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

By the time the demons had completely retreated, it was almost dawn.

No one cheered or spoke atop the city wall; it was as if they had grown accustomed to it all.

Ye Yun returned from outside the city, covered in blood, dragging his left leg as he slowly made his way up the city wall.

Qian Shouxin tried to help him up, but he waved his hand.

He walked to the highest point of the city wall, sat down against the crenellations, and closed his eyes.

After counting the casualties, they began work at dawn.

A middle-aged swordsman, accompanied by several young men, walked from one end of the city wall to the other with paper and pen in hand. Every time they saw the corpse of a swordsman, they would squat down, look at the waist tag, and write down the name.

If you can't find your waist tag, draw a picture and describe what you look like so that the person next to you can recognize you.

If you can't recognize it, just write "Nameless swordsman, died in battle somewhere".

The numbers came in quickly.

More than 32,000 sword cultivators died in the battle.

Three sword immortals.

They weren't the kind of sword immortals who had just broken through to the next level; they were old sword immortals who had been guarding the Great Wall of Sword Qi for hundreds of years. Every time their names were mentioned, people would cry.

Dozens of sword cultivators at the Nascent Soul stage or above were involved. The exact number has not yet been tallied, as some of their corpses could not be found. They were either dragged away and eaten by the demon race or corroded by the poisonous fog, leaving only a puddle of water.

There are countless realms, including the Jade Purity Realm, the Golden Core Realm, and the Foundation Establishment Realm.

Ning Yao stood atop the city wall, holding a list in her hand, reading out names. Her voice was hoarse, and she couldn't continue halfway through. She handed the list to the person next to her, turned around, and left.

Ye Yun did not attend the meeting.

While the casualties were being tallied on the city wall, he was standing below the wall, in front of Dong Bude's cenotaph.

Dong Bude's body still lay beside the stone tablet. Ye Yun had carried him down here yesterday, but hadn't had time to bury him yet. The old man lay on his side, facing the stone tablet, in a position that looked like he was sleeping.

Ye Yun squatted down and began to cleanse him.

He fetched a bucket of water from the tavern, dipped a clean white cloth in the water, and carefully wiped away the blood from Dong Bude's face. The blood had dried and hardened, making it difficult to wipe away. He dared not use too much force, afraid of breaking the old man's skin.

First, he wiped the forehead. There was a wound on the forehead, the skin and flesh rolled back to expose the bone. Ye Yun carefully wiped away the blood and dirt around the wound and used a needle and thread to sew the torn flesh back together. He didn't know how to sew; his hands were trembling, and the stitches were crooked, but he managed to sew it up.

Then wipe his eyes. Dong Bude's eyes were closed, and there were blood scabs on his eyelids. Ye Yun gently applied a damp cloth for a while, waiting for the scabs to soften, before slowly wiping them away. Below his eyelids was a bluish-purple patch, which was bruising.

Ye Yun paused when he wiped his mouth.

Dong Bude's lips curled slightly upwards, still holding the same smile he had before his death. Ye Yun stared at that smile for a long time, her nose stinging, and she turned her head away, blinking hard to keep the tears from falling.

He wiped Dong Bude's face clean. The old man's face was as white as paper, with wrinkles that looked as if six hundred years had all come rushing up at once.

Then change your clothes.

Dong Bude's clothes were tattered beyond recognition, with a fist-sized hole in his chest and bloody rips all over them. Ye Yun cut open his tattered clothes and took them off. The old man was skin and bones, his ribs protruding, and his chest was covered with old scars.

Ye Yun brought over a basin of clean water and wiped Dong Bude's entire body. When he turned over, he saw that the old man also had a wound on his back, an old scar that ran from his shoulder blade to his waist, protruding menacingly, as if it had been cleaved open by some sharp weapon.

Six hundred years of wounds, six hundred years of wine, six hundred years of forgetting worries.

Ye Yun helped Dong Bude change into clean clothes. It was Dong Bude's best blue robe, which he rarely wore and had hung in the closet for over ten years, wrinkled and worn. Ye Yun ironed it smooth before dressing him.

When Qian Shouxin and Ning Yao arrived, Ye Yun was digging a grave.

Right next to Mei Ruoxue's cenotaph, he dug a pit. It wasn't big, just big enough for one person to lie down. He didn't use swordsmanship, but a shovel. He dug shovel by shovel, piling up the soil beside him, higher and higher.

His left leg was still hurting, the bones in his chest were cracking, and he was panting for a long time after each shovelful of dirt.

Qian Shouxin snatched the shovel: "I'll do it."

Ye Yun didn't try to grab it; instead, he squatted by the pit and watched Qian Shouxin dig.

Ning Yao stood to the side, holding a pot of wine in her hand, which Ye Yun had asked her to get from the tavern called "Reincarnation".

The pit has been dug.

Ye Yun jumped down, patted the soil at the bottom of the pit flat with his hands, and laid a layer of dry grass on it. Then he climbed up and, together with Qian Shouxin, carried Dong Bude down into the pit.

He positioned Dong Bude in a certain way: hands clasped over his abdomen, head upright, body straight. Then he placed the broken half of the "Winter Plum" sword to Dong Bude's right, the hilt touching his palm.

He took the old handkerchief from Dong Bude's chest pocket, unfolded it, and examined it. The plum blossoms on the handkerchief were almost invisible, but the bloodstains were still there, brownish, in patches.

He folded the handkerchief and tucked it back into Dong Bude's chest, close to his heart.

"Old Dong," Ye Yun said softly, squatting by the pit, "I've put everything away for you. Go find her now."

Qian Shouxin began filling the soil.

Shovelful after shovelful of earth fell, landing on Dong Bude with a dull thud. Ye Yun stood beside him, watching as Dong Bude's face was gradually covered by earth, as his blue robe darkened, and as his clasped hands disappeared bit by bit.

It's been filled in.

Qian Shouxin tamped the soil down with a shovel and then laid a layer of gravel on top. Ning Yao erected the stone tablet, which was inscribed with the five characters "Tomb of Dong Bude" and below it, "Cenotaph of Mei Ruoxue".

Three words: Dong Bude (董不得).

Three words: Mei Ruoxue.

side by side.

Ye Yun knelt before the grave and kowtowed three times.

Qian Shouxin and Ning Yao also knelt down and kowtowed.

After kowtowing, Ning Yao remained kneeling on the ground. Looking at the stone tablet, she suddenly spoke: "Before Senior Dong died, he killed a powerful demon at the Jade Purity Realm. I was close enough to see it."

Ye Yun looked at her.

Ning Yao said, "His last two words were, 'Ruoxue.'"

The voice was very soft, as if afraid of waking someone.

Ye Yun remained silent for a long time. The wind blew, rustling the dry grass in front of the grave.

"He went to see her," he said.

Ning Yao didn't say anything, stood up, patted the dirt off her knees, and left.

Qian Shouxin left too. Before leaving, he leaned the shovel against the tree by the grave, glanced at Ye Yun, seemed to want to say something, opened his mouth but didn't say anything, and turned away.

Ye Yun stood alone in front of the grave.

He took out the "Reincarnation" flask from his pocket, uncorked it, poured a cup in front of the grave, and spilled it on the ground. Then he poured another cup and drank it himself.

The liquor was very strong, and it made him cough, his cough smelling of blood.

He sat down in front of the grave, with his back to the stone tablet and facing Dong Bude's grave.

"Old Dong," he said, "I've saved the wine for you. I'll come see you again when I'm done with my work."

No one answered him.

it's dark.

The night at the Great Wall of Swords is moonless, with only torches flickering on the distant walls, like candles about to go out.

Ye Yun sat in front of the grave and drank all night.

After finishing one pot, he went back to the tavern and got another. He got two pots. Three pots.

He drank slowly, taking small sips. With each sip, he thought of something.

I remember the first time Dong Bude came to the tavern, he complained that the wine was weak, saying, "You call this wine?" Back then, it wasn't called "Forget-Worries Tavern"; it was just a nameless little shop selling its own brewed wine, and business was terrible. Dong Bude was the first customer.

He recalled Dong Bude teaching him how to brew wine, saying, "When the time is right, it's right; you can't rush it." The old man's winemaking skills were taught by Mei Ruoxue, who in turn learned them from her mother—a skill passed down through generations. Dong Bude said, "This skill cannot be lost; you must continue to pass it on."

He remembered Dong Bude getting drunk and snoring on the counter, drooling all over his face. He took a rag to wipe it, and the old man woke up and cursed at him, "You son of a bitch, be gentle!"

I recall Dong Bude saying, "Young Ye, I trust you with the tavern."

Ye Yun finished the last pot of wine, placed it in front of the grave, and put it together with the other empty pots.

Its daybreak.

He stood up, but his legs were numb, and it took him a while to regain his balance.

He looked at Dong Bude's grave for a while, then turned around and walked towards the city wall.

He took a few steps, stopped, and looked back.

The five characters "Tomb of Dong Bude" on the stone tablet shone brightly in the morning light.

He turned his head and continued walking. There were no tears on his face, and his eyes were dry, as dry as a dried-up well.

Those who survived still had to defend the city, still had to kill, and still had to live.