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

Chen Qingdu's body wasn't cold yet. Ye Yun stood on the city wall, watching the old man lying in a pool of blood, his white hair spread across the ground, a smile still lingering on his lips. He stared for a long time, so long that Chen Ping'an called him "Boss Ye" three times without him hearing. His mind wasn't empty; it was full, overflowing with thoughts—Dong Bude leaning against the crenellations of the city wall, a hole in his chest, a broken sword clutched in his hand; Qian Shouxin lying in a pool of blood, a crumpled IOU tucked into his pocket; Pu She standing under the plum tree, dressed in white as snow, turning back to look at him, saying, "Brother Yun, wait for me to come back."

She didn't come back. None of them came back.

Ye Yun's eyes began to redden. Not the red of crying, but the red of blood vessels spreading from the pupils, like spider webs, one by one crawling out. His breathing became heavy, each breath like a bellows, his chest making a wheezing sound. The four natal flying swords hovering beside him sensed their master's emotions and began to tremble violently. "Golden Light" flickered, "Purple Cloud" crackled, "Cage" chains rattled, and "Sword of Law" hummed, its sharp sound like it was about to tear eardrums apart.

"Boss Ye?" Chen Ping'an reached out to grab his arm. Ye Yun shook him off. The force was surprisingly strong, and Chen Ping'an was thrown back two steps, crashing into the battlement. He was stunned—Ye Yun had never done anything like this before.

Ye Yun made a move.

He didn't shout, didn't yell, and gave no warning. The four flying swords transformed into four streaks of light, heading straight for the Demon Ancestor. He himself followed closely behind, faster than the flying swords, leaving a trail of afterimages in the air. Chen Ping'an reached out to grab them, but grasped only empty air. "Ye Yun!" he shouted, but Ye Yun didn't turn around.

The Demon Ancestor was clutching his chest wound, the sword energy left by Chen Qingdu still coursing through his body like a venomous snake biting at his meridians. He saw Ye Yun rushing towards him and frowned—not out of fear, but out of annoyance. A sword cultivator who hadn't even reached the Ascension Realm dared to attack him?

The "Golden Light" arrived first. Thousands of golden rays shot towards the Demon Ancestor from all directions, each powerful enough to pierce the body of a Jade Purity Realm demon. The Demon Ancestor raised his hand and waved it, scattering most of the golden light, but a few pierced through his palm strike, tearing his robes. Next came "Purple Heaven," nine bolts of heavenly lightning striking down one after another. The Demon Ancestor dodged the first eight, but the ninth struck his shoulder, exploding into a cloud of black mist. The Demon Ancestor's body swayed. Not from injury, but from an accident. He didn't think this swordsman could harm him, but the lightning strike on his shoulder caused a tingling sensation.

The "cage" transformed into black chains, binding the Demon Ancestor's feet. The Demon Ancestor glanced down, stomped his foot, and the chains shattered into dust. The "Sword of Laws" arrived, its transparent blade slashing towards the Demon Ancestor's "Undying" Law. The Demon Ancestor's pupils contracted—he sensed it; this person's sword could harm his very essence. The Sword of Laws struck his Laws, and the "Undying" Laws trembled, a tiny crack appearing.

The Demon Ancestor's gaze changed. It was no longer nonchalant, but rather serious. He raised his hand and struck Ye Yun's chest. Ye Yun didn't dodge, instead using "Nirvana" to withstand the blow. The four flying swords shattered simultaneously, then instantly reformed, unleashing a terrifying shockwave of sword energy that collided with the Demon Ancestor's palm strike.

boom--

Ye Yun was blasted away, crashing onto the city wall and rolling seven or eight times before coming to a stop. He lay on the ground, a mouthful of blood gushing from his mouth. His four flying swords shattered again, scattered across the ground, their light extinguished. But he got up again. His hands braced against the ground, his legs trembling, his whole body shaking, yet he stood up. Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, the four flying swords were reborn, their light dimmer than before, but still spinning.

He rushed up again.

"Boss Ye! Come back!" Chen Ping'an shouted from behind, his voice trembling. Ye Yun couldn't hear him. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, thump, thump, thump, like a war drum. His eyes were fixed on the Demon Ancestor, the one who killed Chen Qingdu, the one who wanted to destroy the Sword Qi Great Wall. He wanted to kill him, even if he couldn't, he would at least take a piece of his flesh.

The "Reincarnation" sword domain unfolds.

Ye Yun exerted all his strength, pushing the sixth level of the Samsara Sword Dao to its limit. His sword domain expanded outwards from him, and wherever it passed, time seemed to stand still. Dust in the air stopped moving, the torches burning on the city walls froze in their leaps, and even the wind ceased. The Demon Ancestor's body stiffened; his movements slowed, as if someone had pressed the slow-motion button.

Ye Yun charged into the sword domain, thrusting his sword towards the Demon Ancestor's heart. The tip of the sword of law pierced the Demon Ancestor's chest—half an inch deep. Blood gushed from the wound, black and stinking. The Demon Ancestor looked down at the half-inch sword tip in his chest, then looked up into Ye Yun's eyes. Those eyes were red, so red they seemed about to drip blood, containing no fear, no hesitation, only pure killing intent. Pure killing intent.

The Demon Ancestor suddenly laughed. Not because he found it funny, but because he found it interesting. He hadn't seen someone like this in a long time. The last time he had seen him was ten thousand years ago, when Chen Qingdu was young.

"Your sword can hurt me," said the Demon Ancestor.

His voice was calm, but Ye Yun could hear the anger beneath it. It wasn't the kind of anger that erupts in fury, but the kind of anger that comes from being bitten by an ant—disdainful, yet annoyed.

The Demon Ancestor raised his hand and struck Ye Yun's head with a palm strike. He held nothing back; the Demon Ancestor used his true power. Wherever the palm strike passed, the air was compressed into a white wave of energy, emitting a piercing shriek.

Ye Yun didn't dodge. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. The sword domain was rapidly draining his life force; his face turned from pale to sallow, then to ashen, like a candle about to burn out. He held the sword of law above his head, bracing himself for the blow.

The sword broke. The sword of law snapped in half, the upper half flying out and embedding itself in the ground. The demon ancestor's palm strike landed on Ye Yun's head, sending him flying like a kicked pebble off the city wall. He crashed into the crenellations, shattering them, and tumbled over the wall.

"Ye Yun!" Chen Ping'an lunged forward, grabbing Ye Yun's wrist the instant he fell off the city wall. Chen Ping'an lay prone on the crumbling crenellations, one hand gripping Ye Yun's wrist tightly, the other clutching a crack in the city wall. Ye Yun dangled outside the city wall, below him a hundred-foot abyss, a mountain of corpses, a sea of ​​blood. His consciousness was already blurred, his eyes half-open, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, landing warmly on Chen Ping'an's hand.

"Ye Yun! Look at me!" Chen Ping'an shouted, his voice hoarse. Ye Yun's eyes darted around, then he looked at Chen Ping'an, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he only uttered one word: "Kill..."

His hand slipped from Chen Ping'an's grasp. Chen Ping'an scrambled to grab it, but only managed to catch his sleeve. The sleeve tore, and Ye Yun plummeted. Without hesitation, Chen Ping'an flipped and leaped off the city wall, grabbing Ye Yun by the back of his collar mid-air. With his other hand, he plunged Chu Yi into a crack in the city wall's bricks. The cracks on Chu Yi's sword widened, but it held firm. The two of them dangled from the city wall, swaying back and forth, with a hundred-foot abyss below.

They rushed over from both sides, leaned out, and lifted the two people up, one in each hand.

Ye Yun was placed on the city wall, lying in a pool of blood. His eyes were closed, his face was ashen, and his breathing was weak, as if it might stop at any moment. All four flying swords were shattered, scattered around him like a pile of scrap metal, their light completely extinguished. The Sword of Law was broken in two, its tip stuck in the ground some distance away, its hilt still clutched in his hand.

Chen Ping'an knelt beside him, trembling all over. He placed his finger under Ye Yun's nose—there was breath, very weak, but still. He breathed a sigh of relief, but then pulled back halfway—Ye Yun's pulse was slowing down, one beat, two seconds, three seconds, then another, slower and slower, until it seemed like it was about to stop.

"Boss Ye, don't die." Chen Ping'an's voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something. He held Ye Yun's hand in his own; that hand was icy cold, as cold as a stone. "You promised me you'd come back alive to drink with me. You haven't paid me back for the drinks yet."

Ye Yun did not react.

The Demon Ancestor stood at a distance, watching all this without giving chase. He clutched the wound on his chest; the sword energy left by Chen Qingdu and the cracks caused by Ye Yun's sword of law were simultaneously acting up within him, and his expression was grim. He glanced at Ye Yun, then at Chen Ping'an, a slight smile playing on his lips, before turning and walking down from the city wall.

The third wave of attacks has temporarily ceased.

The Demon Ancestor needs time to heal, and the Great Wall of Sword Qi also needs time to catch its breath. But everyone knows this is only temporary. The Demon Ancestor will return, and next time, no one can stop him.

Chen Ping'an sat beside Ye Yun, holding Ye Yun's hand tightly. Two people stood in front of them, facing outwards from the city. A Liang and Ning Yao stood guard on either side. The four of them surrounded Ye Yun, like surrounding a lamp that was about to go out.

On the city wall, the war drums stopped. Not that the drummer stopped playing, but that he was dead. The young swordsman, drumstick still in his mouth, struck the last beat, then his head drooped, the drumstick falling from his mouth and rolling on the ground. The drumhead was covered in blood; it was unclear whether it was his or someone else's.

The banners of the Sword Qi Great Wall still flutter in the wind. The four characters "Sword Qi Endures" are mostly stained red with blood, but the writing is still clear.

Chen Pingan looked down at Ye Yun, at his ashen face, at the sword hilt he gripped tightly, at the wounds on his body—too many, too many to count. The claw marks on his left arm were deep enough to expose the bone, the poisoned wound on his right shoulder was still oozing black blood, a piece of bone in his chest was caved in, and the flesh on his abdomen was torn open by the wound.

"Boss Ye," Chen Ping'an said softly, "you once said that some things are more important than living. But you also said that you should live well."

Ye Yun's finger twitched.

Chen Ping'an suddenly looked up. Ye Yun's eyes were still closed, but his fingers moved slightly in Chen Ping'an's palm, as if in response. It was very light, as light as a butterfly flapping its wings, but it moved.

Chen Ping'an's eyes reddened. This time, it wasn't from sadness, but from joy.

"You heard me?" he said. "You fucking heard me, so wake up! The tavern's still open, and the portrait behind the counter is waiting for you to come back and look at it. If you die, who's going to look after the tavern for Old Man Dong? Who's going to collect the money for Qian Shouxin's drinks?"

Ye Yun's eyelids twitched.

Chen Ping'an gripped his hand tightly: "Didn't you want to save your wife? If you die, who will save her? Zhou Mi still has her soul; aren't you going to retrieve it?"

Ye Yun's eyelids twitched again. This time, the twitch was more noticeable.

The wind picked up on the city wall, making the flags flutter and Chen Ping'an's clothes billow. In the distance, a crack appeared in the dark clouds, and a ray of sunlight shone through, illuminating the city wall and Ye Yun's face.

His eyelids slowly opened.