Chapter 57: The Sword-Nurturing Gourd
As they neared the small town, the True Martial Mountain military philosopher loosened his grip on Ma Kuxuan’s shoulder. Ma Kuxuan felt dizzy and shook his head, asking, “Do you know who’s in trouble? Could it be my father or my uncle? Someone from outside took a fancy to the family’s treasures—one side wouldn’t give, the other insisted—and it ended up like Liu Xianyang, causing a huge mess?”
The sword-bearing man walked quickly with Ma Kuxuan, shaking his head. “The reason the Moving Mountain Ape of Sunlit Peak struck so fiercely, even breaking the rules, was partly due to the value of the sword manual itself. But the most important cause is still the old grievances between Sunlit Peak and Wind Thunder Garden. If it weren’t for Chen Songfeng of Wind Thunder Garden arriving at the town right after, that Moving Mountain Ape would never have dared to commit murder. So here in the town, even if cultivators make a move, they won’t be too blatant. Mr. Qi, who’s stationed here, after all…”
The man suddenly stopped speaking, looking toward a distant rooftop. A jet-black wildcat squatted there, and upon spotting Ma Kuxuan, it let out a sharp scream. When Ma Kuxuan noticed it, the cat began to sprint toward Apricot Flower Lane.
In an instant, Ma Kuxuan’s face turned pale. He raced madly after the cat on the rooftop.
The man sighed, understanding the connection, and followed unhurriedly behind the youth, never letting Ma Kuxuan get ahead of him.
Ma Kuxuan ran all the way back to that familiar lane. When he saw the courtyard gate wide open, the boy, known for his audacity, actually stopped outside, not daring to cross the threshold.
The boy knew that the gate of his home was almost never left open this long throughout the year. His grandmother often reminded him that Apricot Flower Lane had the most shiftless poor folk. “People are poor and short-sighted, just like a bony horse grows long hair. Our family is easy to envy, so you must remember to keep the door shut tight, or thieves will covet it.”
Blinking back red eyes, Ma Kuxuan stepped into the yard. The main room’s door was also open.
Ma Kuxuan saw a familiar, frail figure lying on the ground.
The black cat crouched on the threshold, meowing incessantly in a spine-chilling manner.
“Don’t go over there!”
The sword-bearing man reached out and pressed the boy’s shoulder, warning, “It’s already come to this. Steady your mind!”
Ma Kuxuan held back tears, taking deep breaths. He slowed his steps and whispered, “Grandma?”
The military sword cultivator moved swiftly ahead to the old woman’s side, pressing two fingers to her nose. There was no breath.
The black cat, startled, scurried into the house and vanished in a flash.
After a moment’s thought, the man looked up at Ma Kuxuan standing at the door and said in a deep voice, “Stop! Your innate yang energy is extremely strong. If you come any closer, even if some of your grandmother’s lingering soul remains in the house, you will harm it and cause it to be utterly destroyed!”
The boy’s dark face twisted in anguish, but he forced himself not to make a single sound of crying.
The man made up his mind. Gripping the tiger tally at his waist, he said solemnly, “Mr. Qi, this matter cannot be taken lightly. You have your rules, and I have my own difficulties. I hope you will not interfere from now on.”
After saying this, the man’s demeanor changed entirely. His robes billowed and his hair drifted as he silently recited a string of obscure incantations, ending with five words: “True Martial Mountain summons!”
Ma Kuxuan turned his head blankly.
He saw a golden-armored deity, over ten feet tall, descend from the sky. The being clapped its fists against its chest with a sound like thunder and said, “Descendant of True Martial, what are your orders?”
“Spells are forbidden here, and I am not skilled in imprisoning souls. So I ask you to patrol around this house. If you find this old woman’s wandering soul, gather it up, but be careful not to harm its roots.”
The golden-armored deity was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Understood!”
The golden light dissipated, and the divine general vanished.
—
At the Kiln Supervisory Office, Chen Songfeng, a scion of the Dragon Tail Commandery Chen clan, was buried in a spacious room flipping through files. At his feet sat a vermillion lacquered wooden chest, half-filled with yellowed ancient books. The woman, Chen Dui, casually picked out a book from the chest and stood by a window not far away, turning the pages slowly.
The old office manager sat in a chair drinking tea. Liu Baqiao, a sword cultivator from Wind Thunder Garden, sat across from him, exchanging pleasantries. The spirited old manager chuckled, “It’s quite a coincidence. Li Hong from the Li residence personally came to our office, requesting the files of the various Chen branches in our town, and only the household registers of the last three to four hundred years. The prince agreed, so I let Li Hong take away the top seventy or eighty books. The remaining books at the bottom are older—exactly the yellowed records you gentlemen want, Chen. But I must say, if the office didn’t require airing the books every summer and autumn, they would have been chewed to pieces by bookworms long ago.”
Standing by the window, Chen Dui didn’t look up but asked calmly, “I heard that the Chen surnamed people in this town have all become servants and maids to the four surnames and ten clans of Fortune Street and Peach Leaf Lane. Some Chen have even become hereditary bondservants, kneeling and kowtowing for generations. And when they meet ordinary townsfolk, they still put on airs?”
The old manager felt a bit awkward. This woman kept referring to the “four surnames and ten clans” or “great families,” yet the true millennium-old aristocratic clans—the direct descendant of the Dragon Tail Commandery Chen, Chen Songfeng—sat there like a servant, silently digging through files, while this woman, also surnamed Chen, felt perfectly at ease. The shrewd old manager didn’t need to guess how lofty her true status was.
Although the old manager had never kept Chen-named maids or servants, he had always had good relations with the big local families. He didn’t want to anger a formidable “dragon crossing the river” due to a careless response.
After carefully choosing his words, the old man put down his ice-crackle patterned cup of tea and said slowly, “Miss Chen, it can’t be helped. According to an old predecessor in this office, our town originally had two branches of the Chen clan with different remote ancestors. One branch moved away entirely early on, leaving no direct descendants here. I’ve only vaguely heard that when that branch left, they specially left tomb keepers. It’s been so long that the surname family responsible for sweeping and offering incense for that branch can no longer be traced. As for the other branch, they were also among the great families long ago, ranking quite high. But the fortunes of the world are unpredictable. After a few internal and external disturbances, they gradually declined. Especially in the past few hundred years, as you said, Miss Chen, each generation is worse than the last. Now there are no independent Chen families left… No, wait, I recall there is actually one last remaining seedling. Among all the Chen descendants in town, he’s the only one not attached to the four surnames and ten clans. His father had superb pottery-making skills and was even commended by the two previous supervising officials. That’s why I remember him clearly. But he died young. How his child is doing now, I wouldn’t know. Still, from what I’ve seen and heard, the town has generally treated the Chen descendants well. Especially the Song and Zhao families—their head stewards are both surnamed Chen. They may be master and servant in name, but they’re almost like family.”
Having finished this long-winded tale of old, forgotten matters, the old manager turned, picked up his tea, and took a sip.
Chen Dui smiled and nodded. “Manager Xue is a man of understanding. No wonder the office runs smoothly.”
The old manager beamed. “Miss Chen flatters me. People like me know our own limits. I can only do my best. It’s a life of toil, just a life of toil.”
Chen Dui smiled and dropped the subject, turning her gaze to the rigidly seated Chen Songfeng. She said coldly, “If you can’t manage, then turn the whole chest upside down and start from the very bottom books. Didn’t you hear what Manager Xue just said? For a thousand years in this town, the archives and registers are only related to the other Chen branch. If I remember correctly, that Chen branch shares the same remote ancestor as your Dragon Tail Commandery Chen. So what? You flip through genealogy after genealogy from beginning to end, and every name is either a maidservant or a bondservant. Is that amusing?”
Chen Songfeng’s forehead beaded with sweat, his lips pale. He didn’t dare refute a single word, immediately rising from his chair to bend over and move the books from the chest.
The old office manager straightened his back at once, losing all trace of leisurely ease.
Liu Baqiao couldn’t stand it. Chen Songfeng might be soft-hearted, but he was still the future head of the Dragon Tail Commandery Chen clan. Regardless of Chen Dui’s background, even if she was of the same clan, she should at least show some basic respect. So Liu Baqiao said sternly, “Chen Dui, unless I’m blind, I can see Chen Songfeng is helping you here. Even if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t have to speak so harshly!”
Chen Songfeng quickly looked up and signaled Liu Baqiao with his eyes. Liu Baqiao glared back. “Even the emperor has poor relatives. What, some people are exceptions? Fine, even if someone is an exception, that’s no reason to look down on others!”
Blunt and straightforward.
That was Liu Baqiao’s true nature from Wind Thunder Garden.
Chen Songfeng’s face was full of bitterness.
The old manager lowered his head to drink tea, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.
Chen Dui was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. “That makes sense.”
Now it was Liu Baqiao’s turn to feel uncomfortable.
Chen Dui put down the book she was holding and decided to go out for some fresh air. Manager Xue naturally wanted to play host, but Chen Dui politely declined.
Chen Dui walked out of the office’s side hall and stood in the corridor, looking into the distance.
Outside the main hall of the office was a large square. A memorial archway stood directly opposite the main gate, inscribed with a large ancient character—the character for “mountain peak,” shaped like a hill above a prison. This was not uncommon. Every secular dynasty and state, by law, enshrined five mountains as the Five Sacred Peaks within their territory. At the mountain gate, the founding emperor would always inscribe two characters in his own hand, and the imposing character for “peak” would invariably be written in the ancient style.
Later scholars, poets, and cultivators offered hundreds of interpretations of this tradition, but the true reason had likely been buried in the dust of history.
Chen Dui saw two figures—one large, one small—sitting on the white stone steps of the archway, whispering to each other.
She hesitated for a moment, then slowly made her way over. To avoid suspicion of eavesdropping, she deliberately coughed softly as she climbed the steps behind the two. But the two were so engrossed—one talking enthusiastically, the other listening intently—that they seemed completely unaware of her presence. Chen Dui didn’t mind. She sat down casually at the far end of the steps. Though her posture was relaxed, the grace she emanated still gave an impression of propriety.
The two were speaking in the orthodox refined language of Eastern Vase Continent. Chen Dui understood it—otherwise she wouldn’t have come to this town—but she found it awkward to speak, so she had been very quiet during the journey with Chen Songfeng and Liu Baqiao. In truth, the main reason she didn’t want to talk was that she felt she had nothing in common with them and had no desire to speak.
Liu Baqiao, outwardly cynical but inwardly dedicated to the sword path, seemed interesting but was actually dull. Chen Songfeng, single-mindedly focused on restoring his family’s prestige, seemed simple but was actually overthinking. Neither of these so-called top talents of Eastern Vase Continent was on the same wavelength as her. “Those whose paths differ cannot take counsel together”—exactly so.
The youth glanced at the woman, who was about ten years older than him. His impression was average.
Chen Dui sat quietly, showing no sign of speaking.
But she had caught a glimpse before—the little girl was holding a glossy emerald-green gourd. Chen Dui’s eyes were sharp; she could tell at a glance it was no ordinary item.
The richly dressed youth and the delicate, porcelain-like little girl were none other than Song Jixin from Mud Vase Lane and Tao Zi from Sunlit Peak.
Song Jixin had seen the little girl earlier when he went with Song Changjing to the Li residence to offer condolences. He took an instant liking to her, having loved exquisite and beautiful things since childhood, while crude and simple items never caught his eye. Tao Zi also felt an immediate affinity with Song Jixin. The two inexplicably became good friends. The key was that despite their age gap, they could still have pleasant conversations. Song Jixin didn’t even feel he was just humoring her. In the end, he asked his uncle Song Changjing to force the Li family to let the girl come out, and he brought Tao Zi to the Supervisory Office to play. Regardless of the grim expressions on the Li family members’ faces, Song Jixin took the little girl’s hand and left the Li residence. At the same time, he sent a message back to a maid named Zhigui at his small house, telling her to find the emerald gourd in the chest and give it to Tao Zi as a first-meeting gift.
The little girl was very affectionate with Song Jixin, acting spoiled. “Firewood Brother, you just mentioned twelve kinds of archways, including the Academy and School Archway. Before I came here, I heard my grandpa chatting with someone saying that your Great Li’s Cliffside Academy is in a pretty bad state now. Do you know what’s written on their academy’s archway?”
Because of the two characters in Song Jixin’s name, Tao Zi had nicknamed him “Firewood Brother.” Song Jixin didn’t mind. By now he had stopped caring about whether the foreign woman stayed or left. He lowered his head and said with a smile, “I don’t know. I’ve never left this town in my life. I haven’t read many books either. I’ve almost emptied my stomach talking with you for so long.”
The little girl sighed. “I wonder how Grandpa Ape is doing outside looking for people?”
Song Jixin smiled and patted the hem of his brocade robe. For a moment, his eyes were complex.
From afar, Chen Dui suddenly asked softly, “Little girl, does this gourd of yours sometimes make sounds on its own?”
The little girl turned around, held the gourd high with both hands, squinted happily, and showed off: “Firewood Brother gave it to me!”
Answering the wrong question.
Chen Dui could only smile and let it go.
Song Jixin commented offhandedly, “It hums during thunderstorms.”
Chen Dui nodded. “It is indeed a sword-nurturing gourd.”
Song Jixin looked puzzled.
The little girl from Sunlit Peak couldn’t contain herself, speaking first: “I know, I know! We have three sword-nurturing gourds at home. My grandpa has one—it’s all gray and ugly. Grandpa Liu from Tai Bai Peak has the cutest one, tiny, palm-sized, and whoosh whoosh, it can fly out dozens of little flying swords. Sister Su’s is neither big nor small, purple-gold in color. But Sister Su doesn’t like to take it out much. I begged many times before I was allowed to touch it, and then she hid it away quickly.”
Chen Dui explained, “Little one, you shouldn’t blame your Sister Su. A purple-gold sword-nurturing gourd is extremely rare among sword-nurturing gourds. It can rank in the top three. I’d say in the entire Eastern Vase Continent, she has the only one. And compared to other sword-nurturing gourds, while the purple-gold gourd is excellent for nurturing swords, its weakness is that it’s very brittle and easily chipped by sharp objects.”
Tao Zi hugged the emerald gourd again. “What about mine?”
Chen Dui smiled. “It’s precious too.”
The little girl tugged at Song Jixin’s sleeve, acting timid. “Firewood Brother, are you going to take it back?”
Song Jixin ruffled her hair, his eyes full of indulgence, and laughed heartily. “Not just this little gourd—even if I had more, I’d give them all to you.”
Chen Dui recalled an interesting anecdote. “According to legend, at one of the Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures Pavilion auctions, the final highlight was a never-before-seen sword-nurturing gourd vine, with six little gourd fruits on it. It was said that the Dao Ancestor, before he became an immortal, personally planted the seedlings in our world. It took several thousand years to produce that cluster of little gourds, varying in size and color—very miraculous.”
Song Jixin sincerely sighed, “The world is vast and full of wonders.”