Chapter 126: Draw the Sword, Nourish the Sword

"Little Brother Han, what brings you here?"

Li Rui was slightly surprised to see Han Qin standing at the door.

Han Qin smiled broadly:

"It was Elder Jiang—he ordered disciples from Huaqing Sect to join the Anning Guard for training; many elders and disciples have come, including Brother Zhou and Brother Zhu."

Li Rui's heart stirred slightly.

"Didn't Miss Jiang come?"

Han Qin gave a bitter smile: "Miss Jiang came too, but she doesn't need to mingle with us—she's already gone to Elder Jiang's residence."

Li Rui nodded.

That made sense.

Previously, he and Han Qin had interacted with Jiang Yan because Jiang Lin had deliberately tempered her.

Like in his past life.

The only chance to associate with the rich second generation was during primary and secondary school, because the first generation wanted to train their children.

The situation was much the same.

Now that the tempering was done, there was no need to force hardship.

Li Rui smiled: "Little Brother Han, how long do you plan to stay in the Anning Guard?"

Han Qin: "Maybe a few months, maybe a few years."

With Jiang Lin around, more Huaqing Sect members would keep joining the Anning Guard.

On one hand, many in Huaqing Sect already sought official careers, and Jiang Lin could provide them pathways.

On the other hand, Jiang Lin needed Huaqing Sect people to solidify his own position.

In truth, using one's own people wasn't always out of selfishness—it was simply that they were more trustworthy.

Any official must handle some unsavory matters.

How could you get work done if all your subordinates were upright and incorruptible?

Li Rui: "Good. Then we're colleagues now."

Han Qin chuckled: "I'm currently a Squad Leader in the Bing Company—Senior Li, feel free to drop by if you have nothing else to do."

"I certainly will."

The Anning Guard had twenty-two companies, named after the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches.

The ten Heavenly Stems: "Jia, Yi, Bing, Ding, Wu, Ji, Geng, Xin, Ren, Gui."

The twelve Earthly Branches: "Zi, Chou, Yin, Mao, Chen, Si, Wu, Wei, Shen, You, Xu, Hai."

Each was overseen by five Garrison Commanders.

Each Garrison Commander had four or five Platoon Leaders, each commanding one company.

Wei Ming, for example, commanded the Xin Company.

Ge Hong was also in the Xin Company.

According to Li Rui's knowledge, the Bing Company was under Commander Lu, led by a Platoon Leader surnamed Chen named Chen Shi—a straightforward man.

Since Han Qin had come, he naturally couldn't resist discussing Wu Gong with Li Rui; the previous two exchanges had greatly inspired him.

"Senior Li, I've had some doubts in my training lately—please offer your guidance."

"Speak freely."

"I've trained with the sword for ten years, daily practice—but over the past couple years, my skill has advanced slower and slower. Any advice, Senior?"

Li Rui fell silent.

This was common among martial artists.

Known as a bottleneck.

Cross it, and the world opens wide; fail to cross it, and you're stuck for life.

Han Qin hitting a bottleneck at the Eighth Rank clearly had average insight.

Still, he might force past the Eighth Rank through sheer physical potential.

That's why major sects preferred strong physiques—they had a high floor, but to go far, one still needed to fix weaknesses.

"Little Brother Han, you might try nurturing the sword."

"Nurturing the sword?"

Han Qin looked surprised.

"Nurturing the sword" was usually a term used by swordsmiths—to maintain the blade's condition.

But Li Rui clearly meant something else.

Li Rui nodded: "Yes. A man is like a sword. If a sword can be nurtured, so can a man. Try not drawing your blade for a year—you might gain something."

Han Qin froze.

Not drawing his sword for a year?

Wouldn't his skill atrophy?

Though he deeply admired Li Rui's martial insights, he hesitated.

After all, he'd never tried it—if it failed, he'd waste a full year.

He thought long and hard: "Senior, I'll give it serious thought."

"No pressure. Do as your heart guides you."

Li Rui had merely offered a suggestion; whether Han Qin followed it was his own choice.

Martial training had no right or wrong.

As he said—it was all about following your heart.

Like himself—he disliked fighting, so cultivating health-preserving arts suited him perfectly.

Han Qin bowed: "Thank you for your guidance, Senior."

"Guidance? Just idle thoughts."

Li Rui chatted with Han Qin for a few more moments.

Seeing Han Qin's distracted expression, clearly still wrestling with the idea of nurturing the sword, he spoke up:

"Little Brother Han, you've just arrived in Qinghe—there's much to settle. Don't waste your time with this old man."

Han Qin snapped out of his thoughts.

Realizing how rude his behavior had been, he apologized: "Senior, forgive me—I'll take my leave now and pay my respects another day."

"Go ahead and attend to your affairs."

Li Rui waved him off.

He saw Han Qin off.

He stayed until Yin Hour, when the roll call was taken, then returned to his residence.

In the Yu Kingdom, officials got only one day off per month unless the Emperor issued a general pardon.

What?

You ask about ordinary oxen and horses? Sorry—no holidays all year.

So even during New Year, there was usually no leave.

Of course.

How things were handled was flexible—in the Armory's little domain, Li Rui called the shots; he'd already granted leave to Liang He and the others.

The Armory now had only him left.

Or rather, there was still the martial arts master guarding the higher-level techniques upstairs.

Before leaving,

he went upstairs.

He saw a lean man holding a dao, about to descend.

Li Rui chuckled: "Little Brother He, tonight's New Year's Eve—why not come to my residence for some company?"

The lean man was named He Shan.

He was said to have once been a dao master, later recruited by Ning Zhongtian—no wife, no children, quiet, even with few friends.

He Shan's chiseled face twisted into a faint smile:

"Senior Li, you're too kind—I prefer quiet. I won't come."

Li Rui didn't press.

Some weren't antisocial—they simply truly enjoyed solitude.

He'd met many people, each with their own way of living, so he was deeply tolerant.

He descended the stairs with He Shan.

Before parting, He Shan's demeanor was noticeably less cold, more courteous.

Human interaction was often just this:

A heart repays a heart.

It might not bring tangible benefits, but at least it earned a few kind words—and wasn't that comforting?

Li Rui did this merely out of habit.

As soon as he stepped out of the Armory, night had fully fallen.

Li Rui walked toward his residence.

Suddenly—

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

White light flared in the distant sky, streaks of white smoke tracing across the heavens.

Gazing afar, he murmured softly:

"Another year."

His pace home quickened considerably.

Another year.

That night.

Qinghe received a rare heavy snowfall.

"A lucky snow foretells a bountiful year."

Farmers all knew that a heavy snow acted as insulation, keeping the soil from freezing too deeply and preventing pest damage; the imperial court even appointed special temple attendants to pray for such snowfalls.

Li Rui was a man from the modern world.

Of course he understood it was because snow served as an insulating layer, preventing the ground from dropping too low in temperature and deterring pests.

"A good omen."

Yang Yong gazed out the window at the heavy snowflakes, his lips unable to stop smiling. He believed in such signs wholeheartedly; that day he had even taken out years' worth of silver scraps and sent Wang Zhao to the market to buy some distilled liquor.

After the New Year's Eve feast, perhaps because they were unusually happy and drank too much, Li Rui, Yang Yong, and Wang Zhao were all slightly drunk, lounging lazily before the brazier to keep watch over the old year.

Yang Yong and Wang Zhao had been busy all day.

The New Year's Eve feast was extraordinarily lavish: pork, chicken, even beef.

Yu Kingdom valued agriculture and sericulture; oxen were vital tools of production, so the imperial court strictly forbade slaughtering live oxen—only those that died of old age or illness could be butchered and eaten.

Thus, beef was extremely precious.

That's why martial heroes always ordered three taels of beef when they sat down to eat?

In the past, one wouldn't have dared even dream of it.

One night of snow.

The three chatted on and on, past midnight, until Li Rui finally urged Yang Yong and Wang Zhao to go to bed.

The next morning.

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The snow gradually ceased.

The ground lay thickly blanketed in white, and the air still carried the scent of saltpeter.

Li Rui put on a thicker fox-fur coat.

The fox fur was warm and cozy, offering not a hint of chill.

He strolled leisurely to the Dingzi Armory.

The building held only Li Rui; he had given Liang He and the others an extra day off. He had barely stepped inside when He Shan followed right behind him.

"Brother Li."

He Shan bowed respectfully in greeting.

Li Rui returned the bow: "Brother He, may your year be better than the last."

The new year had come.

Of course one must say a few auspicious words—others would feel pleased, and one would gain good fortune in return.

He Shan climbed the stairs.

Li Rui continued flipping through books downstairs.

Content and at ease.

During the New Year, other soldiers had no heart for work; the armory had not a single visitor.

Both Cao Wei and Jiang Lin turned a blind eye.

It was only human nature.

The imperial court tacitly accepted this; they had no reason to stir up public resentment.

Inside the room.

Li Rui exhaled gently.

The Flying Dragon in Heaven diagram had completed thirty-six circuits; the Nine Mystical Celestial Diagram had also completed thirty-six circuits.

He did this every single day.

Never slackened.

As he trained, the door suddenly knocked.

Seven or eight knocks in rapid succession.

Clearly, the visitor was impatient.

He opened the door to find Liang He standing there, beaming.

Li Rui: "Little He, didn't I give you a day off?"

Liang He grinned: "Master, I've broken through! I'm now a ranked martial cultivator."

Li Rui's face lit up.

"That's excellent news."

Liang He had good talent; to reach the ranked level before turning eighteen, though not comparable to true geniuses, was already quite impressive in Qinghe.

"Master, without your guidance, I'd never have achieved this."

"I broke through, and I knew I had to be the first to tell you."

Liang He did not become arrogant because of his breakthrough.

Li Rui shook his head: "You're naturally gifted. Even now that you've broken through, you must still train diligently."

He wasn't being modest.

There's a saying among the people: mud cannot be made into a wall.

He wasn't some immortal sage; he couldn't turn decay into wonder. The key was Liang He's own potential.

Of course, without his guidance, Liang He might have taken three to five years—or longer—to break through.

A ranked martial cultivator under eighteen is a completely different thing from one at twenty-five.

Take himself, for instance.

A seventh-rank cultivator at seventy still drew little attention.

After all, the younger one breaks through, the greater one's talent—and the more boundless one's future.

Liang He's expression turned solemn: "I humbly accept your teaching, Master."

He had heard Liu Tong had joined Huaqing Sect and soon after broken through. As a youth himself, having worked alongside Liu Tong, he couldn't help but feel envy.

So he had long held a knot of determination in his chest.

Now that he had broken through, his mind was clear, and the world felt vast and open.

Li Rui looked at Liang He with satisfaction: "Since you've broken through, you can't remain a common soldier. I'll handle this matter for you."

Liang He was taken aback:

"Master, your kindness—"

Li Rui cut him off with a smile, sternly: "Little He, just accept it."

A considerate superior is hard to find.

But a loyal subordinate, especially one who is both loyal and promising, is even harder to come by.

He never made a losing deal.

Liang He was loyal to him, and the benefits would only multiply.

The first day of the new year.

It was a day for stillness, not movement; most stayed home, for visiting relatives was considered taboo.

At noon on the second day.

After eating, Li Rui slowly made his way to Wei Ming's residence.

He knocked exactly three times.

A young servant opened the door.

The young servant recognized Li Rui and immediately smiled: "It's Master Li! Please, come right in."

Moments later.

Li Rui saw Wei Ming seated in the main hall.

Wei Ming was the first person Li Rui visited.

Someone might ask:

Why not Ning Zhongtian, or someone higher-ranked like Jiang Lin?

Because the rank difference was too great: first, you might not even get past the gate; second, the gift would surely be deemed unworthy—even if the gatekeeper accepted it, you'd never see their face.

The return on investment was far worse than visiting a superior one rank above.

So Li Rui had long sent gifts via Wang Zhao to the Ning and Jiang households.

For those two lords, simply sending the gift was enough.

But for his direct superior, Wei Ming, he had to come in person—to deepen their bond.

Wei Ming was utterly worn out by the people who came knocking early in the morning.

Only by noon did he finally see them all off.

His mood finally improved, and when he saw Li Rui appear, his smile deepened: "Ah, Brother Li, you've come all this way—why bring gifts?"

He rose to greet Li Rui personally.

Li Rui knew he had chosen the right time to come.

Who enjoys being disturbed first thing in the morning? Even if they smile on the surface, they're bound to be annoyed inside.

After noon was perfect.

You could sit and chat over tea, or move on to meals and wine—ideal timing.

Wei Ming walked forward.

His smile froze; he sucked in a sharp breath.

Li Rui carried a large burlap sack; Wei Ming had assumed Li Rui was here to offer local specialties.

"Damn it, who sends a lingzhi mushroom bigger than a human head—and it's a spiritual herb grade?"

Wei Ming felt regret.

He shouldn't have said what he just did.

Since he'd brought a gift, it had to be accepted.

"Come in."

"Fu, brew tea—yes, yes, bring out the jar I hid under the bed."

"Don't be stingy, don't hold back."

The servant named Fu looked crestfallen.

It was Wei Ming himself who told him to hide the tea leaves—even when Garrison Commander Ning came, he wasn't to give any out—and now he was being blamed for it.

"Fine, bearing blame is just my fate."

Fu looked crestfallen.

(End of Chapter)