Where Immortals Once Walked

“Not necessarily,” Li Qingge demurred. “My king despises stale convention. The one who finally rises to the post of state preceptor might owe it neither to seniority nor to patronage, but to youth and ability. That’s why I said Fan Ke and Yan Lixin hold the advantage. Especially Yan Lixin, who founded his own Daoist sect, the Dawncloud Sect, in his early twenties, and became the leader of the Southeastern Daoist Alliance at thirty-one. His reputation and talent are as bright as the sun at high noon.”

He Chunhua made a low sound of admiration before adding, “Even so, it won’t be easy for him to become state preceptor, will it?”

“Of course. The seat of state preceptor is never won lightly. Fan Ke is already pressing him down. The senior ministers in court object as well, saying he’s too young to steward the fortune of an entire realm. The other two state preceptors are, after all, each well past fifty.” Li Qingge set down her teacup. “But enough of politics. Today is an auspicious day as it’s today that Young Master He draws his blade. Let’s go take a look.”

He Lingchuan had just managed two hot sips before he stood. “Of course.”

Li Fubo was already waiting outside.

It was the first time He Lingchuan’s residence had received so many guests at once.

The mountain of blades had changed color entirely, now a brilliant, pure gold. One glance was enough to tell that the Wu Metal content had dwindled to nearly zero. Li Qingge reached to press the hilt only to jerk back an instant later as if a bee had stung her.

Everyone started.

She glanced at her palm. “What a fierce personality this saber has. I only touched its hilt, and it strongly forced me away.” It’s like a wild lion or tiger crammed into a cage, barely let a hand slip near the bars, and it would lunge, fangs bared, claws slashing. “Still, it also means the planting succeeded.”

He Chunhua appeared somewhat troubled. “With a temper like that, can Chuan’er rein it in?” If not, a weapon that bites its master is more curse than boon.

He Lingchuan stepped forward and laid his hand on the hilt.

He had done this motion countless times in the past ten-odd days with no trouble at all.

The saber felt like an old acquaintance. It felt familiar, even friendly; sometimes it even seemed to greet him back.

He asked Li Fubo, “Can I draw it?”

Li Fubo looked more nervous than he did, eyes unblinking. “You can!”

He Lingchuan tightened his grip and began to pull, and a wry thought flickered through his mind:

Isn’t this just the sword in the stone?

If I manage to draw it, do I become the child of destiny or something like that?

Li Fubo suddenly blurted, “Wait!”

He Lingchuan froze.

Li Fubo then said, “Give it a name first. A treasured saber must have a name.”

“A name, huh?” Indeed, I can’t just keep calling it broken saber. He had no idea why its former owner, Zhong Shengguang, had never named it, but Li Fubo was right—a treasured saber must have a name.

In that instant, memories rose before his eyes: the fleeting splendor of that ancient city, the boundless yellow sands of the Panlong Desert, the joys and sorrows of the commoners who had lived and perished within its walls, the unbending valor of the Gale Army’s heroic spirits, and the barren, windswept loneliness of Zhong Shengguang’s grave.

Almost everything this treasured saber had tasted in its life had already blown away like dust, scattered into the smoke of history.

But surely none of it was content to vanish.

Something settled in his heart. He stroked the saber hilt and murmured, “From this day forward, your name is ‘Fleeting Life.’”[1]

To remember, to commemorate, to caution, and to welcome rebirth.

A faint tremor ran the length of the blade, as if the treasured saber rejoiced to be given its name.

He Lingchuan tightened his fingers and drew it.

After many days of curing, the golden paste was harder than cement, yet it parted like tofu under the sharpness of the treasured saber.

As the blade rose free, he saw that, near the guard, two characters had been newly incised in a sunken script along the steel.

He had been studying diligently of late and recognized them at a glance as the language of the immortals of the ancient past.

Li Qingge read them aloud, “Fleeting... Life...?”

Madame Ying let out a soft “Eh?” that trailed long with wonder. “It carved the name itself?” It truly is no ordinary blade. Her eyes shone. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”

Li Fubo, meanwhile, looked deeply satisfied. “The treasured saber has a spirit. It seems to have accepted the name.”

While they spoke, the saber slid free.

All of them could now see clearly that Fleeting Life was whole again, seamless from guard to tip.

Compared to before, the overall length had barely changed, but the curvature had deepened, a geometry that favored cleaving strikes. A bright fuller[2] ran cleanly along both sides.

Otherwise, it seemed to boast no special features at all. Even the edge lacked the bone-deep chill it once had.

He Lingchuan set the tip to the floor and released the hilt. The saber stood upright.

Madame Ying’s question leaped out before she could stop it, “Wasn’t it supposed to slice iron like mud?” How could a blade that sharp possibly stand?

He placed one finger on its hilt and gave the lightest push. The blade sank without a whisper until the guard kissed the floor.

When he wanted it dull, it was dull; when he willed it sharp, it turned razor-sharp. The blade followed his will like a living thing.

“Try splitting this,” said Li Qingge, tossing him a black lump.

He flicked his wrist. The saber swished in the air, and the lump fell in two clean halves and clattered to the floor.

It was a piece of black wood.

“That was lightning-struck wood, which is harder than thousand-year cold iron,” said Li Qingge, clapping lightly. “Excellent, Young Master He, you and Grandmaster Li have together produced a peerless treasured saber.”

Madame Ying frowned slightly. “If it’s only sharpness, can that alone be called peerless?”

Li Qingge’s smile turned coy. “When it comes to a weapon’s unique traits, only its master should know about them. Those details would be impolite to ask for.”

Such properties could decide life or death in battle; most masters treated them as top secrets, never revealed to outsiders.

Madame Ying glanced suspiciously at her eldest son. He only smiled and kept his silence. It was apparent that he had gained more than just what could be seen on the surface.

In truth, the moment He Lingchuan wrapped his fingers around the hilt, he sensed that his weapon had several new special abilities:

What has no shape? His mind went at once to ghosts, grievances, and wandering spirits. That alone was excellent. Against such beings, one normally needed specialized artifacts; ordinary weapons often did nothing at all.

But no form... what exactly does that mean? He was not sure. However, he felt that he would find out eventually.

At a glance, there was nothing absurd or game-breaking.

But Li Fubo had warned him beforehand that a fierce blade did not need fancy effects. If it cut fast, clean, and through anything, it was a good blade. Deepen those strengths, and you would find a treasure beyond price.

And a closer look suggested that “Army-Breaker” was far from simple. Anyone who carried a mandate token could cover themselves in origin energy, using it to amplify divine techniques and arrays alike. Against such energy, ordinary strikes lost their force. “Army-Breaker” was a cheat against cheats, using magic to break magic, cleaving straight through to real, effective damage.

What should be there would be there.

He also noticed the words “small chance,” and the saber’s warmth in his palm felt like a friendly nudge.

It seems like I can up that chance.

How? He did not know yet.

As for “Permittance,” he barely counted it a trait or effect at all. To him, it was more like an entry stamp for a dream. Still, it contained useful information. For instance, what did “received the inheritance” mean?

Zhong Shengguang had gifted him the saber. That should count as receiving an inheritance, right? If so, then even if someone else stole Fleeting Life without that handover, they probably still could not enter the Panlong Dreamscape.

There was more. He finally had confirmation of where his night-wanderings went. They truly were to the Generous Pot. That long-standing question finally had its answer.

The Generous Pot, coveted by gods and mortals alike, had neither vanished nor hidden away. It was linked to him through the divine bone necklace and Fleeting Life.

One more key point:

It was not Fleeting Life but the divine bone necklace that let him enter the Generous Pot’s dreamscape, specifically labeled as the Panlong Realm.

So why had the necklace not sent him into the dreamscape earlier? Perhaps the realm was only unlocked after he acquired the once-broken saber.

In other words, the divine bone necklace was the key to the Generous Pot itself, while Fleeting Life was the specific path that led to the Panlong Dreamscape.

It was then no wonder that after obtaining Fleeting Life, he could not dream of anything else.

Then again, could he read it the other way? Perhaps the Generous Pot contained other dreamscapes waiting for him beyond the Panlong Realm. The note “more remains to be unlocked” certainly invited that line of thought.

The possibilities set his blood racing.

Meanwhile, Li Fubo had borrowed Fleeting Life for a closer look. He and Li Qingge passed it between them, stroking the steel, judging weight and balance again and again. Only then did Li Fubo return it, reluctant to let go. “The profile has changed. Your old scabbard won’t fit. I’ll make you a new one.”

The two exchanged a long, wordless look full of complicated feelings. To mend a spirit artifact without erasing or blinding its spirit—that alone was a monumental feat. Songyang Mansion could trumpet it to the world with pride.

He Lingchuan felt the gratitude in his bones. He bowed deeply to Li Fubo and Li Qingge. “My thanks to you both.”

Without Songyang Mansion’s saber planting method, a broken saber would have remained a broken saber. It would have had little hope of true repair.

“Think nothing of it,” said Li Qingge with a small smile. “The experience of planting such a treasured saber is invaluable to us.”

Generous as always, He Lingchuan refused to be stingy at a moment like this. “It’s a happy day. Everyone, let’s go to Hesu Tower. Tonight, it’s on me!”

He Chunhua told Old Steward Mo to send for He Yue at the provincial office. Together, the party headed for the restaurant.

Hesu Tower had just added several new signature dishes, one of which was called “Triumph on All Fronts[3].”

When it arrived, it came in a large bowl, the surface covered with a half-finger-deep layer of red oil. One look at it set the tongue tingling and the heart on guard. It was fiery, unashamedly so.

Of course, He Lingchuan was familiar with the story behind the signature dishes. Hesu Tower’s head chef had turned the red oil recipe he had given into an entire series. Back in his original world, the style was called “chili-oil poached[4],” but here, a high-end establishment needed an auspicious, booming name.

As a high-end establishment, they would not dare use offal from pigs, cows, or sheep to simmer in the chili broth. No patron hosting nobles would risk lowering the tone.

1. The name in the raws was 浮生, which directly translates to floating life. However, there is a very common idiom and saying that goes, 浮生若梦 (fú shēng ruò mèng | Life passes like a dream). I’ve decided to go with Fleeting Life because of that. ☜

2. A fuller is a rounded or beveled longitudinal groove or slot along the flat side of a blade that serves to both lighten and stiffen the blade. ☜

3. The raws for this are 满堂红, which literally translates to a hall full of red. The “triumph on all fronts” meaning seems to have originated from mahjong/card game terminology, where 满堂红 was a perfect & overwhelmingly winning hand. It later broadened into general speech. ☜

4. What I translated as chili-oil poached is 水煮, which is a style commonly seen in many Sichuan dishes. It typically refers to blanching ingredients in broth, then drenching them in hot red chili oil, often with Sichuan peppercorns, chili flakes, bean paste, aromatics, etc. ☜