Where Immortals Once Walked

There really is one? He Lingchuan accepted the notebook, though he was still skeptical about whether it was even related to the staff. However, one look at the handwriting inside made him raise an eyebrow. “Was this written by Sun Fuping?”

“Mm-hm.” He Chunhua gave the notebook a little shake. “It’s one of the spoils of war that we looted from his body.”

The Heishui City troops had taken Sun Fuping down with the help of the Gale Army’s heroic spirits, as well as a horde of monsters. Naturally, He Chunhua was not going to miss the chance to loot the late state preceptor’s belongings.

He Yue was intrigued. “So, what’s written in there?”

“Well, there are notes on divine and magical techniques, rare pills and herbs, and there were even some notes on monster techniques.” He Chunhua tucked the notebook away. “I was actually hoping to find some state secrets in it.”

He Lingchuan perked up. “And did you find any?”

“Nope.”

After a hearty meal and drinks, He Lingchuan got up to take his leave.

He had barely exited the garden when Uncle Hao caught up to him and said sincerely, “Thank you, Young Master.”

He Lingchuan knew that he was referring to the death of Nian Songyu, which was a form of avenging the sparrowhawk monster. He waved the thanks away nonchalantly. “It was nothing! That bastard tried to kill me, too bad things didn’t go his way.”

The days that followed were peaceful.

He Lingchuan went right back to taking on the role of a rich second-generation heir, treating himself to food, drink, and entertainment. Wherever he went, whether it be a teahouse or a theater, someone would inevitably gather around to sing his praises. They lauded Young Lord He’s bold heroics: breaching forbidden zones, rescuing comrades, slaying traitors... feats far beyond what any ordinary man could accomplish.

Zeng Feixiong and the other soldiers who had survived the ordeal returned with generous rewards. Flush with cash, they naturally flocked to the markets and brothels. After all, joy is best shared. And the tales of their adventures only grew more sensational with each retelling.

Naturally, Nian Songyu and Sun Fuping were portrayed as treacherous vermin, oozing sores from head to toe. At the same time, the He father and son were depicted as paragons of bravery and brilliance, leading the Heishui City troops to challenge the season of mad sand, battle the wrathful souls of Panlong City, and return victorious.

At the very least, He Lingchuan was sure of one thing: the number of women batting their eyes at him on the street had at least tripled.

Heroes love beauties, but beauties love heroes just as much.

Too bad his cultivation forbade him from giving in to desire.

One day, Zeng Feixiong introduced him to a smithy with a proud lineage spanning five generations. This was the go-to smithy for the members of Heishui City’s military, and it was specifically where officers had their weapons custom-made and maintained.

He Lingchuan walked in and laid a broken saber on the counter. “Can this be fixed?”

The smithy’s owner, a red-faced man with a bushy beard, picked it up and was instantly moved. “What a saber! What a murderous aura! I’ve been in this business for over a decade, and I’ve never seen a weapon like this. It’s snapped in two, yet it still thirsts for blood.”

Noting the confusion on their faces, he explained, “We call things like this an undying saber heart. It’s like an old tiger that’s lost its teeth but still has its claws and strength. Even in the state that it’s in, it’s still not to be underestimated.”

He did not touch the edge, but he did sniff the air near it. “This blade’s tasted the blood of hundreds.”

“Well, it’s probably taken five to seven hundred lives, give or take,” He Lingchuan chuckled. “It used to belong to Zhong Shengguang, the commander of Panlong City.”

That prompted Zeng Feixiong to jump in, “This is the He Family’s eldest young master.”

By now, He Lingchuan’s heroic exploits had spread far and wide in Heishui City. But instead of acting awestruck, the blacksmith waved his hands repeatedly. “Apologies, but I can’t repair this treasure. Not me, and not anyone else in Heishui City—no, not even in all of Qiansong Commandery.”

He Lingchuan’s expression soured. “What do you mean?”

He Lingchuan was feeling a growing connection to the saber, and he thought that it would be an utter shame to just leave it broken. And truth be told, just the provenance that it was formerly owned by Zhong Shengguang made it a priceless relic if restored.

“Legend says true divine artifacts develop a spirit. Although this saber has yet to reach that level, it has still drunk enough blood to gain a hint of sentience. This is a saber heart, or what we call a saber eye.” The blacksmith lifted the treasured saber and pointed to the broken edge. “See here? The fracture looks soft and glossy, almost like mercury flowing through it.”

He gently tilted the saber from side to side for them to observe...

Zeng Feixiong did not even blink as he stared, then nodded repeatedly. “It really does!”

He had handled dozens of weapons in his time, but this was the first that he had ever seen a break like that—smooth and silver like mercury.

“When people say ‘swords and sabers have no eyes[1],’ they’re referring to ordinary weapons. If those break, you can just reforge them. You can melt those down, patch them up, or start from scratch,” the blacksmith said with a wry smile. “However, for a treasured saber like this, melting it down would erase the saber heart that it’s cultivated over the years. And if you try to repair it, it won’t accept mundane iron or steel. You’ll need the owner’s blood, as well as Wu Metal.”

“Wu Metal?” The term stirred something in He Lingchuan’s mind. He rifled through the former He Lingchuan’s memories and sure enough, found the answer. “Are you referring to that legendary metal found in the Kunwu Mountain[2], the same Wu Metal that’s used to forge divine weapons?”

He remembered hearing it mentioned more than once by storytellers at teahouses.

“That’s the one. But I’ve never heard of anyone in Qiansong Commandery actually possessing a piece of it.”

He Lingchuan tapped the table with his fingers, visibly troubled.

Just as Zeng Feixiong thought he was about to give up, He Lingchuan suddenly pulled a short staff from his robes and handed it over. “Here, take a look. Will this work?”

Zeng Feixiong was stunned. “Isn’t that State Preceptor Sun’s personal staff?” Is the young master seriously thinking of destroying one priceless treasure to repair another?

Zeng Feixion hesitated, gently reminding He Lingchuan, “Young Master, that staff is worth a fortune.” Even Lord Commandery Administrator was reluctant to part with it.

He Lingchuan snorted. “So what if it is? If I can’t use it, why keep it?”

After He Chunhua had handed him the instructions on how to use the staff, He Lingchuan and He Yue had thoroughly examined them, and they had tried activating it. However, the staff was simply too finicky and refused to respond to any of their command.

Its previous owner had been a state preceptor, and clearly, it had no interest in accepting a new master beneath its standards. With Sun Fuping’s power, had his title not been revoked, had the Panlong Secret Realm not suppressed his cultivation, had He Lingchuan and company not ambushed him repeatedly with powerful artillery, and had the heroic spirits of the Gale Army not joined the battle, then there was no way He Chunhua’s forces could have taken him down.

And now this weapon dared to turn its nose up at its new would-be masters?

He Lingchuan was not about to humor that kind of arrogance.

If he could not have it, then he would rather scrap it. Who was to say that he could not use its materials to restore a saber that actually resonated with him?

He shoved the staff into the blacksmith’s hands. “Take a close look. That beast head at the top of the staff, doesn’t it look like Wu Metal?”

He remembered Sun Fuping’s attendants boasting during the expedition that the head of the staff was cast from copper from Kunwu, which was an impossibly rare treasure that was difficult to purchase even with limitless money.

Of course, those attendants had long since been executed by He Chunhua, but their words still rang in his ears.

The blacksmith, equally shocked by this display of extravagance, examined the staff carefully. For ordinary folk, something like this was a lifetime’s unattainable dream, yet Young Master He had casually handed it over like pocket change.

He sniffed, scraped, and even brought out a vial of reagent, dabbing drops of the liquid and rubbing the metal with practiced care. After a long moment of scrutiny, he finally looked up and said, “Young Master, this is indeed Wu Metal, but I still can’t use it.”

“Are you messing with me?” He Lingchuan’s expression darkened. First, you said that Wu Metal was required. Now that you have it, you still can’t do anything?

1. This is an idiom that means blades can easily end up hurting people. ☜

2. This is a fictional mountain believed to house immortals. ☜