Dragon Tamer

Chapter 122 - 123: Using the Wind as Gravel

Chapter 122 - 123: Using the Wind as Gravel

Chapter 122: Chapter 123: Using the Wind as Gravel

Translator: 549690339

“It seems you don’t know her as well as you think,” chuckled the Elder Sword Sovereign.

Zhu Minglang still hadn’t come back to his senses and, recalling some details, couldn’t quite understand the reasons behind them.

“After you visit Abandoned Sword Forest, you should head back home earlier. There have been quite a few changes with the Zhu Gate over the years,” said the Elder Sword Sovereign.

“Sure, Master. About my visit to the Sword Sect, please don’t mention it to others. I’m afraid some senior students and junior brothers might want to challenge me to a duel,” Zhu Minglang spoke.

“I know, I know. Now that you command dragons, perhaps your future will shine brighter than the past. I’ve always believed in you,” said the Elder Sword Sovereign with a smile.

Looking at the Elder Sword Sovereign, who was advanced in years, Zhu Minglang felt a great many emotions. There were so many things he wanted to say, yet it felt like everything was already understood without words.

“Then Grandfather, please rest more and take good care of your health in the future,” Zhu Minglang said.

The Elder Sword Sovereign waved his hand, signaling Zhu Minglang to go ahead.

As Zhu Minglang walked outside, barely turning around and stepping out of the main hall of the villa, he heard the Elder Sword Sovereign whisper to a female disciple who was waiting nearby: “That one…”

“Master, do you have any instructions?”

“Girl, go to Ji Zhuang and take down the spirit tablet written with ‘Zhu

Minglang’ on it; stop the monthly offerings too. Save some incense oil money,” the Elder Sword Sovereign said.

Outside, Zhu Minglang missed his step on the stairs, nearly tumbling out head over heels.

Steadying his form, Zhu Minglang was already in tears.

Master, is this how much you believe in me?

He headed to a neighboring peak and settled down within the villa where Nan Lingsha and Fang Niannian were waiting for him to join them for a meal. A disciple with long eyebrows was also there, standing with meticulous posture.

Zhu Minglang sat down and glanced at the modest dishes.

The cuisine of the Sword Sect had always been plain, mostly vegetarian. Zhu Minglang, who was supposed to leave the place at sixteen, had left a year earlier because of this very issue.

Bad food, nothing worth missing!

These bamboo shoots and mountain delicacies were said to be cultivated with the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. Even without meat, they were supposed to be more nutritious than meaty tastes.

At the Yaoshan Sword Sect, the cultivation of the sword mainly focused on the Sword Heart, Sword Qi, and Sword Intent. Eating less meat and more of these immortal vegetables would stabilize a person’s cultivation and help them become renowned for their swordsmanship.

And so, Zhu Minglang gave up being a Sword Cultivator, choosing braised pork, wild mushroom stew, pure meat frying instead…

Just thinking about eating these for the next few days, Zhu Minglang decided to release Big Black Tooth and let it hunt down any wild pigs causing trouble under the guise of ‘eradicating mountain spirits’. Come night, he could also enjoy the plum wine from here while roasting a delicious wild boar by the campfire. Now, that’s the life of a carefree Sword Cultivator!

“Niannian, later you take Big Black Tooth to the mountain over there,” Zhu Minglang pointed out the window and whispered to Fang Niannian.

“Alright!” Fang Niannian would surely not refuse anything to do with eating, and Zhu Minglang’s barbecue skills were truly exceptional anyway.

“Miss Lingsha, just wander around and relax. The long journey must have tired you out,” Zhu Minglang said.

“Mmm,” Nan Lingsha responded, either because her temperament had changed again or because she typically didn’t like to talk while eating. Her cultivation base was fluctuating around the Monarch Level.

Still a Dragon Shepherd.

Zhu Minglang glanced at Nan Lingsha and felt that the woman had become even more mysterious.

Forget it, there will be plenty of time to understand her later.

Zhu Minglang didn’t dwell on the issue any further. He casually ate a few bites, saving room for the big meal in the evening.

“Brother!” Zi Miaozhu appeared at the door, her eyes brimming uncontrollably with joy.

“You’ve worked hard, junior sister,” said Zhu Minglang.

“Gu Tang, Uncle-Master has agreed. The issue of securing Ancestral Dragon City shouldn’t worry you anymore,” said Zi Miaozhu.

“Good, good, that’s a relief,” Zhu Minglang sighed with relief.

With a strong member of the Sword Sect settling things beforehand, there was no need to rush to the Imperial City to swear fealty to the land.

“Brother, after you left, Abandoned Sword Forest has remained desolate. Only when the disciples’ swords break or become rusty do they throw them into the forest,” said Zi Miaozhu.

“What mysterious event happened that even the Sword Sect Masters can’t handle?” asked Zhu Minglang, puzzled.

“They say there are ghosts, and they possess spiritual wisdom. Whenever the disciples go to discard their swords, they appear. But when our Masters go to eradicate them, they hide. Only you and Snow Trace Master know the inside of Abandoned Sword Forest well, but Snow Trace Master never pays attention to such matters,” said Zi Miaozhu.

“I heard from some higher cultivation seniors that it might be due to the swords being abandoned without a care, holding some resentment. This resentment is like a demon, starting to take revenge on us Sword Cultivator disciples,” said the disciple with the long eyebrows.

“When do they usually appear?” asked Zhu Minglang.

“Around sunset, during the turnover of day and night.” “Okay, I’ll have a look.”

“Brother, let me accompany you,” said Zi Miaozhu.

“No need. You take Nan Lingsha out for a walk,” said Zhu Minglang.

“Sure,” replied Zi Miaozhu. This time she agreed quite readily, her eyes seemingly filled with some other scheme, shining brightly.

The sword is the biggest consumable for the Sword Sect.

No matter it was the peachwood sword he initially practiced with or the iron sword he received after becoming a disciple, and even those fine swords forged from various precious metals.

Zhu Gate could be considered the Sword Sect’s largest supplier, as Zhu Gate was divided into two major factions: one specialized in armor casting, the other in sword casting. In fact, Zhu Gate was involved in casting other types of artifacts as well.

However, before the age of fifteen, Zhu Minglang spent more time in the Yaoshan Sword Sect and did not have much interest in the casting art.

Swords wear out extremely quickly; every sword cultivator needs to practice their sword techniques for extended periods, whether it’s shadow fencing, practicing against wooden stakes, or even stone statues, all of which could easily damage a sword.

Following the dim and lengthy path without any lanterns, he passed tall que pines and yellow bamboos, all standing straight and tall.

He deliberately waited until it was almost dusk to come here; Zhu Minglang looked at the pine and bamboo shadows that grew increasingly lush, with images flipping through his mind like the pages of a book.

Continuing forward, he could see rotten wooden swords scattered haphazardly on the ground, covered in green moss.

Going deeper, the path was eroded by mud and overgrown weeds. Looking around, he could see iron swords and bronze swords stuck upright in the soil, standing tall like the pines and bamboos!

The discarded swords grew more numerous, with hundreds in sight.

When he was very young, Elder Sword Sovereign told him that each discarded sword here was a grave marker for a sword, and while “alive,” each had its own story.

Some swords were damaged from the moment of forging, unused by anyone, and thus discarded here.

Some swords had more fame than their users, sought after by everyone but ultimately fell in a well-known battle and were forever sealed here.

Some swords, like unremarkable people, led plain lives and when their time came, they were buried in the soil.

Going even deeper, there were even more swords, packed more densely than the pine and bamboo; they varied in length and style, most of them stuck upside down in the soil like tombstones, so many that at a glance it was impossible to count how many there were!

At dusk, the setting sun’s afterglow, the shadows of the pine trees and yellow bamboo mingled with the profuse shadows of the discarded swords. The pine and bamboo were lush green, the sword bodies dark, but the shadows merged completely, like huge swords piercing the sky and slender swords one could grasp, forming this utterly serene Sword Grove in the twilight.

As the sunset cast light on the swords, the rust stains on the thousands of discarded swords turned exceptionally brilliant.

Copper rust, iron rust, green rust, red rust…

Are sunlight and the years themselves not tinged with rust?

Otherwise, there would be no dusk.

“Aunt Xuehen, my hand is numb already,” said a young boy with a face full of sweat as night was about to fall.

“Continue.”

“My palm is bleeding.”

The Abandoned Sword Forest was so hot and red under the blazing sun.

“Continue.”

“Aunt Xuehen, how long do I need to practice before I can become as strong as you?”

The boy, with a tinge of greenness, stood in the snow and asked.

“What’s required to sharpen a sword?”

“Hard and smooth pebbles,” the green boy replied.

“From today on, you will pull out every sword in this grove, swing it towards the sky, use the wind as your sharpening stone. Once you’ve worn away the rust from each discarded sword, you’re free to leave this place.”

Using the wind as a sharpening stone.

Every sword here has worn through its own calluses, shed its own blood.

But because of this, they have regained their sharp edges!

Years passed, and the discarded swords in the Sword Grove still stood erect in the soil, their sharp and clean bodies once again covered in rust. Zhu Minglang, carrying the dusk on his back as did the swarm of swords, was overwhelmed by a rush of images, making it difficult for him to breathe smoothly as if something was stuck in his throat.

Any regrets?

Zhu Minglang never had any.

He just felt a touch of sadness, a bit of helplessness.

No matter how brilliant an extraordinary sword might be, it will one day be full of rust stains.

In the fleeting years, if the heart belongs somewhere, there won’t be any regrets.

“Hummmmmmmmmmm-—-——-—-

Suddenly, a unanimous vibration of swords filled the quiet grove, sounding like thousands of zithers playing around Zhu Minglang. The music was so penetrating that it sent a cold shiver down the soul.

Zhu Minglang came back to his senses and saw the sea of swords that undulated with the mountain woods, as if responding to some ancient call to rise from the soil, his face filled with astonishment.

Shadows of swords swayed, the pine forest grew dark, and the twilight light was completely obscured by the mountains. The grove was about to slip into darkness, but the shadows of the swords seemed to come alive, wildly running through the sky, the earth, and the woods.

Yet the real discarded swords still stood inverted in the soil.. The shadows of the swords, like ghosts emerging from tombstones, soared through the air, and their piercing sword howls, along with the sharp screaming of the ghosts, turned the symphony of swords into a shrill wailing of a hundred ghosts!