Legend of Swordsman

Jian Wushuang began to reminisce.

The other person might have been just an ordinary mortal at some point in time. There was no need to fabricate stories to deceive them, especially in this desolate place. Now, in the deep of the night, with a jug of wine in hand, Jian Wushuang started recounting the events of his childhood.

It was during his days at the Sword Pavilion...

In that year, he was only 18, still just a young noble.

In the flickering candlelight, Thirteen Niang listened intently, and the play of light cast a hint of red on her face.

Jian Wushuang started narrating from the age of 18, recounting the grievances and entanglements of the Sword Pavilion.

Of course, he downplayed some of the more mystical abilities, shaping the story like an extended martial arts novel.

His story unfolded like an epic wuxia tale.

Thirteen Niang became more and more enthralled as she listened.

In the blink of an eye, two hours passed, and outside the room, a faint light appeared, heralding the approaching dawn.

It wasn’t until the sun had fully risen that Jian Wushuang came to a pause.

”For this story, I’ll trade it for a jug of wine and a sweet potato. It should be enough!” Jian Wushuang said as he climbed out from the comfortable bedding, limping as he walked away from the bed.

Thirteen Niang, captivated by the tale, showed no signs of drowsiness and promptly exclaimed, ”I saved your life, how do you plan to repay me?”

”I didn’t ask you to save me!” Jian Wushuang said casually. Then he pushed open the door. Snow was still falling outside, forming a thick layer on the ground.

A gust of cold wind struck, causing Jian Wushuang to flinch, but he pressed on, heading outside.

Thirteen Ninag followed, watching Jian Wushuang’s departing figure. Leaning against the doorframe, she shouted, ”Hey, if you’re about to starve to death, remember to crawl back.”

Jian Wushuang stumbled, nearly falling.

This time, he wouldn’t starve to death; he was going to hang himself.

The taste of starving was too unbearable.

Somehow, he became more and more like an ordinary person. It seemed like everything before was just a dream.

Smack!

Jian Wushuang slapped himself.

To stay alert, he reminded himself that this place was just a trial of the Demon Sound Hall; he couldn’t get too immersed in it.

If he got trapped here, it would be foolish not to find a way out.

Qingshan City.

The reason it was called Qingshan City was because of a mine to the west of the city. Originally surrounded by green hills and clear waters, the area turned into a black mountain when the coal within the hills was extracted.

It was this mountain that sustained the city.

Most of the poor families living to the west of the city were engaged in coal mining.

Jian Wushuang walked out of an alley and headed towards the mountain.

Due to heavy snowfall, there were few people on the mountain, and he encountered almost no one along the way.

Even if he did encounter someone, no one cared about a beggar like him.

Jian Wushuang somehow found a hemp rope and a straight stick from somewhere.

Limping, he ascended the mountain.

The exhaustion felt while climbing the mountain was more taxing than traversing the Demon Sound Mountain.

After a strenuous climb, he finally reached the mountaintop and saw the true face of Qingshan City.

Chaos surrounded everything, except for the real appearance of Qingshan City.

Looking around, not even a single blade of grass could be seen, leaving Jian Wushuang speechless.

Was he supposed to jump off the cliff?

On the mountaintop, finding no solace, he ventured towards the rear of the mountain, where solitude prevailed. The journey was deserted, but at least it offered tranquility.

On the halfway mark of the rear mountain, a lonely, crooked tree stood somewhat sturdy. He took the prepared hemp rope, wound it around the crooked tree with caution, ensuring a secure tie. After a careful tug by hand to guarantee its reliability, he placed a stone, stood on tiptoe, and prepared to end his life.

This scene was observed distinctly by an old man standing amidst the clouds.

”The young people these days! How ignorant!”

Was this the unrivaled pride of the Qishen Temple?

Choosing to hang himself at the slightest setback?

It was truly embarrassing.

A figure in dark red descended, standing shoulder to shoulder with the old man, calmly watching the unfolding drama below. ”Let him die! Staying here is a waste!”

”What are Lord Zhen Ling’s instructions?” The old man turned to the newcomer.

The dark red figure was none other than Divine General Moyin.

Frowning, Divine General Moyin spoke coldly, ”He has given up. Whether he stays or leaves makes no difference!”

Having said that, Divine General Moyin departed.

Only the old man remained, standing there watching Jian Wushuang hang himself.

Jian Wushuang’s actions displeased them. What if he faced a little setback? Did that mean he couldn’t endure a single day?

Exhaling deeply, Jian Wushuang took his last breath of the mountain air.

He was about to bid farewell to this world.

Inserting his neck into the hemp rope, Jian Wushuang steeled his heart, kicked away the small stone beneath his foot, and instantly felt a suffocating sensation. He felt as if his entire head was about to explode.

His normally unresponsive legs began to move on their own accord – an instinctive reaction.

Crack!

The tree branch couldn’t hold, snapping under the pressure. Jian Wushuang tumbled down, the sensation of suffocation lifting as he gasped for the crisp air.

In that moment, did Jian Wushuang comprehend something profound?

Hope!

Instinctively, he felt a glimmer of hope—a desire for survival.

Was this the hope of starting anew?

If he truly turned into an ordinary person, would that be the end for him?

Then, what would be the pursuit he yearned for?

To become a formidable force that shook through the ages or to stand on the brink of the cosmos, perpetually suppressing everything, a single sword in hand, commanding the world.

Jian Wushuang lay on the ground, gazing at the sky.

The elder on the clouds above also observed him, shaking his head and abandoning any hope, turning away.

”I will survive!”

A subtle change occurred in Jian Wushuang’s consciousness, shifting from initial despair to contemplating the beauty of the world.

On the mountaintop, he reflected on the changes in his mindset since entering, his expression changing.

”When did I become so hesitant?” Jian Wushuang furrowed his brow. His mental state was stronger than even the Emperor’s; why would he waver?

In the depths of the Infernal Purgatory, he feared nothing; why fear the mundane world?

However, this mundane city was indeed a purgatory, different from the molten rivers, as here, the purgatory was of the heart.

Descending from the mountain, darkness had already fallen. A day had passed without eating, and Jian Wushuang’s stomach growled again.

This time, he learned to accept leftovers thrown by others—that was not compromising oneself.

Thinking about the words he spoke in the morning, he felt embarrassed to seek out the woman again, so he wandered within the city.

Without movement, he’d freeze sooner or later. Glancing at his worn-out straw sandals, with his big toe still exposed, he looked pitiful.

”I need to figure something out!” Jian Wushuang’s eyes cleared.

Now he understood what it meant to survive—it was harder than dying.

A beggar, to survive, must have some skill.

He headed towards the east of the city, the most prosperous area, hoping to find a means to sustain himself.

This sustenance wasn’t a job; he didn’t even have a bowl to beg with.

Arriving at the east of the city, there were plenty of charming streets, though some weren’t suitable for him.

Due to heavy snow, the streets were sparsely populated. However, the laughter emanating from the houses was more abundant than usual.