Wandering Sword Seller's Life in the Qin Dynasty

If we had to pinpoint the meaning, it would probably be that Xu Qing thought of a line of poetry, "Ten thousand miles away, I often feel sorrow in autumn as a guest." Autumn is a perfect match for Situ Wanli's name, and since this sword can be used as three separate swords, it is called the Autumn Equinox.

Chapter 110 Fate is too mysterious; let's see if human will can overcome fate!

The city walls of Shouchun receded into the distance behind Xu Qing, without him glancing back even once.

After handing over the sword that had been custom-made for Situ Wanli, he stayed for a few more days before leaving without any hesitation.

Despite his deep reluctance, Situ Wanli could only watch the figure in the green robe disappear at the end of the post road.

As they parted, he earnestly instructed Xu Qing, and also told him about several commercial outposts of the farmers scattered throughout the Chu region. He said that if Xu Qing needed rare materials for forging swords, he could send them through these outposts via secret letters, and he would do his best to arrange them.

Xu Qing naturally appreciated Situ Wanli's kindness.

But I wasn't particularly moved.

He knew all too well what kind of person Situ Wanli was.

They're only being so enthusiastic about me right now because it's profitable.

If there is no benefit.

Situ Wanli will cut ties with you as soon as possible.

"Though the world is vast, most of it has fallen into Chu."

While this statement may seem exaggerated, the vastness of the Chu region is undeniable.

Xu Qing was not in a hurry to leave Chu, but instead chose to travel around this land.

Everyone knows that the swords of Wu and Yue are unparalleled in the world, but few know that the swords of Chu are equally formidable. In the past, Yue destroyed Wu, and Chu then annexed Yue. The secret sword-making techniques of Wu and Yue, which had been passed down for thousands of years, along with the essence of the land, ultimately fell into the hands of the people of Chu.

This is why sword manuals circulated in the Chu Kingdom.

Feng Hu Zi's words often lingered in Xu Qing's heart.

He also read extensively from ancient books, learning about the lives of those swordsmiths.

Obsession, piety, and even madness are their common underlying traits.

They spent ten years honing their skills, regarding the sword as the most precious thing in the world. They poured their hearts and souls into it with unwavering passion, sacrificing even their own flesh and blood, and burning their own lives in order to forge swords that would be passed down through the ages.

The divine sword possesses a spirit!

This "spirit" is nothing less than a tragic swan song written with the blood and tears of the swordsmith.

Xu Qing asked himself honestly, and he knew he couldn't do that.

For him, sword forging was ultimately a skill, a means of making a living.

His heart is not sincere enough.

Even though he could forge magnificent swords and relied on the strange abilities granted by the system to further improve his skills, he still could not achieve the goal of "having nothing but his sword".

This is the highest realm for a swordsman, and also the lifelong obsession of a swordsmith.

But that wasn't his path.

"The path to upgrade is roughly clear now." Xu Qing walked along the mountain paths of Chu, his thoughts stretching out along with the winding road beneath his feet. "The chasm between the third and fourth tiers lies in the word 'spirit.' As Feng Hu Zi said, to forge a divine sword, the right time, the right place, and the right people must all come together to trigger extraordinary phenomena in the world. But a sword with spirit is not necessarily a divine sword. As long as one can create the so-called spiritual charm, that's enough."

During this time, he devoted himself to studying ancient books, especially the sword manual, on which he had already memorized Feng Huzi's annotations.

He gradually understood why Feng Hu Zi had said "destiny" that day.

This is a world of swords.

Some swords, perhaps dormant for many years, will one day meet a sword master who understands their heart, and then emerge like a dragon from the abyss, their sharpness shaking the world.

He even recalled the contents of that theatrical version.

The Nine Heavens Mystic Maiden descended to this world and forged the Chi You Sword for Chi You using meteorite iron from outer space. Chi You wielded the sword and entered the demonic path, bringing about a catastrophe upon the land...

Regardless of whether that theatrical version is connected to the present world or not, it cannot change the extraordinary status of the "sword" in this world.

Countless legends associated with swords have led people to associate them closely with destiny and fate.

"However, I obviously don't believe in such things. After all, fatalism is outdated. These days, people believe in 'my fate is in my own hands, not in the hands of heaven!'"

Xu Qing curled his lip, scoffing at Feng Hu Zi's statement.

But Xu Qing also knew that before Chen Sheng and Wu Guang shouted "Are kings and nobles born with a special destiny?", many people in this era still believed in fate and destiny. Otherwise, they would not have pursued the Seven Mansions of the Azure Dragon.

Then, he thought of the mysterious and profound method of nurturing spirits.

“A sword born of destiny, bearing a mission to descend upon the world, is the opportune moment; a sword nurtured by the spiritual energy of the earth's veins, giving birth to its own spirit, is the advantage of the land. These two things are too mysterious; I cannot grasp them.” Xu Qing’s gaze fell upon the vast mountains. “Therefore, the easiest way to achieve this is through human effort, that is, human will can overcome nature!”

The people that Feng Hu Zi mentioned.

This refers to a sword that has circulated throughout the world for many years, gradually developing spirituality through the spiritual influence of several generations of sword masters.

But this process is far too long, and it remains a very mysterious thing.

Xu Qing's idea of ​​harmony is different.

He first thought of a wicked path.

That is, to nurture evil swords and vicious swords. Evil swords are evil swords because they are extremely ferocious, and Xu Qing actually forged several such swords.

Swords like "Heaven's Wrath" and "Tears" that were once forged in Korea are examples of this type.

Especially the former.

Besides its bloodthirsty power, it can also ignite the wielder's greed, and if one is not careful, it may devour its master.

Xu Qing wanted to know if such a sword, after slaughtering enough lives, would give rise to a demonic thought after its ferocity reached its extreme. A demonic thought, from another perspective, is actually a kind of spirituality, only the spirit within it is a demonic spirit, a ferocious spirit.

In addition, there are some other ideas that need to be verified one by one.

Although the idea of ​​nurturing the evil sword arose, Xu Qing did not immediately return to South Korea.

The land of Chu is vast and its mountains and rivers are magnificent; how could it be captured in a fleeting glance?

Moreover, opportunities are unpredictable. Perhaps at any moment, one might stumble upon a geomantically auspicious site, using the favorable location to forge a spiritual sword, or perhaps encounter a celestial phenomenon that triggers the opportune moment.

After all, Feng Hu Zi was a proponent of fatalism. Although Xu Qing didn't believe in the destiny of swords, he couldn't help but fantasize about his own good luck.

……

In the Chu region, shamanistic practices were prevalent, and numerous folk temples and shrines stood.

As dusk fell, Xu Qing found a secluded mountain temple to take shelter in.

The statue was broken and its features were unrecognizable.

The campfire crackled, illuminating the mottled murals. He suddenly recalled the rainy night when he first met the Snow Woman, and how similar the scene was to this one.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he suspected that there might be trouble tonight, or that an uninvited guest might disturb his peace.

However, as night fell and dawn broke, only the sound of mountain winds blowing through the corridor could be heard.

Perhaps it's just because it didn't rain last night.

After all, rainy nights are the breeding ground for stories.

Continuing on, a solitary tavern came into view by the roadside.

This place is remote, with no villages or shops for miles around.

Inside the hall sat a few martial arts practitioners carrying knives and swords, but no one drank or spoke. The air was thick with tension, and a murderous intent permeated the silence, as if a single spark could ignite it.

"It seems I've come at the wrong time." Xu Qing raised an eyebrow slightly.

It's better to avoid trouble, so he turned and retreated without stopping.

Just as his figure disappeared into the shadows of the trees outside the building, a sudden burst of metallic clang and a shrill scream erupted behind him.

The sounds of swords slashing, tables and chairs shattering, and dying groans shattered the silence of the mountains and fields in an instant.

Xu Qing shook his head inwardly, feeling a pang of sadness. These days, running a shop in the wilderness was truly a life-or-death business. Martial arts heroes would fight and ravage, looting and vandalizing before leaving, caring nothing for the shopkeepers' lives or the corpses strewn across the ground.

He did not go far away, but waited quietly in the woods.

Not long after, the tavern's dilapidated wooden door creaked open.

A middle-aged man covered in blood staggered out, clutching a jagged, chipped sword in his hand. Blood dripped from the tip of the sword, splashing into dark red patches in the dust.

"Not bad!" A clear voice suddenly rang out.

The man shuddered and looked in the direction of the sound, like a wounded and trapped beast.

Under the shade of the trees, a young man in a blue robe stood with his hands behind his back, exuding a calm and composed air.

"You're here to kill me too?" The man's voice was hoarse, a broken sword lay across his chest, and his blood-stained face was filled with wariness.

He was able to fight his way through the carnage within the building, and his senses were far beyond those of ordinary people. At this moment, he clearly sensed the indescribable and unique aura emanating from the other party.

"Many people want you dead?" Xu Qing asked instead of answering.

The man paused, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes: "Who exactly are you?"

“Just a passerby who doesn’t want to cause trouble.” Xu Qing’s gaze swept over the broken sword in his hand, a slight smile playing on his lips. “All the killing intent in the tavern rested on you. I thought you were doomed, but you managed to break free. I’m rather interested in your story. If you tell it well…”

He paused, a bright light flashing in his eyes, "Perhaps, I can give you a suitable gift."

Having followed Situ Wanli for a long time, Xu Qing had become accustomed to sending swords to auction houses to sell for a price. He had almost forgotten his former hobby of investing in martial arts heroes.

Now that Feng Huzi has revealed the secret of "spirituality," he is determined to return to his old profession.

This time, however, instead of casting a wide net to give away swords, we will seek out the "suitable" sword owner and give him the "fitting" sword.

What he sought was not whether these sword masters could bring him prestige, but rather to see if, when the sword and its master were in perfect harmony and tempered by the blood and fire of the martial world, a wisp of... spiritual energy could be quietly nurtured deep within the cold metal.

He wanted to try his own method.

Even though Feng Hu Zi's method of human harmony was mysterious, he intended to give it a try.

Having multiple options is always a good thing.

The middle-aged man's eyes darkened as he warily sized up Xu Qing.

After a brief exchange of words, he finally confirmed one thing.

The uninvited guest before him did not seem to be there to kill him.

This is a stroke of luck amidst misfortune.

The blood of the outlaws in the tavern was still warm on the tip of his sword, but his own strength had been almost completely torn away, and every breath aggravated his open wounds.