Chapter 80: Sabers and Swords Have Souls

Chapter 80: The Sword and Blade Have Spirit

“If I am not mistaken…” Zhao Changhe ventured, “This blade is actually meant to replace the Qinghe Sword’s effect; Uncle cannot let anyone take it away, can you…”

Cui Yuanyang, who was brewing tea, trembled, staring at her father in shock—could her uncle’s accusation actually be true?

The Qinghe Sword’s effect was gone, and they were bluffing with the Great Xia Dragon Sparrow?

Cui Wenjing, as if unconcerned, casually confessed: “Correct, though he is slightly off. The Qinghe Sword was not lost; it is still that sword, but its mystical properties have faded. Now it is merely a blade that can cut through iron, unable to bear those meanings. If one calls it a fake sword, it is hard to deny.”

Zhao Changhe said: “Since the sword is still that sword, its symbolic meaning remains. Whether the mystical effect exists is secondary; on the contrary, it should allow you, Senior, to use it more freely.”

Cui Wenjing clapped and laughed: “Indeed it should be so, but few in the world think like you. If I actually produced a Qinghe Sword without effect, the Cui family would be the first to find it unbearable.”

Not to mention others, even Cui Yuanyang found it hard to bear, asking incredulously: “When did it start…”

“It was only a matter of time. In fact, when I roamed the jianghu with it over a decade ago, signs already appeared; it has only fully faded in recent years.” Cui Wenjing said calmly: “A divine sword has spirit—for what purpose did it gather? That intent of a peaceful world and purging petty villains—why should it remain in the hands of people like us? It would be good if it didn’t kill you; why would it serve you? It should naturally depart.”

Cui Yuanyang was stunned for a moment, then calmed down, murmuring: “It should be so.”

“I, Cui Wenjing, admit I am unworthy of the Qinghe Sword. How many in the Cui family have self-awareness? When the divine sword’s spirit departs, they do not consider the reason; instead, they use the very petty intent the sword detests as a bargaining chip for power. Even if the sword’s spirit remained, it would weep!”

Cui Yuanyang pressed her lips together sadly and said nothing.

Cui Wenjing then dropped the topic of the Qinghe Sword and turned to the Great Xia Dragon Sparrow: “The Dragon Sparrow was the blade His Majesty used when conquering the realm. It is extremely fierce and domineering, its commands unquestioned. Sometimes it feels like a child without guile, jumping at any provocation—that is due to the blade’s nature. Without that, it could not sustain such a tyrannical intent.”

Zhao Changhe nodded; from his experience, it was indeed so. The blade’s reaction was almost chuunibyou, but as the intent of a precious blade, it was normal—it was not a living being that could be composed.

“A few years ago, His Majesty learned of the Qinghe Sword’s trouble and bestowed this blade upon me, saying that on the surface it could serve to suppress petty villains and ghosts—at least when placed together, others would find it hard to distinguish whose intent was emanating, so it could temporarily substitute.” Cui Wenjing smiled: “No one thought—our Cui family uses swords, why would His Majesty choose to bestow a blade? … Of course, there is a reason.”

Zhao Changhe felt from this that Cui Wenjing was a royalist; clearly, Xia Longyuan’s gift of the blade was to help him: “But if so, Senior, you clearly need this blade; I cannot take it away.”

Cui Wenjing smiled: “Do you think after today’s incident, anyone will dare to probe the Qinghe Sword in the short term? For now, it’s fine. That aside, more importantly, I feel the Dragon Sparrow also yearns for battle. If it continues to be worn away in this small room, sooner or later its spirit will also be lost—that would be a waste of heaven’s gift.”

Zhao Changhe sighed: “Indeed, it feels almost impatient, truly unwilling to stay here.”

“Since it acknowledges you, that is fate—are you still being polite?”

“Senior, it’s not that I’m being polite; I really like this blade, but I feel I can’t carry it…” Zhao Changhe was quite troubled: “Its killing intent is too sharp; it can be sensed from afar. Everyone would know it’s a precious blade. With my current strength, it’s like a child carrying gold through a busy market—a source of trouble, and I’d lose my freedom. If I get a copper scabbard or something, it’s too heavy and inconvenient. Drawing it would also invite covetousness—all trouble.”

“You’ve guessed wildly off the mark.” Cui Wenjing laughed: “To conceal a precious blade’s killing intent, there are many methods—just smear something on it. Why would it need a copper scabbard? The copper scabbard is for nurturing the spirit! A jade scabbard works better, but it’s too expensive and easily damaged, so no one uses it; jade boxes are more common.”

Zhao Changhe: “…I am an ignorant ruffian. Never mind.”

Cui Yuanyang, who had been quietly playing the lady while brewing tea for her father and lover, finally couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“So taking it away is simple—even its bright, sharp blade can be concealed to look like an ancient, rusted relic, appearing like a broken knife. That is no problem for us.” Cui Wenjing said leisurely: “But that said, you cannot rely solely on this. The reason it radiates killing intent now is simply that it does not yet obey you. When you become its master, it will naturally behave, and instead give you warnings of danger—that is the result you should pursue.”

Zhao Changhe was greatly interested: “How does one claim mastery?”

“Not for now—your strength is insufficient. Though it is affable with you, it at most acknowledges you as a companion; there is still a great distance from claiming mastery.” Cui Wenjing blew on his cup and said with an air of wisdom: “Work hard on your training.”

So you don’t even know what level of training is needed to claim mastery, and you’re just putting on airs? Zhao Changhe was amused and exasperated: “Why do I feel you really want me to take the precious blade away? Is it truly just to keep the blade from gathering dust?”

Cui Wenjing said: “To be honest, I also want to use this to send a message to certain people, like Tang Wanzhuang, or His Majesty. What His Majesty is thinking now, even I cannot fathom. When he learns that you are roaming the jianghu bearing the Dragon Sparrow, he should have some reaction.”

Zhao Changhe suddenly recalled the words of the Blind One.

Compared to Xia Longyuan and his ilk, the Cui family perhaps had more human thoughts.

Indeed it was so.

Their thoughts were still on the court and jianghu, family legacy—no matter how scheming, they could not escape this mold.

“In that case, I shall not decline.” Zhao Changhe finally stopped being polite: “I truly do like this blade very much.”

Cui Wenjing smiled: “I have already had someone add something to it. Wait a moment, have some tea.”

Cui Yuanyang, playing the demure lady, could barely contain her joy. Finally, Brother Zhao’s thorny path had yielded true reward—it was what he deserved after fighting through blood and risking death, not the gossip of a toad lusting after swan meat.

And this was surely a true precious blade that could be used forever, hard to wear or chip—at least much more durable than the gourd! From now on, when Brother Zhao held this blade, he would think of Yuanyang. That gourd might break any time, hehe.

She happily added new tea and poured a cup for her father and her lover.

Truth be told, when her little heart was moved by Zhao Changhe in the jianghu, Cui Yuanyang had expected some script of parents breaking up the lovers and turning them into enemies. Her father had indeed initially wanted him dead, and the trend had a tragic air…

Yet the result was such a harmonious scene between father and Brother Zhao—so harmonious that others might think they were the couple… The rebellious young lady felt she had never seen her father so agreeable. Maybe she should give him a back rub later?

“Senior.” Zhao Changhe took a sip of tea and started another topic: “There is something I have always wanted to understand, but never had the right opportunity. May I ask you now?”

Cui Wenjing said flatly: “If you call me Senior, then no.”

Zhao Changhe was dumbfounded for a moment, then scratched his head and ventured: “Uncle?”

That old face actually flushed a little.

Beside him, Cui Yuanyang’s little face turned redder than a monkey’s bottom, and the watery light at the corners of her eyes nearly overflowed.

Cui Wenjing, as if not seeing, drank tea leisurely: “Mm, go ahead and ask.”

“Regarding this era… the previous era—what was it like, and how did it collapse? Your family has a long heritage, Senior; you should know something of its beginnings and end?”