Blood River

"Do you like blades?"

"Yes."

"Why do you like them?"

"I think blades... are beautiful."

"Beautiful?"

"Yes. The curve of the blade is beautiful, and the arc it makes when swung is also beautiful."

"Take this. Let me see how you wield it."

At seven years old, Xie Bu Xie met Xie Qidao, the foremost master of the Xie Family Blade Technique. Though Xie Qidao held a high position, he never involved himself in family affairs, dedicating himself solely to the art of the blade. Xie Bu Xie had lost both his parents by the age of six. Within the Xie Family, both of them were forgotten existences.

It was the blade that brought them together.

"You've never held a blade before. What right do you have to speak of its beauty?" Xie Qidao handed his long blade to Xie Bu Xie. At that time, Xie Bu Xie was barely taller than the blade itself, yet he fearlessly lifted it and gave it a gentle swing.

Xie Qidao's eyes instantly lit up.

Because that single swing was truly beautiful.

As Xie Bu Xie looked down at the Sword Forest beneath him, his mind raced back to the day he met his master, Xie Qidao—the first time he truly held a blade. That swing had no technique, no thought behind it. It was pure and simple.

But precisely because it was pure, it was beautiful.

At this moment, Xie Bu Xie suddenly understood. He had trained with the blade for ten years, mastering the seven peerless techniques Xie Qidao had taught him, yet like his master, he had never grasped the eighth technique. The reason was simple: there was no eighth technique. Looking back, the finest swing was still that purest, simplest one.

"Let me recall... the day I first held a blade..." Xie Bu Xie closed his eyes and slowly swung the blade.

The Sword Forest collapsed in that instant.

Eighteen sharp blades scattered into the air.

Even Mu Xuewei, standing far away, was forced back three steps by the shockwave. She gasped, "That swing—"

"Worthy of admiration!" Su Muyu suddenly withdrew his left hand, and the eighteen blades soared into the sky before raining down again like a storm of swords, descending upon Xie Bu Xie. But Xie Bu Xie could no longer see this sword rain. Having executed the eighth swing, the subsequent strikes flowed effortlessly, completely unshackled. His blade danced swiftly, knocking aside the eighteen swords one by one.

Su Muyu reached out, grasped the umbrella handle embedded in the ground, and drew from it an extremely slender iron sword. With a light step, he lunged forward, charging at Xie Bu Xie with the blade.

As the sword rain ceased, Xie Bu Xie turned and saw a glint of cold light. He smirked. This was how it should be. If the Eighteen Sword Formation had remained as it was earlier, it would have been somewhat unsatisfying. He swung his blade and rose to meet that glint. The long blade grazed past Su Muyu's temple, severing a lock of hair.

But Su Muyu's slender sword pierced straight through Xie Bu Xie's shoulder, blood spurting out instantly.

The outcome was decided.

Xie Bu Xie's expression turned blank. The excitement and joy of his breakthrough in blade technique slowly froze on his face. He raised his head and looked at Su Muyu, asking earnestly, "Why?"

Su Muyu withdrew his sword and stepped back three paces. "There was nothing wrong with your blade technique. In terms of pure swordsmanship, you didn't lose to me today.""But you still won. My master said that if I could comprehend the eighth blade, I would be the strongest of this generation in Dark River. It seems he lied to me." Xie Bu Xie asked expressionlessly.

"Because you are obsessed with the blade, intoxicated by it. Everything in your battles is for the sake of the blade. But the blade is a lifeless thing. You need to find something—and a reason—truly worth fighting to the death for." Su Muyu spoke slowly.

Xie Bu Xie thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I don’t understand."

"I had to defeat you because I couldn’t afford to lose. If I lost, those behind me would die, and those who follow me would die too." Su Muyu paused, then shook his head again. "The meaning each person seeks is different. Your meaning—you must find it yourself."

"I don’t understand what you’re saying, but I will try to find what you speak of, if only to defeat you." Xie Bu Xie suddenly turned away.

Mu Xuewei was taken aback. "You’re leaving?"

"I told you long ago—I came here not to kill anyone." Xie Bu Xie tapped his foot and soared away, retreating in the direction he had come. "Su Muyu, I hope there will be another chance to fight you."

From that day on, Dark River lost a strangely named disciple of the Xie Family. Though only a handful knew, this Xie disciple’s blade skills had already surpassed everyone in the Xie Family—even his master, Xie Qidao. Yet years later, this oddly named swordsman would make a name for himself in the martial world, even venturing far into Southern Jue, where he would have a legendary battle with the Blade Immortal.

Su Muyu turned and wiped the blood from his left cheek. Xie Bu Xie’s final strike had still managed to wound him. He looked at Mu Xuewei and smiled faintly. "Xuewei, is it your turn to fight me now?"

"Fight you? You’re bleeding!" Mu Xuewei pulled a medicine bottle from her sleeve and tossed it to Su Muyu. "Hurry and treat it."

"Your medicine? I wouldn’t dare." Su Muyu sighed, eyeing the bottle in his hand. "I have a Little Divine Physician behind me now. I can’t risk using something that could poison an ox."

"Little Divine Physician?" Mu Xuewei raised an eyebrow.

At that moment, the Little Divine Physician lay in the inner room, trapped in the Dark River Grand Master’s dream, her brow furrowed in pain. In the dream, she wandered through one battlefield after another, numb to the corpses and splattered blood around her.

What kind of past did this occasionally kind-looking old man have? Bai Hehuai wondered silently. But when she turned, she saw the old man standing behind her. His chest was drenched in blood, and he barely remained upright, leaning on the Sleeping Dragon Sword planted in the ground. The old man smiled bitterly. "Tonight… I fear I will die here."

Die here? Bai Hehuai was stunned. Isn’t Su Muyu outside?

"Stop talking about death, old man. Finish this smoke, and I’ll go out and kill them all for you, eh?" A voice with an unpolished accent came from behind.Bai Hehuai suddenly realized that the elderly man in the dream couldn't see her—he was speaking to other people within the dream. It seemed that before this current assassination plot, The Head had encountered the same situation many years ago and had once been in dire straits. Bai Hehuai turned her head and saw a tall, thin man sitting in the corner, leisurely smoking a cigarette. Beside him lay a Buddhist staff, adorned with a Golden Ring that jingled softly.