Chapter 9#

Hua Jinian was silent for a long time before saying: “I never thought about it.”

Hua Qianjue looked at him and smiled: “Truly ‘a youth who does not know the taste of sorrow’. Do you know that every time you reach a new realm, you have to overcome a heart demon that is enough to destroy you? In order to practice martial arts, you also have to worship Buddha and comprehend scriptures from time to time, listen to Buddhist teachings, so that your heart is like dead wood and your divine skills are accomplished.”

Hua Qianjue casually picked a leaf by his hand and said with a smile: “When the divine skill is accomplished, you pick up a flower or leaf and want to kill someone a thousand miles away, but at this time your heart is already like dead wood, so who are you still killing?”

Hua Qianjue reached out and tore the green leaf in half. Those beast-like sharp eyes now rested on the boy’s face. The man asked with a faint smile: “Do you still want to practice martial arts? Futu Fortress has a thousand hectares of family property for you to squander, and there are many experts under your command. With your intelligence, although not as good as mine, you may not be unable to support a family business.”

Hua Jinian was stunned there, unable to say a word. His eyelashes slowly lowered, and after a long time he said: “You learned it, why shouldn’t I learn it?”

The corner of Hua Qianjue’s mouth curved, but his sharp eyes were covered with ten thousand feet of cold ice. He threw the long sword to the boy: “Try to strike me with a sword.” Hua Jinian gritted his teeth and struck quickly with the sword, like a meteor crossing the night sky, leaving only a silver arc.

Hua Qianjue didn’t even blink, and caught the sword edge lightly with his fingertips, laughing low: “Your move is ‘swallow throwing itself into the forest’, but I think it looks like ‘wild goose landing on flat sand’.”

As he spoke, ignoring the boy’s instantly pale face, he snatched the naked blade with his bare hands, and in the blink of an eye, the precious sword was back in his hand.

Hua Qianjue looked at the boy and said seriously word by word, which was rare: “Nurture trees with sun, nurture people with virtue. Do you know how to become a master? Actually… it’s simple to say, half talent, half opportunity.”

Hua Jinian lowered his head. After a long time, he asked in a hoarse voice: “But they all say that heaven rewards diligence. Why… is hard work not important?”

Hua Qianjue looked at him, sighed softly, reached out to lift the boy’s chin, forced him to look at himself, and laughed low: “Because everyone is working hard.” He looked at the boy’s shocked expression slowly turning into depression, patted his head soothingly, and laughed low: “Although you have no talent, you have opportunity. You have a father—since you want to become a master, with me here, operating from a strategically advantageous position, smashing everything like splitting bamboo, why worry about not achieving divine skills? I am your opportunity.”

Among the lush trees, the flying broken leaves slowed down. The sword color was as bright as the rising sun, dyeing the morning light, brilliant as blooming flowers. The man recited loudly: “Like madness like forgetting, like the state of a game, like the source of all things, like a self-turning wheel—” The sword qi was like a dragon swimming. In a trance, Hua Jinian seemed to see the peerless swordsman who was extremely popular, the legend of traveling a thousand miles, the elegance frosted under the moon, like beautiful jade brushing away dust, becoming vivid again with this sword dance.

In his trance, he heard the murmur that Tianxiang once sighed in his ear: “The Fortress Master, he is truly a figure unparalleled in the world.”

Hua Jinian stood there, that sentence roaring in his ears. He was suddenly moved, his eyes a little dry, his heart beating like a drum, as if something bitter was stuck there, neither up nor down. He gradually smelled the fragrance of decadent flowers in his nose. Unknown what was led by the Golden Crow, passing through his chest with the calamitous fire of the whole sky. He could only stand, letting that thing hit his chest hard. First pain, then bitterness, then a subtle fragrance, rich as fine wine buried for dozens of reincarnations. Some obscure and implicit fragments wandered in his mind, the sound of waves and clouds extinguishing.

He pursed his lips and tried hard to open his eyes wide. Hua Qianjue finished this set of sword techniques, flourished a sword flower, and put the precious sword behind his back. He looked at the boy’s trembling hands, frowned, and asked somewhat strangely: “How was it? Did you see clearly?”

The boy stood there, looking up at Hua Qianjue’s face with a pale face, his eyes red, his breathing broken and trembling. Hua Qianjue thought the boy was simply in awe, and laughed low and evilly: “Without climbing Mount Tai, one cannot know its loftiness; without facing the abyss, one cannot know its breadth; without wading through rivers and seas, one cannot know their depth. If you are afraid…”

Hua Jinian woke up abruptly and retorted: “Who said that.” He snatched the long sword, and with the residual body temperature on the hilt, he gestured and learned move by move.

Hua Qianjue leaned against the tree, pointing out a few sentences from time to time. The boy didn’t say anything, but when practicing for the second time, he knew how to improve according to the words. The man watched boredly for a while like this, and waved his hand: “That’s it for today.”

Hua Jinian watched his turning back, the sword in his hand stiffened, and his body paused there. Flower shadows swayed around, branches and leaves were lush. The boy watched helplessly as the man was about to go far, and suddenly smiled bitterly: “Father… I, I was thinking just now, if there was a previous life, we must have met.”

Hua Qianjue paused, didn’t look back, his tone already annoyed: “Oh?” He responded. The boy’s eyes were melancholy and dim, and he said hoarsely: “But I always feel that even if we met in every life, Father… you didn’t remember me in any life.”

Hua Qianjue sneered: “Is that so? But in this life, you are my son after all. I even named you: ‘Once remembered flowers blooming but not the years’. It’s not easy to not remember.”

The boy was stunned and asked softly: “Do you think… it’s very ridiculous?”

Hua Qianjue paused, suddenly laughed loudly: “Don’t you think it’s ridiculous?” Hua Jinian watched the man laugh and walk away. In the distance, orioles sang and swallows chattered, singing and dancing were peaceful. Even the short silence in the small woods was awakened by murmurs and soft words. Suddenly he felt some moisture in his dry eyes. Hua Jinian tried hard to grip the sword, panted for a while, and practiced repeatedly.

The man walked far away before slowly stopping and looking back. His hearing was amazing, and he heard Hua Jinian’s almost inaudible choking. Hua Qianjue turned his head slightly. When the boy covered his face with both hands, his gaze was cast over leisurely. The evil and violence in his eyes faded, quiet as still water, the past leaving no trace.

He looked at the boy’s trembling shoulders, his gaze doubtful and indifferent.

Hua Qianjue saw that familiar beautiful face and suddenly remembered the boy’s mother, named Fang Hongyi. Like sung in the poem—‘Red clothes fade, the fragrant heart is bitter’… On her deathbed, her features were twisted. She didn’t look at the bloody baby drilling out of her body, but stared at him fixedly, grabbing his sleeve tightly like a vicious woman, and laughed hideously: “Look at you like this… Do you think anyone will like you? Who will like your look of ‘ambition lies elsewhere’ in bed… No one will like you!”

As she spoke, she suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood, then a second mouthful, a third mouthful… dyeing the entire bed red, still repeating the abuse, without a trace of the gentleness and calmness known to people on ordinary days: “Devil…” She said the last sentence of her life with a breath like a gossamer: “I don’t either…”

As she spoke, she swallowed that breath. Her eyes were still wide open, but the hand grabbing him loosened. Still a teenager, he chewed her words carefully, turned his head to look at the maid beside him, and asked softly: “Is my appearance not good?” The maid was too scared to speak. Hua Qianjue suddenly tried hard to curve the corners of his mouth, revealing the first smile. Unknown why, it carried a bit of evil spirit completely unlike him.

He smiled and pulled his sleeve out of Fang Hongyi’s hand. The previous indifferent and cold shadow could not be found at all. He laughed low and embraced the maid: “It’s not that I can’t smile, nor that I can’t enjoy myself fully. It’s just changing an appearance, what’s difficult about that?”

The maid trembled all over in fear. A frivolous and lazy smile appeared at the corner of Hua Qianjue’s mouth. The cold light in his eyes was the same as before, unchanged since ancient times, like stagnant water, unable to raise a ripple.

The past rushed by.

The concubines coming towards him had red clothes and emerald sleeves, soft and charming like colorful butterflies flying through flowers. They laughed charmingly: “Fortress Master…” Hua Qianjue turned his head and smiled, letting his hands be pulled by the women. He laughed along, his eyes cold and sharp, but the arc of his mouth was evil and affectionate.

While laughing and playing with the concubines, he couldn’t help but glance at the boy’s direction one more time. He didn’t know why his son was crying, just as he didn’t know all the joys and sorrows in this world. The skin bag was immersed in wine and sex, the heart was like a stone horse or stone ape. Countless flying flowers could not enter his eyes, only falling like mud after the flowering season. Such a person is either great wisdom or great evil.

—“You pick up a flower or leaf and want to kill someone a thousand miles away, but at this time your heart is already like dead wood, so who are you still killing?”