Chapter 42: On the Northern Return, Ten Thousand Swords March Along

When Jiang Che returned north, the people of the Capital lined the road to see him off.

This time, there were no kowtows.

Because the first article of the new decree read: the Human Realm shall not practice the Kneeling Ceremony.

Elders cupped their fists, children waved, soldiers struck their chests, scholars bowed with hands clasped.

Jiang Che, mounted on his horse, suddenly felt this farewell weighed heavier than kneeling and thunderous cheers.

Lin Xiaoman ran to the side of the procession, clutching the History Book.

"Young Master, may I go to the Northern Border?"

Jiang Che looked at him.

The boy had grown a little taller than he had been at Luo'an, and his gaze had steadied considerably.

"Won't the History Camp stay in the Capital?"

Lin Xiaoman said, "Lord Gu said the Battle of Tian Duan Cliff must be recorded by someone."

Jiang Che smiled and said, "The battlefield is dangerous."

Lin Xiaoman said earnestly, "The Luo'an Altar was dangerous too."

Jiang Che was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Follow Shopkeeper Shen's logistics unit. You're not allowed near the front."

Lin Xiaoman nodded vigorously.

The Northern Return procession was very long.

The Northern Garrison Army, the Green Blade Camp, the Sword Pavilion Sword Cultivators, the Lu'an Wenjun Army, the Wan Tong Merchant Caravan, the History Camp, and martial world wanderers who had set out north on their own.

There were also many ordinary commoners delivering grain and clothing, walking dozens of li before they would turn back.

Every city along the way opened its gates to welcome them.

In days past, Jiang Che had led his troops south to Questioning the Crime.

Now, returning north, it was to resist Heaven.

The meaning was different, and so was the hearts of the people.

In Pingyang County, County Magistrate Xu Bai stood outside the city with three thousand children.

These children had nearly been sent to the Capital to "pray for blessings."

Each of them held a bamboo branch in their hands.

Seeing Jiang Che, the children raised their bamboo branches in unison.

"Young Master Jiang, win!"

The childish voices made many veteran soldiers' eyes burn.

Jiang Che dismounted and walked up to the children.

He spoke no grand words.

He merely crouched down and said to the little girl at the very front, "Study hard."

The little girl asked, "Can studying defeat the Heavenly Gate?"

Jiang Che laughed.

"Yes."

"Swords strike their bodies."

"Books strike their roots."

The little girl nodded, half understanding.

The procession continued north.

The closer they drew to Han Zhou, the heavier the wind and snow grew.

Yet the Sword Cultivators accompanying them grew ever more numerous.

After the Luck of the Sword Dao awakened beneath the heavens, countless Sword Cultivators who had once been suppressed finally saw a path ahead.

They came from the East Sea, from the Western Desert, from the Southern Border, from the misty rains of Jiangnan.

There were old Sword Immortals of sects.

There were youths just starting out.

There were one-armed wandering knights.

There was a middle-aged man carrying the Sword of the Deceased Wife on his back.

They did not necessarily all revere Jiang Che.

But they all knew that if the Heavenly Gate pressed down once more, the Sword Dao of the Human Realm would be forced to kneel again.

So they came.

Outside Hanzhou City, Chen Shanhe had hurried back ahead of time to arrange the defenses.

When Jiang Che arrived, the Zhenbei Flag flew in the wind across the entire city.

Above the city gate, four characters had been newly carved:

Human Realm's Northern Gate.

Shen Wanjin stared at it, grinning broadly: "These four characters are worth far more than Hanzhou itself."

After entering the city, Jiang Che did not rest, but went straight to the Jiang Family Ancestral Hall.

In the hall, the incense before the spirit tablets of the Zhenbei Heroic Souls never ceased.

Jiang Che offered incense.

"Father."

"Mother."

"Senior."

"I am returning to Tian Duan Cliff."

The Green Bamboo Sword chimed softly.

Deep within the ancestral hall, it seemed as if Wind blew through.

That night, Jiang Che dreamed of the Broken Temple on a rainy night.

In the dream, he held the Wooden Sword again.

The Sword Spirit sat at the Broken Temple's entrance drinking wine.

Jiang Che walked over.

"Senior."

The blue-robed swordsman turned back and smiled, "About to fight a big battle again?"

Jiang Che nodded.

"Are you afraid?"

Jiang Che thought for a moment.

"I am afraid."

The blue-robed swordsman laughed loudly: "Fear is correct. Those who fear not death mostly do not live long."

Jiang Che asked, "Then what should be done?"

The blue-robed swordsman tossed the wine flask to him.

"Fear is fear."

"The sword must be steady."

Jiang Che caught the wine flask.

When he woke from the dream, the wine flask was gone.

But a faint scent of wine remained in his palm.

After dawn, Jiang Che left the city and headed north.

Ten thousand swords followed.

The target: Tian Duan Cliff.