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A one-armed elder sits in a wicker chair, a large palm-leaf fan in his left hand. He appears to be leisurely fanning himself, but his brow is furrowed, hinting at a less than pleasant mood.

He stands up and strongly slaps the burly man on the back of the head, only to get a hand full of sweat. He tries to wipe it off on the burly man’s cloth shirt, only to find it soaked through.

The one-armed elder moves his hand behind himself and lightly shakes it, the sweat stains disappearing without a trace.

He frowns, expressing impatience, “The sound alone tells me your hammering is off!”

The burly man rubs the back of his head and breaks into a simple, innocuous smile.

“Useless fool, watch closely, I’ll demonstrate one last time.” The one-armed elder takes the hammer and begins teaching the burly man.

A skinny old man, his hair white as snow, but when he wields the hammer, a formidable energy emanates from him.

In Sword Casting City… this is not considered anything unusual.

Suddenly, the one-armed elder stops his movement.

A voice rings out, “The Sword Cultivator from the West State, where are you?” It spreads throughout the city, reaching his ears.

The furrows in his brow instantly smooth out.

Watching this, the burly man can’t help but clench his fist. He wants to say something but can’t find the words.

The elder glances at him, snapping irritably, “Useless fool, if you have something to say, spit it out.”

“Master…” begins the burly man.

The one-armed elder immediately glares at him, saying, “I’ve told you time and again, you’re but an apprentice. I’m not your master! Speak up if you’ve got something.”

The burly man rubs the back of his head before saying, “You… you’re not an ordinary person, are you?”

“Hmph,” the one-armed elder grunts, neither accepting nor denying the statement.

The burly man continues, “Are… Are you leaving?”

The one-armed elder doesn’t reply, simply raising his left hand and making a grabbing motion towards the house.

The leg of a table inside the house splits open, and a very thin longsword falls into his left hand.

Given this scene, there’s no need for further explanation.

The burly man watches all this, his voice trembling slightly, “What… What does the voice want you to do?”

“Just to kill a man.” The one-armed elder looks down at the longsword in his hand as a light breeze rustles his white hair at the temples.

The burly man looks at him, wanting to say more but holding back.

The one-armed elder snaps, “Coward! You’re asking if there’ll be danger, if people will die, aren’t you?”

The burly man gulps and nods his head sheepishly.

The elder, holding his longsword, sighs lightly and says, “Perhaps.”

“Can you not…” Before the burly man can finish, his head is hit with the sword sheath.

“Shut your mouth for me! Stop your prattle!” the one-armed elder scolds.

He reaches into his robes, pulls out a wooden plaque, and tosses it on the table, annoyed.

“You stupid brute, you envied those Sword Cultivators who can ride swords, didn’t you? When I’m gone, take this plaque to the base of Ten Thousand Sword Mountain. Someone will receive you.”

With that, his figure disappears.

In the empty blacksmith shop, only his parting words echo.

“This time, I will allow you to claim yourself as a disciple of Mine, Chu Beidan!”

The moment his words fall, a sword cry echoes between heaven and earth.

The one-armed elder, his sword drawn from its sheath!

Inside the blacksmith shop, only the burly man remains, kneeling on the ground. The almost six-feet-tall man sobbing, unable to hold back his tears.

…

…

In a small courtyard east of Sword Casting City,

An elderly man, dressed in a pristine white robe, his hair meticulously combed, but with one blind eye, taps on the wooden door.

He holds a bunch of wildflowers, picked from the roadside, behind his back.

The door opens, revealing a middle-aged woman of fading beauty standing inside the house.

She glances at the old man in a white robe trying but failing to exude a scholarly air due to his blind eye, and rolls her eyes, “No need to hide the flowers, same old routine every time, I’m getting tired of it.”

The one-eyed old man gives an appeasing smile and hands her the flowers.

The woman takes the flowers, lifts her arm to fan herself lightly, sniffs the flowers lightly, a hint of a smile on her face.

Though not beautiful, she carries herself with grace, and more importantly, she has a kind heart.

The one-eyed old man doesn’t enter the room, but simply looks at her and suddenly says, “I am leaving.”

The woman is slightly taken aback, nearly dropping the flowers she holds.

“Where to?” she asks, feigning indifference.

“I’m going where I need to be,” the one-eyed old man smiles.

The woman looks at him and for some reason gets angry, throwing the flowers at him, “I knew it! I knew all men are like this! Professing love while spouting off nothing but nonsense! Sure, I might be older, but couldn’t I just be modest for a while? I didn’t even talk about your age! I didn’t even mention your blind eye!”

The one-eyed old man gives an embarrassed smile and says, “I’ve told you so many times, I’m really not old. When I was young, I traveled the world and in the process of righting wrongs, some villains sapped a bit of my life force. I’m not much older than you, why won’t you believe me?”

While saying this, he kneels down and begins picking up the scattered wildflowers.

Even though he has only one eye and his hair is grey, he has his own gentleness.

After picking up all the flowers, he extended his hand once again, offering the bouquet to the woman before him.

The woman held the bouquet, hesitating for a moment, biting her lip, she asked, “Will you come back?”

“Depends on luck,” said the one-eyed man.

The woman glared at him, snapping, “You dare not to come back!”

The one-eyed man caught her hand on his wrist, staring intently into her eyes.

“You… you let go of me!” the woman said.

He looked at her, suddenly laughing, “You always say that you like men of letters, and how charming they are.”

He glanced down at the white gown he was wearing, which he had specially put on to please her.

Regrettably… he lacked the scholarly aura.

He’d never have it in this life.

Just then, a voice from the sky echoed, “Where is the sword cultivator of the West State?”, startling the woman.

He looked at her, his eyes gentle, he said, “As for charm and charisma, aren’t we, the sword cultivators, just as good as these men of letters?”

“Just watch me!”

With a wave of his sleeve, a longsword suddenly appeared in his hand.

His whole demeanor changed when he held the longsword.

“Whiz–” With that sound, the sword was unsheathed, and the ringing of the sword filled the world!

Riding the wind with his sword, he flew towards outside of Sword Casting City in a free and unrestrained manner.

From above, his hearty laughter and him saying, “Wait for me to come home!” were heard.

…

…

In an alleyway of Sword Casting City, a little girl with pigtails was swallowing her saliva while eyeing a hawker selling candied haws.

A coarse, large hand gently tapped her head and asked, “Do you want some?”

The girl looked up at the old man with white hair and a hunched back, swallowed again, and nodded vigorously.

The old man smiled warmly, and said, “Ya Ya, go back inside and help grandpa grind some ink. Grandpa will go out for a while, and when he comes back, he will buy some for you, okay?”

“Okay!” The little girl nodded vigorously again, then gently tugged at the old man’s sleeve, signaling him to crouch down.

After the older man squatted down, the little girl gave him a big kiss, while also grabbing a fistful of the old man’s goatee.

The little girl scampered into the house, feeling triumphant.

The old man watched her, shaking his head with a sigh.

He had found this little brat, he still couldn’t believe how such an adorable girl could be abandoned by her own parents.

Standing outside the door, his gaze was directed towards the direction outside of the city; he was waiting for a voice.

Soon, he heard a voice echoing, “Where is the sword cultivator of the West State?”

The old man nodded in satisfaction, showing his approval.

He looked inside the house, his eyes were gentle and filled with compassion.

With a wave of his sleeve, a long sword appeared in his hand.

Holding the longsword, he walked to the wooden gate, where he placed a sword mark on it.

With this sword mark, even if he couldn’t come back, people from both the sword sects would find this place and take care of Ya Ya for him.

After hesitating for a moment, he raised his index finger, utilizing his spiritual power, and engraved a message on the gate that only cultivators could see:

“Her name is Ya Ya, she’s four and a half years old, and she loves candied haws.”

He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to Ya Ya if he didn’t come back.

After finishing the message, the old man looked towards the city outskirts, and he straightened his back as much as his old age allowed.

His precious granddaughter was in the city, and therefore, all the trash outside the city…

–Should be slain!!!

…

…

The question of “Where is the sword cultivator of the West State?” echoed throughout Sword Casting City from Ye Sui’an.

No one responded verbally.

But there was a sword chorus, ten sword choruses, a hundred sword choruses, countless sword choruses were heard throughout the city.

This city was a retirement place for sword cultivators…

—— All of the city drew their swords!

No need for verbal response, as a sword cultivator, I will answer with my sword!

The West State Sword Cultivators…

——Are here!!!

…

(PS: Second update! The Monthly Readership Ranking has dropped to seventh place, seeking votes!)