Chapter 75: The Sword Saint

So that’s how it is… Ji Huo couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and exasperation. Back when he first heard the rumors about the Sword-scar Stone Road in western Sichuan, he had even wanted to try it out for himself.

The two of them hadn’t walked far before they saw a towering mountain gate, bustling with disciples coming and going. The plaque above read, in bold characters, “Divine Sword Manor.”

On their way up the mountain, they passed abundant vegetation and breathed in the fresh air. A winding cobblestone path led straight up the slope. The buildings around them were not ornate—in fact, they were rather austere. Ji Huo reckoned that once someone reached the realm of a Sword Saint, material possessions would long have lost their appeal.

It really was a perfect place for retirement—except, he supposed, there must be a great many insects in summer… Ji Huo mused to himself.

“Brother Hou, aren’t we headed to a drawing room or study?” Ji Huo asked curiously, noticing that Hou Baixi kept leading him down increasingly secluded paths, leaving the other buildings far behind.

“My master isn’t there. Most of the time, he’s by the riverside in the mountains, meditating,” Hou Baixi explained.

Ji Huo understood at once. After all, the man was a grandmaster—eccentric habits were only to be expected.

Not long after, they came upon a stream, its waters murmuring crystal clear. By the riverside sat a middle-aged man in white, his posture ramrod-straight, fishing with an ordinary wooden rod.

Ji Huo glanced at him, then at the sky—the afternoon was already well-advanced. He figured the man had probably spent half the day catching nothing.

“Master, the second young master of the Ji family, Ji Huo, has arrived,” Hou Baixi announced respectfully.

“You may leave us. Ji family’s boy, come and sit for a while.” The middle-aged man turned to him with a gentle smile.

He was tall and well-proportioned, with a handsome face, sword-shaped brows sweeping into his temples, and eyes bright as stars—clear and sharp, radiating heroic vigor. A faint, gentle smile played about his lips, lending him an approachable air. Two locks of silken hair hung at his temples, swaying softly in the breeze and adding a scholarly dignity to his appearance.

Such bearing and looks made it hard to associate him with a Sword Saint, a master of the sword arts. He looked more like a learned scholar or a practitioner of the occult.

Hou Baixi withdrew. Ji Huo shuffled over obediently and perched on a stone nearby, greeting him, “Greetings, Sword Saint.”

“Just call me Uncle. Years ago, your father Ji Xiao Xiong and I were… acquainted,” the Sword Saint replied, pausing as he spoke, his tone shaded with some complex emotion.

That form of address feels a bit off… Ji Huo thought to himself. But since the Sword Saint had said so, he probably meant no harm. Ji Huo complied, “Hello, Uncle.”

Only then did the Sword Saint look at him, studying his features. His gaze softened, as if lost in reminiscence.

That look is even stranger… Ji Huo’s heart skipped a beat.

“You look very much like your mother…” the Sword Saint said softly.

Ji Huo’s heart lurched. In his mind, a story quickly formed: the Sword Saint and his father had once pursued his mother together, whom he’d never met, and she had chosen his bear-like father over this handsome Sword Saint.

Wait a minute—doesn’t that mean I’ve just walked right into my father’s old love rival’s lair?

Ji Huo gave an awkward laugh. “Uncle, did I come at a bad time?”

“You came at just the right time.” The Sword Saint withdrew his gaze, looking at the bobber on the river, and explained, “There are actually two matters I wished to discuss with you. One concerns the remnants of the demonic weapon. Do you have it with you now?”

Ji Huo blinked innocently. “No, I don’t.”

“You don’t?” The Sword Saint looked puzzled.

“No.” Ji Huo rubbed his nose, a bit embarrassed. “I’d meant to destroy the demonic weapon, but it seemed to have a will of its own and simply flew away. I couldn’t stop it.”

“But I don’t think it’s likely to reappear in the martial world.”

He actually suspected that the remnants of the demonic weapon were now in Xia Ningshang’s hands. She had once tried to stir up chaos by unleashing the weapon, but with her plans foiled by Ji Huo, she was unlikely to try the same trick again.

As for the weapon itself, Ji Huo felt no regret at all. That thing clearly didn’t suit him—at best, it would have served as an unbreakable club.

The Sword Saint was silent for a couple of seconds, his expression grave. After a moment, he sighed softly. “So fate decrees.”

You, who wield the “Sword of Destiny” technique, are indeed closest to the heavens—can hardly argue with that… Ji Huo wondered aloud, “Uncle, has something happened?”

The Sword Saint asked, “Do you know that someone breached the Sword-scar Stone Road and came to challenge me recently?”

“I’ve heard.”

“The man was strong—not from our country, I believe, but from the Dragon Kingdom.”

“It was a woman, wasn’t it?” Ji Huo said casually.

“A man,” the Sword Saint replied.

“A woman in disguise, perhaps?” Ji Huo pressed. Though the martial world said it was a man who had challenged the Sword Saint, Ji Huo was seventy percent certain it was Xia Ningshang.

The Sword Saint shot him a look and, after a pause, spoke in a low tone, “At my level, I can tell the gender of a mosquito biting my ankle—how could I mistake a man for a woman?”

“Male mosquitoes don’t bite,” Ji Huo muttered under his breath.

The Sword Saint: “…”

He drew a deep breath and asserted again, “It was definitely a man.”

“Really a man?”

“…Yes.”

Ji Huo lowered his gaze, his eyes flickering. “And then?”

The Sword Saint continued, “That man was very strong, at the peak of the first rank. He was still quite young, so I intended to give him some guidance. But just then, another figure dressed in black infiltrated the manor, broke the seal, and stole the demonic weapon remnant I had hidden here.”

Ji Huo’s pupils contracted as he sighed, “So that’s how the demonic weapon appeared in the martial world.”

After a brief silence, the Sword Saint asked, “When you acquired the weapon, could you tell which part of the Demonic Dragon Spear it was?”

“The middle segment,” Ji Huo replied.

The Sword Saint said slowly, “The one I had hidden here was the end segment.”

Ji Huo drew a sharp breath, then a glimmer of excitement flashed in his eyes as he licked his lips. “So that means the person from the Dragon Kingdom has at least two-thirds of the Demonic Dragon Spear already?”

“That’s right,” the Sword Saint replied. “When I realized the weapon had been stolen, I gave chase and managed to injure the thief—a black-clad figure fleeing at speed. But then, the young man produced a fragment of the demonic weapon himself and blocked me. We exchanged a few moves, and after the thief vanished, the young man escaped with serious injuries as well.”

Ji Huo frowned. “Uncle, are you saying the man could wield the power of the demonic weapon?”

“Yes!” the Sword Saint said firmly. “That remnant in his hand was steeped in evil, yet he showed no sign of being possessed—he must have gained the weapon’s recognition.”