The gri on the hilt hides traces of the past, while the blood stains on the blade retain shadows of bygone days.
As he polished and scrubbed, Du Chengfeng gradually sensed everything this Unlucky Curved Saber had once experienced.
After he buried the saber under the crooked-neck tree, soone once ca to dig it up. However, Du Chengfeng had buried it deep enough, so the Unlucky Curved Saber wasn’t uncovered. The person then covered the soil again, cursing as they left.
Du Chengfeng felt that it was the knife seller who had once sold him seventeen knives and even threw in an old robe. But what puzzled Du Chengfeng was, how did this person know there was a saber buried under the tree?
It wasn’t very clear, and the Unlucky Curved Saber didn’t give him any answers.
However, due to the knife seller’s digging, the soil where the saber was buried beca loose. As a result, when Yang Sanlang found the crooked-neck tree and attempted to hang himself but failed, he could easily dig out the saber from the soil.
In a sense, this could be seen as destiny between Yang Sanlang and the saber.
The night Yang Sanlang took the curved saber, the Yang Family Ancestral Hall caught fire. Heaven knows how the fire started, but it burned the Yang Family Ancestral Hall to the ground despite the pouring rain. Days later, the northern invaders ca south in large numbers, forcing the entire Yang Family Fortress to abandon their ancestral ho and flee for safety.
If it had been soone like Du Chengfeng, he would have imdiately discarded the curved saber. Whether buried, given to an enemy, or thrown into the wild, he would never keep such a thing in his possession.
Yet Yang Sanlang regarded the curved saber as a protection from his ancestors.
Finding the saber under the tree seed like ancestral protection to Yang Sanlang, and in his eyes, the fire at the ancestral hall beca an ancestral revelation. To Yang Sanlang, it wasn’t just a simple fire; it was a divine warning from the famous General Yang Huchi that he shouldn’t rely on ancestral pride but should use the curved saber in his hand to carve out a path for the Yang family.
Given that, in so sense, Du Chengfeng was acquainted with this ancestor of the Yang family, he was certain the fat butcher Yang would never have spoken such nonsense. The butchered fat man only pampered his descendants and never encouraged them to fight hard.
Du Chengfeng even suspected at one point that he didn’t kill Yang Sanlang before because of the influence of the butcher Yang or the Heavy Great Saber.
But evidently, no matter how much he doubted, Yang Sanlang had already completed his own logical rationale.
Especially after the northern invaders arrived.
"This is a test from my ancestors!"
Yang Sanlang firmly believed this.
As for why he thought it was a test for him, it was naturally because Du Chengfeng hadn’t followed the convoy.
After losing Du Chengfeng, their strongest combatant, the people of the Yang Family Fortress still needed soone to lead the able-bodied n, look after the elderly and children, and when encountering danger, soone had to step forward to respond. After all, Yang Xuan’s thod of reasoning with enemies might work in the south, but when facing northern invaders who don’t speak their language, trying to reason would only get them killed.
Ultimately, in this chaotic world, weapons in hand are the most direct form of communication.
So, the group decided to appoint the best fighter.
And the person chosen turned out to be Yang Sanlang.
Though everyone’s feelings were mixed, at the mont, Yang Sanlang was indeed the best fighter. Not to ntion, when it ca to killing, Yang Sanlang was the only one who dared to be ruthless.
Thus, after a brief organization, Yang Sanlang once again beca the leader of over fifty able-bodied n.
"This is it! It’s about ti!"
At this mont, Yang Sanlang felt extrely satisfied. He believed that his ancestors still cared for him and that his opportunity had arrived—though the Yang family had lost their ancestral land, Du Chengfeng, who overshadowed him, was also gone. At this mont, he was no longer a mad and useless troublemaker; he once again beca the backbone of the Yang family.
It was at this mont, shortly after setting off, that the convoy encountered a squad of northern invaders on horseback.
These fur-clad northern invaders were mostly light cavalry, clearly a scouting party left behind by their main force. If these cavalry went back to report, the convoy would surely die on the road.
"We must act imdiately!"
At this mont, Yang Sanlang trusted his instinct, and he called on seven or eight able-bodied n who could ride horses to charge forward.
As quick as thought, Yang Sanlang and his group charged towards and clashed with the northern invaders in an instant.
Not a single northern invader fell from their horse, but Yang Sanlang’s side was all thrown to the ground.
Several able-bodied n were seriously injured and fell, left only with cries of pain. Even Yang Sanlang broke an arm, though he was the only one who could claim a slight victory. Just before he fell from his horse, in the chaos, his curved saber happened to slash at a northern invader’s neck.
Though it only grazed, the northern invader’s neck was cut open significantly, showing the sharpness of the curved saber.
The death of one of their own naturally shook the northern invaders, but what surprised them even more was the weakness of Yang Sanlang’s group.
"With such skills, they dared to charge at us?"
These northern light cavalry couldn’t understand where these southern n got the courage, but after pondering, the cavalry didn’t bother trying to comprehend it.
After all, they were just a fleeing convoy, perfect for slaughter.
So, as Yang Sanlang fled back to the convoy, around twenty northern light cavalry surrounded them, each waving their curved sabers, staring fiercely at the people of the Yang Family Fortress, who had never seen such a scene.
"Run! Run quickly!"
In the end, it was the elderly Yang Xuan who decided to flee, but just as he shouted, a bone-crushing throwing axe shattered his knee.
Yang Xuan fell heavily onto the cart, and the responsibility of guiding the convoy fell back on Yang Sanlang. Hastily recognizing a direction, Yang Sanlang had the convoy continue their escape.
The draft horses pulling the wagons were no match for the warhorses of the prairie people; the caravan was quickly caught up to. Within monts, quite a few people were struck down by curved sabers, falling from the wagons.
It was at this mont that the unconscious Yang Xuan barely ca to his senses.
"Forget the goods! Lives are more important!"
The elderly Yang Xuan made a decision once more, which directly resulted in another flying mace smashing his remaining good leg.
But the price of this leg was ultimately aningful. With more and more grain supplies being cast away and more silver and gold treasures being thrown by the roadside, the red-eyed prairie riders indeed hesitated for a mont—although it was only a brief hesitation, it still gave the caravan a chance to escape the pursuit.
"But, which direction are we heading in?"
Yang Xuan, gradually awakening with the brightening dawn, felt a bit confused.
"Sanlang, which direction are you leading us?"
"West!"
Yang Sanlang declared confidently.
"I can’t be wrong, this really is the west..."
Before he could finish speaking, everyone in the caravan saw the distant, rising morning sun.
Obviously, under normal circumstances, the sun doesn’t rise from the west.
They were heading back along the road they ca.
"This..."
Everyone in the caravan couldn’t help but look at each other.
The road was wrong, but it was also impossible to head back with enemy riders on their heels; after recalling the ferocity of those two dozen prairie riders, they had no choice but to return to Yang Family Ancestral Hall.
As for mishaps like the carts toppling into ditches or horses spraining their legs along the way, they need not be ntioned. After these hardships and perils, the people who were supposed to flee Yang Family Ancestral Hall finally returned to where their dreams began.
...
...
...
"Hmm..."
Du Chengfeng was speechless for a long ti.
This matter was indeed quite beyond his expectations.
"All because Yang Sanlang was greedy for rit and acted rashly..."
This ti, even the usually good-tempered Li Carpenter couldn’t help but curse.
"If it weren’t for him, so many of our fellow villagers wouldn’t have died!"
"...Hard to say."
Du Chengfeng’s expression beca sowhat subtle.
Indeed, it was not easy to say, for these red-eyed prairie riders were obviously He Xiqing’s subordinates. According to what he learned in the past from those barbarian weapons, only He Xiqing would indulge his prairie warriors, letting them use the evil qi of weapons to strengthen themselves.
In other words, by letting these riders return to report, the caravan would face inevitable demise.
And now, because Yang Sanlang appeared so foolish and weak, those prairie riders who were originally just scouts abandoned reporting and instead opted to kill them directly—after all, these two dozen prairie riders could easily achieve this, killing Yang Sanlang and his people as effortlessly as slaughtering rabbits.
But Yang Sanlang mistakenly chose the wrong path.
Rather than calling it the wrong path, it might as well be called the right path, because if the caravan had gone westward, those prairie riders might truly have relentlessly pursued them, whereas near Yang Family Ancestral Hall, because Du Chengfeng himself was nearby, those prairie riders dared not approach easily.
This couldn’t help but remind Du Chengfeng of the blacksmith who forged the Unlucky Curved Saber.
In his impression, that blacksmith had to flee with his bucket nine tis because he killed people continuously, which seed like the utmost bad luck.
Yet now, thinking the other way around, escaping nine tis without being caught—doesn’t that also indicate sothing?
"This..."
Looking again at the curved saber in his hand, Du Chengfeng could sense the faint connection between the Unlucky Curved Saber and the unconscious Yang Sanlang lying on the ground.
Clearly, just as he mastered his own weapons, Yang Sanlang had already mastered this Unlucky Curved Saber.
With that self-consistent logic akin to madness, and a misfortune nearly indistinguishable from that of the saber.
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