Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 11: All the Proud Heroes of the World Shall Test My Blade

When the foul-smelling Eunuch Nan staggered out of Yanmen Town, vomiting uncontrollably, he finally understood what it meant to encounter a fiend incarnate.

To him, the young Marquis of Coldwater was nothing short of a tyrant!

No, a devil!

A demon straight from the depths of hell!

“Hurry, hurry back to the imperial city! Travel through the night! I must lodge a complaint with His Majesty! Ugh, ugh...”

The carriage, trailing a stench of filth, fled in disgrace toward the capital.

That night, Yun Que took out the flying sword he had obtained from the Apothecary Sect.

“What exactly is the background of that apothecary? Not only did he possess so many superior magic artifacts, he even had a true treasure.”

“Hm?”

Just as he was about to channel his sword meridian, Yun Que sensed that his sword energy had grown a bit stronger.

What was going on?

He hadn’t yet absorbed the sword energy from the flying sword, yet his own sword energy had actually increased!

Could it be the aftermath of that sword duel at the Apothecary Sect?

Pondering for a moment, Yun Que pulled out Han Jiao’s mid-grade magic sword. Sure enough, its rank had dropped from mid-grade to low-grade.

He had only used this sword once, to sever the flying sword of a master from the Chu family. Unexpectedly, he had unwittingly absorbed most of its sword energy.

“That’s hardly my fault,” he mused.

The demoted flying sword served as a warning to Yun Que.

From now on, he would need to be careful when using swords, and always use the finest blades. Otherwise, he might face the embarrassing situation where his flying sword was drained of energy before he even struck.

After cultivating through the night, Yun Que awoke at dawn feeling clear-minded and invigorated.

Every fiber of his being radiated sharpness—he was seized by a heroic urge to cut down all things!

Anyone else would have been overjoyed, perhaps even arrogant, but not Yun Que.

He understood that this was merely the sensation brought on by the operation of the sword meridian, much like a whetted blade becoming preternaturally keen.

Yet the sharper a blade, the more easily it shatters!

Sitting cross-legged, Yun Que did his utmost to restrain his sword energy, and only after the sun had climbed high did he return to his usual state.

Once again, he seemed utterly ordinary, all his sharpness gone.

Yun Que exhaled deeply.

Suddenly, the scene before him shifted, and he found himself in the domain of his inner consciousness.

Clad in black, the spirit of Emptiness hovered in midair, his robe fluttering.

“There are countless swordsmen in this world, and many who cultivate the way of the sword. Yet few know what the very first lesson of swordsmanship should be.”

“Uncle Wang, please instruct me,” Yun Que said with a respectful bow. After all, the spirit was the ancestral sword of the Yun family; he deserved such deference.

“Sheathing the blade,” came the answer, Emptiness’s voice ethereal and distant. “The sheath nurtures the edge. To return the sword to its scabbard is to prepare for a better draw.”

“Sheathing the blade... How should I do that?” Yun Que pondered aloud.

Emptiness gazed at the youth for a long while. In those emotionless eyes, a faint ripple appeared.

“You have already done it.”

Enlightenment dawned on Yun Que. The act of restraining his sword energy just now—that was precisely what Emptiness meant by sheathing the blade!

“What, then, is the second lesson?” he asked.

“Polishing the edge.”

“Sheathing and polishing?” Yun Que savored the two unremarkable phrases, then said, “So, just wiping and sharpening the blade? That counts as sword cultivation?”

“Not only does it count, it is among the highest methods of sword cultivation in the world,” Emptiness replied, his tone resolute.

“Are you sure you’re not being fooled, Uncle Wang? Sheathing and polishing sound like the most ordinary actions,” Yun Que said, perplexed.

“The legacy of the Azure Cloud Sword Immortal is not a deception.” Emptiness’s answer was vague.

“Azure Cloud Sword Immortal?” Yun Que had never heard of such a name. “Azure Cloud and Sword Immortal—what a lofty, mysterious title. Sounds almost like a charlatan. Who was it?”

“My master—your ancestor,” Emptiness replied, fading from sight.

The domain of consciousness dissolved, and Yun Que awoke in his room.

His first thought was surprise that the stern Uncle Wang had learned to hurl insults, but then he understood.

“So it’s the sword path of the Yun family’s ancestor. That can’t be wrong.”

Now, for the first time, Yun Que knew that the founder of his family was known as the Azure Cloud Sword Immortal.

He understood the term “Sword Immortal,” but the meaning of “Azure Cloud” eluded him.

He had no intention of pressing Emptiness for answers; it was enough to know his ancestor was a legendary Sword Immortal.

Whether it was Azure Cloud or Black Cloud hardly mattered.

Sheathing the blade was simple enough, but what did it mean to polish the edge?

Literally, it suggested wiping the blade to make it keener.

But with what should one polish the sword?

A vague idea flitted through Yun Que’s mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Big Bro! Big Bro!”

The chubby Hu Congming came running into the marquis’s residence, holding a strange piece of clothing.

“Big Bro, look at this! My dad made me this close-fitting soft armor. He says it’s a top-notch magic artifact—swords and spears can’t pierce it!”

Hu Congming grinned foolishly. “But I’m too fat to wear it, so I’m giving it to you!”

The armor was extraordinary—lighter than a feather, and brimming with spiritual energy. At the very least, it was a mid-grade magic artifact!

“For me?”

Yun Que accepted the soft armor with mixed feelings. With Hu Tieshan’s shrewdness, he doubted the armor was truly made small by mistake.

This was a priceless defensive artifact, not some ordinary robe.

Clearly, Hu Tieshan had used his son to deliver it as a gift.

“I heard you’re heading to the capital, Big Bro. There are bad people outside. If you wear this, you won’t have to be afraid!” The little fatty sniffled, beaming.

“Look after the residence for me. You can eat whatever you like.”

“Alright! Big Bro, you’re the best! I want braised pork and spiced pig’s feet! Ten plates to start!”

Hu Congming danced with joy, and Yun Que glanced towards the neighbor’s house, offering silent thanks in his heart.

At noon, the marquis’s carriage rolled out of Yanmen Town, bound for the Sword Palace in the imperial city.

In the smithy, a man set down his hammer, glanced at the departing carriage, and then bent once more to his work.

Not long after, a heavy black sword was forged.

Strangely, this sword was blunt, unsharpened as a mallet, and seemed lifeless.

Hu Tieshan carried the blunt black sword to a warehouse behind his house, opened the heavy doors, and revealed rows upon rows of black, weighty swords.

Thousands upon thousands!

“Brother Yun, the things you entrusted to me are almost ready…”

Placing the sword among the rest, Hu Tieshan murmured with a complex expression.

…

Once the carriage left the city, it joined the main road.

Han Jiao was traveling with them.

“Here’s your sword. During yesterday’s battle, its rank dropped. I’ll make it up to you with another.”

“If not for your help, my mother and I would have been doomed yesterday. How could I let you compensate me for the sword? Besides, it’s only a drop in rank—it can always be reforged.” Han Jiao accepted the sword, then said anxiously, “Chu Heng and his son deserved their fate, but their master is not to be trifled with. The Chu clan is one of the most powerful families in Yan Kingdom. Their patriarch is even an elder of the Sword Palace’s Western Court. Once you reach the palace, you must be wary of their revenge.”

Yun Que nodded, signaling that he understood.

“Do you know what the Sword Palace is most abundant in?” Han Jiao changed the subject with a playful smile.

“Swords?” Yun Que replied offhandedly.

“Not swords—geniuses!”

A longing light filled Han Jiao’s eyes. “Each of the Sword Palace’s four courts boasts dazzling prodigies, known as Sword Children—true dragons among men!”

The disciples of the Sword Palace are divided into three ranks: Sword Servant, Sword Disciple, and Sword Child.

Sword Servants are the entry-level members, those without innate spiritual roots, who can join by passing the Sword Tower’s assessment. Their ranks are many.

Sword Disciples are official members with spiritual roots, forming the backbone of the four courts.

Sword Children are the prodigies of each court, shining like stars, and are the focus of the palace’s cultivation.

Hearing Han Jiao’s explanation, Yun Que mused, “Then the geniuses of the Sword Palace must be quite adept at polishing their swords.”

“Um… I suppose so?” Han Jiao replied, bewildered.

“Good.”

Yun Que reclined comfortably in the carriage, his eyes narrowing like a tiger at rest.

In that moment, Han Jiao suddenly had a strange feeling.

The languid marquis before her was like a blade mottled with rust, waiting for one grindstone after another to be worn down, so that its brilliance might shine anew.

And what does it mean to polish the edge?

The weak use whetstones; the strong use prodigies!

Yun Que finally understood the essence of the second lesson—what to use to polish the sword.

In this world, the geniuses themselves will hone my blade!