone of Shili Changkong's realm had never come into contact with a Great Emperor cultivation art.
It was just as the old saying went: ten years of hard work could not compare to being born into a good family.
"What are your conditions?" Shili Changkong naturally knew there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world.
"I intend to establish a force, and I want you to manage it," Xu Zimo said.
"Impossible. I will not become your subordinate." Shili Changkong shook his head resolutely. "My sword path charges forward without hesitation. If I truly had to live under someone else's roof, my heart would never be at ease. How could I then speak of the path of the sword?"
"A swordsman should possess the edge that would rather bend than break, but he must also have the restraint to return his sword to its sheath," Xu Zimo said with a smile. "Just like being a person—sometimes you must hold your head high and puff out your chest, while other times you must bend at the waist and smile apologetically."
Seeing the thoughtful look in Shili Changkong's eyes, Xu Zimo continued, "Perhaps some people's martial paths truly are about pressing forward bravely and never retreating.
Take the Three Blades Great Emperor of old. He took things to an extreme. To him, defense simply did not exist.
Even if he was defeated beneath another's blade, he would never retreat, and his blade had never known fear.
But you are certainly not as extreme as the Three Blades Great Emperor. Otherwise, you would not have hidden in this small village, willing to be nothing more than a blacksmith.
Your sword should advance and retreat freely. When drawn, it should possess the sharpness to shatter the heavens; when sheathed, it should conceal its brilliance and nurture its strength, returning to simplicity and truth."
Hearing Xu Zimo's words, Shili Changkong's heart wavered. He pondered for a long time.
He felt as though he had grasped something, yet also as though he had become even more lost.
"I will leave tomorrow. Seize the opportunity yourself. To me, a Venerable Meridian Realm martial artist is not all that rare. I merely happened to pass through here and took pity on your talent," Xu Zimo said as he rose and slowly walked toward the house where they were staying.
"But for you, such an opportunity will not come often.
Even if someone else can produce a Great Emperor cultivation art, it may not necessarily suit you better than these two of mine."
Watching Xu Zimo's retreating figure, Shili Changkong furrowed his brows even more deeply and lowered his head in thought for a long while.
In the depths of the night, Shili Changkong rose decisively, picked up the iron sword he had just forged, and walked step by step into the village.
The fierce wind swept dust across the sky, and his figure gradually vanished into the gale. It was as if that Sword Venerable whose name had once thundered through the land had returned.
The night passed without incident. Early the next morning, sunlight shone down quietly. Xu Zimo had cultivated through the night and felt utterly refreshed.
"How strange. Nothing actually happened last night," Feng Buyu said.
"You were hoping we'd run into danger?" Xu Zimo replied with a smile.
He stretched lazily, then left the house with everyone else.
The moment they stepped outside, everyone sensed that something was wrong.
Quiet. Too quiet. The entire Baihuang Village had sunk into a deathly silence.
A faint scent of blood hung in the air.
Feng Buyu kicked open the doors of the houses lining the street, and an especially choking stench of blood wafted out from within.
Every villager had been killed in their sleep the previous night. Even Wang Tao, the village chief who had received them last night, now lay in a blood pool upon his bed.
"Everyone is dead," Feng Buyu said after a moment of silence.
"I finally know what was wrong," Xiao Yu shouted from the side. "Ever since we arrived last night, we never saw any elderly people, children, or women. Every villager in this village was a young, sturdy man."
Hearing Xiao Yu's words, everyone else realized it as well.
"These people definitely were not ordinary villagers," Feng Buyu said, frowning as he pondered. "But who killed them?"
"Shili Changkong, it seems you made your choice," Xu Zimo said, calm from beginning to end.
Even upon seeing the entire village slaughtered, he did not show the slightest surprise.
He calmly drew a bucket of water from the village well, then calmly washed up.
"Junior Brother Zimo, do you know something?" Feng Buyu asked doubtfully.
He felt that Xu Zimo was far too calm. Even upon seeing so many deaths, Xu Zimo had not furrowed his brow once.
"Why dwell on these matters? They are neither important nor meaningful." Xu Zimo smiled and shook his head, then headed out of the village.
"Let's get moving early. We should strive to reach Tianjian City by noon."
Each of them carried their own thoughts as they rode their Desert Steeds slowly toward the edge of the village.
Just as they were about to reach the village entrance, a man suddenly ran out from one of the houses nearby.
"Save... save me!" The man was severely wounded, constantly coughing up blood, and was already on his last breath.
Xu Zimo dismounted and slowly walked over to the man. Looking into his pleading eyes, he drew the curved saber from his back—Overlord Shadow.
With one slash, he severed the man's head from his body.
Even at death's door, the man's eyes still held a pleading look.
Feng Buyu wanted to say something, but after opening his mouth, he ultimately fell silent.
He felt that Xu Zimo was too cold-blooded. If they had saved the man, perhaps they could have learned who had slaughtered the village.
Xu Zimo had killed the only survivor, and the trail had been cut off.
Or had Xu Zimo killed these villagers himself?
But Xu Zimo had remained in his room all night and had not gone out.
Xu Zimo looked at Overlord Shadow, which had tasted blood for the first time, and sheathed it.
Then he mounted his Desert Steed and galloped swiftly out of the village.
Now, not only Feng Buyu but even Xiao Yu and Tang Huaiyuan wore baffled expressions.
Hei Shisan quietly followed at Xu Zimo's side. He did not care about such matters.
His duty was only to protect Xu Zimo's safety.
As for Lin Ruhu, he remained a spectator as always. This fellow had a heart of steel.
He trusted Xu Zimo absolutely. In his eyes, whatever Xu Zimo did had a reason behind it.
If Xu Zimo wished to say something, he would naturally tell him. If not, Lin Ruhu would not ask.
The moment they left Baihuang Village, they saw a man waiting for them ahead.
Shili Changkong wore a robe of white and sat atop a Chestnut Horse, a golden longsword hanging at his waist.
His black hair flowed behind him, and his eyes were like sharp swords, their piercing edge impossible to resist. No one dared meet his gaze directly. From afar, he cut a dashing figure.
"Everyone in this village was a bandit," Shili Changkong explained calmly.
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