# 536
Chapter 536: Let Me Be the Sword Saint
“However, the side-effects of this Forbidden Ruins are also very obvious,” Yuan Gang continued.
“Side-effects?”
Lin Qiye’s brows knitted; it was the first time he’d ever heard that Forbidden Ruins could have side-effects.
“[Glass-like Pure Heart] gave him the most innocent soul imaginable—he can never assume malice in others, so he trusts people far too easily.
In modern society, such a child-like heart is not a blessing.
It’s the old saying: the good are bullied.
Because he was too kind, too simple, he was deceived again and again as a child—used, humiliated… pranks, scams, forced loans, slander, rumors—every kind of school bullying you can think of, he endured it all. Eventually he couldn’t even finish middle school and was forced to drop out.
His parents were gambling addicts who ran up huge debts; in the end they simply abandoned little Zhou Ping and fled north. When the debt-collectors came, his third uncle found him just in time, pulled him out of their hands and took him back to his own countryside diner.
Homeless, Zhou Ping stayed with his third uncle, who treated him well, raised him carefully; later he started helping in the restaurant to repay the man and earn a little pocket-money…”
When Yuan Gang finished, Lin Qiye and the others fell silent.
“How can people be so vicious?!” Jialan slammed the table in outrage, almost flipping it.
“If he were ordinary, after all that he’d have changed completely—maybe started taking revenge on society, sinking into darkness, turning selfish and walking an evil path…
But Zhou Ping didn’t.
He felt wronged, hurt; he couldn’t understand why these things happened, but his way of fighting back was only to lock his battered heart away, stop talking to people, and throw himself wholly into beautiful, simple stories.
He never despaired of society, never decided the world was unfair—he only learned to protect himself.”
“So that’s how Sword Saint-sama’s social phobia started…” Cao Yuan sighed.
“When your mental-power realm reaches a certain height, further progress demands a breakthrough in state of mind. Those early psychic wounds became the biggest obstacle in the Sword Saint’s path,” Yuan Gang said slowly.
“But Commander Ye always believed he was the one most likely to break through that ceiling.
If he could leap over the hurdle in his heart and let [Glass-like Pure Heart] bloom without reservation,
his transparent, pure heart and sword would become Great Xia’s hope.”
Baili Pangpang nodded thoughtfully.
“There’s one more thing I’m curious about,” he said. “If Sword Saint-sama had already shut himself away back then, how did Commander Ye get him to come out and become Great Xia’s Sword Saint?”
Yuan Gang smiled at the question.
“I told you—his world is very simple, very pure…”
…
The Mist.
A shard of city.
In the dim, warm underground garage, Zhou Ping—his black shirt blood-stained—carried a frozen passer-by on his back and walked slowly to the furnace.
“Cough, cough…”
He coughed violently, frowned, bent down and gently set the stranger by the fire.
With a trembling right hand he checked the man’s breath,
then exhaled in relief.
“Sword Saint-sama, this is the last batch,” Lu Yu said, laying another unconscious person beside the stove. “All streets have been searched.”
“Good.” Zhou Ping nodded.
He walked to a corner, steps unsteady, leaned against a pillar and slid slowly to the ground…
His right hand still shook.
The flickering furnace flames reflected in his eyes; who knew what he was thinking? After a long while his lids drooped shut.
Some time later faint voices drifted over.
Zhou Ping forced his eyes open; bloodshot veins webbed them, haggard.
In another corner, pale Chen Han approached with three children about seven or eight years old.
Zhou Ping stared, surprised.
“My mental power is limited; I can’t heal everyone yet… so I saved the children first,” Chen Han said weakly. “These three have good talent—they shook off the gale’s influence and woke up.
Lu Yu, you and Sword Saint-sama look after them.”
“Yes, sir!”
Lu Yu hurried to the children; Chen Han rested a moment, then headed off again.
Two boys, one girl, all wrapped in thick winter clothes, cheeks red from the cold, lips purple, but eyes bright as stars.
“What are your names?” Lu Yu asked.
“I’m Li Ruodie,” the girl whispered.
“I’m Wang Jiaqi.”
“Chen Nan.”
They glanced at the unconscious adults, fear in their eyes.
“Big brother, are you Night Watch too?” Li Ruodie’s courage belied her age; her gem-like eyes studied Lu Yu.
“You know about Night Watch?” Lu Yu asked, surprised.
“The other big brother told us,” Wang Jiaqi answered. “He said Night Watch are the superheroes who protect us.”
Lu Yu grinned. “Then yes, I am Night Watch.”
“What about you?”
Li Ruodie turned to Zhou Ping huddled in the corner.
He hesitated, voice hoarse. “I’m not Night Watch.”
“Though he isn’t Night Watch, he’s an even stronger superhero,” Lu Yu explained patiently. “He’s Great Xia’s Sword Saint.”
“Sword Saint?”
The kids’ mouths formed perfect O’s.
Chen Nan studied Zhou Ping a long while, then asked cautiously, “Big brother, can you turn invisible and use Blade Storm?”
“Dummy Chen Nan, that’s the game Sword Saint!” Li Ruodie corrected.
“Oh…”
“Great Xia’s Sword Saint—sounds amazing!” Wang Jiaqi gazed at Zhou Ping in awe. “Sword Saint big brother, how did you become Sword Saint? Can I be one too?”
Zhou Ping froze.
His eyes rested on the children while his mind flew back many years…
…
An ordinary afternoon.
Zhou Ping, sleeves rolled up, sat on the steps of Third Uncle’s diner earnestly washing vegetables.
A man in a dark-red cloak sat beside him.
Zhou Ping, focused on the washing, didn’t notice.
The man watched him for a long time, then smiled.
“You’re Zhou Ping?”
Zhou Ping looked up, wiped sweat with his wrist, and nodded.
“I’m Ye Fan,” the man said.
“Oh.”
Zhou Ping glanced at him and went back to the vegetables.
“…” Ye Fan paused. “Do you want to become a Human Apex?”
“What’s a Human Apex?”
“Someone who, when the sky falls, can carry it on his back.” Ye Fan pointed at the sky overhead.
“I don’t understand.”
“Someone who protects this country, these people… humanity’s strongest.” Ye Fan put it plainly.
Zhou Ping thought. “Like a chivalrous hero?”
“Yes, like a chivalrous hero.”
Zhou Ping pondered. “Being a hero sounds nice, but I don’t like the name ‘Human Apex’—not cool enough.”
“Then what do you want to be called?”
Zhou Ping shook water from his hands, glanced at the wooden sword on the step.
“Sword Saint,” he said. “Let me be Great Xia’s Sword Saint, and I’ll agree.”