novelraw Chapter 43 : Chapter 43
Chapter 43 : Chapter 43
Chapter 43: The Unsharpened Blade
Taiping Clinic had always been a haven of peace on Anxi Street. Merchants came and went, seasons turned from spring to autumn, winter solstice to summer solstice, yet the clinic stood steadfast, a comforting presence.
But suddenly, Taiping Clinic grew lively.
The Heir and Princess climbed over its walls, Liang Gou’er and Liang Mao’er took shelter here, and laughter, kitchen fires, and a steady stream of martial world visitors filled the air…
I stood outside, looking at Old Man Yao with a complex expression: “Master, you let them stay so he’d teach me saber skills?”
Old Man Yao stood at the door, hands behind his back, saying lightly: “The Liang Family’s saber path is unmatched in Yuzhou. Many have skills in this world, but few seek the path. Learn well.”
I asked curiously: “What’s the difference between skill and path?”
Old Man Yao answered slowly: “The path is an intangible direction; skill is the road beneath your feet. Remember, guide skill with the path, and skill will succeed; guide the path with skill, and skill will falter.”
“Then why have me learn saber skills first?”
“Start learning. How to transition from saber skill to saber path is the Liang Family’s secret, not passed to outsiders. But the Liang Family has no heirs now; their art might vanish. If Liang Gou’er takes a liking to you, he might pass it on… Oh, you’ve earned some money lately. Cover the food for those two Liang brothers.”
I grew wary: “You’re eyeing my few coins?”
Old Man Yao: “I am.”
Me: “…”
At that moment, Liang Mao’er’s voice came from the courtyard: “Excuse me… where do we sleep?”
I hurried inside: “Sleep in the apprentice dormitory. Our shared bed fits five.”
Liang Mao’er quickly said: “No, no, five’s too cramped. My brother can sleep here; I’ll take the kitchen.”
I smiled: “It’s fine. A bit of a squeeze won’t hurt. Winter’s coming; the kitchen would freeze you.”
“Alright…”
Liang Gou’er was already snoring. Liang Mao’er gently placed him on the bed, removing his shoes and socks.
But after settling his brother, Liang Mao’er didn’t sleep. He turned to me cautiously: “Um… I can help with chores—cleaning, cooking, laundry, anything. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
Before I could respond, Liang Mao’er grabbed a wooden basin, gathered the dirty clothes and socks from the dormitory, fetched some wood ash from under the kitchen stove, and squatted in the courtyard with a few scoops of water to scrub, as if fearing the clinic would change its mind and turn them away.
Wood ash and soapberry were this era’s natural detergents. Wealthier households might add mint, scutellaria, or lotus leaves for a faint fragrance after washing.
Liang Mao’er, chubby and struggling to squat, prompted me to fetch a small chair: “Sit while you wash.”
Liang Mao’er looked up, smiling: “Thanks… Sorry for the trouble.”
I studied him. Without Liang Gou’er nearby, Liang Mao’er didn’t seem like a martial world figure at all—more like a diligent worker at some diner.
“You two really out of money?” I asked, puzzled.
“I secretly saved a bit, but I can’t let my brother know,” Liang Mao’er grinned honestly: “I plan to save enough to buy a few acres in Luocheng’s countryside. That way, even if my brother stops working for the wealthy, we’ll get by.”
“That won’t cover your brother’s drinking.”
“We’ll figure it out…”
After Liang Mao’er washed all of Liu Quxing and She Dakang’s accumulated clothes, his stomach rumbled loudly.
Liang Mao’er looked embarrassed: “Um… Is there food in the clinic? Anything’s fine; I’m not picky.”
I brought him a large bowl of leftover cornmeal porridge from last night, a dish of pickled vegetables, and four coarse-grain pancakes.
Liang Mao’er devoured it all, wiped his mouth, and looked at me silently.
I took a deep breath and fetched four more pancakes and another dish of pickles…
When he finished, I said faintly: “Your brother better teach me saber skills soon.”
“Huh? So urgent?” Liang Mao’er paused.
I said earnestly: “If he doesn’t start teaching, I might change my mind…”
Liang Mao’er hurriedly asked: “Have you practiced saber before?”
“Never.”
Liang Mao’er thought for a moment: “Then I can teach you the basics. I know them all.”
He stood, his chubby frame waving a few clumsy moves: “When my dad taught my brother saber, he had me learn too, but I’ve got no talent and couldn’t master it.”
I watched his awkward moves, raised an eyebrow, and changed the subject: “Was your brother always like this?”
“No,” Liang Mao’er said quickly: “He didn’t drink or visit those pleasure houses before. Back then, he was Yuzhou’s top saber master. One man, one blade, he wiped out bandits from three mountains. Martial world folks visiting Luocheng had to pay respects to him first.”
Liang Mao’er’s eyes glowed with nostalgia and admiration as he spoke of his brother’s past glory.
I asked curiously: “What happened later?”
Liang Mao’er’s tone sank: “Then my sister-in-law appeared. She was beautiful, gentle, good to my brother and me. She saw him practice and begged to learn saber. But after she learned, she vanished. Since then, he stopped practicing and started drinking.”
The Liang Family’s saber art wasn’t taught to outsiders—not just ancestral rule, but because they knew the secret: one path couldn’t be shared.
Yet Liang Gou’er taught it to an outsider and ended up like this.
I asked curiously: “Your sister-in-law never came back?”
Liang Mao’er thought: “My brother said she might’ve gone back to the Jing Dynasty in the north…”
Before he finished, Liang Gou’er, drunk and leaning against the doorframe, roared: “I told you, don’t mention it again!”
Liang Mao’er shrank back: “Won’t mention it, won’t mention it.”
Liang Gou’er squinted at me: “You really want to learn saber?”
“I do,” I said sincerely.
“Then why learn it?” Liang Gou’er asked.
“To protect myself.”
Liang Gou’er burst into laughter: “Then you shouldn’t learn saber! Saber art is bold and open; a saber wielder needs the confidence to cleave mountains, not talk about self-protection. The moment you think of self-protection, you’ve already abandoned your blade!”
I thought for a moment: “Then what should I learn?”
Liang Gou’er tossed me his saber and pointed to the kitchen: “Grab a piece of firewood. One cut, and I’ll know what you should learn.”
I fetched a piece of firewood, stood it in the courtyard, drew the saber, and sliced along its grain.
The blade stuck in the wood’s surface. Only then did I realize Liang Gou’er’s saber was unsharpened!
How was that possible? An unsharpened blade could slice Lin Chaoqing’s hat mid-air?
I looked at Liang Gou’er: “Why’s this blade unsharpened?”
Liang Gou’er said carelessly: “Because it’s not necessary.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Between the most serious and most frivolous answers, Liang Gou’er chose the most pretentious.
At that moment, Liu Quxing and She Dakang, awakened, peeked from the doorframe.
Liang Gou’er studied the cut I made on the firewood, though I didn’t know what he was looking at.
Without a word, he took the saber from me and swung casually. The firewood in the courtyard split in two, its cut smooth.
Liang Gou’er turned to me: “The saber is domineering. The Liang Family’s saber art doesn’t dodge or weave. Flaws or not, I strike, and you’re full of flaws. In your hands, the saber isn’t a saber—it’s like a cunning sword seeking weaknesses. So you shouldn’t learn saber; you should find someone to teach you sword.”
“Does character determine one’s path?” I mused.
“When heart and intent align, if your path doesn’t match your heart, you won’t go far,” Liang Gou’er explained.
Liang Mao’er, puzzled, said: “Brother, you said sword is the kingly path, like our saber art.”
Liang Gou’er looked at me meaningfully: “The sword I mean isn’t the one at your waist, but the Sword Seed in the Jing Dynasty’s Martial Temple. So you shouldn’t learn saber from me—you should go to the Jing Dynasty’s Martial Temple to learn sword.”
I froze.
I’d been swept into an ancient battlefield by an icy current, where someone asked: Who stole my Sword Seed?
Was that Sword Seed related to the one in the Jing Dynasty’s Martial Temple?
I asked: “Must I go to the Jing Dynasty’s Martial Temple to learn?”
Liang Gou’er thought: “The Ning Dynasty likely has someone practicing it too, but their last move was over a decade ago, and those who saw it are dead.”
I sank into thought.
If I had to go to the Jing Dynasty’s Martial Temple, would I need to perform great deeds in the Ning Dynasty, rise through the ranks, and get transferred back to the Jing Dynasty?
How long would that take?
Liang Gou’er looked at me: “Don’t practice saber. It’ll only lead you astray, and correcting it later will be tough.”
Liang Mao’er muttered: “Brother, if he doesn’t practice, where’ll we stay? What’ll we eat…”
Liang Gou’er quickly backtracked: “You can start with stance and footwork! As the saying goes, teach fists, not steps; teach steps, and you beat the master! Footwork is the root of whole-body strength. Without footwork, a punch uses only arm strength—how much is that? With footwork, power flows from legs to hips, hips to waist, waist to arm, gathering all strength into one point. That’s how you…”
Before he finished, someone shouted at the clinic door: “Chen Ji, Chen Ji!”
She Dakang glanced over abruptly. I frowned—they both recognized Chunhua’s voice.
She Dakang hesitated, ultimately staying inside. I went to the clinic door, asking curiously: “Miss Chunhua, what’s the matter?”
Chunhua’s eyes were still swollen from crying. She handed me an invitation, saying softly: “My lady invites everyone from the clinic to a literary gathering at the prince’s mansion this afternoon. She says she has important matters to discuss with you.”
I opened the red invitation. It read: A banquet is prepared for the evening of September 10, inviting Luocheng’s scholars and elites for cordial exchange, hoping you will not decline, with further details in person.
—Prince Jing’s Mansion, Zhu Yunxi.
The literary gathering was hosted by the Heir, but Consort Jing wanted to use it to discuss the Liu Family with me?
Chunhua looked at me pleadingly, lifting her sleeve to reveal whip marks from rattan.
I shook my head: “Miss Chunhua, showing me this is useless. If I don’t want to go, it doesn’t matter if you’re whipped again.”
Chunhua grew anxious.
But I changed my tone: “However, tell Consort Jing I’ll be there.”