Chapter 75 | Powering Up by Meddling in Other People's Business

“Grandpa Qi.”

A boy of five or six poked his head out from the carriage and called out to the old man.

The boy had clear, delicate features, with a pair of dark, bright eyes brimming with the uncontainable excitement and curiosity characteristic of youth.

At his waist hung a short sword, its scabbard inlaid with a few cheap turquoises, and the rawhide cord wrapped around its hilt was already frayed at the edges.

It was clearly not a precious weapon, yet he had polished it until it gleamed.

“A-Tong, sit back inside. Up ahead is Cangwu Ridge; the road is treacherous.”

The old man addressed as “Grandpa Qi” did not even raise his head, merely tapping his two fingers lightly against his scabbard.

The saber emitted an exceedingly low, deep hum, as though answering its master.

The boy immediately pulled his head back in, but less than half a cup of tea’s time later, he poked out again from the other side of the carriage.

“Grandpa Qi, let me ask you one more thing.”

“You’ve already asked over three hundred things along the way.”

“Just one, the very last one.”

The old man surnamed Qi finally raised his head and glanced at the boy, his gaze carrying a touch of helpless indulgence.

“Ask away.”

The boy swallowed the dry rations in his mouth, wiped the crumbs from the corner of his lips, and asked solemnly,

“Why doesn’t Sword God Lü come to our Furnace-Listening Pavilion to fetch the sword himself? Isn’t he an Earthly Sword Immortal, capable of soaring into the heavens, tunneling into the earth, and doing all manner of impossible things? Going from Jinyang City to our Furnace-Listening Pavilion should only take him a cup of tea’s time, right?”

Among the eight martial artists in martial attire surrounding the carriage, someone could not help but let out a low chuckle.

Oblivious, the boy stared with glittering eyes at Old Man Qi, waiting for his answer.

Old Man Qi fell silent for a moment, then drew the saber on his knees a little closer to his chest.

The sleeve of his gray cloth robe slid down, revealing a withered wrist.

Across the wrist bone was a deep, old scar running from the wrist all the way into the depths of the sleeve.

“A-Tong, have you ever seen a tiger locked in a cage?”

His voice was very soft, as if murmuring to himself.

The boy paused, taken aback, and shook his head.

“Earthly Immortals are tigers locked in cages.”

Old Man Qi cast his gaze toward the clouds and mist swirling around the mountainside of Cangwu Ridge in the distance.

“The few Earthly Immortals of Grand Zhao—Sword Immortal Shen, Sword God Lü, Old Immortal Qiu, as well as the two in the east—the existence of each and every one of them is an unstable variable to the imperial court.

“If an Earthly Sword Immortal were to draw his sword in the capital, even if all one hundred thousand imperial guards threw themselves at him, it wouldn't be enough to satisfy his blade. So the imperial court came up with a method: they designated a city for each of them. On the surface, it’s called guarding a city, framed as though the court values them immensely. In reality, it’s keeping them locked in cages. Sword God Lü has guarded Jinyang City for twenty years, and in all these twenty years, he has never taken a single step beyond Jinyang City's gates. It is not that he does not wish to leave, but that he cannot.”

The boy was dumbfounded by what he heard, not even noticing when the dry rations in his hand dropped onto the carriage floorboards.

“But... isn't Sword Immortal Shen able to roam wherever he pleases?”

“Which is why he is the sole exception.”

A faint curve rose at the corner of Old Man Qi’s lips, tinged with a complex mix of emotion that was hard to tell whether it was admiration or regret.

“Sword Immortal Shen never interferes in the affairs of the world. When the court sent envoys to discuss guarding a city with him, he didn't even grant them an audience. The court could do nothing to him because he is the strongest under heaven. No one can defeat him; no one can force him to do anything. Thus, he wanders carefree, coming and going without a trace—the only truly free Earthly Immortal in this world.”

He paused, his gaze growing more distant.

“Sword God Lü is different. He was a rising star who only reached the Earthly Immortal Realm after the war between the two dynasties ended. Back then, Grand Zhao was forcefully suppressing the martial world, crushing the major sects until they could barely raise their heads, and either co-opting or putting down experts of every stripe. For Sword God Lü to forcefully carve his way into the Earthly Sword Immortal realm in that kind of martial world was a magnificent feat in itself. Yet the price he paid was also steep. On the very first day he entered the Earthly Sword Immortal realm, he personally destroyed his natal sword to show that he harbored no ambition to contend for supremacy. An Earthly Sword Immortal without even a natal sword of his own—what kind of state of affairs is that?”

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for words.

He looked down at the cheap short sword at his waist, and then thought of how the world's second-ranked Sword God didn't even possess a decent sword of his own. For a moment, his own situation didn't seem so miserable anymore.

“Then... then why did the court agree to let him forge a new sword?” he pressed.

Old Man Qi did not answer immediately.

The saber across his knees emitted another low hum—this time, it was not from his tapping, but the saber chiming of its own accord.

The old man reached out and pressed down on the scabbard, his aged palm covering it to suppress that restless aura.

“That is precisely what this old man cannot fathom either.”

He slowly raised his head, his gaze piercing through the twilight toward the east.

That was the direction of the capital.

“Thirty years ago, Sword God Lü personally destroyed his natal sword before the court spared him, allowing him to peacefully guard Jinyang City for twenty years. Now, they have suddenly granted him permission to forge a new sword, and even had our Furnace-Listening Pavilion spend three full years crafting ‘Sheiru’ for him. On the day the sword was completed, all three thousand seven hundred divine weapons in Furnace-Listening Pavilion's Arsenal Pavilion bowed in unison. Even this old man's ‘Suiyue,’ tucked away at the bottom of my trunk for sixty years, trembled thrice in its scabbard. This sword is no ordinary blade. Once it reaches Sword God Lü's hands, his combat prowess will increase by at least thirty percent. Because of this, I truly cannot fathom what that person in the capital is thinking.”

“So, this trip of ours will be very dangerous?” the boy asked.

Old Man Qi turned his head, looked at the boy's still-childish face, and suddenly gave a small smile.

That smile unfolded across his heavily wrinkled face, like a flower suddenly blooming on old tree bark.

“Scared?”

“Not scared!”

The boy puffed out his chest and patted the short sword at his waist.

“I am a disciple of Furnace-Listening Pavilion! Besides, with you here, Grandpa Qi, and eight Grandmaster martial uncles, who in the world would dare block our path?”

Old Man Qi did not reply.

He merely lowered his head again, resting his gaze on the saber across his knees, his withered fingers gently caressing the gold rings on the scabbard.

The convoy rolled slowly onto the mountain path of Cangwu Ridge.

Cangwu Ridge was the only route leading to Jinyang City. The mountain terrain was treacherous, and the road was narrow. On one side stood sheer cliffs as though sheared by blades and cleaved by axes; on the other lay a bottomless, ten-thousand-zhang abyss. Between them ran only a plank pathway wide enough for two carriages to travel abreast.

The stone balustrades on the outer edge of the plank road had long been eroded and fractured by wind and rain, leaving gaping holes every few paces, beneath which clouds and mist surged, obscuring whatever lay at the bottom.

The eight Grandmaster-level martial artists in martial attire grew vigilant in that very instant.

Old Man Qi did not move.

He still sat upon the baggage cart with the saber resting horizontally across his knees, his eyelids not even fully open.

Yet at some point, his right hand had gripped the hilt, the veins on the back of his withered hand bulging slightly.

The boy inside the carriage also sensed the shift in atmosphere. Quietly unbuckling the short sword from his waist, he held it in his hands.

His palms were slick with sweat, soaking the rawhide cord around the hilt until it was slippery; he had to grip it with both hands to keep it from slipping.

The convoy traveled in silence for roughly the time it takes an incense stick to burn.

Nothing happened.

No boulders tumbled down from the sheer cliff.

No tripwires lay across the plank road.

Not a single hidden arrow shot out from the dense woods on either side.

As twilight deepened, the mountain wind swept through the valley, setting the sea of pines roaring in waves.

One of the men leapt down from a pine bough and landed beside Old Man Qi, his brows knitted into a tight knot.

“Elder Qi, something's not right. This stretch of road through Cangwu Ridge is the prime spot for an ambush along our entire route. With sheer cliffs above and the abyss below, if they block both the front and rear, we won't even have room to turn around. Yet nothing has happened.”