The Third Cut - Chapter 20 preview (Patreon)

With the expedition leaving the next morning, Wu Ying hurried through the streets on a final errand. Yang Mu was handling any last minute negotiations with the unit which there were, surprisingly a significant amount. It amazed him how much talk there was for such a small unit, but the military had their way of doing things and it involved a lot of paperwork.

Spending so much time discussing matters, ingratiating himself and learning over the past few days had driven the thought of purchasing a proper backup weapon from his mind. Now, he sought to replace that, seeking a new Saint-sword.

It would be a shame anyway, to come all the way to Nanyue and fail to purchase a weapon. Working his way through the metalwork district, he caught sight of well crafted weaponry on the regular, the master works of each shop displayed prominently to attract passerbys.

The range of quality and adornments ranged, the minimum work showcased of the Spirit form. On occasion, he spotted a Saint-level weapon on display. A massive guan dao, placed prominently beneath the sign of a shop displaying the polearm. A paired set of short handled axes sat further within another blacksmith’s shop, their sides enlayed with polished gems and precious metals. The blades themselves though were of the highest quality, infused with a light enchantment whose intent Wu Ying could not grasp fully. A Dao of the Home? Homecoming?

He shook his head, turned on his heel and hurried on before the blacksmith could spot him. He had no use for a pair of axes. Their brutal techniques were anathema to his own elegant jian. And whilst he understood the wielding of the weapon on a base level – all short melee weapons, to some extent, were similar – he had no skill in their use.

Hurrying deeper into the warren nest that was the metal working district, Wu Ying soon found himself outside the massive, three story building that marked journey’s end. On the bottom floor, the building itself was open on three sides to allow the heat and fumes to escape, careful flues and chimneys built to allow the escape of smoke and heat above. Enchantments glowed along the ceiling, helping to contain the heat as a dozen blacksmiths worked hard below under the aegis of a trio of overseers.

“Cultivator Long.” A young female clad in a tight dress that hugged her body in a way that was beyond scandalous, even for the more open Nanyue greeted him. “If you would follow me, the Master of the house awaits you above.”

“How did you know who I am?” Wu Ying said, curiously. He did not sense any danger from her or the house itself, so his question was more out of curiosity.

“There are few enough individuals with the Heart of a weapon that even a single one is of interest to our Master,” the saleswoman said. “One whose Heart is that of a weapon that my master specializes in? He knew you would visit us soon enough.”

Wu Ying smiled as he admitted she ws not wrong. It made perfect sense when she put it that way. At her gesture again, he entered the building, taking the stairs to the next level. She gestured for him to continue walking, directing him past the open retail center of the second layer where numerous weapons were displayed. There were polearms and butterfly swords, triple staves and axes and knives galore, but the majority of the space was dominated by the dao and jians that the few customers within perused, all overseen by attentive salespeople.

“The Single Blade Armoury specializes in the jian, does it not?” Wu Ying said, getting a confirming nod from the young lady. “Then, why the numerous other weapons?”

“Master Vu feels that a solid base in understanding of all weaponry is required for a blacksmith to call himself a proper smith.” The answer came easily and smooth, as though it was an often spoken phrase. Which, with some thought, Wu Ying assumed was likely the case. “It is only later, when their base skills have approached an adequate level does Master Vu feel it is appropriate for an apprentice to specialize.”

The third floor consisted of a large waiting room and a trio of enclosed rooms opposite the entrance. It was to the middle room that Wu Ying was led to, the saleswoman knocking on the door before being called within. As Wu Ying waited on the doorstep, he allowed his spiritual sense and wind to dance across the surroundings, bringing back knowledge.

Both doors on either side were connected to the middle room itself, with the door on the right a simple washroom. The one on the left however rebuffed both his aura and wind alike, formations locking down the space. While Wu Ying could not sense within, minor fluctuations in the environmental chi and the dao spoke of a familiarish space dao in play.

An extradimensional storage room, one that likely safeguarded the most precious of equipment. After all, Wu Ying had not noted a single Saint or even Immortal weapon on his journey to this floor, a stark contrast to the other blacksmiths.

“Cultivator Long Wu Ying greets Grandmaster Vu of the Single Blade Armoury,” Wu Ying said, bowing low as he stepped into the open doorway. The wind cultivator was only mildly surprised when his guide stepped in as well, moving to take position on his side of the table and readying a cup of tea and snacks for him.

The man that had sat behind the desk awaiting his arrival had looked to be sleeping, his eyes shut tight as he rested. Grandmaster Vu had the hallmarks of an older athlete – or blacksmith in this case – one whose body had long ago betrayed him, leaving his once bulky frame shrunken. Hands, clasped and resting on his hips parted at Wu Ying’s greetings and he leaned forwards to pick at his drink. Spotted fingers trembled as they touched the teacup, shaking a little as they brought the liquid to parched lips.

“Cultivator Long. You took your time coming to see me,” Grandmaster Vu said.

“My apologies, Senior. I had many tasks to fulfil.” Wu Ying glanced at the seat before him and at the older man’s nod, took it. He thanked the young lady as she offered him the cup of tea, even as he turned his full attention to the older man. There was something about him that set Wu Ying’s senses on edge. He was but a Body Cultivator, not even a peak Body Cultivator, yet the wind spoke of danger and a cutting edge to the man. His very aura brought with it a taste of metal and a cutting edge, leaving Wu Ying sitting lightly on his seat.

“Hmmphff. I’m inclined to send you away rather than sell my babies to you,” Grandmaster Vu said.

“That would be unfortunate, if so. I have heard many tales about the Senior’s great skills. How there is no greater swordsmith in the entirety of Nanyue.”

“Don’t think idle praise will help you.” Grandmaster Vu sniffed. “I know my standing and it is not the greatest. Old Yue in the south still has me beat. But good luck getting a sword from him. Hah!” The old man smirked. “He only makes weapons for the Imperial Court. Utter waste, for most of those fools could not wield a weapon to save their lives.”

“I bow to your greater wisdom.” Mimicking action to words, Wu Ying inclined his body a little. “Would it be possible, at least, to see some of these weapons?”

“See them, he says. As though they are fish in a market,” Grandmaster Vu waved a hand, dismissively.

The motion, so languid, so relaxed put Wu Ying’s hair on edge almost immediately. His aura hardened reflexively, and the wind cultivator flicked a finger that gripped a teacup upwards at he wielded his own aura. It clashed with the blade projection that the old man had directed at him, only for Wu Ying’s own blade projection to crack under the stress.

Only when it struck his own aura, the winds surrounding him swirling in agitation, did the blade projection split apart. Wu Ying watched as his hair was blown back, even as he regarded the shattered remnant of the blade projection.

As fast as he destroyed the blade projection from the swung hand, Grandmaster Vu continued to move his hand, gesturing sideways and downwards. Each movement poured chi and his blade intent into the action, sending blade energy at Wu Ying.

Lips pursed in annoyance, the wind cultivator shifted his own aura. The wind whipped up around them, gaining a sharp edge that cracked against the blade intent. At the same time, he swirled his teacup around, using the motion to generate additional wind chi, lacing his own understanding of the weapon into his aura and the wind itself as he channeled the motion into his own blade energy cyclone.

The motion caught the attacks flying at him from below, no longer directly contesting the attacks but pushing them upwards. The conflicting attacks met above Wu Ying’s arm, pushing upwards and away from one another. Rather than facing the dense attacks of the Grandmaster, Wu Ying instead shifted them above him, letting them to crash into the wood behind.

“Are we done?” Wu Ying asked as he allowed the cyclone of blade energy die away, lifting the teacup the rest of his way to his lips.

“Not a complete lie then,” Grandmaster Vu muttered.

“A lie?”

“You have no heft to your blade, boy.”

Wu Ying felt realization click into place at the man’s words as he placed the teacup down. “That’s what is embedded in your Heart of the Blade, isn’t it. Your dao understanding of metal, of blacksmithing and the heaviness of a strike.”  He frowned a little. “You gained the Heart of the Dao via swordsmithing then?”

“Not just that.” The old man snorted. “As though one could truly understand a blade without wielding it.”

Curiously, Wu Ying tilted his head sideways. “Are all your blacksmiths swordsmen then? Are all Masters and Grandmasters swordsmen with the Sense or Heart of the blade?”

“Are all martial cultivators individuals with the Sense or Heart of their weapons?”

Wu Ying considered for a moment before he shook his head. The majority were not, though… “The strongest often are.”

“Often is not always. And martial art knowledge is intrinsic to the work. Understanding a weapon and how it wields, one only needs to understand the basics to create a weapon. Some might even argue that the time spent learning the weapon to this extent detracts from the practice of the weapon,” Grandmaster Vu said. “I disagree, but that is my belief.

“And my Armoury’s.”

“Have I passed your test then?” Wu Ying said. “Or shall we destroy more of your office and disrupt your granddaughter’s hair.”

Now, Grandmaster Vu looked surprised. “You can see the similarity?”

Wu Ying turned to the silent girl whose plump, baby fat cheeks and sparkling eyes along with the neat bun was nothing like the old man before him. Neither jawline nor nose were similar, and her slim and plentiful build was too soft for the current shrunken figure or the formerly muscular aspect of the blacksmith. He shook his head at the question, before touching his nose.

“Smell it.”

“Like a bloodhound then,” Grandmaster Vu said.

Wu Ying chose not to answer that, nor elaborate on his skill. In truth, if not for the minor thread of metal in both their auras, more prominent in the peak Energy Storage young lady, he might have missed it. Of course, the fact that she carried a pair of blades in the small of her back, hidden by careful cuts of the cloth had drawn his attention to her in the first place.

“The swords?” Wu Ying asked.

The old man slumped in his seat, the minor explosion of energy seeming to desert him suddenly. “Go, child. Bring the three in.”

“The three?” Surprise now, from the granddaughter.

“Did I stutter? Or do you think I’m senile already?”

“I… yes, Ong Ong(4).” She bowed then, hurrying towards the silk cloth that blocked sight of the doorway that led to the dimensional space. Wu Ying noted the small enchantments on the cloth, that sought to divert his attention and make him look anywhere but the doorway itself.

“Stop peeking. It’s rude,” Grandmaster Vu snapped. “She’s not for sale anyway.”

“I was more curious about your armoury.”

“Neither is that.”

“Such a large dimensional space. Are you not worried of it breaking down?” Wu Ying asked, locking eyes with the old man rather than continue staring.

“What’s the use of a big clan and all this coin if you don’t spend it, eh?” Grandmaster Vu shook his head. “My useless third son-in-law is at least able to do something useful, if not give me more grandchildren to spoil.”

“I find the idea of you as a doting grandfather difficult to imagine,” Wu Ying said.

“Heh. That’s because I’m not. Beat them till they learn how to hold a hammer and strike steel properly, that’s what I do!”

Wu Ying shook his head at the image that brought to mind. Yet, there was enough of a twinkle in the man’s eyes that he felt that perhaps he was not as harsh as he made himself out to be. Even his test, dangerous as it might have been in some ways were never targeted at a fatal spot. Furthermore, interacting with the heavier sword strike had allowed Wu Ying to grasp a different form of the Heart of the Sword. A concept that he might be able to incorporate into his own understanding.

Eventually.

His thoughts were interrupted as the granddaughter returned bearing a trio of sheathed swords in her arms, She placed them on the table between the pair then gently extracted the blade from their sheaths, laying the weapon alongside their coverings in parallel to one another so that Wu Ying could regard the weapons.

The moment the blades were released, the man could only stare open mouthed. The difference between these weapons and the ones a floor below, no, even the other Saint-level weapons he had spotted whilst walking through the streets were night and day.

The tales of the strength of Nanyue swordsmiths all paled before the truth displayed before him. Wu Ying reached for the sword, his hand hovering over the nearest weapon but not daring to touch them yet. Instead, he sensed the weapon before him, noting how their very presence warped the environmental chi around them.

“These are enchanted,” Wu Ying said, quietly.

“Bah! Enchantments are a waste of a good weapon,” Grandmaster Vu said, distastefully. “Used only by those who are unable to wield a hammer properly or control their fire.” At the wind cultivator’s frown, the old man pointed to the weapons. “Do you see any markings, any etchings on my blade? Anything that would weaken them?”

“No.”

“Exactly! Why would I do such a thing.”

“But then…” Wu Ying gestured at the swords. Each of them had twisted the environment around themselves with differing aspects being showcased. Around the leftmost weapon, its hilt and sheath wrapped in dyed and bleached white leather, frost had gathered on the surroundings. Not upon the blade itself, but on the table and the very air above it, such that tiny snowflakes formed and fell.

The middle weapon seemed to drink up the light, such that it was hard to see the blade itself amidst the shadows it seemed to pull into itself. The black-wrapped blade spoke of the promise of a silent death under its sharpened edge, a merciless passing of ignoble ends.

Compared to the first two, the final blade was the least showy. No external effects were visible, not on the blade itself nor their surroundings. Instead, the blade just sat there, silent, deadly, razor-sharp. Yet, Wu Ying’s gaze kept drifting to it, a part of his soul and dao resonating with the weapon itself.

“You see it too, then.” There was a satisfied tone in Grandmaster Vu’s voice as he spoke. “What all my time and effort managed.”

“Yes.” A hesitation, then Wu Ying said, on instinct. “And no.”

“You don’t see it?”

“I don’t see the final results of your efforts.”

Silence greeted his words, and Wu Ying tore his eyes away from the weapon to regard the old blacksmith. Lines deepend, such that he looked more prune than man, before an errant breeze tickled the old man’s nose. He let out a loud sneeze, not bothering to cover his mouth and then rubbing his nose afterwards.

A minor exertion of will ensured that none of his expelled air ever reached Wu Ying, though hazy droplets intensified the snowfall around the blade. Wu Ying barely caught the long suffering sigh from the granddaughter, as she regarded the newly dirtied weapons.

“Damn wind.” Grandmaster Vu thumped the arm of his chair. “Damn child. Don’t even think about trying to wield the other. That one is meant for a better man than you.” A whisper then, so soft that Wu Ying was not certain he was even expected to hear it. “If I ever find someone with the Soul of the Sword.”

“And you’d gift this weapon to one who did have it?” Wu Ying said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Why, you know one?” Grandmaster Vu said, peevishly. Before Wu Ying could answer, he waved a hand dismissively. “What kind of fool do you think I am, to give away my wares. If they truly had the Soul of the Jian, they would pay everything they owned for that weapon.”

“Really.”

“Do not sound so doubtful. It is everything that I have learnt and understood, the pinnacle of my skill and talent. I poured my heart and soul into its making.” Another gesture at the three swords. “These are but mere playthings to it.”

“I see.” Then remembering their earlier topic, Wu Ying prodded. “Playthings that don’t require enchantments.”

“You won’t give it up, will you?”

“A customer who buys a weapon without understanding it fully is a fool.” Wu Ying sniffed. “I am no fool.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Silence, before the Grandmaster shrugged. “It’s simple. There are no enchantments because it is the sword itself that calls these effects into being. Enchantments are but the external imposition of a dao and will upon the world, shaping it by their swirls and runes and formations. These swords require none of that – for they are the imposition of such concepts into the world.”

“Their very being is an enchantment,” Wu Ying said, understandingly.

“And more powerful for that.”

“Of course.”

One could not forcibly increase the energy or strength of such en enchantment, not be empowering them with a spirit stone like with a formation flag. And they were even less flexible than carved formations or environmental hazards embedded in the earth. Yet, they also required the least amount of upkeep, these swords turned enchantments. For their very being had been turned to their purpose.

“Shuang. Ying. Ren(5).” The names came to Wu Ying, unbidden.

The blacksmith regarded the wind cultivator with a degree more respect. “You see, child? This is what you want from a customer. Someone who can perceive the weapons for what they are, truly. He might be ignorant, but he sees true.”

“I understand, Ong Ong.”

“Which will you choose,” Grandmaster Vu asked.

“I’m allowed to choose?”

“Do you want me to pick for you?”

Wu Ying smiled wryly at the man’s prodding, his gaze darting over the three blades. In the end though, he reached for Ren. Something within him called to the weapon, called for it. However, before he could touch it, the old man slapped a hand on the table.

“Oy! You pay before you take,” Grandmaster Vu said, leaning forwards. “What kind of city did you grow up in, that you take what is not yours.”

“No city,” Wu Ying said. “I’m just a simple farmer. And we mostly traded among friends and village members.” He leaned back in his chair, even as the granddaughter stepped forward to sheathe the other weapons. She then went to store them away, leaving Wu Ying and her grandfather to negotiate over the remaining weapon.

Which, Wu Ying noticed, the old man had not only made him express a strong desire for, removing at least one tool of negotiation. Damn merchants and their tricks. From the predatory gaze that the formerly sleepy old man turned on him, he realised he was in for quite the negotiation.

Still, he had no intention of leaving this room without the jian. One way or the other.


Footnotes:

4 - Grandfather in Vietnamese

5 - Frost, shadow and edge of blade respectively