CG Chapter 194: Carefree Dost Thou Not Feel
Far from the moon-reflecting lake of the Li Clan and the schemes of Aretius and his subordinates. In a small, shabby house, the soul-soothing sound of a playing pipa resonated through the surroundings.
A single lonely man played a handcrafted wooden pipa as he sang to himself. The words coming out of his mouth were anything but sorrowful, yet through that gloom and decay there seemed to be a sign of rising hope for a better tomorrow.
"The sun rises from above, and the boy walks the long road,
Walk boy, walk my boy, run boy, run my boy.
The moon goes down, and the man stops in the long road,
Stop man, stop stranger, halt man, halt stranger.
The sky screams, and the people cry, the people cry,
Dead man, dead man has sung his goodbyes.
Old Meng, oh old Meng, where is the soup?
Old Meng, dead man is walking, old Meng."
Although the man's hand effortlessly plucked through the pipa's strings, a clear, heavy sense of bittersweet melancholy was carried with every word.
The gloomy feeling, however, was broken by the sudden sound of the house's door being pushed open.
From the gate stepped an inky-skinned boy, whose skin was darker than the blackest of stones, as if it had been burned to a crisp. His body was covered in cracks as if it were a porcelain pot that was about to shatter at any moment. Yet, this same boy entered the house with a wide, oblivious smile covering his face.
This boy was none other than the castaway son of the Fang Clan, Xiao Huo, while the man who was skillfully playing the pipa was his new master, Deadman.
Through the efforts and care of Deadman, Xiao Huo's sunken cheeks had now become full, nearly becoming plump with healthy fat.
His ragged short hair had grown to normal length, and even his clothes had now been replaced with some new ones. Although not comparable to what the noble clans' descendants wore, they were still a great transformation from his previous self. More importantly, the cracks filling his skin finally began to quieten down ever so slightly after so long.
The man's gaze wavered when he saw the boy, before speaking in a mild voice, "Huo'er, didn't I clearly tell you that you should knock three times before entering anyone's home? People of the Jianghu don't take kindly to being jumped on."
The man's words, although stern, carried clear signs of care. During the time the two stayed together, Deadman unexpectedly seemed to develop a deep care for the boy.
It might have been due to his lonely heart or merely because he did not have any reason to withhold his emotions any longer, but the restrained Deadman seemed to have transformed ever so slightly.
With one pushing and one not holding back, the days of the duo were filled with simple joy and unadorned bliss.
"But..." Xiao Huo wanted to explain, but his gaze could not help but fall on the wooden stick beside his master.
He recalled the beating he had received and stopped before saying anything. "I am sorry. I allowed my excitement to overtake me. But I came in to inform you of a really important matter."
Although Xiao Huo was afraid of receiving another beating from the stick, he was even more afraid to disappoint his master.
This master had given him his everything, the name he carried with pride, the food that filled his hunger, and, more importantly, the sense of finally having a reliable backing.
To Xiao Huo, who was a stray, a nobody, his biggest heartache was feeling as if he were abandoned by both heaven and man, as if he were cut from a rotten tree no one wanted to touch.
What was even more absurd was that the thing that made even the other outcasts look down upon him was not anything he could control, but this skin of his.
Meanwhile, as Deadman heard the words of Xiao Huo, his expression turned serious as he allowed the pipa to rest on the table next to him.
He said in a collected voice, "Speak. If it is as you speak, then I will let you off the hook this time. But if..."
Deadman did not state the final punishment, but his stony gaze toward the stick was all clear to Xiao Huo.
Toward this, Xiao Huo did not hesitate to quickly explain himself. "I have finally mastered the fourth form of the Broken-Blade Dance. I remember you promised you would give me a real sword once I had mastered it..."
Xiao Huo's final words came with a prideful tone, his chest rising high. His gaze was locked on Deadman as he kept that broad smile on his face.
However, Xiao Huo was not able to sense the slight flicker of surprise in Deadman's eyes, as Deadman tried to maintain his natural expression.
"Not bad. I would need to confirm your form. Come with me." Deadman maintained his monotone voice as he said.
He said that before standing, leaving the pipa behind and carrying only two swords on his waist.
The steps of the two echoed against each other as Deadman stood outside, ordering Xiao Huo to show him his form. "You will only have one chance; if you fail in the slightest movement, well, I do not need to say it."
These words would have made any other youth feel that they were not fair, but the concept of the Jianghu had been drilled into Xiao Huo's mind. In the Jianghu, your enemies would not give you even the slightest chance, so he needed to train as if his life were on the line, because it would most likely be.
Xiao Huo held the wooden training sword effortlessly. He stabilized his breathing; a sense of calmness and tranquility washed over his soul. In that moment, everything around him disappeared; the village did not exist, his master was not there, and no one else was watching.
He was not proving himself to anyone, but merely holding his companion alone on top of a calm lake.
Keeping his eyes closed, Xiao Huo started to truly dance. The steps of his feet followed one another, and his sword faced the pole star while his body faced south; a shining, rich purple light began to radiate from his humble sword as it sliced through the air, leaving behind beautiful crescents.
If any of the Jixing villagers had been there to watch, then they would have believed that two immortals were there in that lowly house and not just one. Their hair would probably have turned white from fear as they remembered what they had done to this esteemed immortal who had come to visit.
Yet none of that mattered to Deadman, who watched Xiao Huo's technique with care; his surprise quickly turned into a smile before returning to his expressionless state.
He did not clap, nor did he compliment, merely saying, "Not bad. The fourth form is not that difficult, but your grasping this quickly proves your hard work."
He said that as he left behind the sword on the ground, turning his back. "You can now practice with a real sword... Don't forget to get some rest once you're done."
Xiao Huo opened his eyes as they flickered to the sword with joy, before watching the back of that man walk into the house.
A deep sense of happiness filled his small heart, and it was unknown if that feeling stemmed from finally being given a genuine sword or the seemingly indifferent yet caring words he had just received.
These words, however, only kept him in his place for a bit as he ran toward the sword, joyfully swinging it around as if he were a child who had gotten his hands on a new toy.