Chapter 102 The sword is not a sword, the cauldron is not a cauldron
The old swordsmith's wine jug was empty.
He pushed open the door, carrying a wine jug, and walked out of the Jia San Sword Furnace.
It was still getting dark, and there were very few people on the road.
The smooth bluestone slabs underfoot were covered with a layer of frost from the early morning, making them a bit slippery.
The old swordsmith slowed his pace.
This gives me yet another reason to hate mornings.
Behind him, at the end of the winding Butterfly Creek, lay the direction of the great river.
A red sun, suppressed all night, is struggling to burst forth on the dark horizon of the river.
The orange-red early sun cast a long shadow of the old swordsmith carrying a wine jug.
The old swordsmith hated the morning sunlight and the clamor of everything gradually reviving.
It was like a fly buzzing in his ear, constantly reminding him, who hadn't slept all night, to keep working.
However, a person's daily concentration is limited and must be replenished by sleep. The old swordsmith knew this principle long ago.
So all he wants to do now is go to that breakfast stall, have breakfast and buy some wine, then return to the Jia Yi Sword Furnace halfway up the mountain to rest, wake up in the evening, and then be full of energy to forge swords again.
He has maintained this routine for more than a decade.
However, these past two days, the old swordsmith has been spending the first half of the night at the Jia Yi sword furnace halfway up the mountain, and the second half of the night at the Jia San sword furnace by the river.
He promised the Liu family that he would make a little gadget to help them solve their problem.
Fortunately, it wasn't too troublesome.
Last night was the last night. That little thing is now lying in the blazing charcoal stove, and it will be ready to be taken out of the oven today.
Tomorrow, the old swordsmith no longer needs to come here; he can continue his business at the Jia Yi Sword Forge.
The old swordsmith avoided the sunlit right side of the street, walking hunched over silently in the shadows cast by the houses on his left.
If you don't like mornings, why bother going out to eat and buy drinks yourself?
He could have easily made the Liu family of Longcheng vacate a top-tier sword furnace, capable of housing a hundred people, for his sole use.
Even if the old swordsmith wanted to eat freshly baked sesame cakes from the East Market of Luoyang, the Liu family could send him a serving every day by fast horse, ensuring it was cool but not spoiled.
But the old swordsmith still left the forge at the same time every day to go to the shop in the morning market for breakfast.
Besides being used to the food, it was also because of what my master had said.
It's unclear whether it's superstition or a strange custom.
"Young man, do you know that from 5 AM to 7 AM every morning is the time when the yang energy revives?"
"Not only will the swords in this furnace silently absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth and undergo a natural tempering process, but we swordsmiths who stay up all night also need to replenish this energy."
"Even if you are very sleepy, you should not go to sleep immediately. You should go out and move around more, for example, go and get me a pot of wine."
"Yes, you should listen to your teacher more often and stick to this good habit, and you will definitely live to be a hundred years old..."
The old swordsmith had forgotten many of his master's words, and his voice and appearance were long forgotten, leaving only a blurry image of him forging iron. But it was a casual chat at the breakfast table that turned out to be one of the few words of his master that he remembered.
Just like the saying "Myths originated in the mortal world".
The only slight regret is...
His master didn't live as long as him; it seems he didn't live to be a hundred.
But this did not stop the old swordsmith from dragging his tired body down the mountain every morning to eat and drink.
The only advantage of Jia San Sword Furnace is that it is much closer to the morning market than Jia Yi Sword Furnace, which is located halfway up the mountain.
Undisturbed along the way, the old swordsmith soon arrived at the open-air breakfast stall run by the female craftswomen.
It was just dawn, and there weren't many people around.
As for the group of craftsmen who had stolen his breakfast last time, he never encountered them again. Well, they were probably all sent by the Liu family to repair the sluice gate.
The old swordsmith, carrying his wine jug, went to his usual spot further inside and sat down, tossing the jug onto the table.
He took out eight copper coins and laid them out one by one on the greasy, dirty black table.
Behind the shop not far away, Aqing, dressed in a cloth skirt, put down her work and tacitly brought over a pot of yellow wine, placing it beside the old man.
The young girl put away the coins as usual, took the empty wine jug, and turned to leave.
The old swordsmith didn't go to look at her; instead, he opened the cloth lid of the new pot and smelled the wine to refresh himself.
Actually, he wasn't too tired today.
Because the little trinket from the Jia San Sword Furnace was too simple for him.
But according to Liu Zian the other day, this little gadget has already attracted a powerful swordsman with a high Qi Refining level.
The old swordsmith didn't care about the matter and was completely unmoved by Liu Ziwen and Liu Zian's flattery.
He was a swordsmith; his only responsibility was to forge swords.
He doesn't care about anything else in the world.
As for personal honor and disgrace, wealth and glory...
How glorious and noble those predecessors who forged swords for Emperor Sui were by Butterfly Creek back then!
With the strong support of a vast dynasty that had just completed the unification of the north and south, rising like the morning sun, treasures from all over the world were acquired as easily as grains of sand and discarded as easily as dirt.
That was the best of times; swordsmiths were carefree, and their designs for cauldron swords were radical and bold.
But that was the worst of times. Dreams were shattered, and when you looked up, the land was broken and chaos reigned. Even the most wondrous swords and cauldrons could not suppress the rise of heroes in this chaotic world.
Then they fled south with the emperor. On the banks of Butterfly Creek, the sword furnace was destroyed, and the heads of the swordsmiths fell into the rolling river.
All the past glories are like a fleeting dream.
But what pains swordsmiths most is never death.
The man is dead, but the sword has not yet been forged.
Because all the swordsmith's principles, joys, angers, and words are contained in the sword.
Some say that the ultimate goal for Qi practitioners is immortality.
The patriarch who left behind the myth of the Yue Maiden, the first Yue Maiden, achieved a kind of immortality through the transmission of the myth's spiritual power across generations in the Wu and Yue regions.
The swordsmiths of the Daoist lineage achieve immortality in the same sense by leaving behind the cauldrons and swords.
In later generations, no matter how powerful a Qi cultivator or how noble a monarch, once they touched this cauldron sword, they had to obediently follow the rules set by the swordsmith.
This is more like a legacy that transcends time and space.
Swordsmiths from the Mythical Daoist lineage are no match for Qi cultivators from the other eight Mythical Daoist lineages.
However, the most extreme killing in the world is designed by the swordsmith!
At an ordinary breakfast stall, the old man silently murmured to himself and quietly took a sip of wine.
Aqing brought over a plate of hot steamed rice cakes and placed it in front of him.
The old swordsmith pulled out his somewhat greasy chopsticks, tucked his long beard aside, and began to eat slowly and deliberately.
Its slow, sluggish manner is just like that little trinket being forged at the Jia San Sword Forge last night.
With ease and skill.
Last night, he even borrowed some elements from a cauldron sword that one of his grandmasters had forged, and put them on that little gadget to make it look a little special.
The Liu family and that swordsman with mid-grade spiritual energy cultivation might be surprised and satisfied upon seeing it.
However, the old swordsmith was not satisfied, because there was no point in following the path that his predecessors had taken.
He would only play around with the Jia San Sword Furnace like this, as a kind of tribute to his master.
But the old swordsmith was doing something much more complicated with the sword lying quietly in the Jia Yi sword furnace.
It is far superior to the Jia San Sword Furnace.
It has been stuck in a bottleneck for a long time.
In fact, this sword could have been forged long ago, but he had not yet found a satisfactory and perfect solution.
Better to have none than something of poor quality.
So the old swordsmith kept it pressed in the furnace.
He only recently started to have some ideas and decided on a general direction, and he couldn't afford to delay any longer, which is why he gave the final notice not long ago.
The Liu family was unaware of this matter.
If they knew, they would definitely be anxious and urge them to hurry up.
But the old swordsmith disdained to explain to them.
What's the point of retracing the steps taken by our predecessors?
"Why is a sword a sword? Why is a cauldron a cauldron?"
At an open-air table in the bustling city, an old man took a sip of hot soup and murmured softly to himself, but no one heard him.
On the bustling street in the morning, people were engaged in all sorts of activities. After serving the new customers, Aqing returned to the wooden bench under the shed. Her hands were not idle. Together with the other simple female workers, she continued to weave the exquisite sword tassels.
After a while, seemingly tired, the pretty young woman in the cloth skirt temporarily put down her work, thought for a moment, and took out the "blue butterfly flower" that a young county magistrate had given her, placing it in the sunlight.
Her little face was quiet as she looked down at the flower, her small hands occasionally touching the hook-shaped pieces of paper on it. Her companions glanced at her but didn't pay any attention, each going about their own business.
Not far away at the table, the old swordsmith was lost in thought for a while. Then, he gently shook his head, finished the last bite of his breakfast, and slowly put down his chopsticks.
As usual, the old man got up without a word, picked up the wine jug and left. But just as he turned away from the table, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a blue flower out of the corner of his eye.
The next moment, an old man paused, fell back to his original position, picked up his chopsticks again, stared at the empty plate, and quietly glanced sideways.
The surrounding morning market was noisy and bustling, and no one noticed this inconspicuous scene...
Damn it, Ah Qing has a character card, how could she be killed? You guys are too cruel! Bang Bang, give her two punches! (Feeling sorry for her, patting her on the back)
(End of this chapter)
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