Chapter 655: Do You Want a New Sword Spirit

Chapter 655: Do You Want a New Sword Spirit?

It was the same garden pavilion as before, and Cui Wenjing still stood with hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the flowing water.

The difference was that back then, Cui Yuanyang dared not even come in to listen, but this time, amid the guards’ shouts of “Miss, please do not enter,” she kicked one over and, fuming, dragged Zhao Changhe all the way into the garden, with no one daring to stop her.

Zhao Changhe had been smiling the whole way; he had once secretly worried that Yangyang might be confined and cry her eyes out, but now it seemed he should not underestimate his little rabbit—that foolish look of huddling in a corner with her knees drawn up, drenched in rain, was gone for good.

Come to think of it, the younger generations of every family had long shown signs of decline, but siblings like Cui Yuanyong and Cui Yuanyang, both recognized by the Qinghe Sword, were rare, and they had battle experience—treasures in any clan, the pillars of the next few decades. With their father as the clan head, it was not easy for any fool to push them aside.

Perhaps they had already begun to enter the family’s power center; they were not to be bullied by just anyone.

On the way, Cui Yuanyang did not say much to Zhao Changhe; she simply held his hand and stormed into the garden, looking less like a lover coming to propose and more like she was eloping, which made Zhao Changhe want to laugh.

As for Cui Wenjing, once so elegant and refined, his back now showed a slight stoop as he stood by the pavilion watching the water, and from behind, one could see many more white hairs on his head.

Hearing the young couple approach, Cui Wenjing spoke calmly: “After a campaign at Yanmen, Yuanyong came back with a mouth full of curses. I confined him for months, and he barely improved, then went off to the army again. Now not only can Yuanyong not shake the cursing, but even Yangyang has become fiery and reckless. Truly a family misfortune.”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

Cui Yuanyang snapped angrily: “Don’t give me that! If I weren’t tough, I’d have been locked up by some people. What did I do wrong to deserve confinement? Huh? I’ll beat them to death...”

Cui Wenjing said flatly: “Say the words ‘his mother isn’t a Cui’ out loud, and see if I dare confine you. Do you think I’m dead, that you can run wild?”

Cui Yuanyang: “...Brother Zhao is here; I won’t swear.”

Zhao Changhe finally laughed out loud.

“Sit down. There’s tea on the table; help yourself to your Brother Zhao.” Cui Wenjing still did not turn around.

Cui Yuanyang pouted and led Zhao Changhe to the stone table in the pavilion to sit.

But Zhao Changhe shook his head, indicating he would not sit, and instead walked over to stand shoulder to shoulder with Cui Wenjing, both looking at the water.

This was the scene of their conversation years ago, when Cui Wenjing had asked, “What qualifies you to stand shoulder to shoulder with me?”

And now, as Zhao Changhe stood there, in the eyes of the servants and guards watching from afar, it seemed utterly natural and justified. Setting aside other identities, on the Chaos Rankings, Zhao Changhe was now second on the Earth List, and though he was still one list below Cui Wenjing, his actual rank was only three places behind—clearly a figure of the same level.

Few doubted whether Zhao Changhe was qualified for the Heaven List; what he lacked was mostly a battle, and if things went badly, he might even take it from Cui Wenjing himself.

Cui Yuanyang obediently said nothing, resting her chin on her hands as she sat behind, listening to Brother Zhao and her father talk.

Zhao Changhe spoke first: “Uncle, you still seem unwell.”

Cui Yuanyang was startled—had her father’s injury not healed? She hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

Cui Wenjing sighed: “The wound has healed... but having suffered such a near-fatal injury, the impact on my body is considerable. After recovery, I clearly feel much older, my spirit and energy diminished.”

Zhao Changhe looked up and thought for a moment, then sighed as well: “Yes... back then, my father always thought he was as tough as iron, but after a serious illness, he visibly aged a great deal.”

Once, others thought his father was Xia Longyuan; now, they assumed he meant a victim from Zhao Cuo. Cui Wenjing found no dissonance and sighed instead: “I never expected that a small place like Zhao Cuo could produce a genius like you.”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

Our Zhao Cuo is quite large...

Cui Wenjing sighed again: “They say a daughter is a warm cotton-padded jacket. At times like this, a daughter should be by the bedside, tending to her father. But someone was nowhere to be seen, and afterward, she barked louder than anyone—I don’t know where such black-hearted cotton came from.”

“...I was at war then,” Cui Yuanyang muttered, her voice much softer.

Though she was at war, afterward she hadn’t really shown much concern for her father’s obvious aging; she hadn’t even noticed it much. The little rabbit scratched her head, feeling a bit guilty... well, she had only been back for two days, and the war had just ended.

Cui Wenjing said: “Do you think war requires you to go to the front? Does the Cui family have no one left?”

Cui Yuanyang was taken aback, then heard her father continue: “I deliberately cultivated your power—your own absolutely controlled personal guard. Because sometimes... your father may not be able to stand entirely on your side; I had to give you some backbone in advance. When the time comes, if someone in the Cui family tries to force you into something, you’ll have the confidence to speak loudly, and even I won’t be able to coerce you. If the Qinghe Sword were still here, it would be even better—you wield the Qinghe, and no one would dare pressure you.”

Cui Yuanyang was completely stunned, unable to speak for a long time.

“Also, if the Cui family must fall out with someone, you can leave on your own, pursue what you want, and not be too bullied.” Cui Wenjing smiled: “Of course, if we fall out, your life won’t be easy either... just like Yuanyong’s wife, now she only gets cold stares. There’s no help for it...”

Cui Yuanyang blurted out: “Can’t we just not fall out?”

Cui Wenjing did not answer that, but said on his own: “I also advised Yuanyong that these matters have nothing to do with his wife; there’s no need for this. Now their relationship has warmed a bit; they even shared a room the day before yesterday... Some interpret it as a signal of reconciliation with the Wang family, others as Yuanyong trampling on the Wang family—how vulgar. When people view everything through the lens of gain and loss, they always forget the most basic human bond of kinship. A noble clan, if it loses kinship, what difference is there between its existence and an ordinary organization that huddles together for warmth?”

Cui Yuanyang sat there hugging her knees, once again feeling like a rabbit shrinking back.

“I also believe that no matter what happens to the Cui family, Changhe is a man of deep feeling and will not treat you badly.” Cui Wenjing’s voice remained calm: “Likewise, for Changhe... as long as this family does not obstruct his matter with you, the relationship can never be too bad.”

Zhao Changhe was both amused and exasperated: “Old Cui, are you using your own words to teach your children to remind me? Telling me that no matter what happens to the Cui family, I must treat Yangyang well?”

Cui Wenjing said flatly: “Just speaking the truth. Even if I didn’t say this, you wouldn’t mistreat Yangyang, and if someone bullies her, you’ll protect her. That’s your nature; I believe it.”

Zhao Changhe could only nod: “Yes.”

Cui Wenjing chuckled: “In fact, if you come here to ask for Yangyang’s hand, you won’t meet opposition. Take her away if you will. Under the current situation, your betrothal cannot affect anything else, just as when the Wang family married off their daughter, it didn’t affect their impending military campaign. So your shout at the city gate, though stirring, was the talk of a child.”

Zhao Changhe: “...Does it affect the signals you send outward?”

“It does.” Cui Wenjing smiled faintly: “The signal we send outward depends on the dowry we give. You don’t understand such things, do you?”

Zhao Changhe: “Damn.”

Cui Wenjing sighed: “So forget about proposing or fulfilling a promise. If you want, go to the bridal chamber now; no one will stop you. The real matters we need to discuss—let’s talk about them properly?”

Zhao Changhe was silent for a long while, then suddenly reached out and pulled out several pieces of a broken sword: “This is the Qinghe Sword, including all the fragments, not a single piece missing.”

Cui Wenjing’s pupils contracted as he looked at the broken sword, an indescribable pain in his heart, his face appearing even older.

“You can recast it and see if a new sword spirit can be born?” Zhao Changhe said: “To be honest, Uncle, I just forged a divine sword myself; I know how to form a sword spirit. Do you need help?”

Cui Wenjing stared for a very long time, then finally sighed softly: “It would no longer be the Qinghe...”

“Yes, it can’t go back. A recast would be a new sword spirit, very different from the original meaning of mountains and rivers... But if you want to pass down a sword spirit to future generations, it can still be done—just a change in legacy, which shouldn’t affect your needs much. Uncle, do you want to do it?”

Cui Wenjing was silent.

“Is it because the most essential thing is not the legacy, but that the original Four Mountains and Rivers Swords had the power to influence the veins of mountains and rivers, and now that power is gone?” Zhao Changhe pointed out the issue the noble clans had been glossing over: “What you’ve lost is the ability to counterbalance imperial power. Old Xia’s blow struck at your very lifeline.”

Cui Wenjing did not deny it: “Correct.”

“From my understanding of your vision, Uncle, you should now be actively adapting to the era without the Four Mountains and Rivers Swords, walking at the forefront of the tide. Yet you hesitate so much, even preparing for war with the capital... Let me guess—has some deity or demon promised to restore that ability to you?”