Chapter 104: The Sound of a Lonely Sword

Chen slowly, carefully, set down the erhu. His fingers were trembling.

This wasn’t the lingering vibration of a musician lost in their craft, but the aftershock of something far more deep. For a fleeting, terrifying moment, he felt as if he had truly become Jingliu, his own consciousness submerged as he personally touched the raw, bleeding edges of a millennium of pain, glory, madness, and obsession.

The emotional echoes left behind in this borrowed form were far stronger, far more dangerous, than he had ever imagined.

Silence reigned by the stone bench, broken only by the soft rustle of wind through the leaves of the ancient tree overhead.

Yanqing remained quiet for a long, long time. He kept his head bowed, his small hands twisting the hem of his uniform, his pale gold ponytail hanging limp and still.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally lifted his head. His eyes, when they met Chen’s, were tinged with red.

“Sister…” His voice was husky, catching in his throat. “What… what was that song you were playing?”

He swallowed, struggling to find the words. “I… I feel like I heard a story. A very, very long and sad story… There was so much loss, so much pain… and… and…”

He hesitated, his gaze uncertain, before finally asking the question that weighed on him, his voice barely a whisper. “Sister, do you… do you know the person in the story? Or… is this your story?”

His eyes were fixed on the black cloth covering Chen’s face, as if trying to pierce the veil and see the truth beneath. As a disciple personally taught by Jing Yuan and one of the Luofu’s most prodigious young swordsmen, Yanqing’s intuition and perception were far sharper than his youthful appearance suggested. The emotions woven into that melody had been terrifyingly, viscerally real. They could not have been fabricated.

Chen hadn’t expected the boy to grasp so much, let alone draw such a direct and accurate conclusion.

‘This kid…’he thought, a new respect dawning.’He really can’t be underestimated.’

He remained silent for a beat, neither confirming nor denying the question. Instead, he gently placed the erhu across his lap, his voice, when he spoke, having regained its customary icy calm.

“The sound of the strings is like water, reflecting the past,” she said, the words cool and enigmatic. “If the listener’s heart is open, they will naturally see what is meant to be seen. Little brother, thank you for staying with me until the end.”

With that, she rose to her feet, methodically pushing the tempest of emotions stirred by the performance back down, locking them away beneath a shell of frost.

“It is getting late. I should be going. Thank you again for your help… and for this gift.”

Yanqing scrambled to his feet as well. He didn’t press for more answers, merely watching the slender, silver-haired woman’s back as she picked up the erhu and turned to leave.

Just as she took a step, he called out suddenly.

“Sister, your sword…” He paused, his voice filled with a genuine, aching sympathy. “It’s very lonely. And it hurts.”

He seemed to want to say something more—something comforting, something encouraging—but in the face of a story so vast and heavy, he sensed that any words he could offer would be pale and insignificant. He settled for a quiet, earnest whisper.

“Please… take care.”

Chen’s stride faltered for a fraction of a second. He didn’t look back, offering only a soft, noncommittal, “Mm.”

His figure soon melted into the winding streets and alleys of the Luofu, vanishing as if he had never been there at all.

Yanqing stood frozen in place, gazing in the direction she had disappeared, unmoving for a long time.

That sister… who was she, really?

And the sword in her music… why did it feel so foreign, and yet… somehow, a little familiar? It was as if he had sensed a similar aura, a similar chilling intent, somewhere before… He shook his head, trying to clear the chaotic thoughts.

No matter who that mysterious blind sister was, the sorrow and obsession she carried were undeniably real.

Yanqing clenched his small fists, a determined light—the unwavering resolve of a Cloud Knight Lieutenant—reigniting in his eyes.

“I have to become stronger,” he whispered to the empty street. “Strong enough to protect the Luofu. Strong enough… that maybe one day, I can understand that kind of sadness, and maybe even heal that kind of pain.”

Meanwhile, Chen was walking as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Only after turning into a deserted, narrow alley and confirming with a frantic glance that he was absolutely alone did he finally stop. He sagged against the cold wall, a long, shuddering breath escaping his lips.

That performance had been far more than just playing a song.

For those few minutes, he had been dragged into the churning river of Jingliu’s memories—a millennium-long torrent of frost and blood, of glory and madness. The extremes of grief, loss, hatred, and obsession had swept through him like the most piercing, soul-deep winter wind, battering his own consciousness.

That final, terrifying descent into the bloodlust and insanity of the Mara-Struck… even experiencing it secondhand, a mere echo through music and memory, had left waves of chilling fear and palpitations washing over him.

“Holy crap…” Chen muttered, raising a hand and pressing his knuckles hard against his forehead. “Why do my temples feel… swollen?”

The thought had barely formed when it collided with the phantom whispers of the Mara he had just felt. A horrifying possibility struck him like a bolt of lightning.

‘Don’t tell me… I’m actually becoming Mara-Struck?!’

Was it because he had immersed himself too deeply in the role, accidentally triggering the latent condition in Jingliu’s body? Or was this some twisted side effect of this crappy system’s transformation?!

He didn’t waste another second. Survival first, questions later.

Refresh status!

A cascade of light flowed over his body. The flowing, silvery-white hair retracted, and the martial attire dissolved, replaced by his own familiar clothes. The tall, imposing figure of the swordmaster shrank back into Chen’s original form.

Instantly, the oppressive, lonely Sword Intent and the faint, frantic agitation that had clung to him like a shroud vanished without a trace.

Chen, back in his own body, took a deep, steadying breath. He felt… normal.

“Scared the crap out of me…” he muttered, the fear still lingering. “Boss Jingliu’s state is way too dangerous. I almost got dragged down with her… This five-star icon might be unlocked, but I’ll have to be damn careful with this transformation in the future. No more getting lost in the role… especially when it involves high-risk states like being Mara-Struck.”

Having narrowly avoided a mental catastrophe, his thoughts drifted back to the alley entrance. He pictured Yanqing’s small face, his eyes red from listening, yet still trying his best to show concern. A complex mix of emotions stirred in his chest.

“Sigh, I originally wanted to tease the little guy a bit more…” Chen scratched his head, a pang of genuine regret hitting him. “What a good kid. So warm-hearted and loyal he even bought me an erhu…”

He felt a bit guilty. “Too bad my condition went south. I almost performed a ‘Mara-Struck Debut’ right on the spot. It would be a cardinal sin to scare a kid like that.”

He glanced in the direction Yanqing had been standing. Though the boy was long gone, Chen could almost still see that pale gold high ponytail bobbing in the distance.

“Forget it. I’ll repay the favor when I get the chance.”

A sly grin spread across Chen’s face.

“Little Yanqing, oh, little Yanqing… for the sake of you taking such good care of the blind sister today… when you get bullied by that unreliable Grandmaster of yours, or when you run into some obstacle you can’t overcome… Captain Hook—no, Big Brother Chen will definitely find a way to back you up!”

Having successfully set a slightly cringey, heroic flag for himself, Chen felt much better. He brushed non-existent dust from his clothes and straightened his shoulders, his usual energy returning.

“Alright then,” he declared to the empty alley. “Status refreshed. Time to get back to business.”

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]