Chapter 178: Qian's Second Sword

The Bian River was an artificial canal that the State of Qian had once spent enormous manpower and resources excavating.

Officially, of course, it had been dug to open a canal.

But considering that Qian had been under the most terrifying military pressure from Yan at the time, the true purpose behind excavating this waterway was already obvious enough.

During the early years of construction, the canal had burst its banks and changed course several times, bringing repeated disasters upon the people living nearby.

Over the years, however, the Bian River had grown much more obedient.

And thanks to its proximity to Upper Capital, it had become a prosperous commercial transportation hub.

One of the Bian River's branches flowed directly into Upper Capital.

Years ago, after the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor suppressed the southwestern rebellion, he entered Upper Capital by boat.

The citizens of the capital had packed both banks of the river shoulder to shoulder, all fighting for a glimpse of the legendary Chancellor.

In the State of Qian having one's name proclaimed at Donghua Gate marked the glorious beginning of a life.

But earning the right to enter Upper Capital aboard an official vessel that represented the true summit.

The Tattoo-Faced Chancellor's triumph had happened long enough ago that it had already begun fading from popular memory.

The two most recent occasions remained far fresher.

Five years earlier—

Chancellor Sima, who had spent years at home writing books, was summoned by three successive imperial decrees and granted the honor of entering Upper Capital by boat.

The legendary Chancellor Sima had been known as a child prodigy from youth.

During his travels through Chu, he had even slain a black serpent in the Great Marsh.

Then, in the prime of his life, he withdrew from officialdom and devoted himself to writing.

At one point, a saying had spread throughout Qian:

If Lord Sima does not emerge, what shall become of the common people?

Scholars, officials, and commoners packed the riverbanks inside the city until not even water could pass through.

Everyone wanted to see this great talent said to be capable of governing the realm.

Unfortunately by the time Chancellor Sima returned to the capital, he was already in his fifties.

His skin was dark.

His belly was large.

He looked less like a cultured scholar and more like a rough soldier.

In that respect he did not particularly suit the aesthetic tastes of Upper Capital's citizens.

One had to understand—

Upper Capital was the most prosperous city in the world.

Unmatched across East and West!

Naturally, its people believed themselves to possess the highest standards.

The greatest sensation, however had occurred three years earlier.

Baili Jian, the Sword God of Qian, received an imperial summons and entered the capital to become the Crown Prince's martial instructor.

Sword God.

Sword Immortal.

Swordsman.

One sword.

One flask of wine.

Laughing proudly while wandering beneath Heaven.

Baili Jian was not especially young but he was hardly old either.

That day, dressed entirely in white with a sword hanging from his waist, the moment he entered Upper Capital the entire city erupted.

Every age had its own need for celebrities.

People always unconsciously placed some of their own hopes upon another person.

They imagined that one day perhaps they too could live like that.

That day, the Qian Emperor personally left the palace and went beneath Jade Dragon Bridge to welcome Baili Jian from the boat.

Even now the people of Upper Capital still delighted in retelling that scene.

...

"It's been three years, Master.

"When are you finally going to board a boat here and ride it all the way into Upper Capital too?"

The little sword attendant stuffed pieces of pressed tofu into his mouth while speaking.

Across from him sat a scruffy middle-aged man.

His beard was unkempt.

His long hair was greasy.

And despite the bitter winter cold he was actually wearing wooden clogs.

Before the man sat a flask of rice wine.

He drank it in tiny, cautious sips.

Living in a great city was not easy.

Prices around Upper Capital were high.

Even this rice wine cost twice what it would in the countryside.

And they had not even entered Upper Capital yet.

This was only the Old Ferry.

"Go, go.

"Find somewhere cool to sit.

"Your Master isn't going to walk in Baili Jian's footsteps.

"He's already entered the capital by boat.

"Why would I care to copy him?"

"But Master—

"I want to ride a boat," the little sword attendant said pitifully.

"What boat?

"The river's frozen solid.

"How are you supposed to ride one?"

The man lifted the wine flask.

Took another tiny sip.

Then set it down again and swept his gaze across the surroundings.

Normally, winter made the Bian River ferries far quieter.

Especially once the river froze.

But war had broken out in the north.

Wave after wave of refugees fleeing the fighting had arrived.

Even in the busiest seasons, when boats constantly came and went, the ferry might not have been this crowded.

Rumor said that two days earlier, Yan troops had attempted to attack Westwind Crossing.

That was only seventy or eighty li from here.

Fortunately government troops had driven them back.

The Emperor had even distributed money from his private treasury to reward the army.

The thought was almost amusing.

The Yan dogs had already fought their way to the Bian River yet those damned soldiers still had the face to accept reward silver.

Pah.

The court had fed that pack of useless bastards for nothing.

Rice wine could hardly make a man drunk.

Unfortunately the swordsman surnamed Yuan, known as the "Second Sword of Qian," did not possess enough money to buy stronger liquor.

So he could only pretend he was drunk.

At least that allowed him to satisfy the craving in spirit.

"Master.

"I'm still hungry."

The little sword attendant had already devoured all the pressed tofu his master had ordered to accompany the wine.

But a growing child could eat a father poor.

Pressed tofu had almost no oil in it.

How could that possibly fill his stomach?

"Eat, eat, eat.

"All you know is eating."

Yuan Zhenxing slapped the table in irritation.

Then lined up nine copper coins.

"Boss!

"The bill!"

After that, he rose with magnificent nonchalance and strode out of the tiny wine shop.

He carried himself as though he had left behind a great ingot of silver and casually said there was no need for change.

The little sword attendant could only pout.

He climbed down from the bench and followed his master.

Three swords were strapped across the attendant's back.

During their travels, the child had repeatedly urged his master to sell one of them.

At least then the two of them could enjoy a few decent meals.

But his master refused.

His explanation was that they needed to endure a little longer.

What taste could ignorant rural landlords possibly possess?

Selling his swords to people like them would be casting pearls before swine.

The little sword attendant knew the real reason.

His master simply thought rural landlords were too stingy.

He wanted to reach Upper Capital and sell the swords for a much higher price.

"Master!

"I'm hungry!"

The little sword attendant complained again.

"Were you a starving ghost in your last life?"

Yuan Zhenxing cursed.

Truthfully he was hungry too.

And when his sword attendant complained he became even hungrier.

"Master.

"Baili Jian can become the Crown Prince's teacher.

"Aren't you Qian's Second Sword?

"Why can't you go teach the heir of some Prince's household?"

Then, the two of us could finally eat our fill.

"Get lost.

"Why does Baili Jian get to teach the Crown Prince while I'm supposed to settle for teaching some Prince's heir?

"Where am I inferior to Baili Jian?"

"You're not," the little sword attendant said against his conscience.

"Exactly!

"No matter what—your Master is still one of the five greatest swordsmen alive.

"I have standards!"

The little sword attendant knew perfectly well that there were actually only four great swordsmen.

The reason his master insisted there were five was because he was deeply dissatisfied with the phrase "Four Great Swordsmen."

Back when the martial world first began discussing a ranking of swordsmen—

Li Liangshen, Commander-in-Chief of the Zhenbei Army, took one place.

The Sword Saint of Jin took another.

Baili Jian of Qian took the third.

His master had assumed there was still one place remaining surely that would belong to him?

Who could have expected because of one sentence from the Sword Saint of Jin, that mysterious swordsmith whom no one had ever actually seen wield a sword became the fourth!

His master had been depressed over the matter for years.

The little sword attendant knew that despite how miserable their current circumstances looked his master's fame had once been anything but small.

The real reason he had failed to enter the Four Great Swordsmen was probably simply that the martial world liked the symmetry of giving one position to each of the four great states.

Qian already had Baili Jian.

It would have looked awkward to include a second Qian swordsman.

His master disliked the title "Qian's Second Sword" as well.

A man who carried a sword naturally had his own summit inside his heart.

Who willingly wanted to be second?

More awkward still although Yuan Zhenxing was around the same age as Baili Jian, discussions in Qian's martial world over the past several years had gradually begun placing him alongside a younger generation of swordsmen.

For example, Hero Chen of the Pure Heart.

The Wuchuan Drunken Sword.

The Imperial Consort Sword of Xiahang.

And others.

His master often sighed that the martial world truly declined with every generation.

Just look at the ridiculous nicknames this younger generation had chosen.

A pack of damned idiots.

Just as the hungry master and disciple walked beyond the ferry-side shops the thunder of hoofbeats suddenly rolled across the river!

The local people had not experienced war for a hundred years.

Even when Emperor Taizong's northern expedition ended in defeat the Yan had never fought their way this far south.

Recently, however, constant rumors had arrived that Yan troops were driving south.

At first, people had found the reports difficult to believe.

But two days earlier, Westwind Crossing—not far from here—had truly come under Yan attack.

Only then had people become alert.

Motherfucker.

The Yan had actually fought almost to their doorstep!

Panic had been spreading and fermenting for days.

Wave after wave of refugees brought more than hungry mouths.

They brought layer after layer of thick, suffocating fear.

At last, someone looked curiously toward the opposite bank.

Then saw the densely packed black-armored cavalry.

The final thread inside everyone's mind snapped.

"AAAAAAAH!

"THE YAN DOGS ARE HERE!"

Commoners and refugees around the ferry screamed and wailed.

Everyone began fleeing together.

A detachment of Imperial Guards had originally been stationed here.

Not many perhaps four or five thousand men.

But those troops had already been transferred elsewhere.

Right now, the ferry was practically undefended.

And the river was still frozen.

Wouldn't the Yan need only one charge to come straight across?

"Master."

The little sword attendant looked up at his master.

Yuan Zhenxing blew a breath upward with considerable force.

Unfortunately the greasy hair plastered to his forehead did not move at all.

"I heard Baili Jian went to Yan not long ago.

"Unfortunately—he accomplished nothing."

"Master.

"Do not act impulsively," the sword attendant warned with the solemnity of an old man.

"Hurry.

"Pick me up and run!"

Yuan Zhenxing shook his head.

"Following me all these years—you've never been very happy.

"I know.

"You always feel that your life as a sword attendant isn't as carefree as those serving other men."

"No!

"Master, don't dump this on me!

"I don't want to die.

"And I don't want to watch you stupidly try blocking the Yan.

"Right now—hurry up.

"Immediately.

"Pick me up and run!"

Yuan Zhenxing ignored him.

"Baili Jian went to Yan and accomplished nothing.

"Today—

"I ought to do something.

"So long as I do something—that proves I'm stronger than Baili Jian."

"Master.

"Something is wrong with your brain."

Yuan Zhenxing extended one hand.

The little sword attendant stepped backward.

"Master, you want to die.

"I don't!

"I'm still young.

"I haven't even tasted what a woman's body feels like!"

"It's not that special."

"Then what about a few days ago when you went into that red tent and spent our last travel money?

"You made both of us starve for days afterward!

"What was that about?"

Yuan Zhenxing's old face immediately reddened.

"Master.

"Stop being stupid.

"Let's run."

"Be good.

"Come take a little walk with your Master."

Yuan Zhenxing stretched out his palm.

One of the swords strapped to the attendant's back instantly flew out and landed in his hand.

Then, Yuan Zhenxing began walking toward the riverbank.

The little sword attendant followed behind him, crying and cursing without pause yet never leaving.

Because a thin thread had been tied around the child's ankle.

The other end was wrapped around Yuan Zhenxing's finger.

"Master, you're a beast!

"You're not human!"

"Master!

"You damned bastard!"

"Master!

"You son of a bitch!"

"Your Master will let you see with your own eyes—what the true First Sword of Qian looks like!"

Yuan Zhenxing spoke entirely to himself.

Across the river the Yan had already begun sending men forward to test the thickness of the ice.

Yuan Zhenxing lightly pushed off with one foot.

In the next instant his entire body rose through the air.

He landed in the middle of the frozen river.

"Yuan Zhenxing—

"SWORDSMAN OF QIAN—

"STANDS HERE!"

...

"He's an expert."

Zheng Fan spoke to Liang Cheng beside him.

Liang Cheng nodded.

One falling leaf revealed autumn.

A man who dared stand alone before a mass of iron cavalry had to possess some confidence.

And the movement technique Yuan Zhenxing had just displayed proved he was no mere lunatic.

His filthy, unkempt appearance also fit the image of a hidden expert surprisingly well.

Zheng Fan helplessly patted his forehead.

The awkward truth was that the army had repeatedly split into separate detachments to eliminate obstacles along the route.

As a result, the entire force had spent much of the march dividing and rejoining.

By pure coincidence—

Zheng Fan's detachment had actually become the first Yan force to reach the Bian River.

More troops were continuously arriving behind them.

But now that they had already reached this point surely they could not shamefully tell the swordsman:

Go fight the people behind us instead.

This world's Martial Artists were powerful.

But Zheng Fan had never seen or heard of anyone capable of moving mountains and filling seas.

He had personally witnessed even someone as powerful as Shatuo Queshi eventually die beneath cavalry encirclement.

Still—

Zheng Fan genuinely worried that the man before them might be another Shatuo Queshi.

If he had to feed his own soldiers' lives into the fight just to wear the man down that would hurt.

Yuan Zhenxing drove his sword directly into the ice beneath his feet.

In the next instant the remaining two swords strapped to the little sword attendant's back flew through the air.

They landed beside Yuan Zhenxing.

Buzz!

Buzz!

All three swords stabbed into the ice.

"RISE!"

Yuan Zhenxing gave a low shout.

Sword qi erupted.

The ice beneath him began rapidly cracking.

The fractures spread outward.

Crack...

Crack...

Crack...

Starting from Yuan Zhenxing the ice split for a hundred meters in each direction.

Dark freezing water appeared beneath.

Three swords shattered the ice blocking ten thousand iron riders!

The three blades rose and hovered around Yuan Zhenxing.

Sword qi continued swirling around them.

His chest rose and fell slightly.

Steam seemed to rise from his entire body.

Even much of the filth covering him appeared to have been washed away.

For once he genuinely carried something of the detached air of an immortal.

Across the river—

Fan Li stared blankly at the stretch of river torn open by sword qi.

He reached up and scratched the helmet on his head.

"How do we cross now?"

Zheng Fan lifted his saber and tapped it against Fan Li's iron skull.

Then said irritably, "Is he stupid or are you stupid?

"Go two hundred meters east and cross there!"

Then Zheng Fan turned toward the Blind Man.

"Blind Man.

"Are all Qian swordsmen sick in the head?

"The whole river is frozen.

"Yet he thinks breaking a hundred meters of ice means we have no way to cross?"

The Blind Man nodded.

Even with his intelligence he could not analyze what purpose the powerful Qian swordsman before them believed he had accomplished.

The move had consumed an enormous amount of sword qi.

And its practical effect was close enough to zero to be ignored.

"Master.

"Perhaps this is simply the martial world."

"The martial world?"

"Yes.

"Only the martial world could produce so many powerful and adorable... idiots."

"Heh."

Zheng Fan smiled.

Then raised one hand.

More than a thousand cavalry around him drew bows and nocked arrows.

All aimed toward Yuan Zhenxing who stood upon a floating slab of ice in the river.

Yuan Zhenxing stood calmly.

Three swords hovered around him.

Protected by the sword formation he showed no fear.

Today beside the Bian River before Upper Capital he would block the Yan.

Give Qian troops time to rush here and establish defenses.

Today he believed he looked magnificent.

Unfortunately—

Zheng Fan did not immediately order the archers to shoot him.

Instead his gaze passed over Yuan Zhenxing.

He looked toward the opposite bank.

There the little sword attendant knelt with a miserable expression, crying bitterly.

"Shoot him!"

Every rider under Zheng Fan froze.

So did Yuan Zhenxing on the floating ice.

The little sword attendant stared blankly as well.

"SHOOT!"

In the next instant arrows screamed through the air.

Straight toward the little sword attendant.

"YAN DOGS!

"BEASTS!"

Yuan Zhenxing roared in fury.

He had no time to withdraw the other two swords.

He could only snatch one blade from the sword formation he had arranged earlier then launch himself through the air toward the riverbank.

At that moment, he effectively abandoned every layer of defense he had previously created.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Dense volleys of arrows tore through the air with terrifying momentum.

Yuan Zhenxing swept his single sword outward.

Arrow after arrow was cut apart.

The sight left Zheng Fan clicking his tongue inwardly.

He made a private decision.

In the future, either he needed to keep more troops around himself or he had to find a way to become much stronger while helping the Demon Kings recover more strength as well.

If an expert like this genuinely came to take his life one careless mistake could still overturn everything.

But human strength had limits.

Yuan Zhenxing had rushed back too quickly.

And he still needed to protect the little sword attendant behind him.

He had lost every chance to maneuver, breathe, and recover.

Pfft!

An arrow struck Yuan Zhenxing's arm.

His body staggered.

Then another arrow pierced his left leg.

Yuan Zhenxing dropped to one knee.

Pfft!

Pfft!

Pfft!

Several more arrows buried themselves in him.

In an instant—

Yuan Zhenxing became a hedgehog.

At last, the arrows stopped falling.

The Yan began dividing into groups and moving east and west to cross the river.

Yuan Zhenxing weakly looked down at the little sword attendant beneath him.

Then murmured, "Why do I suddenly feel... like I was a little stupid..."

The little sword attendant wrapped both arms around Yuan Zhenxing's waist from behind and burst into tears.

Then cursed, "Master!

"I told you ages ago!

"There really is something wrong with your brain!"

On this day beside the old ferry—

Qian's Second Sword died.

---

(End of Chapter)