12dz Chapter 29 'The Fairy's Sword'
Chapter 29 'The Fairy's Sword'
Ever since Li Qingde made his point clear that day, Feng Changrong's mind has been like a pond ruffled by the wind, unable to find peace.
Senior Brother Shen's brain is indeed very useful.
Feng Changrong recalled the events of the past month—the unheard-of schemes, the meticulously planned calculations. The investigation into Liu Zhengfeng had yielded initial results in less than a month; rumors of the Light Sound Sword had swept through Hubei and Hunan in just a few days, and it was sure to be a bestseller upon release. Such ingenuity and skill were beyond the reach of even the senior disciples, let alone his peers, and perhaps even the senior uncles and elders in charge of affairs within the sect.
but--
Feng Changrong frowned slightly. In the end, he couldn't be like Li Qingde, who staked his entire future on Shen An.
Although Li Qingde was twice his age, he was still just an outer disciple, dealing with money and goods all day long, his vision ultimately limited to that small counter. He might be good at calculating profits and losses, but he couldn't see through the most fundamental principles of the martial world.
So what if you're good at business? So what if you're good at planning?
In the end, it's the sword in your hand that speaks in this world.
Of the Thirteen Protectors of Mount Song, which one was chosen because of his skill in management?
Business acumen is indeed useful. If one possesses unparalleled martial arts skills and also has business acumen, then one would be the current Left Sect Leader—the position of Sect Leader would be as secure as Mount Song.
But... he has yet to see Shen An's sword.
Before coming to Hengyang, I inquired about this Senior Brother Shen in Songshan. He said his swordsmanship was top-notch and solid. But just how solid? In a real life-or-death battle, could he still calmly execute those ingenious calculations?
Feng Changrong closed his eyes, the cold and stern face of his master, Lu Bai, appearing in his mind. If one day the infighting within Songshan really fell on Shen An's head, how hard could the sword in the hand of this seemingly infallible senior brother be?
he does not know.
Because he didn't know, he dared not place a bet easily.
Meanwhile, in an inconspicuous room in the front courtyard of Bailianfang, several candles were lit.
Li Qingde, the head manager of Bailianfang who always had a smile on his face and was known for his amiable and prosperous business practices, was now hunched over his desk with his sleeves rolled up, a fine layer of sweat on his forehead.
After his conversation with Feng Changrong that night, he made up his mind completely.
Now that we're on Shen An's ship, there's no turning back. Instead of looking back and forth, we should do our best to make this ship more stable and sail further.
These past few days, he has been closely monitoring every step of the plan. He personally took charge of the most crucial and crucial step of forging the "remains of the Light-On Fairy's sword," fearing that the information might be leaked.
Before the table lay the remains of the 'Light-On Fairy Sword' that was about to be unveiled.
Li Qingde poured all his unorthodox skills into this work.
He first collected the old swords that Bailianfang had accumulated and discarded over the years. He took only a small part of each sword, then kneaded them together in the furnace, and then used an iron hammer to knock countless tiny cracks on the sword body to simulate metal fatigue.
Doing all this is just the first step.
Next comes the core process of "antiquing" – "rusting".
Li Qingde ordered his men to collect all the sweat-soaked shirts worn by the blacksmiths in the workshop and soak them in a large vat. He then submerged the forged sword blanks in the vat, sprinkled on some coarse salt, sealed it, and placed it next to the forge, allowing the high temperature of the furnace to "ferment" it. He called this process the "human energy rust-preserving method."
Every morning, Li Qingde would open the box and observe the growth of rust. After seven days and seven nights, when he took the sword out again, it was completely unrecognizable, as if it had truly been sleeping somewhere for decades.
The most ingenious part is the hilt.
It was a piece of jujube wood that had been taken from the main bellows rod that had been used in the workshop for decades. Over the years, it had been repeatedly rubbed by countless rough, calloused, and sweat-soaked hands, and a thick, glossy, warm, and smooth patina had formed on its surface.
But this is not enough.
Finally, and most importantly, the finishing touch.
In order to simulate the faint fragrance of the legendary "fairy", he spared no expense to purchase a small bottle of ambergris, known as "a drop that can topple a city", from overseas merchants.
Instead of dripping it directly onto the sword, he dripped the fragrant dew onto his palm, which was covered in oil and calluses, rubbed it in, and then continued to play with the sword hilt. In this way, the ultimate fragrance and the ultimate "human scent" blended and permeated each other, forming a unique aroma that was extremely complex, difficult to distinguish, yet inexplicably harmonious.
Now that it's finished, Li Qingde is holding this "masterpiece" and is almost moved to tears.
This is no fake sword! It is clearly a work of art that embodies his life's wisdom and experiences!
Not long after he left, a blue ghostly figure silently slipped into the Hundred Refinements Workshop.
Tian Boguang, who traveled ten thousand miles alone, truly lived up to his name.
He came here specifically for the legendary "remains of the Light Sound Sword".
On his way to Hengyang, he heard countless legends about the Fairy of Light Music.
On the way to Hengyang, at teahouses, taverns, ferry crossings, and inns, everyone was talking about that name. He pieced together those rumors, some true and some false—and gradually, a very special image began to emerge in his mind.
She should be dressed in pure white, as white as fresh snow under the moonlight.
An elderly person said that when he was a child, he once glimpsed a fleeting white shadow in the deep mountains. The sword light was even fainter than the figure, like a wisp of condensed moonlight.
At night, when she dances with her sword under the moon, the flowing fabric of her robes should radiate a clear light, and the night itself seems to solidify within it.
Her swordsmanship shouldn't have any murderous intent—at least not in the legends.
The storytellers gestured wildly, describing how she drew her sword as if painting with a brush, and she sheathed it as if a weary bird returned to its nest. The sound of the sword cutting through the wind was extremely faint, like a spring night's drizzle moistening bamboo leaves, or the almost inaudible crisp sound of a woman untying the tassel of her jade pendant.
Hence the name "light tone".
What intrigued Tian Boguang most were the snippets of information about her: some said that when she was engrossed in her sword dance, her hair would come loose, a strand of black hair clinging to her sweat-dampened, snow-white neck; some said that she never wounded vital organs, only striking pressure points with the tip of her sword, leaving the victim feeling as if they had been lightly touched by a cool fingertip; and even more absurdly, it was said that she never parted from her sword while bathing, the sword lying horizontally on a stone by a misty spring, the sound of water droplets sliding down the spine of the sword exceptionally clear and melodious…
These fragments repeatedly blended and fermented in Tian Boguang's mind. He had seen too many women—beautiful, pure, and fierce—but such an image, existing between reality and illusion, a fusion of sword energy and celestial aura, seemingly within reach yet unattainable, was a first for him.
Thinking of her martial arts skills—"striking after the enemy has struck and attacking where the enemy must defend"—which were enough to make her his master, Tian Boguang's heart began to itch even more.
This was the first time he had ever been so deeply moved, apart from the first woman he fell in love with in his youth, and it was for a woman who had passed away decades ago.
The fairy has vanished, but her sword remains.
What kind of charm must that fairy sword, which she held in her hand all year round, perhaps even stained with her body heat and sweat, have possessed? Are there still traces of her slender fingers gripping the hilt? What kind of face has the blade reflected?
Thinking of this, Tian Boguang felt a surge of excitement, a mixture of desire for conquest and a sense of blasphemy, rising up his spine.