Chapter Thirteen: The Nameless Broken Sword

“No matter, it seems Young Master Xu’s ambitions lie elsewhere.” Miss Rong was remarkably magnanimous and did not take offense.

She held Xu Feng in high regard. Even if he could not join the Tianxiang Pavilion and become one of their own, he must not become their enemy.

She did wonder why, given his impressive abilities, Xu Feng would willingly become a live-in son-in-law, but respecting privacy, she did not inquire further.

“Young Master Xu, please follow me. I will take you to select a suitable weapon right away. Could you tell me in advance what type of weapon you usually favor? It will make the search easier. The Tianxiang Pavilion’s Armory is famed throughout the land—it houses all eighteen kinds of weapons. I am certain we can find one to satisfy you.”

Xu Feng did not answer immediately. He needed to consider carefully. Among the souls he had absorbed, the sword was the weapon used most often.

Besides, he had inherited part of the Swordwind Mountain legacy; no matter what, a fine sword was indispensable.

“Miss Rong, I believe I need a fine sword.”

“That’s simple. The Armory is never short of renowned swords. Please, come with me.”

Miss Rong personally led Xu Feng to the Armory.

The maids accompanying her were all astonished. Having served Miss Rong for many years, none knew her character better. Until now, no peer of Xu Feng’s age had ever received such attention from her—not even Zuo Jincheng, the young master of Swordwind Mountain.

The Armory spanned five floors, all filled with divine and exquisite weapons. As Miss Rong said, all varieties of arms—swords, spears, halberds, and more—were available. There was nothing here one could not find.

Only the unparalleled strength of the Tianxiang Pavilion’s matron prevented others from coveting the Armory; otherwise, it would have long since been plundered.

“Young Master Xu, feel free to browse any weapon you desire. Anything you choose, you may take with you,” Miss Rong said generously, waving a hand.

Xu Feng paced the first floor but found no weapon truly satisfying. Some were too light; others too ostentatious. He preferred something understated.

“May I look on other floors?”

“Of course. Aside from the top floor, you may roam freely. Please, follow me.”

The second floor held fewer weapons, but their quality was no less impressive. These were relics left behind by famed heroes of the martial world.

In other words, their previous owners were renowned chivalrous figures known far and wide.

Xu Feng circled the second floor and quickly fixed his gaze on a longsword. Unfortunately, when drawn, the blade was broken.

The cut was clean, as if deliberately split in two.

As Xu Feng showed interest, Miss Rong approached to explain.

“This sword once held great renown. Its owner wrought havoc across the martial world. Sadly, during a siege, he fell from a cliff, and the sword was severed in two.”

“You may take it if you wish, but repairing it will be troublesome.”

The broken piece lay within the scabbard. Xu Feng assembled the parts and examined the sword closely. Though unassuming in appearance, a sharp edge seemed to radiate from the blade.

He even detected a faint metallic scent tinged with blood.

This confirmed Miss Rong’s words: the sword had witnessed countless fierce battles.

Most importantly, as Xu Feng neared the blade, he distinctly felt a heartbeat-like resonance—a phenomenon martial artists call ‘sympathy.’

A weapon carried closely over time forms a tacit bond with its master.

Such a bond usually requires long cultivation, but to resonate immediately upon contact indicated exceptional affinity between Xu Feng and the sword.

Such a rare opportunity must not be missed.

“Thank you, Miss Rong, for your explanation. I will take this sword. I feel it suits me perfectly.”

“Congratulations, Young Master Xu. I hope it regains its former glory in your hands. I look forward to hearing your name resound throughout the martial world one day.”

“Thank you for your kind words.”

Miss Rong’s admiration deepened. To her, Xu Feng was calm and patient, not greedy. Though he could have chosen the most valuable weapon, he selected only the one fitting himself, resisting all temptation. Such a man was destined to rise in fame.

“Do you have a way to repair the broken sword? I know someone who might help. However, his temperament is peculiar. If you want him to assist, you will have to figure it out yourself.”

“I’m eager to hear more.”

Xu Feng was aware he lacked connections among martial folk. His network paled in comparison to Tianxiang Pavilion’s. Miss Rong’s willingness to help was as if he owed the Pavilion a favor.

“This person is a famous swordsmith in the martial world but has not worked in many years. If he agrees to repair the sword, its power will surely surpass its former glory.”

Following the address Miss Rong gave, Xu Feng found a forge at the foot of a mountain outside the city.

He approached eagerly but was stopped outside by a burly man before he could enter.

“No idlers allowed.”

“Excuse me, is this Master Yan’s forge? I’m looking for him to repair a sword.”

Logically, Xu Feng should have come to the right place.

“Who are you, a reckless youth? Don’t you know our master’s rules? He hasn’t worked in over ten years. Go try elsewhere; don’t waste your time here.”

“Perhaps others cannot fix this sword. Young sir, what would make Master Yan agree to help?”

Xu Feng was unwilling to waste such a chance. Having obtained a fine sword, leaving it to gather dust would be a pity.

Fortunately, there was at least one possibility.

“There’s a fragment of a poem over there. If you can complete it, I’ll ask Master to make an exception. This is your only chance.”

No wonder Miss Rong sent Xu Feng here despite Master Yan’s long silence. It was not to make things difficult but because there was a chance.

When it came to poetry, few could match Xu Feng.

“One foot of crimson clouds veiled in dust,
Old things born of nature outshine the new.
The peach pit of Hehuan ends in regret,
Beneath the surface hides a different truth.
A lamp lit deep in the well burns bright,
Together with you, my journey is long—no chess tonight.”

Only the last line was incomplete, with many erased marks nearby. Clearly, many had tried but none succeeded.

Xu Feng murmured thoughtfully, then took up his brush and completed the final couplet.

He knocked on the door again.

“You’re a fool, I told you the conditions. If you lack the skill, leave now and don’t waste our time.”

“I have completed it. Come take a look.”

The burly man was surprised and skeptical but came to the board.

“Delicate dice hold red beans,
Intense longing deep to the bone—do you know?”