A Man in the Snow: Starting with a Sword Challenge to the Northern Liang Prince's Palace

Traveling day and night, heading north.

The journey from Lizhu Cave to the Sword Qi Great Wall is long.

Ye Yun traversed Bao Ping Continent, crossed Bei Ju Lu Continent, traversed the Great River, and traversed countless mountains.

There are different conflicts every day at the Sword Qi Great Wall, but it is rare for a large number of demons to suddenly attack the city. Perhaps he felt a vague unease, as if something was urging him to return to the Sword Qi Great Wall as soon as possible.

Or perhaps killing demons can yield a large amount of luck points.

The four flying swords within the body all need to be nurtured by Qi Luck before they can transform into the strongest natal flying swords.

In fact, Ye Yun could nurture his cultivation through his own sword intent. His current cultivation method combines the practices of Qi cultivators and martial artists, so he doesn't need to seek externally. He can gradually accumulate cultivation by constantly gathering his own sword intent.

It is only to accelerate one's own cultivation. While accumulating and condensing sword intent, one also absorbs spiritual energy from the outside world to enhance one's own cultivation and physical strength.

Only by taking a two-pronged approach can his abilities grow faster.

After traveling day and night, he finally saw the outline of the Great Wall of Sword Qi.

The towering city wall stretched across the horizon like an insurmountable chasm. The setting sun gilded it with a golden-red hue, and the dense sword marks on the wall gleamed coldly in the light.

He was gone for more than a year.

A year is neither long nor short; long enough for a blessed land to crumble, long enough for a sage to die.

The Great Wall of Sword Qi is still the same Great Wall of Sword Qi, exactly the same as when he left.

He quickened his pace and headed towards the city gate.

As he got closer, he noticed the difference.

The checks at the city gate are much stricter than a year ago; there used to be only two sword cultivators guarding the gate, but now there are six.

Everyone wore a tense expression, like a taut string that might snap at any moment.

As Ye Yun walked over, a gatekeeper swordsman stopped him.

"Token".

Ye Yun took out the token given to him by the Hidden Official from his pocket and handed it over. The sword cultivator took it, examined it carefully, and then looked up at Ye Yun, his wariness slightly easing.

"Go inside. Things haven't been peaceful lately, so don't stay out too much."

Ye Yun nodded, put away the token, and walked through the city gate.

The atmosphere in the city was more somber than he had anticipated.

The streets were sparsely populated, and the few sword cultivators who occasionally walked by were all in a hurry, with no one stopping to exchange pleasantries.

Most of the once bustling taverns and tea stalls have closed down, with only a handful still open, and business is very slow.

Ye Yun stared for a long time, then looked away and continued walking forward.

He walked very fast, almost jogging across the familiar street. As soon as he turned the corner, he saw the wooden plaque.

"Forget-Me-Not Tavern".

The plaque is still there.

Although it's worn down by the wind and sand, and the edges are curled up, it's still there.

Ye Yun stood at the door, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

The tavern was dark.

The windows were closed, and no lights were on. Only a few rays of light shone through the cracks in the door, illuminating the dust in the air. The counter was still there, the tables and chairs were still there, and the wine rack was still there, but all were covered with a thick layer of dust.

There was a person sitting behind the counter.

Dong Bude.

He was wearing a faded, old short jacket, his back was hunched, and he was wiping an old sword with a tattered cloth in his hand.

The sword was very old, with nicks and cracks all over its blade, as if it might break at any moment.

Hearing the door open, Dong Bu looked up.

That face looked older than it had a year ago; the wrinkles were deeper, the hair was whiter, and the eye sockets were sunken.

Those cloudy old eyes stared at Ye Yun for a long time in the dim light, as if they couldn't recognize him.

A glimmer of light suddenly appeared in those eyes.

"Young Ye, you're back?" he asked, his voice hoarse, as if asking something very ordinary.

Ye Yun walked over and sat down opposite him.

"I'm back."

Dong Bude nodded without asking any further questions. He bent down and took out a small wine pot from under the counter, placing it in front of Ye Yun.

"I saved this for you."

Ye Yun looked down at the wine pot.

The pot was small, small enough to hold in one hand, and a crooked character for "wine" was engraved on its body in Dong Bude's handwriting. He uncorked it and smelled it.

The wine was very weak, with a slightly sour and astringent smell. Dong Bu knew how to brew wine; he was certain.

This pot of wine was probably just something he randomly picked up and cobbled together, but he still poured himself a cup and took a sip.

The wine went down my throat, bitter and hard to swallow.

It's like stuffing a handful of unripe wild fruit into your mouth; it's sour, astringent, and has a burnt taste.

Ye Yun finished the glass of wine without changing his expression.

"Good wine," he said.

Dong looked at him, a hint of a smile flashing in his cloudy old eyes.

"You're lying to me. I brewed it myself, and it tastes awful."

Ye Yun did not deny it, but just smiled.

Dong stood up from behind the counter, walked to the window, and opened it.

Light streamed in, illuminating the dusty tables, chairs, and wine racks in the tavern. He stood there, his back to Ye Yun, gazing out the window.

"The fighting hasn't stopped lately. The demon race has gone mad for some reason, attacking the city every few days. Big demons and small demons, wave after wave, like they have no regard for their lives."

Ye Yun remained silent.

Dong continued, "Many people died. Zhao Qi, Sun Dachui, and that kid from the Zhou family, they all died. Zhao Qi died on the east city wall, his head was smashed by a Nascent Soul Realm demon. Sun Dachui died outside the city, and his body was never recovered. That kid from the Zhou family was only twenty years old, and he died on his first battlefield."

His voice was calm, as if he were talking about someone else. But Ye Yun noticed that his hand gripping the window frame was trembling slightly.

"Where is Qian Shouxin?" Ye Yun asked.

Dong Bu turned around and looked at him: "Still alive. That kid's lucky, he survived three claw attacks and is now a squad leader in the city defense battalion, leading patrols every day."

Ye Yun breathed a sigh of relief.

After Dong returned to the counter, he sat down again, picked up the tattered cloth, and continued to wipe the old sword.

The movements were slow and meticulous, as if they were wiping something very important.

"You've been gone for over a year. The tavern has closed, and all the old customers have left."

He placed the cleaned sword on the counter and looked up at Ye Yun.

"Are you still driving?"

Ye Yun looked at him, at his full head of white hair, at the wrinkles on his face, and at the indescribable thing in his eyes—not weariness, but loneliness.

Ye Yun smiled and said, "It will open tomorrow."

Dong Bu was stunned for a moment, then laughed.

The smile was faint, almost invisible, but Ye Yun saw it. It was the first time in the six years he had known Dong Bude that he had seen him smile like that.

It wasn't a bitter smile, nor a forced smile, but a genuine, childlike smile from the bottom of my heart.

"Okay," Dong said.

"Then I'll sell this sword and get some money for drinks."

Ye Yun smiled.

He stood up, walked to the wine rack, took down the dusty wine jars one by one, wiped them clean, and rearranged them.

Dong Bude also stood up and helped him wipe. The two of them worked for an hour in the dimly lit tavern, cleaning every table, every chair, and every wine jar until they were spotless.

As evening fell, Ye Yun stood at the entrance of the tavern, gazing at the city walls.

As the sun set, it bathed the entire city wall in a golden-red hue, and sword cultivators patrolled the city walls, their shadows stretched long.

A sword's cry echoed from afar, desolate and lingering, as if the city itself were sighing.

Ye Yun stood there and watched for a long time.

"I'm back," he said softly, not knowing to whom he was saying it, nor why he was saying it.

The wind blew down from the city wall, carrying the pungent smell unique to the wilderness, and something else indescribable.

It was as if the city was answering him, yet it was also as if it wasn't.