The corner of Murong Qingnü’s lips curled once more into that icy arc.
“You claim this is for the righteousness of the martial world, for the state of the realm. What a grand pretext you wrap yourself in.”
Her voice rose sharply.
“Yet if you truly possessed such righteousness, why did you not come sooner?
Why did you not die alongside her thirty years ago?
Why wait until today, until this new sword of your Furnace-Listening Pavilion has emerged from the furnace, until the eyes of the entire world are gathered upon Jinyang City?
Only now do you come to stage this dramatic show of sacrifice?”
Every single word of hers was like a blade, carving deep into Qi Tianchen’s heart.
“Let me tell you, Qi Tianchen, you—”
“Every word you say is true.”
Qi Tianchen interrupted her.
“I have indeed lived as a coward for thirty years.
After Qingyi died, I locked myself away in Furnace-Listening Pavilion, forging weapons day and night without pause.
The world knows only that Qi Tianchen of Furnace-Listening Pavilion forges weapons like a god.
Yet none know that every time a sword left the furnace, I would wonder: if only I had forged a truly great sword for Qingyi back then, perhaps she would not have died.
And this sword, Sheiru, could also be said to have been forged by me for Qingyi.”
His voice finally began to tremble, wavering so intensely that he could scarcely maintain his tone.
“Of course.
I know that all of this is nothing more than self-deception.
Qingyi’s Way of the Sword never required any weapon to begin with.
It was I who held her back.
Throughout these thirty years, every day I lived was another day I owed her.
Yet I could not die, for this life of mine was bought with her death.
If I were to casually find some corner to slit my own throat, only then would I truly have failed her.”
He lifted his head, the moonlight falling into those turbid eyes of his and stirring an unusual clarity within them.
“So I waited.
I waited for a moment worthy of my death.”
He turned around, casting his gaze toward the pitch-black ironwood wagon at the center of the convoy.
The bronze bell suspended atop the carriage cabin chimed softly in the night breeze, sounding like a faint sigh on behalf of someone absent.
“Sword Immortal Shen and Sword God Lü are to duel in Jinyang City. This battle concerns not only the outcome between the two of them, but the fate of every martial artist in the Two Realms.
The Grand Shuo Royal Court wishes to use this battle to stage a resurgence, while the current Emperor wishes to use it to weaken the martial world.
If both Sword Immortals fall, then from this day forward, martial artists will have nowhere left to stand.”
His voice rose sharply, echoing in waves across the valley.
“I do not die for Furnace-Listening Pavilion, nor do I die for Mirror Water Villa.
I die for the martial world that Qingyi guarded for decades.”
He turned back around, meeting Murong Qingnü’s eyes head-on.
“Little Qingnü, you and I can both be considered members of the older generation in the martial world.
For people of my generation, our spoken words are like nails driven into stone.
No wind can blow them away, and no rain can wash them away.
If I say I will dissolve my Dao here, I shall dissolve my Dao here—I will never break my word.
I ask of you only a single promise.”
He cupped his saber in both hands and gave Murong Qingnü a deep bow.
“Let them pass.”
The night wind swept through the valley, rustling the bamboo grove.
The colored glass lanterns flanking the archway swayed in the wind, casting shifting light and shadow across everyone’s faces.
Murong Qingnü stood where she was, unmoving.
Her amber eyes fixed intently on Qi Tianchen’s bowed back, the fine wrinkle at the corner of her eye twitching slightly.
Silence lingered for a long time.
Murong Qingnü finally spoke.
“Fine! If you dissolve your Dao on the spot, I shall let them pass!”
“Grandpa Qi, don’t do something foolish!
Granny Xie has been gone for so many years. Even if you throw your life away, she won’t come back!
Can’t we just return to Furnace-Listening Pavilion? Let’s turn around, let’s go home! Let’s not deliver any sword!”
Qi Tianchen looked down at A-Tong, a faint trace of tenderness surfacing on his perpetually stern and rigid face.
He reached out a withered hand and gently patted A-Tong’s head.
“Silly child, the debts your grandpa owes must always be repaid.”
He lifted his head to look back at Murong Qingnü, his gaze calm as still water, his tone as light as the breeze.
“Little Qingnü, today, with this withered remnant of a body, I, Qi, undergo martial release and dissolve my Dao before the mountain gate of Mirror Water Villa.
First, to express gratitude for Xie Qingyi’s grace in following me through life and death.
Second, to atone for the heartless and ungrateful sins of Qi Tianchen of Furnace-Listening Pavilion.”
With those words, Qi Tianchen straightened his posture and slowly drew the long saber named Suiyue from its scabbard.
He held the long saber horizontally before him, his right hand gripping the hilt and his left hand supporting the spine of the blade, his eyes half-closed.
A vast, abyss-like aura began to slowly emanate from his body.
That was the lifetime cultivation of a Great Grandmaster at the Boundless Realm peak.
At this moment, it was being stripped inch by inch from his meridians.
“Elder Qi! Don’t!”
The eight martial artists in martial attire bellowed in unison, about to charge forward.
“Grandpa Qi!”
In that very instant.
A spear shadow tore through the air, striking with pinpoint precision against the spine of the long saber in Qi Tianchen’s hands.
“Clang!”
A ring of clashing metal resounded, buzzing in the eardrums of everyone present.
Qi Tianchen snapped his eyes open, only to see a red-tasseled spear held across in front of him.
The spear tip pressed firmly against the spine of the blade, forcefully suppressing the dispersing aura of the Dao dissolution back inside.
“Hold on, Senior Qi.”
With one hand, Chen Zui pressed down steadily over Qi Tianchen’s saber-gripping hand.
Qi Tianchen tilted his head to glance at him, his gaze holding both surprise and a faint trace of helplessness.
“Young Hero Chen, this is my own affair.”
“I know it is your own affair.”
Chen Zui did not let go, his gaze fixed squarely on Qi Tianchen.
He paused, the corners of his lips suddenly curling slightly.
“However, it won’t be too late to make your decision after you hear my conversation with Sect Master Murong.”
At that moment, a cold snort carrying the might of heaven and earth suddenly detonated.
“What kind of thing are you to think you are worthy of speaking to me or pointing fingers at the affairs of my Mirror Water Villa?”
The speaker was none other than Murong Qingnü.
Those amber eyes had already turned toward Chen Zui, her gaze cold enough to freeze one to the bone.
The presence of a Boundless Realm Grandmaster locked onto him instantly.
The air within several zhang around them instantly stagnated.
A-Tong felt suffocated, involuntarily stumbling back two steps.
Yet Chen Zui looked as though he felt nothing at all; he simply withdrew the hand resting on Qi Tianchen’s.
He rotated his wrist, then raised his head, meeting Murong Qingnü’s gaze head-on.
“Sect Master Murong, is it?
This junior is Chen Zui, merely an unaffiliated wanderer of the martial world.
I am indeed unworthy of pointing fingers at the affairs of Mirror Water Villa.
However, this junior has something to ask the Sect Master.”
He paused for a beat, not a trace of fear present in those clear, sharp eyes.
“Villa Master Murong, allow me to ask.
Back then, before Senior Xie Qingyi rushed onto the battlefield, did she perhaps entrust an item to your care, asking you to hand it over to Senior Qi?”
The moment those words were spoken, Murong Qingnü’s entire body shuddered.
That shudder was exceedingly subtle; in the eyes of onlookers, it looked like nothing more than the night breeze catching the hem of her robe.
Yet within those amber eyes of hers, tempestuous waves surged in an instant.
She stared intently at Chen Zui, the fine wrinkle at the corner of her eye twitching slightly under the moonlight.
“You... how do you know?”
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