CHAPTER 430: CHAPTER 48: QIAN STATE’S SECOND SWORD_1

The Bian River was an artificial canal excavated by the Qian State in bygone days, a feat achieved at an immense cost of manpower and resources. Officially, its purpose was canal construction, but considering the Qian State was then under the most formidable military pressure from the Yan State, the true objective behind digging this waterway was self-evident.

During its initial excavation, the canal’s banks burst and its course changed several times, bringing multiple disasters upon the nearby populace. Over the years, however, the canal had become far more stable. Coupled with its strategic proximity to the imperial capital, it also flourished into a bustling commercial and transportation artery.

A tributary of the Bian River flowed directly into the imperial capital. Years ago, after Tattoo-faced Master quelled the rebellion in the Southwest, he entered the imperial capital by boat. The citizens of the imperial capital lined both banks of the river, eager to catch a glimpse of the renowned Tattoo-faced Master.

In the Qian State, to have one’s name announced at the Donghua Gate marked the beginning of a glorious life. However, to be granted the privilege of entering the imperial capital by official boat was to reach the true zenith of one’s existence.

The entry of Tattoo-faced Master into the capital was too long ago for most to recall clearly. In the memory of the capital’s citizens, the most recent comparable events occurred five years ago. At that time, Mr. Sima, who had been engrossed in writing at home, was summoned by the Emperor with three imperial edicts and granted the privilege of entering the capital by boat.

This legendary Mr. Sima, a prodigy from childhood, had once slain a black serpent in the Great Marsh during his travels in Chu State. Later, in his prime, he left his official position to dedicate himself to writing.

Eventually, a saying gained widespread currency: "Without Lord Sima, what would become of the common people?"

Scholars, officials, and civilians all crowded the riverbanks upon his entry into the city, eager to catch a glimpse of this great talent, supposedly capable of governing the realm.

However, by the time Mr. Sima returned to the capital, he was already in his fifties. His skin was very dark, and he sported a prominent belly. He didn’t resemble a scholar; instead, he looked more like a crude soldier.

In this respect, his appearance did not quite align with the aesthetic preferences of the imperial capital’s citizens.

After all, the imperial capital was the most prosperous city in the world, peerless in both East and West!

The citizens here naturally possessed the most discerning eyes.

The greatest sensation, however, occurred three years ago when Baili Sword, the Sword God of the Qian State, was summoned by the Emperor to the capital to serve as the Crown Prince’s martial arts instructor.

The Sword God, the Sword Immortal, the Swordsman—

A sword, a flagon of wine, laughter echoing as they roamed the world.

Considering Baili Sword’s age—neither young nor particularly old—his arrival in the city, clad in white with a longsword at his waist, utterly electrified the atmosphere of the capital.

In every era, people feel the urge to idolize figures of renown. They often unconsciously invest their hopes in another, fantasizing that they too might one day live such a life.

On that day, the Emperor himself emerged from the palace, proceeding to the Jade Dragon Bridge to personally welcome Baili Sword ashore.

Even now, the scenes from that day remain a favorite topic of conversation among the capital’s populace.

「...」

"It’s been three years, Master! When will you finally get to board a boat from here and sail straight into the imperial capital, huh?" the sword boy asked, munching on a piece of dried tofu.

Across from the sword boy sat a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard. The man’s long hair was greasy, and despite the biting cold, he wore wooden clogs.

Before him rested a pot of rice wine, from which he sipped with meticulous care.

Life in the capital is harsh, and the cost of living is steep. Even this rice wine costs double what it would in the countryside.

And this wasn’t even within the imperial capital proper, but at the old ferry landing.

"Go on, go on! Shoo, cool off somewhere else," the man dismissed. "I, your Master, have no intention of following in Baili Sword’s footsteps. He’s already taken that boat ride; I couldn’t care less about it!"

"Master, but I want to ride the boat," the sword boy said dejectedly.

"Ride what boat? The river’s frozen solid. How could anyone take a boat now?"

The man lifted the wine pot and took another small sip.

Setting the pot down, his gaze swept his surroundings. Ordinarily, in winter, especially when the Bian River was frozen, these ferry landings would be much quieter. Recently, however, due to the wars in the north, wave upon wave of refugees fleeing the conflict were passing through. Even compared to normal days with bustling boat traffic, the current crowds were exceptionally large.

It was said that just the other day, the Yan people had attempted an assault on West Wind Crossing, a mere seventy or eighty miles from here, but they had been repelled by the imperial troops.

The Emperor even disbursed funds from the privy purse to reward the three armies for this. How amusing. The Yan bastards have advanced right up to the Bian River, yet those scoundrel soldiers still have the gall to accept reward money. PAH! The Imperial Court is just wasting its resources feeding such useless curs.

Rice wine itself wasn’t potent enough to cause intoxication. However, this Swordsman Yuan, supposedly the second-best swordsman in the Qian State, lacked the funds to drink himself into a stupor. Thus, he could only feign drunkenness, an indirect method of satisfying his craving.

"Master, I’m still hungry." The sword boy had already devoured all the dried tofu his master had set out with the wine. A growing boy eats like a horse, as they say, and how could such a small amount of plain dried tofu possibly fill his stomach?

"Eat, eat, eat! Is that all you ever think about?"

Yuan Zhenxing slapped the table in annoyance, then laid out nine coins.

"Proprietor, the bill!"

He then rose with a flourish and strode out of the small tavern, carrying himself as though he’d just tossed down a large silver ingot and grandly declared, "Keep the change!"

The sword boy could only pout, stand up, hop off the long bench, and trail after his master.

On the sword boy’s back were three swords.

Along their journey, the sword boy had several times suggested his master sell one of the swords so they could afford a few decent meals and drinks, but his master always refused.

His master refused, saying they needed to endure a little longer. He argued, "What discernment could those uncultured rural landowners possibly possess? Selling my swords to them would be like casting pearls before swine!"