Four strokes past midnight, the moon is bright and stars are sparse.
Du Chengfeng, who had slept all day, sat up in bed fully refreshed, but he didn't rush to get up. Instead, he reflected on what he had seen while grinding his sword before.
It wasn't the extremely sharp sword moves honed by Cui Yuan, but rather Cui Yuan's actions themselves.
Du Chengfeng did not know who Cui Yuan's teacher was, but he found the method of education intriguing — after all, any ordinary person would slack off in their studies quickly after the teacher leaves if there is no one to supervise them. Yet Cui Yuan was completely different, enduring an enormous daily training of three thousand swords for fifteen years, showing perseverance that was truly commendable.
This had transcended mere sword practice; it was like treating oneself as a sword and training that way.
"Yes! That's it!"
In an instant, Du Chengfeng seized this fleeting inspiration.
This was it, the revelation he received during the day. Although Du Chengfeng didn't understand martial arts, he knew how to grind blades— to put it another way, if repeatedly pushing the blade on a whetstone is considered grinding the blade…
Could the act of swinging three thousand swords a day also be considered as grinding oneself?
Is it honing the physique or honing the will? Du Chengfeng couldn't distinguish for the time being, perhaps it's both.
But that wasn't important.
What matters is, this inspiration opened the door to a new world for Du Chengfeng's thinking.
"If a blade can be honed, then can a person be honed?"
With these thoughts, Du Chengfeng rolled out of bed and grabbed that Heavy Great Saber.
Under the moonlight, Du Chengfeng lifted the saber high before chopping downward.
This couldn't even be called a move; it was just a powerful chop. Back then, the original owner of this saber, Yang Fatty, chopped off countless pig heads in this manner.
"He must have made mistakes too."
As he was swinging the saber, Du Chengfeng remembered Yang Fatty's big face.
Even though Yang Fatty could already cut pig heads with one saber when they first met, Yang Fatty undoubtedly experienced painstaking practice prior to that.
Mistakes and adjustments happened repeatedly.
Time and again, memorizing the locations of bone joints, and correcting the sense of touch again and again.
What is truly correct? Yang Fatty may have been confused as well, just like Cui Yuan swinging three thousand swords daily. Were those three thousand swords all correct?
No, there were mistakes, confusion was present too. After all, those sword moves were just there, but whether one could execute them was another matter. But it's precisely because of this repeated grinding and correction that the jagged edges and dull points became sharp, and those most basic sword moves became keen, potent enough to kill.
Just like when Yang Fatty wielded this saber later on.
One swing, and the pig's head fell with a sound.
The blade walked between bone joints without chopping or cutting.
"Whew..."
Exhaling a breath of turbid air, the heavy blade glided past the wooden table nearby.
At this very moment, Du Chengfeng completed the first honing of himself.
Sheathing the saber, Du Chengfeng turned around, his steps light.
Meanwhile, the half-section wooden table behind him silently slid to the ground.
Emitting a dull thud.
Following the inspiration he had just grasped, Du Chengfeng walked uninterruptedly all the way to the warehouse.
This area is where a large heap of weapons is stored; part are the commonly used curved sabers by the Hu people, while another part is the prairie people's usual Bone Flower Warhammer — they call it a warhammer, but essentially, it's just a pointed iron spike striking head affixed onto a wooden stick, some even use bones without much care.
At once, Du Chengfeng was unsure of how to grind these Bone Flowers, as they have no edges or blades, just an iron head, making it impossible to treat with a Grinding Stone.
But looking back now, did he really need a Grinding Stone?
Just like when he was honing his body moments ago, did he truly need to rub the stone against himself?
No, obviously not.
When he swung the saber, that saber with the butcher's technique to dissect pigs was the Grinding Stone sharpening him.
Thus, is it required to use stone for grinding?
"Perhaps this may do."
With this thought, Du Chengfeng took out a piece of deer hide.
Soft deer skin often used for wiping blades; now Du Chengfeng crouched down, gently wiping the blood stains off the warhammer in his hand, feeling every ridge and dent, every bright and dark crack.
Every crack is a story's pattern.
With each wipe, Du Chengfeng seemingly witnessed a prairie warrior's life in warfare.
That poor prairie man couldn't afford blades requiring copious iron, merely securing some iron to fit onto a wooden stick, creating this cheapest weapon — yet no matter how coarse, it can smash bones and shatter skulls, sufficient to join the chiefs eastward campaigns, amassing some fortune.
But when this prairie warrior participated in several raids and finally afforded blades, he realized he was accustomed to his Bone Flower.
Sharp blades endure few scrapes before wearing out, yet the durable Bone Flower withstands countless smashes and remains unchanged. A commonly seen cheap warhammer, like every prairie warrior's life, those growing through cold winds fear no grind, as the weak ones have long perished in the gales.
Leaving behind only strength and resilience.
"We ought to possess everything!"
In the camp filled with prairie warriors, they raised their arms in fervor.
"We ought to possess everything!"
At the crowd's forefront, the man named He Xiqing shouted energetically.
"Why must we suffer! Why must we freeze! Why must our elders and children perish in the cold winds! Why must calamities always befall us! Why!"
"We should have food! We should have big houses! We should have warm lands! We should survive!"
"We should survive!"
The prairie warriors gazed at the man named He Xiqing, eyes filled with zeal.
And at this moment, the man named He Xiqing lowered his arms.
"Carry your weapons, hone your skills."
"What the heavens don't give, we will seize ourselves."
Accompanied by this order, the prairie warriors convened into their units, preparing to march southward in droves, towards the territories of the weak Chen people, employing their blades and those lives that the cold winds couldn't extinguish, to grasp all they desire from the timid Chen people.
And as the original owner of this warhammer, that prairie warrior was enlisted into He Xixuan's team, finding it quite thrilling, knowing He Xixuan is He Xiqing's brother, to train here signified high chances of being selected into He Xiqing's personal guard, becoming an eagle soaring under the azure sky.
Yet what this prairie warrior didn't expect was He Xixuan, as strong as a snow bear, was decapitated in a clash.
Right then, Du Chengfeng saw his own face in this memory.