Martial Cultivator

Thinking of this, the man finally convinced himself.

The old woman, who had seemed weak and spiritless, suddenly grew energetic at those words. She turned over and sat up, looking at her son. “Where is he?” she asked.

The man handed her the letter and said softly, “According to this letter, Sword Immortal Luting lives in a small courtyard over on Riverside Street.”

The letter had been handed to him just as he stepped out. There hadn’t been any other words in it, but when he glanced at the envelope and saw the seal bearing the three characters for “Lord Warden Commander,” he immediately knew who it was from.

As for how that person knew what this trip was for, and why he was helping him inquire about it, the man wasn’t surprised at all.

After all, it was a favor he couldn’t refuse.

The man knew very well that this wasn’t the whole story, but he couldn’t stop the beginning from unfolding.

Both being martial artists from the foreign lands, he and Chen Wannian actually shared a fairly close friendship. Even though Chen Wannian now served as an official in the Divine Capital, the two still exchanged letters.

In those letters, the name of the young Lord Warden Commander who had shaken the world inevitably came up. When that happened, the man didn’t expect Chen Wannian to offer any impartial evaluation. After all, serving in Great Liang, how could he?

But knowing Chen Wannian’s temperament, he was sure that Chen Wannian wouldn’t lie through his teeth and praise Chen Chao undeservedly.

Yet in the end, Chen Wannian’s letter was full of nothing but the highest admiration for that young Lord Warden Commander, which left the man somewhat astonished.

After all, Chen Chao’s reputation outside was nothing like that.

No matter what others said, the man believed that one had to see and judge for oneself after meeting the person.

However, now that the Lord Warden Commander had taken the initiative to show goodwill, the man felt no gratitude. Instead, he developed a faint dislike for this person he had never met.

This man was deep-minded and scheming.

But that was all beside the point.

At this moment, after reading the letter, his mother said “good, good, good” three times in a row.

Then she actually struggled to get out of bed and shouted, “Qing’er, bring the painting, we’re going!”

The little girl had just swallowed the last hawthorn berry and mumbled vaguely, “Okay...”

Then, this little girl went to fetch the wooden box holding the painting, hugging it as she helped her grandmother prepare to leave.

The man stepped forward, helping his mother up. “Mother, let me go with you.”

The old woman shook off his hand and muttered, “Bringing my son to see him, what kind of rubbish is that?”

The man stood there, mouth slightly open, unable to say a word.

Those words weren’t harsh, but in light of all the years that had passed, they cut deep.

The old woman seemed to realize something too. She stopped walking, turned around, looked at her son, and moved her lips slightly before speaking softly, “I know you’re not too happy in your heart. You think your mother has spent her whole life thinking of another man, and that it’s unfair to your father.” ”But you must understand, when a woman keeps someone in her heart, it doesn’t necessarily mean love. It doesn’t mean she wishes she had married him instead, or that she’s regretted marrying someone else her whole life. Think carefully, if that were really the case, do you think your father wouldn’t have noticed over all these years? And if he had noticed, given his temper, how could we have lived as husband and wife for so many years?”

The man asked doubtfully, “Then why does Mother still...”

The old woman gave a cold snort. “I have a clear conscience, but that means I can’t even have a thought in my heart? At this age, when one lives by counting the days, even if you think it’s excessive, I’ll still fulfill this small final wish.”

The man couldn’t say anything. After a moment of silence, he suddenly smiled brightly. “Mother, go on. After you’ve seen him, we’ll go home.”

The old woman gave her son a puzzled look. Though she didn’t quite understand, in the end, she still nodded.

......

......

The small courtyard in the far corner of Riverside Street had long fallen into ruin.

The hunched old man crouched on the ground, looking at the wild grass sprouting through the cracks between the stone tiles, pushing the slabs upward. With a thought, the weeds before him were all cut apart. Yet even after being severed, they continued to grow. At another thought from the old man, all those weeds instantly turned to dust.

After that, the old man shook his head, as though finding the act meaningless, and decided not to bother further.

He slowly walked up the steps and sat down, pulling out a blade of grass and placing it between his lips. Tilting his head back, he gazed up at the roof - there was a large hole in it.

The old man smiled wistfully.

Everyone had rumored that this old sword immortal’s hometown was here, but in truth, it was not. Yet this courtyard really did belong to him.

In his youth, he had left home to train in the sword, wandering the lands for decades. When he finally returned, his family home had long since fallen to ruin. From then on, he regarded himself as a man without a home. He wandered from place to place, visiting countless lands, yet nowhere gave him a sense of belonging; until one day he came to this small town. After staying a few days and finding it pleasant, he decided to settle down here. He bought this courtyard and, though he would often leave again, he would return every few years to rest his weary self.

Until sixty years ago, when he was besieged and nearly killed, saved at the last moment by the Sword Sect’s Sect Master. He had stayed in the Sword Sect ever since. He always said it was because he wanted to compete with the man, but that was not the whole truth, part of it was also to repay that debt of gratitude.

He had always been known for his chivalrous heart, ever ready to stand up for others. Since someone had once saved him, how could he not repay that kindness?

So, in that sixty years within the Sword Sect, he had never regretted it.

Nor had he ever blamed anyone.

But now, at the end of his life, with death drawing near, he had to find a place to die.

The Sword Sect was not his home, and his home was no longer his home. So in the end, he returned to this small town of Three Feet.

Aside from waiting for death, he had also wanted to pass down all he had learned. When he met Yu Xiyi, he thought him a good candidate, though not quite the best one.

So, during this period of time, he had wandered through the town, observing those sword cultivators who had come from distant lands, hoping to find a successor. But in truth, not one had caught his eye.

The old man sighed, feeling a tinge of regret.

But regrets were regrets, who in this world lived without them?

His clouded eyes rested on the weeds in the courtyard, and he felt weary.

Just then, the weathered wooden gate that was never locked to begin with was pushed open. A little girl skipped inside.

She looked around through the overgrown courtyard, and finally spotted the old man sitting on the steps beneath the eaves.

“Grandmother, there’s someone here!”

She turned her head to glance behind her, and at the doorway, an old woman slowly walked in, stooped over, holding a painting scroll in her arms.

The old man lifted his head to glance at the old woman, then looked away.

“Luting?”

The old woman was silent for a moment but finally hesitated to speak.

Though her eyes could no longer see clearly, and the man before her no longer possessed the bearing he once had, she still felt that he was the Sword Immortal Luting she had met all those years ago.

The old man said nothing, idly chewing on the stem of the wild grass in his mouth.

“Luting?”

The old woman took a few more steps forward, coming before the old man, and tried asking again.

Only then did the old man lift his head, replying impatiently, “Why do you keep calling? Whether I am or not, don’t you have eyes of your own?”

It was hardly anything polite, even the little girl frowned upon hearing it.

Yet the old woman, upon hearing those words, began to smile. Yes, yes, this was indeed the famed Sword Immortal Luting. He had been like this in his youth, and even now in old age, he had not changed.

______