Chapter 151

158. There is a Sword in the Furnace, Right and Wrong Cannot be Distinguished

The Ancient Yue Sword Shop, which had been shrouded in some kind of dark cloud all morning, finally saw its atmosphere of panic ease.

At the gate of the Ancient Yue Sword Shop, the craftsmen of the sword shop saw the figures of the young County Magistrate and other government office personnel leaving, and they all couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Inside and outside an old sword furnace on the hillside of Little Lone Mountain, the original tense atmosphere dissipated, and the group of figures disappeared, returning to the tranquility of the past.

Inside the sword furnace room.

Only the lonely figure of the old sword-caster remained, along with a sword-casting furnace that was not lit and was empty.

Apart from that.

A blue folded paper remained on the table.

On the paper was an arc made of pure Pythagorean shapes.

This "arc" seemed round but not round, seemed like a blade but not a blade.

Inside the empty sword furnace room.

The old sword-caster sat before the table.

His expression was silent.

Ten scorched, withered fingers dismantled the "arc" on this blue folded paper bit by bit.

Then reassembled it.

The old sword-caster's movements were skillful.

As if he had done this thousands of times.

Not at all inferior to the dexterity of the female tassel workers who wove sword tassels in the breakfast stall.

"Disciple, the top sword-caster must have the top aesthetic."

He remembered his master once saying this.

The old sword-caster agreed with this sentence.

But he did not agree with his master's aesthetic.

His predecessors in the sect once had a near-pathological obsession with straight lines.

Straight lines are also the element most used in sword weapons in the world.

But in the eyes of the old sword-caster, straight lines are rigid and rude, pedantic and stiff.

In his mind, the sensory experience produced by straight lines is like watching a light swallow returning to its nest crash into the dark-toned eaves.

Flesh and blood blurred, feathers scattered everywhere, and the whole world around began to become terrible.

The old sword-caster hated straight lines.

And curves are the exact opposite of straight lines; they are feminine and fickle.

Just like the yellow wine he poured down his throat, its shape changes in a thousand ways, warming the drinker's stomach.

However, in the eyes of his master and the others, the most beautiful curves in the world, apart from the pair of sun and moon above their heads, were nothing more than a woman's breasts and buttocks.

This is a minor path, difficult to enter the hall of elegance.

The difference in aesthetics and sword-casting philosophy was also the reason why the old sword-caster left the sect in the first place.

So later, when his master died miserably, he didn't feel much regret.

It was just that two more wine jars were added to his side in the dead of night.

Later, the old sword-caster also realized belatedly.

Everything in this world is not necessarily clearly distinguished between right and wrong, black and white.

For example, isn't he currently casting a sword for the enemy who killed his master?

Before the old table, the old sword-caster lowered his head and murmured:

"The old guy was right; curves are too soft, making it difficult to hide the spirit and energy of the sword weapon.

"But straight lines are too rigid; those who are too rigid are easy to break, and those who are too soft are decadent.

"So this old man wants to find an 'arc', an 'arc'...

"Between curve and straight..."

An arc is like an iron bar; if you apply a little force to both ends, an arc will appear in the middle.

But it desperately resists, ready to return to a straight line at any time.

It has tension.

"Heh, some Confucian sages say to distinguish between right and wrong, but this old man refuses."

The old sword-caster suddenly laughed.

"Let later generations take this sword, which is difficult to distinguish between right and wrong, to break matters that are difficult to distinguish between right and wrong."

The old sword-caster, who was folding paper quietly in the room, had an "arc" gradually taking shape between his ten fingers.

At one moment, he seemed to think of the words of that young man not long ago. The old man's eyes revealed appreciation, and he sighed with emotion:

"Really beautiful..."

But just at this moment.

A burst of footsteps came from outside the sword furnace.

It was Liu Zi'an.

He had finally respectfully sent away the young County Magistrate and other uninvited guests and was hurrying back to the hillside.

With a "creak," the door of the sword furnace room was pushed open. Liu Zi'an walked in with a gloomy and ugly expression, pointing at the sword-casting furnace, and asked with a deep frown:

"What's going on? Where is the sword! Haven't you been casting swords all these years?! Where is the sword?"

Just now, the old sword-caster opened the sword-casting furnace in public, which not only startled everyone but also suddenly shocked Liu Zi'an, who was full of doubts.

Carefully sending away Ouyang Rong and hurriedly dismissing Liu Zilin and other followers, he rushed back alone to the sword furnace to demand an explanation.

The old sword-caster was expressionless and ignored him.

On the blue folded paper in his hand.

The "arc" took shape once again.

In front of Liu Ziwen, who was frowning deeply.

The old sword-caster grabbed the "arc," stood up with his hunched body, turned his head, and walked to the empty sword-casting furnace behind him.

He threw it in.

There was no furnace fire in the furnace.

But the paper-folded "arc" had just entered.

And it vanished into thin air.

With a "clatter."

The circular iron door of the sword-casting furnace closed tightly again.

In front of the furnace, the old sword-caster turned his head silently, his eyelids drooping, like a tiger in its twilight years, still possessing residual power.

"You question this old man?"

Liu Zi'an was stunned by the strange scene of "vanishing into thin air" just now. Immediately, he gave a forced laugh and waved his hands:

"How could I dare to question you, old sir? It's just that the sword shop was forced into by outsiders early in the morning, and it disturbed you in your sword-casting... I was a bit impulsive."

"However, you are still amazing, old sir. This sword-casting technique is exquisite. Ouyang Lianghan and Xie Lingjiang didn't see any clues. Hahaha, even I was deceived."

Liu Zi'an spoke quickly for a long time, but the old sword-caster did not speak, and the atmosphere was still a bit awkward.

Liu Zi'an probed:

"So, old sir, is this sword still being tempered in the sword-casting furnace now? Is there some profound blindfold technique?"

The old sword-caster's expression was calm. He glanced at him, his tone sounding curious:

"Who said a sword must be tempered in a furnace?"

"Then where is it being tempered?"

The old sword-caster turned his head to look at Butterfly Creek, which was flowing endlessly down the mountain outside the door, and said a sentence that seemed like nonsense for no reason:

"Where a sword can be tempered, it will appear there. Who said sword-casting must use a sword furnace."

Liu Zi'an was immediately choked into silence.

The old sword-caster turned his head and suddenly asked: "Is Liu Ziwen dead completely?"

Liu Zi'an was silent for a while and nodded.

The old sword-caster seemed to have known something for a long time, and his expression was not surprised at all.

For the death of the young master of the Liu family, whom he had known and dealt with for more than ten years, he also showed no signs of regret.

A hint of sarcasm and mockery flashed vaguely in the old man's eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

Liu Zi'an asked uneasily: "What if the Wei clan finds out?"

The old sword-caster mocked: "It's already done. Are you only afraid of the Wei clan finding out now?"

Liu Zi'an frowned and glanced at the old man:

"Don't forget, this is not just my business, it's also your business, old sir. Let's think about how to deal with the people the Wei clan sends to take the sword. With the Wei clan's strength, there might be Qi practitioners of very high rank coming..."

The old sword-caster did not answer, his expression as usual.

Thus, the atmosphere was quiet for a while.

Liu Zi'an, who was pacing back and forth in the room thinking, suddenly raised his head and asked first:

"When will this sword be ready?"

The old sword-caster responded coldly:

"This old man should be asking you. What is the reason for the fluctuation of the water level of Butterfly Creek these past two days? Didn't we agree to keep it unchanged?

"Ever since the new County Magistrate came, the Liu family hasn't done a single thing that satisfied this old man."

Liu Zi'an opened his mouth, but in the end, he didn't argue. His mouth felt a bit bitter as he said:

"On the day of the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Ouyang Lianghan had people open the Zhe Yiqu Channel, and the river water backflowed, which had some impact on the water level of Butterfly Creek.

"In addition, the last rise of water in Yunmeng Marsh at the end of the plum rain season has begun, which also has an impact on the water level of Butterfly Creek. However, the Di Gong Sluice should be able to hold up, so the problem is not too big.

"Old sir, what should we do now..."

Liu Zi'an said halfway when he noticed the cold gaze cast by the old man opposite.

His words paused, and instead, he took a deep breath and nodded:

"This junior understands. The Liu family will take out another sum of silver to assist the government office in dealing with the Zhe Yiqu Channel as soon as possible, to see if we can block the gap and resume the second phase of the Zhe Yiqu Channel... We won't drag it out anymore."

Liu Zi'an's expression was a bit pained. In this business of the Zhe Yiqu Channel, the Liu family had already invested too many resources, either forced or voluntarily.

The most outrageous thing is that after the Zhe Yiqu Channel is completed, this is still the political achievement of the enemy Ouyang Lianghan.

Liu Zi'an rubbed his face, let out a long sigh, and no longer cared about short-term gains and losses.

He continued: "As for this rise of water in the upper reaches of Yunmeng Marsh... Ouyang Lianghan should be able to hold up."

The old sword-caster sneered: "Heh, counting on others to hold up again? You Liu family really should thank others properly."

Liu Zi'an's mouth twitched, and after a long time, he squeezed out a sentence:

"Mutual fulfillment, that's all."

Afterward, the two chatted for a while longer. The old sword-caster turned around and made a gesture to see the guest out:

"Alright, you go. This old man has already succeeded here. It is you Liu family who delayed the sword's completion, dragging your feet.

"Go, go block the Zhe Yiqu Channel well. When the water level of Butterfly Creek returns to normal, this sword will be born."

Liu Zi'an nodded solemnly.

This second master of the Liu family, who had finally gained power, left with worry.

Inside the sword furnace room, only the old sword-caster remained, standing silently before the furnace.

The atmosphere in the room was quiet.

Until the old sword-caster, who was lost in thought with drooping eyes, picked up a jar of yellow wine left behind by a certain young County Magistrate before leaving.

Opened the lid, raised his head, and took a sip.

He suddenly turned his head and asked the sword-casting furnace with its door tightly closed:

"Do you like the Qi on him very much?"

In the empty room, the old man stared at the air in front, not blinking, as if he could see some things that ordinary people's naked eyes couldn't see.

It was as if he was talking to himself:

"Little guy, don't steal a suck anymore. If you had taken one more suck just now, you would have been discovered by that Xie family girl.

"This girl is also guarding the Qi on her Senior Brother at all times. Heh, don't get caught competing with her for food."

The old sword-caster's gaunt face rarely squeezed out wrinkles and smiled.

The old man waved gently toward the front, as if greeting a child.

"Go, little guy, go to Butterfly Creek.

"Sigh, you're really greedy. The water and Qi luck that has leaked down from the vast Yunmeng Marsh upstream for more than ten years isn't enough for you to eat.

"Be careful, don't get caught by the Wu Yue female cultivators of the Nujun Hall.

"Although, this old man's sect and Donglin Temple seem to still owe them a Tripod Sword.

"Speaking of which, how should this old debt be repaid..."

(PS: It's over, can't hold on anymore, brothers. Xiao Rong will sleep for a while and then get up to code... Should be gone at dawn, going to sleep until morning...)

Recommending a new light fairy-xia seedling for a friend, "My Puppet Girl of Zhiziao Island". The author is handsome and the book is good. The most important thing is that he updates explosively every day. He is a player who drinks ten thousand words like water. Damn, Xiao Rong is so jealous that he is separating from his quality!

(End of chapter)