The Yan Army began crossing the river, and Zheng Fan’s unit was in the first group to cross. Liang Cheng was deploying scout riders to expand the reconnaissance periter while simultaneously organizing his n and horses for defense. anwhile, a detachnt was sent to the ferry point to dismantle houses for wooden planks.
Crossing the frozen river was not without significant danger. Although the surface seed solidly frozen, a vast number of n and horses still needed to cross. To prevent any mishaps, they hurried to construct a pontoon bridge.
The vanguard’s role had always been to clear paths through mountains and build bridges over water.
Under Liang Cheng’s arrangents, everything proceeded in an orderly fashion. Zheng Fan, however, had taken a few subordinates to the riverside spot where Yuan Zhenxing had died.
This fellow’s mind was a little off. It wasn’t just Zheng Fan who thought so; even the demons had co to a consensus on this point.
Despite possessing comndable strength, his only accomplishnts were breaking so ice, showing off his skills for a bit, and, incidentally, wasting a few of the Yan Army’s arrows.
As for arrows, the Yan Army had no shortage. It was sowhat similar to how the Japanese army, after landing during the Sino-Japanese War, continuously seized Qing army supply depots. Since Li Fusheng’s southern campaign began, his forces had never faced a shortage of supplies. On the contrary, they often had too many provisions and, unable to carry everything, would act as benefactors, distributing the excess.
When Zheng Fan arrived, the little sword boy was using every ounce of his strength to drag his master’s corpse away. Though small, the boy was surprisingly strong.
After all, being soone who could carry three swords on his person, he undeniably possessed tiger-like strength.
Yuan Zhenxing had been shot full of arrows, resembling a pincushion. In truth, if this swordsman had hidden and chosen to assassinate under the cover of night, or waited until the main army was crossing the river to charge into their midst, he could have inflicted far greater casualties.
The embarrassing reality, however, was that he hadn’t killed a single Yan soldier.
A Ming shook his head, removed his armor, and plunged into the icy river.
A mont later, A Ming surfaced, holding two swords.
There was no need to worry about A Ming freezing. Have you ever seen a vampire freeze to death?
These two swords were the ones Yuan Zhenxing had previously dropped on the ice. With Yuan Zhenxing’s death, they had sunk to the riverbed.
Excellent swordsn naturally used fine swords. Sotis, a sword’s value is akin to an antique. Which is more valuable: a heavy gold chain worn by an ordinary person, or a spittoon once used by an emperor of old?
Zheng Fan took one of them. Although he didn’t wield swords, he could sense this one’s extraordinary quality. He didn’t quite know how to describe it, but to put it colloquially:
It’s worth a fortune!
Zheng Fan took the other sword as well. This one was also fine. Holding it, he felt a distinct chill, different from the cold of being soaked in icy water; it felt as though the slightest carelessness would result in being pricked by the blade.
Unfortunately, Zheng Fan was not a swordsman, even though, in his opinion, wielding a sword looked much cooler.
Since ancient tis, a primary reason many swordsn first chose a life with a sword was its handso appearance.
"Keep them," Zheng Fan said. "In the future, whoever wants to play with them can take them, or you can give them away as gifts."
The swords were good, but Zheng Fan was almost always on horseback, and stabbing people with a sword while riding wasn’t as convenient or effective as using a cavalry saber.
anwhile, the little sword boy was still dragging Yuan Zhenxing’s body. Every so often, he would lift his head, steal a glance at Zheng Fan and his n, and then resu his efforts.
"Hey," Zheng Fan called out to him.
Although Zheng Fan had just ordered his n to shoot arrows at the little sword boy, if asked to order the child killed to his face now, Chief Zheng truly couldn’t bring himself to be so ruthless.
At the sa ti, he didn’t feel it was necessary.
The little sword boy looked up at Zheng Fan and said earnestly, "Those two swords are yours. I must take my master’s body."
"Take it for what?" Zheng Fan asked.
"To bury him."
As he spoke, the little sword boy took out the sword Yuan Zhenxing had been clutching at the ti of his death, not to attack, but to explain, "I need to sell this sword to buy a coffin for my master."
This kid is interesting.
"Don’t trouble yourself. We’ll bury him for you. Just give this sword too, alright?"
These three swords should be a set. For a collection, it’s always best to have it complete.
The little sword boy hesitated for a mont, then nodded and tossed the sword at Zheng Fan’s feet.
"Help bury my master."
"Ah Li, find a coffin and help bury the man," Zheng Fan ordered.
The ferry point was adjacent to a small town. Though small, like a sparrow, it had all the necessary organs, including a coffin shop.
Fanli nodded, walked over, hoisted Yuan Zhenxing’s body onto his shoulder, and headed straight into the town.
Not long after, Fanli erged, carrying a coffin on his left shoulder. Yuan Zhenxing’s body had presumably been placed inside.
"Where do you want to bury him?" Zheng Fan asked. "Want to pick a spot with good feng shui or sothing?"
"Since my master died here, just bury him here," the little sword boy said.
"The riverside is prone to flooding in the sumr; the coffin could be subrged," the Blind Man reminded him.
"My master deserves it. His brain must have been waterlogged for him to do such a thing. It’s only fitting he gets a good soak after death."
"Alright, bury him here then."
Zheng Fan nodded to Fanli.
Fanli acknowledged, set down the coffin, and began digging.
Zheng Fan felt that if this big fellow were placed in the modern era, he would be very popular on construction sites, almost equivalent to a human-shaped excavator.
"So, what are your plans?" Zheng Fan asked, looking at the little sword boy.
The little sword boy didn’t answer imdiately, instead asking Zheng Fan, "What’s your na?"
"My na is Li Fusheng."
"Li Fusheng, I’ll rember you!"
"And then?"
"My master said I’m a natural Sword Embryo. I’ll go back and practice swordsmanship for twenty or thirty years, then I’ll co out and find you for revenge."
"Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you right now, ensuring you have no future?"
"You won’t."
"Why not?"
"Because you’re a hypocrite. You’re a truly petty person. Killing would make your conscience uneasy. People like you can’t bear to make yourselves uncomfortable."
"..." Zheng Fan was speechless.
A smile touched the corner of the Blind Man’s lips.
Killing this child would indeed make Zheng Fan uncomfortable. But having the child state it so bluntly made him even more uncomfortable.
However, honestly speaking, Zheng Fan wasn’t very afraid of such a twenty or thirty-year promise. Never mind whether he could live that long; if he did and still hadn’t made sothing of himself, he might as well let this grown-up child finish him off.
Fanli dug with great speed, and the pit was very deep.
Next, Fanli placed the coffin inside and began to fill it with earth.
Soon, a rather perfunctory grave was completed, one that would likely be washed away by the rising waters of the Bian River next sumr.
"Thank you, big oaf."
The little sword boy bowed to Fanli in thanks.
Fanli, sowhat sheepishly, touched the helt on his head and then reached out to pat the little sword boy’s head.
"My lord, this little girl is interesting," the Blind Man comnted.
The little sword boy froze at his words.
Zheng Fan was also surprised. "It’s a girl?" he asked.
"Yes, it’s a girl."
If the Blind Man said she was a girl, then she undoubtedly was. Though blind, his spiritual sense was like an X-ray; certain fundantal features couldn’t be concealed, whether it was a woman disguised as a man or a man attempting to pass as one.
Then, the Blind Man turned to the little sword boy and asked, "Do you think I would kill you?"
Fear flickered in the little sword boy’s eyes.
She nodded.
"You would," she said.
The Blind Man nodded in satisfaction. "Since that’s the case," he said, "you should follow us."
"Hand her over to Siniang?" Zheng Fan asked.
The Blind Man shook his head. "Given our enmity, it’s not appropriate to hand her to Siniang. It’s better to keep her by our side for now. She’s a natural Sword Embryo. Although I, your subordinate, don’t practice the sword, I roughly understand so of the principles of this world. The little ladies at Siniang’s place must learn deception from a young age, which could easily tarnish a Sword Embryo. What a waste."
Saying this, the Blind Man pointed at Fanli.
"Ah Li," he ordered, "she’ll follow you."
Fanli nodded, bent down, picked up the little sword boy, and placed her on his shoulder.
The little sword boy exclaid in bewildernt, "You’re my enemies! How dare you let follow you?"
"Such ignorance," the Blind Man said dismissively.
At the sa ti, Fanli turned his head to the little sword boy and echoed, "Such ignorance."
Then, Fanli reached out again and ruffled the little sword boy’s hair.
It seed that from the very beginning, Fanli had a sort of brotherly affection for this little girl.
You see, despite this big fellow’s usually foolish deanor, his favorite pasti was to take his axe and turn people into human stumps.
"..." The little sword boy was silent.
"Let’s make a deal," the Blind Man continued. "Twenty years from now, you’ll have a chance to kill our lord. But if you dare to harbor any ill intentions or try any tricks during these twenty years, you won’t live to see adulthood."
The little sword boy pursed her lips, looked at the Blind Man, and said, "I originally thought my master was the only one with a waterlogged brain. Turns out, you all are a bit waterlogged too."
"Do you agree or not?" the Blind Man asked.
"I agree! Only a fool wouldn’t agree. You have to feed and give a place to live!"
"That’s hardly a concern for us," Zheng Fan said, waving his hand dismissively.
After all, Green Willow Fortress already housed more than one ’greatly filial son’; adding another little girl wouldn’t matter much.
To be honest, if this little girl could really grow into a great swordswoman, that feeling of having nurtured her would be pretty good. And if she beca a female sword immortal, even better.
Just imagine, in the future, when he’s old, his hair half-white, sitting in an armchair; an exceptionally skilled female sword immortal, calling him ’Godfather’ while biting her lip, torn about whether to kill him. He would just be sitting there, watching her approach step by step, sword in hand, watching her cry, watching the tears well in her eyes. He would remain perfectly still, maintaining his dignity, and then growl at her, "What are you still hesitating for? Didn’t you say you wanted to kill this old man?!"
"Godfather!"
"You old scoundrel!"
"Don’t force ! Don’t force !"
"Kill ! Do it! Quickly, kill this old man!"
"Why aren’t you dodging? Why aren’t you dodging?!"
Heh, now that has an artistic flair to it.
Just then, a scout rider ca racing back, shouting, "Qian army spotted twenty miles to the south!"
This shout yanked Chief Zheng out of his directorial reverie.
He glanced again at the little sword boy sitting on Fanli’s shoulder, then drew his saber, swung onto his horse, and shouted, "To battle!"
User Comments
0 comments from readers