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

The scouts returned in the early morning.

Three people went out, and one came back.

His left arm was gone, and the wound was haphazardly wrapped with strips of cloth, which were soaked in blood and had turned black. He stumbled into the city gate, shouting, "They're here, they're all here," before collapsing to the ground.

The news spread like wildfire across the Sword Qi Great Wall.

The demon race was gathering. Not the kind of formation led by three Ascension Realm experts like last time, but on an unprecedented scale—the intelligence brought back by scouts at the risk of their lives said that the camps deep in the wilderness stretched for hundreds of miles, and the number of great demons was countless. Leading them was the Demon Ancestor's personal guard, each demon at least at the fourteenth realm. And there was something even more terrifying; the scouts couldn't see it clearly, but lying on the mountaintop, they saw a cloud of black mist in the distance, and within the mist were eyes—countless eyes, each larger than a city gate.

The scale is three times that of the last one.

The sword aura shook the Great Wall. Some remained silent, some cursed, and some sat on the wall polishing their swords, gleaming the blades again and again. Some went to the tavern to buy wine, slapping all their money on the counter and saying, "Boss Ye, this is the last time, give me two more jugs."

Ye Yun served them the wine without charging them.

"Take it and drink it," he said. "You don't have to pay it back when you die; you can give it back when you're alive."

People came and went in the tavern, and Ye Yun was so busy that his feet barely touched the ground as he carried jars of wine out. He didn't charge money, only asking for one thing: "Killing one is enough to break even, killing two is a bonus."

At dusk, horns sounded from the city walls.

This is not a warning horn, but a summons. All sword cultivators, whatever they are doing, must put down what they are doing and assemble on the city wall.

For the first time, all the sword cultivators of the Sword Qi Great Wall gathered together.

The city walls were packed with a dense crowd. No one spoke, no one coughed, and even the clanging of armor was rare. Thousands of eyes were fixed on the old man atop the highest point of the city walls.

Chen Qingdu stood on the battlements. His white hair was disheveled by the wind, his face was etched with deep wrinkles, and his back was ramrod straight. He carried no sword and wore no armor, only an old robe with several patches.

He glanced at the sword cultivators on the city wall and spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but everyone could hear him clearly.

"The Great Wall of Sword Qi has stood for ten thousand years. I have guarded it for eight thousand years, while some of you have guarded it for thousands of years, some for hundreds of years, and some have only been here for a few days. I have called you here today not to preach any grand principles. Just one sentence—the final battle is coming."

No one spoke.

"Last time, three Ascension Realm experts came, and we lost over 30,000 people. This time, it's three times that number, led by the Demon Ancestor's personal guard, with no fewer than ten at the 14th Realm. Are you afraid?"

silence.

Then someone shouted, "Don't be afraid!"

Immediately afterwards, shouts rose and fell from the city walls: "We're not afraid!" "Afraid of his mother!" "Kill as many as come!"

Chen Qing raised his hand and stopped talking.

"I'm not afraid," he said. "I've lived for eight thousand years, that's enough. Some of you are still young and shouldn't die here. But since you're here, don't even think about leaving alive."

He scanned the room again, his gaze lingering on each person's face for a moment.

"A Great Wall of Swords, fighting to the death without retreat."

The swordsmen on the city wall shouted in unison, their voices soaring to the heavens. Thousands of swords were drawn simultaneously, their sword energy piercing the sky, creating a large hole in the clouds and revealing the deep blue sky behind them.

Chen Qing jumped down from the top of the battlements and left.

The crowd dispersed. Some went to drink with friends, some went to write their wills, and some sat on the city wall, sword in hand, lost in thought.

Ye Yun returned to the tavern and moved all the remaining wine jars to the counter, arranging them one by one. "Forget-Me-Not," "Reincarnation," "Longing," "Drunken Life," "Dream Death"—these were the names Dong Bude had chosen, and the recipes he had used. He broke the clay seals on each jar, and the aroma of the wine filled the entire tavern.

Then he took two jugs of wine and went up to the city wall.

Chen Ping'an was already there.

He sat on the battlements, facing outwards, his legs dangling over the walls. The distant, desolate landscape was shrouded in darkness; no stars, no moon, only endless expanse. But within the darkness was light—the campfires of the demon race, densely packed, like a galaxy on earth.

Ye Yun walked over, sat down next to him, and handed him a pot of wine.

Chen Ping'an took it, uncorked it, and took a swig. It was "Reincarnation," strong, and made him cough.

The two sat side by side, neither speaking. The wind blew in from outside the city, carrying the stench of decay and sulfur, making their clothes flutter.

Halfway through his drink, Chen Ping'an suddenly spoke up: "Boss Ye, are you afraid of dying?"

Ye Yun paused while drinking. He put down the wine pot and thought for a moment.

"I'm scared," he said.

Chen Pingan turned to look at him.

Ye Yun looked at the darkness outside the city and said in a calm voice, "If I die, I'll never see her again."

Chen Ping'an knew who he was talking about. Nangong Pushe, the woman in white as snow in the portrait. Ye Yun's wife, whose portrait hung behind the tavern counter, visible every day.

"Then why are you going to the battlefield?" Chen Ping'an asked.

Ye Yun was silent for a moment, then smiled. It wasn't a bitter smile, but a very faint smile, like the kind of smile one has after figuring something out.

"Some things are more important than living."

Chen Ping'an held the wine pot but didn't drink. He thought about those words, about what Qi Jingchun wrote in her letter, "Some things always have to be done by someone," and about what Dong Bude said before rushing up the city wall, "I owe you for six hundred years, it's time to pay it back."

all the same.

Some things are more important than living.

Chen Ping'an raised the wine jug: "Boss Ye, if we all come back alive, I'll treat you to a drink."

Ye Yun raised his wine jug and clinked it against his: "Alright. It's a deal."

The two tilted their heads back and downed the rest of the wine in the pot. The strong liquor burned their throats, making them both wince. Chen Ping'an exhaled and wiped his mouth, while Ye Yun coughed twice, then laughed.

"Your alcohol tolerance isn't very good, Boss Ye," Chen Ping'an said.

"Not everyone who runs a tavern can hold their liquor well," Ye Yun said. "Old Dong can hold his liquor well; he can drink a whole jar by himself. But when he drinks too much, he cries, then falls asleep, and when he wakes up, he doesn't remember anything."

Chen Ping'an didn't reply. He turned to look at the darkness outside the city, and after a while, suddenly said, "Boss Ye, if we all die tomorrow, will you regret it?"

Ye Yun thought for a moment: "Regret what?"

"I regret coming to the Sword Qi Great Wall. I regret opening this tavern. I regret knowing Old Man Dong, I regret knowing Qian Shouxin, I regret knowing me."

Ye Yun didn't answer immediately. He placed the empty wine jug beside him, put his hands behind his back, and looked up at the sky. There were no stars in the sky; it was as black as a pot.

"No regrets," he said. "Before coming to the Sword Qi Great Wall, I lived like a walking corpse. Every day was just about surviving, with nothing to do and no hope. After coming here, opening a tavern, meeting Old Dong, meeting Qian Shouxin, and meeting you—only then did I realize that I was still alive."

Chen Ping'an didn't speak, but he kept Ye Yun's words in mind.

The two of them sat there for a long time.

The torches atop the city walls flickered in the wind, and patrolling swordsmen walked past them, their armor clattering. In the distance, towards the wilderness, the campfire grew brighter, as if something was burning.

It's almost dawn.

A sliver of gray-white appeared on the eastern horizon; it wasn't the sun about to rise, but a sliver of light peeking through the dark clouds. On the wasteland outside the city, a dark mass was writhing—not demons, but their banners, densely packed, like a black forest.

Ye Yun stood up and dusted off his clothes. Chen Ping'an also stood up and tucked the empty wine jug into his waistband.

The two stood side by side behind the battlements, looking out at the boundless darkness beyond the city walls.

Behind him, the banner of the Sword Qi Great Wall fluttered in the wind. Embroidered on the banner were four large characters: "The Sword Qi Endures Forever." The characters were written by Chen Qingdu, his strokes sharp as swords, powerful and penetrating the paper.

"Peace," Ye Yun suddenly said.

"Um?"

"If I die tomorrow, close the tavern for me. Burn the portrait behind the counter for me."

Chen Ping'an frowned: "You won't die."

Ye Yun smiled and said, "Who knows?"

Chen Ping'an said nothing more. He looked at the darkness outside the city, drew the ordinary iron sword from his waist, and stuck it into the battlement beside him. The blade flashed briefly against the gray-white line of the horizon.

"Boss Ye, I'll owe you that pot of wine for now. I'll pay you back after I'm done playing."

Ye Yun nodded.

The wind blew by, causing the hems of their clothes to come together and then separate again.

In the distance, a deep horn sounded from the direction of the wilderness. It wasn't a horn for attack, but a horn for mobilization. The sound was as deep as muffled thunder, carrying from the ground and causing dust to fall from the battlements.

The demon race is gathering.

As dawn breaks, the final battle will begin.

Ye Yun reached into his robes and touched the old handkerchief and the IOU. The handkerchief belonged to Dong Bude, and the IOU was from Qian Shouxin. He had kept these two things in his robes for a long time.

He turned to look at Chen Ping'an. Chen Ping'an's profile was illuminated by the gray-white line of the horizon, his features sharp and his eyes bright. He was much taller and stronger than he had been ten years ago; he was no longer the boy practicing boxing at the entrance of Mud Bottle Alley.

But he is still himself.

Ye Yun turned his head and looked out of the city.

"Li Yufu," he thought to himself, "he will walk your path for you."

The bugle call stopped.

The world was completely silent.

Thousands of sword cultivators stood atop the city wall, not a single one speaking. They waited for dawn, for the order to be given, for the final battle.

Ye Yun and Chen Ping'an stood side by side, neither of them speaking again.

The tavern behind me was still open, the clay seals on the wine jars on the counter had been broken, and the aroma of wine filled the street. No one went to drink, and no one closed the door.

The wine is left there, waiting for the living to return and drink it.