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

Before dawn, the scouts that Ah Liang had sent out returned.

A young swordsman, sweating profusely from running, squatted down in front of Ye Yun and whispered, "Boss Ye, someone's coming from the palace. One person is heading this way; they're almost there."

Ye Yun was meditating when he opened his eyes. The Sword of Law hovered above his head and spun once. He stood up and dusted himself off. A Liang rolled off the rock, spat out the grass in his mouth, and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "How many people?"

"One. A humanoid one, but not very powerful, at the Golden Core stage," the young swordsman said.

Ah Liang frowned. "Alone? Here to die?"

Ye Yun remained silent. He sensed an aura approaching. It wasn't demonic, but human. Zhou Mi had sent someone not to fight, but to deliver a message.

After an incense stick's time, a man in black appeared at the foot of the hill. He wore a long black robe and a hood, obscuring his face. He walked at a leisurely pace, as if taking a stroll. Reaching the foot of the hill, he stopped and looked up. Beneath the hood, a pale face was revealed, its age impossible to discern, and its eyes were gray, like two stones.

"Where is Ye Yun?" the man in black asked. His voice was flat and monotone, like he was reciting a text.

Ah Liang jumped down from the hill, stood in front of the man in black, and sized him up. "Who are you?"

The man in black didn't look at A Liang; his eyes were fixed on the hilltop. "I'm here on the orders of the God of War to deliver a message to Ye Yun."

Ah Liang reached out his hand. "Give me the letter."

The man in black shook his head. "The God of War said that the letter can only be delivered to Ye Yun himself."

Ah Liang's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, which was drawn half an inch from its sheath, the gleam of the blade reflecting on the face of the man in black. The man's expression remained unchanged; his gray eyes were still fixed on the hill. Ye Yun descended from the hill and stood before the man in black. Four flying swords hovered at his sides, their tips pointing at him. "I am Ye Yun."

The man in black took out a letter from his pocket and handed it over with both hands. The envelope was white, blank, and sealed with black sealing wax, on which was imprinted a rune—Zhou Mi's mark.

Ye Yun took the letter and opened it. Inside the envelope was a thin sheet of paper with a few lines of writing on it. The handwriting was neat and precise, each stroke as if it had been carved.

"Ye Yun, I know you've come. You want a remnant soul, I want the Samsara Sword Technique. A fair trade, how about it? — Zhou Mi"

Ye Yun handed the letter to A Liang. A Liang took it, glanced at it, sneered, and returned the letter to Ye Yun. "Zhou Mi is trying to get something for nothing. He gave you the Reincarnation Sword Manual, and now he's denying it. Who can you complain to?"

Ye Yun remained silent. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket, looking at the man in black. "Anything else?"

The man in black pulled something else from his robes—a small, white porcelain bottle, about the size of a thumb, its opening sealed with wax. "The War God said you might not believe him, so he sent me with this."

Ye Yun took the porcelain bottle, crushed the sealing wax, and uncorked it. A faint scent wafted from the bottle's opening, very light and weak, like the wind blowing through plum blossom petals. Ye Yun's fingers trembled violently. It was Pu She's scent. He recognized it; it was etched into his bones, into his blood, into his soul. There was no mistake.

He shoved the cork back in, clutching the bottle tightly in his hand until his knuckles turned white. A murderous intent surged from within him, and the four flying swords hummed simultaneously, their light blazing. The man in black took a step back, a flicker of emotion finally appearing in his gray eyes—not fear, but wariness.

Ah Liang pressed down on Ye Yun's shoulder. "Boss Ye."

Ye Yun took a deep breath, suppressing his killing intent. The light from the four flying swords dimmed, and their humming stopped. He looked at the man in black. "Go back and tell Zhou Mi to let me think about it."

The man in black nodded, turned, and walked away. After a few steps, he stopped and said without turning back, "The God of War says you only have three days. After three days, the grand ceremony will begin. By then, the crystal will be gone." He disappeared into the morning mist, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter until they were no longer audible.

Ye Yun stood there, clutching the small porcelain bottle in his hand, for a long time. A Liang stood beside him, silent. The dozen or so sword cultivators also remained silent, none daring to utter a sound. Only the wind whistled across the hill, like someone sighing.

Ye Yun finally spoke. "Ah Liang, what do you think?"

Ah Liang thought for a moment. "Don't believe a single word Zhou Mi says. If he gets his hands on the Reincarnation Sword Manual, he'll turn on you faster than flipping through a book. You won't even have time to cry then."

Ye Yun nodded. "I know."

"So you still want to agree?"

Ye Yun remained silent for a moment. "Pu She's soul is in his hands."

Ah Liang sighed, plucked a blade of grass from the ground, and put it in his mouth. "Boss Ye, you're just being stubborn. Even if you give him the Samsara Sword Manual, he won't give your soul back. He wants you as a person, not your sword manual. Once you're no longer of use, he'll kick you aside, and he still won't give you your soul back."

Ye Yun knew A Liang was right. Zhou Mi didn't want the Reincarnation Sword Technique; he wanted him. He wanted him as a pawn, to be used by him. But Pu She's soul was in Zhou Mi's hands, and he had no choice.

"I have an idea," Ah Liang suddenly said.

Ye Yun looked at him.

"Let's play along." Ah Liang spat out the grass in his mouth, squatted down, and drew a simple diagram on the ground. "You pretend to agree to his terms and make a deal with him. When you make the deal, he will definitely bring the crystal. Old Zhou and I will lie in ambush nearby with our men. As soon as he takes out the crystal, we'll make our move. We'll grab the crystal and run."

Ye Yun frowned. "He won't be unguarded."

Ah Liang laughed. "Of course he'll be on guard. But he's on guard against you, not us. You're on the front, we're on the side. He thinks you're alone, he doesn't know we're here."

Ye Yun thought for a moment. "The risk is too great."

Ah Liang stood up and dusted off his knees. "The risk is high. But do you have any other ideas?"

Ye Yun did not answer. He looked down at the porcelain bottle in his hand, the scent of Pu She still lingering on it, very faint, so faint it seemed to be dissipating. He pressed the bottle to his heart for two seconds, then tucked it into his robes.

"Okay," he said.

He pulled out Zhou Mi's letter from his pocket, unfolded it, and read it again. The handwriting was neat and precise, each stroke meticulous, as if carved. But what lay hidden between the lines made Ye Yun want to vomit. He picked up his pen and wrote a few lines on the back of the letter. The handwriting was messy, just like the man himself—unrefined and unkempt.

"We shall meet at the altar in three days. If you break your promise, I will kill you."

He folded the letter and handed it to Ah Liang. "Find someone to deliver it."

Ah Liang took the letter and whistled. A young swordsman ran over, took the letter, and disappeared into the morning mist. Ye Yun stood on the hill, looking at the palace in the distance. Under the hazy light of dawn, the palace resembled a giant beast crouching on the ground, its mouth agape, waiting for its prey to walk into its trap. Four flying swords hovered beside him, their light steady, like four unextinguishable stars. The Sword of Law slowly rotated above his head, the patterns on its blade brighter than before.

"Zhou Mi," Ye Yun said softly, "you think you can use Pu She to blackmail me? You'll regret it."

Ah Liang stood beside him, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth. "Boss Ye, it's settled then, see you at the altar in three days. I'll lead the charge, you'll be in charge of grabbing the crystals."

Ye Yun shook his head. "I'll go first. You take the crystal."

Ah Liang frowned. "You're going to carry Zhou Mi all by yourself? He's at the fourteenth realm."

Ye Yun looked at him. "Can you handle it?"

Ah Liang opened his mouth, but didn't speak. He couldn't hold on. No one present could hold on. Only Ye Yun, only Ye Yun's Samsara Sword Domain and the Sword of Law, could barely hold off Zhou Mi. Even if only for a few breaths.

"Okay," Ah Liang said, "but you promise me you'll leave as soon as you get the crystal. Don't linger."

Ye Yun nodded. "I promise you."

Ah Liang looked at him for a long time, then sighed. "You're quick to agree, but then you recklessly rush in without thinking. What did Old Man Dong teach you?"

Ye Yun's lips twitched slightly. "What Old Man Dong taught me was brewing wine."

Ah Liang paused for a moment, then burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the valley and startling several bats hiding in the shadows.

Ye Yun didn't laugh. He gazed at the distant palace, his hand resting on the hilt of the Sword of Law, his knuckles white. Three days later, at the altar. Zhou Mi, you wait.

He took out the wine flask Ning Yao had given him from his pocket, uncorked it, and took a sip. Sweet, sour, bitter. He raised the flask, pointing it towards the vast world.

"Peace, I'm going to risk my life in three days," he said softly. "I'll pay you back for the drinks in my next life."

He carefully put away the wine jug, turned and walked behind the hill, sat cross-legged, and began to regulate his breathing. His luck was still slowly recovering, and the four flying swords were being nurtured in his sea of ​​consciousness, the patterns on the sword of laws growing brighter and brighter. The battle three days from now would be the most dangerous battle of his life. He had to be prepared.

Ah Liang leaned against the hill, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth, legs crossed, gazing at the hazy sky. The dozen or so sword cultivators each found a place to sit; some polished their swords, some closed their eyes to rest, and some ate dry rations. No one spoke, but the air was filled with something indescribable—not tension, not fear, but a calm resoluteness.

One-eyed Old Zhou walked over to Ah Liang, squatted down, and lowered his voice. "Ah Liang, can Boss Ye handle Zhou Mi all by himself?"

Ah Liang glanced at him. "It has to work, whether it's impossible or not."

Old Zhou was silent for a moment. "What if he dies?"

Ah Liang spat out the grass in his mouth and picked up a new one. "Then carry his body back. Ping An said he wants to see him alive or dead." He closed his eyes and soon began to snore.

Old Zhou stood up, walked to Ye Yun's side, and glanced at him. Ye Yun had his eyes closed, the Sword of Law slowly rotating above his head, its light illuminating half his face. Old Zhou didn't speak, turned, and walked away.

The night was long. The desolate night had no moon, no stars, only boundless darkness. Occasionally, a few low, deep drumbeats drifted from the direction of the distant palace, like heartbeats, each one striking a chord in everyone's heart.

Ye Yun sat in the darkness, the Sword of Law hovering above his head, its light illuminating a small patch of ground before him. He took out a portrait of Nangong Pushe from his robes, unfolded it, and gazed at the person in the painting. Dressed in white as snow, pure and aloof like a plum blossom.

"Park She," he said softly, "I'll come to pick you up in three days."

The portrait offered no reply. But Ye Yun felt a ripple stir in the lake of his heart. It was very light, as light as a breeze on water. He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into the lake of his heart. On the surface of the lake, the woman in white stood there, looking at him. She didn't speak, she didn't laugh, she just looked at him. But Ye Yun knew what she was saying.

"Brother Yun, be careful."

Ye Yun opened his eyes, folded the portrait, put it back in his bosom, and pressed it to his heart. He raised his head and looked at the palace in the distance. The hazy light of dawn pierced through the gray mist, illuminating the desolate land. Dawn was approaching.

Two more days.