Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 468: Ten Thousand Swords Return to the Sect

“What’s wrong with Junior Brother Zhang? Did he take a swim after going to pee?”

While Zhao Changhe was interrogating the man, someone else stumbled out of the hall. Just as he reached the corner, a sudden numbness hit his chest, and Yue Hongling had already struck his pressure point.

The last person inside the hall, unaware of what had happened outside, saw a flash of red and was also swiftly incapacitated.

Yue Hongling grabbed the two men, one in each hand, and dragged them into the forest, where she interrogated them separately. Afterward, she met with Zhao Changhe. They compared what they had got and found that the information they received was mostly consistent.

“I also got word that when they first arrived, it wasn’t this cold. Despite it being summer now, it’s been getting colder and colder,” Yue Hongling reported.

“There must be a reason for this environmental change... Did they mention anything unusual?”

Yue Hongling replied, “Shi Wuding set up a sword formation in a cave behind the mountain, but no one knows if that’s the cause for the change in the environment. Only his sword slaves are involved in the formation. Everybody else isn’t allowed inside, and they’ve just been guarding the perimeter. But given how cold it is up here in the snow-capped mountains, no one’s really paying much attention. Most of them are either sleeping or drinking.”

“No wonder the defenses feel so lax. It seems that Shi Wuding didn’t bring many Wu disciples—certainly not enough to match Li Sian’s report about Sword Hut’s pervasive influence throughout Shu,” Zhao Changhe noted.

Yue Hongling nodded and said, “Naturally, such a technique would take an enormous amount of effort, so it’s impossible to have that many sword slaves. Most of the Sword Hut’s presence throughout Shu is likely just ordinary disciples learning sword arts, with a few Wu sword slaves mixed in to avoid drawing attention. In reality, there are probably fewer than five Wu sword slaves... which may also explain why Shi Wuding hasn’t been able to break through his bottleneck.”

Zhao Changhe nodded slightly, agreeing with her analysis.

If such a technique could be spread widely, it would be formidable. Beyond the third layer of the Profound Mysteries, it could possibly even allow someone to reach the so-called Profound Control Realm. In fact, this is probably a technique designed for those at the Profound Control Realm, and Shi Wuding is overreaching by using it now. For him to even have a few sword slaves is already impressive.

But with so few, how could he possibly hope to break through? The sword intent he’s gained from the sword slaves is probably shit compared to what I’ve gained through the pages of the Heavenly Tome, and I’m still pretty far from the second Profound Mystery. Shi Wuding expecting to break through to the third layer with just a few sword slaves is just plain unrealistic.

If he had simply focused on cultivating normally, he might have already broken through by now. Instead, he wasted heaps of time and effort on this method, holding himself back.

No wonder he’s grown so much more aggressive, even resorting to Miaojiang’s gu arts to control existing experts as sword slaves...

Zhao Changhe commented, “It’s likely he needs more people for the sword formation and called Han Wubing from Shu to fill the gap... This sword formation must be problematic. I don’t think Han Wubing would have agreed to participate willingly, so he had to be controlled... The question is, can he only be placed under control when they’re face-to-face or can it be done from a distance?”

Yue Hongling glanced up at him. “Even if it can be done from a distance, it must be within a certain range. Otherwise, there’d be no need to lure Han Wubing here. He probably hasn’t arrived yet. You need to intercept him immediately. There might still be time.”

“And you?”

“This sword formation is affecting the weather and making us uneasy. It’s serious. I’m worried that even without Han Wubing, they might try to force it into action. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on it. We’ll split up—I’ll destroy the sword formation if I get the chance. You go find Han Wubing. If Shi Wuding leaves the formation to find you, I’ll take my chance to strike.”

“Alright. Be careful.”

“You too.”

With no more words wasted between them, Zhao Changhe quickly descended the mountain.

* * *

In the dark of night, Han Wubing slowly moved forward, looking at the faintly visible silhouette of the mountains in the distance.

His route differed from Zhao Changhe’s. He came directly from Bashu, traveling from north to south, while Zhao Changhe approached from Dali, coming from the south. Their paths would not intersect.

His master had invited him to meet at the new sect headquarters to settle their lingering grievances and “let the wandering disciple recognize his home.” Such warm words were rare to hear in the austere, icy atmosphere of the Sword Hut, and they stirred something in Han Wubing’s heart.

Deep down, Han Wubing still had a deep attachment to his master, as if a voice was telling him that no grievance between them could be unsolvable. He thus decided to go and talk to his master. As someone ranked in the thirties on the Ranking of Man, he now had the standing to return home and have a conversation with his master as an equal.

He did not know that he had been raised from childhood as a preordained sword slave... but he did know that something was not right with the sect. He had sensed it for a long time.

The Sword Hut of Bashan had no visible sources of income—where did the money come from to sustain the sect?

Yet his master seemed to have an endless supply of money, and many of his senior brothers were also inexplicably wealthy. No one ever explained where the money came from.

His senior brothers often traveled the jianghu, and it was not uncommon for some of them to die in the line of duty and never return. And yet, rumors had it that Sword Hut disciples rarely wandered outside their sect.

It didn’t take long for one of his senior brothers to reveal the truth to Han Wubing, asking him if he wanted to earn some money bounty hunting.

At first, Han Wubing thought they were bounty hunters. He went along for a few missions before realizing they were not bounty hunters—they were assassins.

The Sword Hut of Bashan was a public front for the Snow-Listening Pavilion, and the assassin business was one of the Sword Hut’s primary sources of income. The Snow-Listening Pavilion had many “associate” assassins, hired from all over Bashu and with varying skill levels, but the core assassins were all disciples of the Sword Hut.

Han Wubing found this hard to accept. Although the line between bounty hunters and assassins might seem thin, they were worlds apart in terms of ethics. So he stopped participating, which caused his relationship with the sect to become strained

The incident at Sword Lake, where fellow disciples fought and killed each other over a sword, was merely the trigger for a split that had long been building. What Han Wubing did not know was that this had all been part of the path his master had laid out for him based on his personality. Shi Wuding was in fact quite pleased that Han Wubing chose to walk a different path from the others.

From beginning to end, it had all been a carefully orchestrated real-life drama.

Han Wubing had long been aware that the Snow-Listening Pavilion had taken out a bounty on Zhao Changhe, but it was mostly carried out by the associate assassins—those disguised as beggars or waiters. No Sword Hut disciple had ever taken action, so he had not thought much of it. But when he found out that Frost Hawk was personally hunting Zhao Changhe, Han Wubing could not stay idle any longer.

What the hell? Most of the forces that put out bounties on Zhao Changhe already reconciled with him. The official who issued the arrest warrant has even hugged him, and the Blood God Cult member who first issued the bounty has knelt down and started calling him saint...

So who’s still issuing bounties on him now?

It did not really matter who was behind the bounty anymore. What mattered to him was that Frost Hawk, his senior brother and someone ranked in the thirties of the Ranking of Man, was an overwhelming threat. He believed that Zhao Changhe would not be able to handle him.

So he traveled a thousand li to confront his senior brother at the Sword Pavilion.

As he looked at the snow-capped mountains ahead, Han Wubing could not help but wonder if this moment was when the Sword Hut had truly begun to live up to the name of Snow-Listening Pavilion.

The past is the past... If Master wishes to reconcile, then it’s time to talk. As practitioners of the sword, why had we turned into demons of the night? It shouldn’t have been this way.

Lost in thought, his feet crossed into the snow mountains. The moment he stepped in, Han Wubing’s expression changed, and he instinctively began to retreat.

He felt himself entering a strange domain. His mind grew hazy, his memories blurred, and his thoughts slowed. Faint whispers echoed in his consciousness, and all his awareness faded. The only thing that remained in his mind was the ever-increasing presence of his master.

But Han Wubing was no novice. He forced himself to stay focused and tried to withdraw quickly. However, shadowy figures suddenly blocked his path.

Han Wubing was confused.

Why can’t I sense their presence? Are they all...

Dead?

No, there was one living person among them. It was Lan Wujiang, someone Zhao Changhe had fought recently when he tested his sword against the Hundred Tribes.

“You really live up to your reputation, Wubing,” Lan Wujiang said. His expression was far more rigid than before, his face pale like a corpse, but he still retained enough consciousness to speak. “To be able to sense the danger and try to escape immediately... But now that you’re here, you won’t be leaving. Isn’t Sword Hut your home?”

Han Wubing could barely hear his words, but the last few echoed loudly in his mind.

Isn’t Sword Hut your home?

He clutched his head, gasping for breath. “What’s... happening?”

“Nothing. A wanderer always returns home. It’s only natural that you come back to where you belong,” Lan Wujiang said with a blank expression, as if stating an indisputable fact. “Your rapid progress in cultivation has greatly pleased the sect master. With you here, the final piece of the puzzle is complete.”

“Nothing... Wanderers must return home... It’s only natural for ten thousand swords to return to the sect.” Lan Wujin’s expressionless face seemed to state an undeniable truth, “Your rapid progress in cultivation has greatly pleased the sect master. With you here, the final piece of the puzzle is complete.”

Clang!

Before he finished, Han Wubing drew his sword, trying to force his way out.

But something was off. Despite his sword’s sharpness, it was as though his every move was part of a rehearsed game. His attacks seemed to cooperate with Lan Wujiang’s defenses, and he was easily parried. Several emotionless sword slaves swarmed around him, restraining him and dragging him toward the mountain.

Han Wubing’s mind grew foggier, and he realized with horror that he had no strength left to struggle. His eyelids grew heavy, and even more terrifying was the desire building inside him to go further up the mountain. Why do I still want to go up?

Is it a curse? Or a spell?

Desperately, Han Wubing focused inward, examining himself. Yet, no matter how he searched, he could not pinpoint the cause.

Is what they say about Miaojiang really true—how even the most skilled cultivators can fall to mysterious forces they can’t understand?

The bitter thought of failure gnawed at him.

All I wanted was to see my master again, to resolve things... Were they right all along? Are the emotions of humanity nothing but obstacles to the path of the sword?

Just then, the sky lit up with a burst of blood-red light.

Under the moonlight, a figure bathed in blood-red figure leaped down from the mountains, wielding a massive broad saber with both hands. The sheer force of the attack descended like a storm, accompanied by a thunderous roar, “Get lost!”

Lan Wujiang looked up in shock. The figure silhouetted against the full moon. His face was obscured, but those blazing crimson eyes gleamed like a god—or a demon—as if overlooking the world.

A faint smile spread across Han Wubing’s face, even as his consciousness began to slip away.

Who said emotions are obstacles? There’s always something out there stubbornly proving the contrary.

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