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

A bloody smell permeated the room.

Ye Yun discovered that it wasn't his own blood.

It was unbelievable; when the old man carried him, the wound on his left arm kept oozing blood, which dripped onto his face and flowed down his cheeks.

"Don't move," Dong Bude's voice came from the side.

Ye Yun turned his head and saw the old man squatting by the bed, rummaging through a wooden box. Inside the box were the pills left by Mei Ruoxue, with bottles and jars lined up in a row. Some of the labels on the bottles had turned yellow and faded, and the writing was blurred.

Dong took out a bottle, uncorked it, poured the powder into his palm, and pressed it onto the wound on Ye Yun's chest.

The medicinal powder stung the wound, causing Ye Yun to groan and the veins on his forehead to bulge.

"Bear with it." Dong Bude didn't stop, he took another bottle of ointment and applied it to the claw marks on Ye Yun's back. The claw marks were so deep that bone could be seen, and the ointment seeped in, making Ye Yun tremble all over in pain.

Ye Yun gritted his teeth and stared at the ceiling.

There was a crack in the ceiling, stretching from the corner to the beam, like a dried-up river. He had never noticed the crack before.

"Old Dong," he began, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.

Dong interrupted him, saying, "Someone has made a move; the gates of the Sword Qi Great Wall will not be breached."

Ye Yun tried to sit up, but when she braced herself against the bed frame, a sharp pain shot through her chest, and she fell back onto the bed.

"Don't fucking move!" Dong Bude cursed and pushed him back down.

Ye Yun didn't speak, but was thinking that there were so many Ascension Realm experts in the Sword Qi Great Wall, yet they didn't make a move easily, leaving them, a group of sword cultivators, to their deaths.

But Dong didn't apply the medicine to himself. He applied all the medicine to Ye Yun's body.

"How is your injury?" Ye Yun asked.

"He won't die." Dong Bude closed the wooden box and pushed it under the bed. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Ye Yun for a long time.

Ye Yun felt uneasy under his gaze.

"Old Dong?"

Dong didn't respond. He took something out of his pocket and placed it next to Ye Yun's pillow.

An old handkerchief.

The white handkerchief had yellowed, its edges worn and frayed, and it was embroidered with a plum blossom. The plum blossom petals had faded, leaving only faint traces of pink. There was a dark red stain on the handkerchief, which had turned brown over the years.

Ye Yun had seen this handkerchief before. It was embroidered by Mei Ruoxue six hundred years ago. On the day she went to the battlefield, she placed it in Dong Bude's hand. Dong Bude had kept it for six hundred years; the blood on the handkerchief was Mei Ruoxue's, but also his own.

"Help me bury this with Ruoxue," Dong Bude said.

The voice was very calm, as if talking about what to have for dinner.

Ye Yun was stunned.

He suddenly grabbed Dong Bude's hand, his fingers gripping tightly: "Old man Dong, what do you mean?"

Dong didn't struggle, looked down at Ye Yun's hand that was holding him, and smiled: "Kid Ye, live well. You still need to keep the tavern running."

Where are you going?

"On the city wall."

"Are you crazy?" Ye Yun's voice changed.

"Six hundred years ago," Dong interrupted him, his voice very soft.

"When Ruoxue went up to the city wall, I hid in the tavern. I was afraid of dying, I was fucking afraid of dying."

He looked up at the painting hanging on the wall. It depicted Mei Ruoxue in her youth, holding a sword, standing under a plum tree, smiling beautifully.

"The day she left, she told me, 'Dong Bude, wait for me to come back.'" Dong Bude said, "I waited for six hundred years. She didn't come back."

Ye Yun opened his mouth, as if to say something, but his throat felt like it was blocked by something.

"I've been thinking," Dong continued, "what if I had gone up to the city wall with her that day? Maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe we would have both died."

He paused for a moment and then continued:

"At least I won't regret it for six hundred years."

He stood up.

Ye Yun held onto his hand tightly, refusing to let go: "Old Dong, listen to me, there's no point in going to your death now."

"It makes sense." Dong looked down at him, his eyes shining brightly, unlike those of a six-hundred-year-old man. "I owe her. I've owed her for six hundred years. It's time to pay it back."

Ye Yun's eyes reddened.

"You son of a bitch," his voice trembled, "what will happen to the tavern if you die?"

Dong Bude laughed: "Aren't you still here? I trust you with the tavern."

He pulled his hand away from Ye Yun's. Ye Yun tried to grab it, but his arm was too weak, and he could only watch helplessly as Dong Bude's hand slipped out of his grasp.

Dong Bu walked to the wall, took down the portrait of Mei Ruoxue, rolled it up, and stuffed it into his bosom. Then he picked up the "Winter Plum" sword leaning against the door, drew it half an inch from its sheath, and the sword light was as white as snow, making his face look pale.

"This sword belongs to Ruoxue," he said. "I'll take it up and return it to her."

He pushed open the door.

Outside the gate lay the night of the Sword Qi Great Wall. There was no moon, no stars, only the distant flames soaring into the sky atop the city walls and the roars of the demon race. In the streets, some were running, some were shouting, and some were crying.

Dong Bu stepped out of the doorway and glanced back at the wooden plaque above the door.

"Forget-Worries Tavern"

He wrote those four characters himself, sixty years ago. Back then, he had just reopened the tavern, thinking that if Ruoxue ever came back, she would have a place to sit.

He said softly, "Ruoxue, I'm here."

Then he left.

Ye Yun lay on the bed, unable to move. He heard Dong Bude's footsteps growing fainter and fainter, mingling with the noise of the street, and soon he could no longer hear them.

He closed his eyes.

And just now, Dong Bude sat on the edge of the bed, looked at him and said, "Young Ye, live well."

Ye Yun suddenly opened his eyes.

He propped himself up on the bed, his chest bones cracking, the pain causing him to break out in a cold sweat. He gritted his teeth, got off the bed with one leg first, dragged the other down, and stood up while holding onto the wall.

He wanted to go out; he wanted to stop that old man.

But he had only taken two steps when his legs gave way and he collapsed to the ground. The poison wound on his left leg hadn't been completely cleaned, and he couldn't stand steadily at all. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, using his arms to support himself, until he reached the doorway. He pushed the door open and lay sprawled on the street.

A passerby saw him on the street, exclaimed in surprise, and ran over to help him up: "Boss Ye! What happened?"

"Don't you want to go?" Ye Yun grabbed the man's collar. "Where did you go?"

"Senior Dong... Senior Dong? He's gone to the city wall!"

Ye Yun released his grip, lay on the ground, and gasped for breath.

It's too far. It would take an incense stick to burn to walk from here to the top of the city wall.

A loud bang came from the direction of the city wall, followed by a sword light shooting into the sky.

The snow-white sword light illuminated half the sky.

That was the sword intent of "Winter Plum".

Ye Yun recognized that Dong Bu would always draw his "Winter Plum" sword and practice in the courtyard whenever he got drunk. The sword light was like snow, and plum blossoms fell all over the courtyard. The old man said that this was the sword technique that Ruoxue taught him.

The sword flashed and disappeared in an instant.

Then came the roar of the demon race, which shook the ground.

Ye Yun lay on the ground, trembling all over.

It doesn't hurt.

It's fear.

He feared that Dong Bude wouldn't be able to come back either.

Beneath the city wall, in front of Mei Ruoxue's cenotaph.

Dong was not allowed to stand there.

The city walls were already in complete chaos.

The demon race stormed the city walls, and the sword cultivators were fighting desperately. When Dong Bu rushed up, no one noticed him.

He picked up a sword from the ground, gripped it in his right hand, and charged into the demon horde.

With a single sword strike, a Nascent Soul Realm wolf demon fell to the ground.

Two sword strikes, and the three Golden Core Realm demon beasts were killed.

Three swords pierced the heart of a Jade Purity Realm bear demon.

Dong was blinded by rage; he abandoned defense and focused solely on offense.

Every sword strike was a desperate act, every sword strike was a life-for-life exchange. When his left arm was crippled, he used his right arm. When his right arm got tired, he used his shoulder to ram. When his shoulder couldn't ram anymore, he used his teeth to bite.

Six hundred years of obsession, six hundred years of regret, six hundred years of "If only I had gone up to the city wall with her that day."

Everything is in this sword.

A tiger demon at the Jade Purity Realm pounced, and Dong had no choice but to dodge or evade, stabbing his sword into the tiger demon's stomach. At the same time, the tiger demon's sharp claws tore open the flesh of his chest.

He groaned, twisted the sword inside the tiger demon's belly, pulled it out, and blood sprayed all over his face.

He wiped his face and continued killing.

Another wave of demons surged up and surrounded him.

Dong Bude stood atop a pile of corpses, his body covered in blood. His sword was dulled, but he continued to swing it.

He could no longer lift his arm, but he was still swinging it.

In the distance, a powerful demon at the Immortal Realm noticed him. The tiger-headed, human-bodied demon general squinted at the blood-covered old man, a grin spreading across its face.

"Overestimating one's abilities."

The demon general took a step forward and appeared in front of Dong Bude. He threw a punch, the force of which was as strong as a mountain.

Dong was forced to raise his sword to parry.

The sword broke.

The blade of "Winter Plum" broke in half, the upper half flying out and embedding itself in the ground. Dong Bude, holding the broken hilt, was pierced through the chest by the force of a punch, and was sent flying backward, crashing into the crenellations of the city wall.

He sat with his back against the city wall, his mouth full of blood.

Blood gushed from his chest, unstoppable. He could feel his life slipping away, like sand slipping through his fingers.

But he smiled.

The shouts of battle from the city walls grew fainter, and the roars of the demon race faded into the distance. He saw Mei Ruoxue's face appear in the night sky—young, smiling, standing under the plum blossom tree, sword in hand.

"Ruoxue," he said softly, "I've come to find you."

With a loosening of his grip, half of the sword hilt slipped from his hand.

In the distance, in front of the tavern.

Ye Yun lay on the ground, trembling all over.

He sensed it. That sword light, that snow-white sword light, had vanished.

"Old Dong!"

He let out a bloodcurdling roar, as if a wild beast had been skinned alive.

People on the street stopped and looked at him.

No one speaks.

The firelight on the city wall reflected on everyone's faces, flickering and changing.