There were many sorts of evil and uncanny things in the world. Apart from people born with an unlucky, fragile fate and cultivators fond of subduing demons and monsters, forgemasters were among those most likely to encounter them.
It seemed peculiar at first, but on reflection was perfectly reasonable. Ores buried deep beneath mountains for countless years often absorbed foul qi and dangerous influences.
Sometimes a forgemaster deliberately made sinister swords or strange blades to test his craft or overcome a limitation. Others were made expressly for killing, prized for their power without regard for whether they were righteous weapons.
Consequently, any forgemaster with some ability prepared defenses in advance, ready to seal newly forged weapons at any moment. Wei Wenfeng was certainly no exception.
After searching his room for some time, he carried out a heavy sword case made from dark jade. When he opened it, three divine weapons were suspended inside, each blade secured by a fine black chain.
All three divine weapons were among the proudest creations of Wei Wenfeng’s life. Beginning from the left was a matched pair of lovers’ swords named Yanri, Concealing the Sun, and Biyue, Veiling the Moon. The body of Concealing the Sun shone like a crimson rainbow, brilliant and dazzling, a sword of utmost unyielding strength. Veiling the Moon was dark with faint silver markings, a sword of utmost yin.
The two swords shared an understanding and refused to be separated. As a result, neither had found an owner.
On the right hung a heavy sword with the comparatively simple name Wufeng, Edgeless. It was plain and rough in appearance, seemingly crude at first glance. Its nature was as heavy as a mountain and exceedingly fierce. Without its recognition, an ordinary person could not hope to lift it. Even touching it would earn an injury from its sword qi.
Wei Wenfeng looked exhausted. He merely set down the sword case.
“Xuelang, anyone other than you would have their mind bewildered by this sword. I’ll have to trouble you to seal it.”
Qian Xuelang had already sensed that the sword’s sorrowful aura was much weaker when he held it than when Wei Wenfeng did. He was curious. “Why?”
Wei Wenfeng began removing one of the unused Seven Killings Chains from the sword case as he explained.
“People have hearts, and swords naturally have intentions of their own. Whatever thoughts a forgemaster harbors while making a weapon will shape what that weapon becomes.”
Wei Wenfeng sighed. “This blade has been tainted by my three poisons, making it a sword that bewilders the mind. Whoever wields it will lose their bearings, and the deeper their feelings, the more severely they’ll be affected. You’re the sole exception. You cultivate the Emotionless Dao, your heart is clear and your nature steady, so it cannot obstruct you.”
So that’s it, Qian Xuelang thought. Master’s immortal bones fused with Wei Wenfeng’s greed, anger, and delusion. No wonder the result was a righteous weapon capable of throwing minds into disorder.
The sword had become both a divine weapon and a demonic blade.
With a click, Wei Wenfeng detached a Seven Killings Chain and handed it to Qian Xuelang.
Seven Killings Chains were forged from heavenly ores or minerals containing extremely heavy baleful qi. Because they were usually made from scraps left over from other work, the chains themselves possessed little offensive power. Their baleful aura, however, could suppress the ferocity of particularly vicious weapons.
“First wrap the Seven Killings Chain around the blade. Then hide it in this Wuming Sword Case. That should seal seventy or eighty percent of its power.”
Wei Wenfeng had crafted the case with exceptional care to house divine weapons. With three divine swords already inside to help suppress the new blade, there could hardly be anything else in the world capable of restraining it if this failed.
“Very well.” Qian Xuelang nodded.
As Qian Xuelang went to retrieve the sword, Wei Wenfeng hesitated, then grew solemn. “Xuelang… did your master ever tell you anything?”
“Hmm?”
The hand holding the sword paused slightly. Qian Xuelang pressed his lips together and wrapped the Seven Killings Chain around the blade. The sword of grief trembled as though dissatisfied.
He had not yet decided how to tell Wei Wenfeng about the matter, but now Wei Wenfeng had asked of his own accord.
Wei Wenfeng was used to Qian Xuelang’s sparse responses. Throughout the decades they had known each other, Wei Wenfeng had done most of the talking while Qian Xuelang listened. So he assumed the sound was merely an offhand acknowledgment.
“I mean—”
Just as Qian Xuelang was about to put the sword into its case, the sword of grief shot into the air, interrupting Wei Wenfeng as well.
Both their expressions changed.
Before Qian Xuelang could act, the sword of grief hovered above the case, its blade swaying gently as the Seven Killings Chain danced around it. With a metallic clang, Concealing the Sun, Veiling the Moon, and Edgeless suddenly burst their restraining chains and flew out together.
Qian Xuelang sensed Honglu stirring restlessly. But some intuition held him back, and he did not draw it.
The three swords each possessed a spiritual nature of their own. Now they trembled in midair as though bound by an invisible force, unable to break free.
The sword of grief sank into the case. With two sharp clicks, the case snapped shut and rose into the air. At that very moment the three swords shattered into pieces, their broken sections scattering across the floor.
The sword case stood alone among the fragments of destroyed weapons.
Qian Xuelang and Wei Wenfeng exchanged a look. Both felt an icy chill down their backs.
Qian Xuelang suddenly understood that if he had drawn Honglu just now, it too would probably have ended as a broken saber.
Wei Wenfeng, meanwhile, had no time even to grieve the destruction of three masterpieces. He was filled with both delight and bewilderment.
This sword was proud beyond measure, cold beyond measure, fiercely solitary and violent, possessing an extraordinary will of its own. It was probably not far from developing true spiritual consciousness.
Any forgemaster who created such a divine weapon would be overjoyed. Yet what sort of forgemaster could feel anything but unease when he understood so little of the weapon he himself had made?
After hesitating, Wei Wenfeng reached toward the case. Before he could touch it, his mind was thrown into disorder. He shuddered, withdrew his hand at once, and retreated to the far side of the room.
Qian Xuelang studied his expression and understood. “This sword absolutely cannot remain at Abandoned Blades Residence.”
While they each had their own thoughts, Ren Yijue’s voice suddenly came from inside. They glanced at one another and entered the room together. Ren Yijue had indeed awakened; pale-faced, he was cautiously surveying his surroundings.
Seeing Qian Xuelang, Ren Yijue brightened slightly and said gently, “So the Jade Beauty is still here.”
His voice was full of lingering affection. In his extreme weakness, it sounded almost pitifully dependent. Such childlike behavior from a grown man might have been cloying, but Ren Yijue carried himself without servility or arrogance, and the joy in his eyes seemed utterly natural. There was nothing unpleasant about it.
Wei Wenfeng was forthright by nature and somewhat more serious than the whimsical Cui Xuanchan. Seeing Ren Yijue like this, he frowned but said nothing.
“Are you feeling much better?” Qian Xuelang asked, sitting beside him.
Ren Yijue’s expression stiffened. Evidently he had remembered Qian Xuelang treating his injuries earlier. Seeing no disgust on the Jade Beauty’s face, warmth rose in his heart. He smiled faintly. “Much better. The Jade Beauty needn’t worry.”
Then he looked toward Wei Wenfeng, standing beside the door. “You must be the great forgemaster.”
“There’s no great forgemaster here. Only Wei Wenfeng.”
Wei Wenfeng looked cold. After studying Ren Yijue for a moment, he glanced at Qian Xuelang. Some thought made him hesitate, but he soon spoke.
“There is demonic qi inside you, isn’t there?”
As the words fell, it seemed that a gust of freezing air swept through the room.
Wei Wenfeng looked at Ren Yijue almost as if looking at a dead man.
Ren Yijue was briefly stunned. He had anticipated Wei Wenfeng’s hatred of demonkin, but had not expected it to run so deep. And how had Wei Wenfeng discovered…?
A moment’s thought suddenly explained everything.
Qian Xuelang stood and placed himself between the two men’s gazes. “Ren Yijue, Wei Wenfeng isn’t an outsider, and he’s not one to gossip. About your mother… are you willing to tell him?”
Ren Yijue was silent for a time. Then he smiled faintly. “Very well. But I’m rather tired. Would the Jade Beauty explain it for me?”
Qian Xuelang nodded and told Wei Wenfeng about Ren Cangming’s condition, along with his suspicions about the demonic qi afflicting Ren Yijue. At first Wei Wenfeng merely straightened his back, but the more he heard, the uglier his face became.
“You mean the Sword Venerable… she was tainted by demonic qi, and has been unconscious ever since?”
Ren Yijue sighed softly. “That’s right. My mother has not awakened even once since I was born.”
Wei Wenfeng thought for a moment. His eyes fixed on Ren Yijue as sharply as lightning. “But how do I know whether you’re lying?”
“Believe me or don’t, Great Forgemaster.” Ren Yijue laughed coldly, climbed out of bed, and stood. His expression showed a rare chill. “To you, she may be the exalted Sword Venerable. To me, she’s simply my mother. I’m asking nothing of you. Even if you decide I’m a demonkin, I have done no evil and hurt no one. What, do you intend to wipe out evil down to the last trace?”
Ordinarily Ren Yijue’s warm smiles and affectionate manner bore no resemblance to Ren Cangming. But once he drew his face into stern lines, their likeness became unmistakable.
Seeing something of his old friend in the young man, Wei Wenfeng believed most of the account. His expression eased, and after another silence he said, “That isn’t what I meant. I’m sorry. I’m not very good with words.”
“It’s nothing…” Ren Yijue paused, then accepted the offered chance to relent. “One can never be too cautious with strangers. Senior Wei and I have never met before. It’s only natural.”
His old friend’s suffering was heartbreaking enough. Worse still, her son had been so grievously afflicted that, had chance not brought them together now, Wei Wenfeng might one day have encountered him and killed him by mistake.
Grief and rage rose in Wei Wenfeng again. His chest felt as though it boiled, his head throbbed unbearably, and his temples swelled, pulsing with pain.
“Wei Wenfeng!” Qian Xuelang shouted. “You’ve only just escaped that influence. Your mind is still unsettled. You mustn’t let your thoughts run wild!”
Wei Wenfeng suddenly recovered his senses and shivered with alarm. His anger had not subsided and his chest still rose and fell rapidly, but fear had taken hold as well.
Something stirred in Ren Yijue’s heart. This did not look like a good moment, but in fact it was almost ideal. He quickly sat back down, covering his chest. With a pained, restrained expression, he said, “Seeing Senior Wei safe and sound must ease the Jade Beauty’s mind. I’m ashamed to admit it, but we hurried up the mountain to help. I don’t even know what happened to me just now. Instead, I became a burden.”
At those words Wei Wenfeng immediately looked embarrassed.
Just as I thought, Ren Yijue reflected, lowering his eyes.
It was not especially difficult to guess. He knew his own condition intimately. Only a supremely pure and righteous weapon could have provoked such violent backlash from his demonic qi. In his half-conscious state, besides Qian Xuelang’s true essence he had sensed an immense grief mixed with clear qi approaching.
Wei Wenfeng and the Jade Beauty had both emerged unscathed. Yet a thing of that power had caused no terrible battle. Obviously, Wei Wenfeng must have created the problem himself.
“Wei Wenfeng, go outside for a walk,” Qian Xuelang said. “I’ll explain things to him. No eavesdropping. Once I’ve finished, we’ll discuss that sword.”
Wei Wenfeng could hardly refuse. “All right.”
He left the doorway immediately. His footsteps receded, then vanished.
“Why did you deliberately make Wei Wenfeng uncomfortable?” Qian Xuelang asked as soon as he was gone. “You’d already guessed he was involved.”
“Indeed? Did Ren do that?” Startled, Ren Yijue forced a smile. He tried to turn the matter aside with a jest. “The Jade Beauty is so considerate toward Senior Wei. I’m positively jealous.”
Qian Xuelang did not let him escape, nor did he pay any attention to the nonsensical teasing.
“You want to make him feel guilty and unhappy. Then he’ll try to compensate you, and he’ll give in to you. Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”
From their very first meeting, Ren Yijue had found Qian Xuelang’s perception terrifying. He felt that same chill now, as though plunged into an icy cavern.
Cold sweat gathered in his palms. His heart was in his throat as he pressed his lips tightly together. “Since the Jade Beauty has already decided that, what would you have me say?”
Night hung low, and moonlight spilled through the window, creeping along Qian Xuelang’s robe. He said calmly, “Wei Wenfeng has already suffered so much. Promise me you won’t bully him. Will you?”
Ren Yijue had been horrified at having his thoughts exposed and was desperately searching for a way out. Never had he imagined that Qian Xuelang would speak so gently, make such an earnest request, and show no wish to hold the matter against him. For a moment he was too dazed to respond.
Seeing him motionless, Qian Xuelang asked, puzzled, “Ren Yijue?”
Someone like this… someone like this, asking you so softly for a favor. How could you possibly refuse him?
For perhaps the first time in his life, Ren Yijue’s body moved faster than his thoughts. He came forward quickly. His heart brimmed with tenderness and he longed to touch Qian Xuelang, yet feared that would be presumptuous. At last he bent his knees and knelt, looking up into Qian Xuelang’s eyes.
“All right.”
“I’ll never treat Wei Wenfeng that way again,” Ren Yijue promised gently.
Slowly, he lowered his head onto Qian Xuelang’s knees.
Qian Xuelang did not understand the gesture. Assuming Ren Yijue was tired again, he did not push him away.