Chapter 80: Knife and Sword Have Eyes

“Really?” He Lingchuan took it, a hint of doubt in his expression. His eyes widened when he saw the handwriting. “This is Sun Fuping’s writing?” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” He Chunhua replied, shaking the notebook in his hand. “It was among the spoils recovered from him.”

With the help of the Gale Army’s spirits and demonic creatures, the Blackwater City army had eliminated Sun Fuping. He Chunhua wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to confiscate the former National Master’s belongings.

He Yue, curious, asked, “What else is written in the notebook?”

“Divine spells, potent elixirs, and strange artifacts—what some might call ‘demonic arts,’” He Chunhua replied, closing the notebook. “I was hoping to find records of military secrets.”

He Lingchuan, equally curious, asked, “Was there?”

“No.”

After eating his fill, He Lingchuan rose to take his leave.

As he stepped out of the garden, Uncle Hao followed him, saying earnestly, “Thank you, Young Master.”

He Lingchuan knew Uncle Hao was thanking him for killing Nian Songyu and avenging the Harrier demon. He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing! That dog-faced Nian tried to kill me too, but unfortunately for him, he didn’t get his wish.”

The following days passed uneventfully.

He Lingchuan reverted to his former life as an idle rich young master, constantly invited to lavish meals and entertainment, surrounded by a throng of fair-weather friends. Wherever he went—be it a tea house or an entertainment hall—people would flock to him, extolling Young Master He’s unparalleled bravery: his daring infiltration of forbidden zones, his rescue of comrades, and his slaying of traitors—deeds far beyond the capabilities of ordinary men.

In the past few days, Zeng Feixiong and the other officers and soldiers who had returned from their perilous journey had received generous rewards. With newfound wealth, they naturally flocked to the city’s markets and entertainment venues to spend freely, believing that shared joy was superior to solitary pleasure. Consequently, their tale grew ever more fantastical with each retelling.

Naturally, Sun Fuping and Nian Songyu were portrayed as despicable and cunning, the kind of villains with festering sores and oozing pus, while the He father and son were depicted as wise and formidable leaders who had led the Blackwater City army to brave the Mad Sand Season, battle the vengeful spirits of Dragon City, and ultimately return victorious.

He Lingchuan was certain that the number of young women and married women who flirtatiously eyed him on the streets had more than doubled.

While heroes are drawn to beauty, it’s equally true that beauty is drawn to heroes.

Alas, the cultivation method he practiced forbade such indulgences.

One day, Zeng Feixiong introduced him to a blacksmith shop, said to have been passed down for five generations. It was where Blackwater City officers had their weapons custom-made and maintained.

He Lingchuan entered and promptly laid a broken saber on the counter. “Can this be repaired?” he asked.

The owner of the shop, a red-faced man with a thick beard, picked up the broken saber and immediately looked impressed. “What a weapon, and how fierce!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been in this trade for over ten years, and this is the first time I’ve encountered such a formidable blade. Even broken in two, it still seems eager to devour its wielder.”

Seeing their slight confusion, he explained, “This is the undying essence of the saber. Like a toothless tiger, it still possesses its claws and formidable physique; an ordinary person would still be no match for it.”

He didn’t touch the blade, but inhaled deeply twice. “This saber has claimed hundreds of lives, at least,” he remarked.

“More like five to seven hundred,” He Lingchuan chuckled. “It’s the personal saber of Zhong Shengguang, the commander of Dragon City.”

Only then did Zeng Feixiong manage to interject, “This is the He family’s eldest young master.”

Young Master He’s heroic exploits had, as it were, grown legs and spread throughout Blackwater City. To their surprise, the blacksmith seemed unaware of this, and upon hearing the introduction, he repeatedly waved his hands in refusal. “My apologies, but I cannot repair this precious item. It’s not just me; I doubt anyone in Blackwater City, no, in the entire Qiansong Commandery, possesses the skill to do so.”

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

Perhaps it was a matter of shared affinity, but the more He Lingchuan looked at the saber, the more he liked it, and he certainly didn’t want it to remain unused.

To be frank, given its provenance as “Zhong Shengguang’s former possession,” once repaired, the saber would be priceless.

Just as Zeng Feixiong assumed he would give up, Young Master He unexpectedly produced a short pestle from within his robes. “Take a look,” he said. “Would this be suitable?”

Zeng Feixiong gasped in surprise. “Isn’t that National Master Sun’s personal staff?” he blurted out. Was the Young Master truly considering destroying one perfectly good treasure to repair another?

He cautiously reminded him, “Young Master, this staff is priceless. Even the Governor seemed reluctant to part with it when he gave it to you.”

He Lingchuan scoffed. “What good is it if I can’t use it, no matter how priceless it is?”

He and He Yue had both carefully read and tested the instructions provided by He Chunhua, but the staff remained haughty, utterly unresponsive to their commands.

Its previous owner had been the National Master, and like the proverb ‘beyond Wushan, no clouds are seen,’ its standards for a new master were naturally high. Given Sun Fuping’s formidable abilities, the Blackwater City army, led by He Chunhua, would never have been able to defeat him had his National Master status not been revoked, had the Dragon City secret realm not suppressed his cultivation, had He Lingchuan and others not repeatedly ambushed him with siege ballistas, and had the spirits of the Gale Army not joined the fray.

The staff, in its selective search for a new master, clearly deemed these two ‘weaklings’ unworthy.

He Lingchuan, of course, had no patience for such arrogance.

If he couldn’t obtain it for himself, why not destroy it and use its components to benefit the broken saber with which he felt a greater affinity?

He thrust the pestle into the blacksmith’s hand. “Examine this carefully,” he instructed. “Is this beast-head ornament made of Wujin?”

During their expedition, one of Sun Fuping’s attendants had boastfully claimed that the National Master’s staff head was forged from Kunwu copper—a treasure money couldn’t buy. He Lingchuan had a strong suspicion this was the elusive Wujin.

Of course, those attendants had since been dispatched by He Chunhua, but their words still resonated in his memory.

The blacksmith, too, was astonished by Young Master He’s seemingly boundless wealth; the item he so casually presented represented a lifetime’s aspiration for an ordinary commoner, if not several generations’.

He received the precious pestle and examined it meticulously. From somewhere, he produced a vial of liquid, applied a few drops, and then rubbed the surface repeatedly. After a prolonged appraisal, he finally looked up. “Young Master,” he stated, “this is indeed Wujin, but I cannot work with it here.”

“Are you toying with me?” He Lingchuan retorted. “First, you claimed it couldn’t be repaired without Wujin, and now that I’ve provided it, you say you still can’t do it!”