Joy of Life

It was already late at night. Fan Xian stood alone by the side of the sword pit, looking in a daze at the densely packed swords in the pit, which stood like wheat, as well as like the tips of trees pointing into the sky. Where he stood just happened to be where Thirteenth Wang had stood earlier. When he had been having his last conversation with Sigu Jian, he could faintly hear Thirteenth Wang’s soundless cries. Although seemingly soundless, they actually had some sound.

At that time, there had been no one in the depths of the Sword Hut. The matters Sigu Jian and Fan Xian discussed had been too important. Even the sword boy had been sent far away, leaving behind only Thirteenth Wang to stand guard outside. Fan Xian understood Sigu Jian was doing this to express his attitude. He trusted his last disciple, and Fan Xian also trusted Thirteenth Wang. The future of Dongyi would depend on the cooperation between Thirteenth Wang and Fan Xian. Sigu Jian also wanted Thirteenth Wang to learn other things from their conversation. Fan Xian also hoped that Thirteenth Wang would understand something different from the martial method of the Tyrannical Way he recited.

It was a silent collaboration of great mutual and tacit understanding. However, Thirteenth Wang had been sunk in a gloomy state and could not extricate himself. Who knew how much he actually heard and understood?

The disciples of the Sword Hut filed in silently. Fan Xian would not go in again. He was not so arrogant as to think that Sigu Jian would actually consider him the most important and intimate young man in the world just because of his mother’s connection and their few meetings. He would not want to be with a Qing official right before his death.

Before the Great Grandmaster died, he wanted to be with his thirteenth disciple, who he had raised alone.

Sigu Jian should be giving instructions for the future. Many of these things involved Fan Xian. Or, it could be said to be matters with which Dongyi had to cooperate with Fan Xian. It was inappropriate for Fan Xian to eavesdrop, so he sighed and headed toward the outside of the Sword Hut.

He didn’t know if Sigu Jian’s posthumous orders would be able to suppress Yun Zhilan’s backlash. Fan Xian also didn’t have any way to check this.

Walking out the door of the Sword Hut, the subordinates of the Overwatch Council, as well as the officials of the Dongyi’s Ministry of Rites all, came forward to greet him. Each had a different heavy expression. Fan Xian shook his head and headed toward the residence on the mountain accompanied by everyone.

What was he waiting for? For the fall of a powerful person? For a Great Grandmaster to leave this world? For a shooting star to sweep across the sky? Fan Xian sat on the chair with his chin in his hand, quietly in thought. Around the Sword Hut, the chirruping of insects gradually rose accompanied by the croaking of frogs. There was a clean breeze and bright moon. The distant sea breeze was slightly wet and salty, blurring the shadow of the moon.

He was sitting in a garden in the residence by the precipice. Separated by a stone door, he looked at the grass hut structure not far from his foot. He allowed the moonlight to shine as it wished on his body. It added a sense of coldness inappropriate for the time. The faint light in the depths of the grass hut continued to shine as if it would burn forever. The almost dead Sigu Jian should be giving his last instructions to his disciples. Who knew what kind of conflict and unusual things were happening inside the Sword Hut at this time?

The thirteen disciples of the Sword Hut all worshipped Sigu Jian from the depths of their heart. Presumably, no one would disrespect their teacher. But, what about Yun Zhilan?

Fan Xian narrowed his eyes and looked at the faint light deep in the grass. Suddenly, he raised his head to glance at the moonlight. He looked at the moon, which drew a long track through the sky. Only now did he realize that he had already sat quietly for a number of hours in the mountain residence. The night had passed the point of no return.

When he turned his head back, he saw a shadow in the flowerbeds in the mountain residence at the waist of the mountain. The wind moved the petals. A shadow followed the angle of the moonlight and quietly came to Fan Xian’s side.

Fan Xian quietly asked, “Are you recovered? Why did you come here instead of staying in Jiangnan?”

The Shadow stood in the shadow of the stone door. His eyes gazed calmly at the grass hut at the foot of the mountain. “No one knows I came back.”

Fan Xian had been worried that the Emperor would develop a suspicion and killing intent toward Chen Pingping because of the relationship between the Shadow and Sigu Jian. Thus, he had forcibly sent the Shadow back to Jiangnan. He had not expected for him to suddenly appear in Dongyi. Without needing to think much, Fan Xian knew why the Shadow had come. With a sigh, he said, “Do you still hate him?”

The Shadow was silent for a moment and then said, “Yes. But when my sword entered his chest, I released a lot of my fate.”

“There are still some things I don’t understand,” the Shadow said as he looked at the faint light from the grass hut. “Even if father treated him lightly, mother treated him harshly and everyone in the manor humiliated him, in the end, they were his family. Why did he want to kill all of them? What about me? I was the only one in the manor who saw him as an elder brother. Why would he want to kill even me?”

Fan Xian gazed at him and said, “But you’re alive, are you not?”

The Shadow’s body shook slightly. It was clear that his injury had not completely healed. The injury in his body made it so that his state of mind was not as valiant as when he was fully recovered.

“He is about to die.”

“All people must die,” Fan Xian said as he sat down below the stone door and gently patted the rough stone surface. “It is already very shocking for your brother to have survived this long.”

…

…

The light in the depths of the Sword Hut was dim. It was as if it could be extinguished at any moment. The thin and weak Sigu Jian had sat up from under the blankets, washed his face, and tidied his hair. A mighty expression that no one dared to look at rose to his face.

The first disciple of the Sword Hut, Yun Zhilan, held his teacher’s arm and helped him sit up properly on the bed. Thirteenth Wang took the basin of water out of the room and tossed the dirty water into the holy ground of the sword pit. He then returned to the room and helped his brother support their teacher. Of the 13 disciples of the Sword Hut, other than Sigu Jian’s first and last disciples at his side, the other 11 disciples all knelt in front of the bed. Their expressions were sorrowful. Some had traces of wetness at the corners of their eyes.

Sigu Jian glanced at Third and Fourth with a clear and cold gaze. He did not specifically delegate that matter to them. Quietly, he asked, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

The disciples of the sword hut kowtowed and replied, “We will obey teacher’s orders.”

The future of the Dongyi matter was decided. Although the disciples of the Sword Hut had long guessed their teacher’s intentions from what happened these few months, none of them had expected the teacher to place such a large gamble on Fan Xian and to offer him such full support.

However, the disciples’ hearts were filled with confusion, sorrow, and terror. No one dared to raise any opposing suggestions in front of their teacher. Even Yun Zhilan maintained his silence.

Sigu Jian’s words were slower and slower as the expression on his face grew lighter and lighter. More and more, he looked at the uninjured Great Grandmaster, whose joys and anger were all exposed to the world. Yun Zhilan supported his teacher to one side. His heart was completely empty. He knew that this was a dying flash. A difficult-to-suppress sense of sorrow began to well up in the room.

Thirteenth Wang was unusually calm right. Perhaps he had cried enough earlier.

“What time is it?” Sigu Jian took two deep breaths and asked in a quiet and raspy voice.

“It’s almost daybreak,” Yun Zhilan replied in a respectful and gentle voice. The sending of posthumous messages in Dongyi has taken the entire night. Who knows what back-ups Sigu Jian planned after proffering Dongyi with both hands?

“Whatever you do, once you have made up your mind to do it, you have to do it to the extreme, like the future of the Sword Hut. Since I have chosen him, you must give him all possible help. Since it is a giant gamble, then we must put all our capital on it. Any time there is self-reflection, Dongyi suffers a great pain. Do you understand?”

Sigu Jian sat on the bed. His gaze slowly swept across the disciples on the ground and finally landed on Yun Zhilan’s face.

Yun Zhilan was silent for a long time. He then nodded his head.

Sigu Jian gave a rare smile. He understood his first disciple too well. As long as it was something he promised to do, he would certainly carry it out.

“Help me up the mountain to have a look. The sun is about to rise, I want to have a look.” Suddenly, an inauspicious rasping sound came from Sigu Jian’s chest. It sounded like the spring in the underworld below the yellow earth was calling out. The Great Grandmaster’s face also began to turn a strange white color.

Yun Zhilan’s heart jumped. He held tight to his teacher’s withered arm. On the other side, Thirteenth Wang also held onto Sigu Jian’s withered arm. The two brothers met each other’s gaze and carefully helped Sigu Jian off the bed.

The second disciple kneeling closest to the bed moved forward on his knees and quickly held onto Sigu Jian’s feet. He helped him put on his slightly tattered grass shoes. However, Sigu Jian had been bedridden for more than a month, and the poison and injury had both exploded. His two feet had long swelled up. Stuffed into the shoes, one could see where the ties on the shoes cut into the swollen feet.

It seemed Sigu Jian did not feel anything. He only gave a comfortable sigh. The second disciple knew that his teacher’s feet no longer had any feeling. He gently stroked the feet. His tears fell onto the stone floor in front of the bed.

…

…

The crescent moon was like a hook, almost hidden at the grey horizon. The sky above Dongyi was mostly black with deep blue. Only the east side showed a sliver of white. Having sat all night outside the stone door, Fan Xian was tired. He rubbed his temples to stop himself from falling asleep. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and abruptly stood up. He watched as the light inside the grass hut suddenly extinguished. He knew that the future matters of Dongyi had been delegated. Immediately after, he saw something that remained deeply etched into his heart even decades into the future.

In the distance, a small hemp-wearing Sigu Jian left the grass hut and followed the mountain path by the hut under with Yun Zhilan and Thirteenth Wang’s support and the protection of all the disciples. With great difficulty, silence, and even solemnness, they headed toward the mountain behind the Sword Hut.

The Shadow stood behind Fan Xian and also saw this sight. He was silent and did not speak.

Faintly, it seemed they saw Sigu Jian, at the end of this life, glance back as he made his way up the mountain supported by his disciples. His glance landed at the stone gate of the mountain residence. No one knew if he was looking at Fan Xian, to whom he had entrusted the future of Dongyi, or his younger brother, the Shadow, in the childhood memories in Dongyi.

Fan Xian and the Shadow stood silently at the mountain gate and watched the forward procession of the group. The two of them stood pin-straight, perhaps to indicate their respect to the Great Grandmaster. A send-off needed to be standing with eyes straight ahead and without any other miscellaneous emotions.

The Great Grandmaster’s body was small and weak. It almost disappeared between Yun Zhilan and Thirteenth Wang’s support. The hemp-clothing on his body fluttered in the morning wind. His grass-shoe clad feet did not even touch the ground.

The mountain behind the grass hut was not tall. Although a whole mountain away from where Fan Xian and the Shadow stood, it was not very distant. In just a bit, the people of the Sword Hut had climbed to the summit.

The rising sun above the East Sea had leapt above the horizon line and was climbing up.

Fan Xian narrowed his eyes. He watched to see the first ray of light in the world pass through the surface of the sea, the private residences of Dongyi, the air of the mortal world, the gaps between the trees to shine on the small mountain behind the grass hut, and onto the bodies of the disciples of the Sword Hut face of the thin Great Grandmaster at the front.

A faint layer of golden light immediately rose to the Great Grandmasters’ face. Although he was at the end of his life and his body was small and weak, it suddenly rose above all life. This was not the power of sword intent. It was just the sensation of his existence.

Fan Xian gazed at the summit of the mountain. Amongst all the people, he could only see him.

…

…

Sigu Jian stood calmly by the precipice of the small mountain and allowed the slightly warm and familiar sunlight to strike him from across the ocean. He narrowed his eyes slightly and breathed in the Dongyi air. He was silent. No one knew what he was thinking. Perhaps in the moments before his death, the history that passed and everything that had happened began a picture in the sea of the Great Grandmaster’s mind. Accompanied by the golden light of the rising sun, the pictures changed endlessly in front of his eyes.

Ants beneath a tree, a friend covered in black cloth, younger brother, rain, dead people, burning manor, sword, sword pit, rotten cloth and trash in the pit, disciple, disciple, more disciples, more swords, large sword, sky sword, one sword to challenge the world, one sword to protect a city, unbroken wall, unbroken sword… But, the person was going to die.

Sigu Jian blinked his spiritless eyes and banished the illusions brought by the rising sun. He wanted to stand a bit taller and see a bit further, to see true things. However, there was no strength in his feet, and his gaze was somewhat blurry.

Yun Zhilan and Thirteenth Wang sensed their teacher’s thoughts and quickly held him up a bit.

Sigu Jian suddenly felt that his gaze had cleared. He saw the Dongyi he had protected for decades, the rising smoke from inside the city, busy merchants laying out their ways for the morning market, invisible flow of wealth and gold through the market, and joyful expressions on those people’s faces.

In the moment before his death, he suddenly realized that he didn’t actually want to see these things. He turned his head slightly and saw the grass hut he had lived in for years. Many years ago, the faint yellow grass hut had actually been a broken straw room. He had lived there for a long time, killed many people, and taught many people. He was proud.

Finally, Sigu Jian saw the large tree outside Dongyi. Under the rising sun, this tree, which had experienced countless storms from the East Sea, continued to grow wildly. It protected the pedestrians, travelers, merchants, and common people who passed underneath. It was truly a massive tree.