Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

And so, in this secluded mountain village, cell phone signal was available.

The little guy was sitting on the doorstep, holding his phone, his eyes wide open.

He looked about seven or eight years old, wearing an old T-shirt that was clearly a size too big, with the cuffs rolled up twice.

She was wearing a pair of sneakers, the uppers of which were frayed, but they were clean.

The screen displays the live stream footage.

"Grandpa!" he suddenly called out, his voice crisp and bright, "The Barber Hero said he'll be there in two minutes!"

Beside him, the old man was sitting on a bamboo chair, basking in the sun.

He was well into his sixties, and the wrinkles on his face were as deep as a cracked riverbed, with the veins on the back of his hands bulging out.

Looking at his grandson's excited little face, the old man smiled and replied, "Good, good, good, my grandson is capable."

The little guy has been playing on his phone for most of the day—far, far longer than his son and daughter-in-law had allowed him to—but the old man doesn't care.

The little guy has a hard life; his parents both work away from home and can't come back even once a year.

Normally, besides running around in the mountains and playing in the fields, they just follow this old man around and listen to him tell those old, worn-out stories.

It's rare for something to excite him like this.

In this life, how few times we are truly happy.

The old man has lived for decades and understands this principle all too well.

When I was young, I worked in the production team, toiling from dawn till dusk, but I couldn't save much money at the end of the year. Later, the land was distributed to individual households, and life got a little better, but then my children grew up, and I had to worry about their marriages. Then my son went out to work, my grandson was born, and then my wife passed away…

The hardships of a lifetime are as numerous as the stones in a mountain, too many to count.

What about happy days?

I can count them on my fingers: the day I got married, the day my son got into vocational school, the day my grandson started calling me grandpa...

That's all.

Every day is precious.

So now that his grandson is happy, he is happy too.

He believed whatever his grandson believed.

The important thing is that my grandson is smiling like a flower right now.

"Grandpa, look!" The little guy held up his phone, the screen showing a live stream with text scrolling rapidly across the screen. "They say the Barber Hero flies faster than an airplane!"

"Good, good, good." The old man smiled, his eyes narrowed.

"Grandpa, look at this!" The little guy pointed to the map in the corner of the screen again. "We're here! They said Barber Hero is in Yu Xi now, so far away!"

"Good good."

"Grandpa, will the Barber Hero really come?" The little guy suddenly became a little uncertain, tilted his head up, and looked at his grandfather with bright eyes.

The old man looked at him, his heart melting completely.

"Yes, it will," he said slowly but with certainty. "If my grandson says it will, then it definitely will."

The little guy grinned, revealing two missing front teeth.

He lowered his head again and continued staring at the screen.

He swiped his finger across the screen, occasionally calling out, "Grandpa, look!"—in fact, he didn't recognize most of the characters, but that didn't matter; he would understand them after seeing them more often. He had even learned some of the characters in the past few days, such as "侠" (xia, meaning hero), "飞" (fei, meaning fly), and "明" (ming, meaning bright).

The old man leaned back in his bamboo chair, squinting as he looked at the distant mountains.

The sunlight shone in from the other side of the mountain, making people feel warm and cozy.

If only my husband were still here, he would be so happy to see his grandson.

He thought about it.

suddenly--

A gust of wind.

The old man subconsciously looked up.

Nothing.

But the sound of the wind was strange. It was too fast and too urgent, and when it swept over our heads, it created a gust of wind that made the clothesline in the yard sway.

The little guy also looked up and stared blankly at the sky.

Then he jumped up.

"Grandpa! Grandpa!" He pointed to the center of the yard, his voice booming, "Coming, coming!"

The old man looked in the direction he was pointing.

In the center of the courtyard, there was an extra person who had appeared at some point.

Young, in his early twenties, wearing a very ordinary T-shirt and trousers, with a particularly heartwarming smile on his face.

He was looking down at his grandson, his gaze gentle.

Then he raised his head and looked at the old man.

"Hello, sir," the young man said.

"Hairdresser Hero! You really came! You really, really, really came!"

The little guy jumped up and down twice, almost dropping his phone. He caught it in a fluster, then looked up at the person in front of him, his eyes wide and his mouth stretched so wide you could see his two missing front teeth.

"Yes, I'm here," the young man replied with a smile.

"Hairdresser!" The little guy took a step forward, tilted his head back, and said in a crisp and urgent voice, "When you flew over just now, did you see our mountain road? It's that one, winding and turning like an earthworm!"

As he spoke, he gestured with his hands, twisting his arms to draw a crooked curve.

“My grandpa said that road is older than my great-grandfather! It’s so slippery when it rains. Last time my dad came back, his motorcycle slid to the side halfway there. The wheels kept spinning, but he couldn’t move! In the end, my grandpa had to bring an ox to pull it out!”

He became more and more enthusiastic as he spoke, gesturing wildly.

"And the year before last, Uncle Wang's tricycle next door, the one that chugs and sputters, went to the most bend—you know, right there on the edge of the cliff—and the wheel slipped, almost falling off! Uncle Wang was so scared his face turned white, and he said he never wanted to drive that road again in his life!"

The little guy imitated Uncle Wang, shrinking his neck and waving his hands around.

"And there's more! Last winter, during a heavy snowfall, Aunt Liu's son was working away from home and wanted to come back for the New Year. However, he got halfway there and was too scared to go any further. He pushed his motorcycle back, a journey that took him a full five hours! When he finally got home, his shoes were soaked through and his feet were frozen red! Aunt Liu was heartbroken and cried!"

As the little guy was talking, he suddenly remembered something and pointed outside the yard.

"The kids here also have to take that road to school! It takes more than two hours! I walk it every day! It's so slippery when it rains, you have to be very, very careful, or you'll fall! I've fallen twice!"

He held up two fingers, looking very serious.

"Once I tore my pants and got scolded by my grandma when I got home. Another time I cut my hand and it bled, it hurt so much!"

As he spoke, he raised his hand to show the young man. There was indeed a faint scar on his palm, almost invisible, but he still pointed it out very seriously.

"Be careful in the future." The young man listened quietly to all the little guy's ramblings, looking down at the scar with a gentle gaze.

"Hairdresser Hero, they all say you can do anything."

I'll try my best.

"Then... could you help us build a road?"

"refer to."

101 A road fell from the sky

That's why even though fate has chosen him to be a left-behind child, the little guy is still very cheerful and positive.

The little guy is indeed very clever; he understood Zhang Qiliang's meaning immediately.

He raised his hand and pointed in the direction of the mountain road.

—It was a winding white line between the mountains, appearing and disappearing in the afternoon sunlight, like a thin rope about to break.

Zhang Qiliang nodded, raised his right hand, put his two fingers together, and held it above his shoulder.

The movements were slow and gentle.

But the moment those two fingers came together, the little guy suddenly shuddered. He couldn't explain why, but he felt as if there was something between his fingers—something he couldn't see or touch, yet it made the air feel different.

The old man held his grandson's hand tightly, his palms sweaty.

Then, the two fingers gently fell.

"Boom-"

The first sound came from underground.

The first thing you feel is the soles of your feet—the vibration travels up your calves from the soles of your feet, making your bones buzz.

Something fell from between those two fingers and into the depths of the earth.

Sharp.

simply.

Go forward.

Completely destroying everything in its path.

The whole earth was moving.

The little guy plopped down on the ground, his eyes wide open.

The old man stood up, supporting himself on a bamboo chair; the veins in his hands were trembling.

"boom--"

The second sound followed.

This time it came from all directions, hit the mountain wall, bounced back, hit it again, and rolled back and forth several times.

The voice carried an indescribable force, as if something was pushing forward inside the mountain, and nothing could stop it.

The chickens in the yard flapped their wings and ran around wildly, while the dog tucked its tail between its legs and scurried into a corner, making a whimpering sound.

The old man pulled his grandson into his arms and held him protectively.

-

Meanwhile, halfway up the mountain.

Li Fugui was carrying a bag of fertilizer, walking towards the village with uneven steps.

He actually owns a motorcycle, but the road conditions are too dangerous to ride—it rained yesterday, and the mountain roads are extremely slippery. Old Zhang's son next door almost slipped off a cliff in this kind of weather and is still lying at home.

Fifty pounds of fertilizer pressed down on my shoulders, causing a sharp pain.

He cursed, switched the bag to his other shoulder, and prepared to continue walking—

"Boom-"

Suddenly, my feet swayed.

Li Fugui stumbled, nearly tumbling down the mountain with the fertilizer. He clung tightly to a crooked tree by the roadside, his heart pounding.

earthquake?

Before he could even stand up straight—

"boom--"

The second sound came, louder and deeper than before, making his legs go weak.

wrong.

It wasn't an earthquake.

There was something in that voice... he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Like a knife, like a sword, like something is cleaving forward.

Then he looked up and saw a scene he would never forget for the rest of his life.

On the mountaintop, the clouds were churning.

Clusters of clouds surged up from behind the mountain ridge, as if something below was pushing upwards. Flocks of birds that had flown their entire lives darted out of the forest on the horizon, a dark mass fleeing to higher ground.

The clouds churned more and more violently, as if they were being cleaved open by something.