You May Keep My Saber

Fresh blood trickled from between its teeth, accompanied by a distinct swallowing motion. He Lingchuan finally understood why their party had never found any trace of Tao Bo, the leader of the Baling expedition team and grand-disciple of Grandmaster Zhu Gen. Tao Bo had likely met the exact same fate as Nian Songyu. Among the men pinning down Maotao, one of the sand bandit thaumaturges suddenly let out a gasp. "What's this?" He yanked open the back of Maotao's collar and peeled a yellow paper doll covered in talismans from the muscles of his back. The moment the yellow paper was torn away, Maotao's frenzy cut off instantly. His hand loosened, and the treasure saber slipped from his grasp. In the chaos, no one moved to catch it. He Lingchuan's fingertips twitched, but in the end, he did not reach out. With a sharp clang, the saber hit the hard paving stones spine-first, breaking into two pieces right before everyone's eyes. The crowd froze as though someone had pressed pause. Every eye remained glued to the severed blade on the ground before flicking cautiously toward the black dragon. It broke! The saber actually broke! What had Nian Songyu said in his final moments? Only He Lingchuan knew that the blade already had a deep fracture. Under possession, Maotao had repeatedly hammered its spine against the battlement, inflicting damage upon damage. It had been resilient enough just to hold together until now. This drop to the ground was merely the straw that broke the camel's back. Several thoughts flashed through He Lingchuan's mind in an instant: How did this so-called "deity" know that the saber was the black dragon's vital weakness? How did it know the saber was on He Lingchuan? And how did it know Maotao could shatter it? Perhaps it had noticed He Lingchuan returning alone from the southern district on a monstrous bird while Sun Fuping was nowhere to be found, deducing from that alone that the treasure had fallen into He Lingchuan's hands. What about the other two questions, then? He Lingchuan knew this matter likely involved far more intricate, hidden truths. But now that the white light had been devoured, the answers were gone with it. Moreover, the white light possessing Nian Songyu had miscalculated, ending up swallowed whole by the dragon. Had the blade snapped even a few breaths sooner, the outcome would have been entirely different. A deathly silence settled both atop and below the city walls. Then, the illusory creatures—the demonic apes, the monstrous birds—collapsed one after another, dissolving into drifting ash. Yet the black dragon slithered toward the wall. The onlookers couldn't help shrinking back. He Lingchuan cleared his throat and braced himself. "Is our prior agreement still valid?" Though the demonic beasts were gone, the black dragon's own prowess had ascended, and countless heroic spirits of the Gale Army within the city still answered its call. If it wanted them dead, not a single person here would ever see the sun of the living world again. The black dragon glanced at the broken saber on the ground, then looked back at him. Suddenly, it chuckled. "You are clever. You may keep my saber." Uh, what was he supposed to say to that? "Thank you"? He Lingchuan picked the pieces of the broken blade off the stone paving and sheathed them. "No, it is I who should thank you." The black dragon shook its head, its voice surprisingly calm. "In all these years, you are the first person who didn't come to rob my grave, but instead offered me three cups of wine." Offered three cups of wine? He Lingchuan wasn't surprised; rather, he let out a long breath. "It really is you, Zhong Shengguang." It was a name that resounded like thunder in the ears of anyone from Blackwater City, yet one that had faded into history for over a century. The others present could hardly believe their ears. Situ Han stammered, "H-He's Zhong Shengguang?" Zhong Shengguang was a renowned general, but first and foremost, he had been a mortal man. How could this black dragon possibly be Zhong Shengguang? The black dragon paid the others no heed. Lowering its head toward the Gale Army, it commanded, "Escort them out of the Panlong Wasteland." Several commanders of the Gale Army bowed from their saddles with clasped fists, utterly deferential. Of course. Who else but Zhong Shengguang himself could make such an unyielding iron army submit with such devotion? Just then, a voice called out from the south of the city: "Where is the Dafang Pot?" It was He Chunhua, rushing back with his men. The moment he arrived at the South Gate, he realized the battle was over. Nian Songyu had vanished without a trace, and the black dragon was coiled against the city wall conversing with his son, the atmosphere surprisingly relaxed. He immediately concluded that the deity had lost. In that sense, their side had won, yet the objective of this expedition was still far from achieved. They had suffered so many casualties—all for the sake of the Dafang Pot. "You cannot take it." The black dragon cast him a glance. "The Dafang Pot is Panlong City, and Panlong City is the Dafang Pot. They merged into one long ago. Forget mere mortals; even gods could not take it away. If they could, it wouldn't still be here." "You, on the other hand," it turned back toward He Lingchuan and said, "might actually have your wish granted." He Lingchuan looked baffled, pointing at his own nose. "What wish of mine?" The black dragon didn't answer. Instead, it turned toward the southern district and let out a faint, wistful sigh. "My duty is finally fulfilled." There was weariness in its voice, but also joy, along with a host of other emotions He Lingchuan couldn't decipher. A layer of gray frost rapidly coated its sleek, lustrous black body. Within a mere dozen breaths, the colossal dragon crashed down from the wall with a deafening boom. Amid the tremors shaking the earth, it shattered into countless fragments. A legendary general had once again dissolved into the dust of history. An endless plume of dust and grit billowed toward them. Everyone instinctively shut their eyes, covered their noses, and held their breath. Consequently, no one noticed that at the exact moment the light in the black dragon's eyes died out, a beam of crimson radiance shot straight into the sky from the ruins of the southern district! *** When the dust finally cleared and everyone opened their eyes, they found themselves standing once more before the divine temple of the ruined Panlong City. Nian Songyu had been right after all: only when the black dragon disappeared could they escape the illusory realm alive. He Lingchuan opened his arms and hugged He Chunhua. "Dad, I thought you were sacrificed back there!" He hadn't previously been this affectionate with He Chunhua; it was purely an instinctive reaction from the bottom of his heart. He Chunhua patted his back before pulling away, unaccustomed to such intimacy with his eldest son. "Once the half of the broken comb was retrieved, the Gale Army halted their assault, giving us time to escape the array. You spoke with the black dragon the most—did you pick up any clues regarding the Dafang Pot?" He Lingchuan replied in surprise, "Didn't it say the Dafang Pot and Panlong City are one and the same, and that it can't be taken out? Besides, we've already left the illusion." "He wasn't an artifact spirit at all, but a resentful soul who died more than a century ago. How can you be sure he was telling the truth?" He Chunhua said displeasedly. "We suffered immense losses. How can we return empty-handed?" Earlier, everyone had cared only about surviving. Now that they were safe, they realized their hands were empty—they hadn't gained a single spoil of war. For this perilous venture, the gains were entirely disproportionate to the costs. No, it was an absolute, devastating loss. Zeng Feixiong chimed in, "Without the Dafang Pot, what will we do about the campaign at Woling Pass?" Situ Han couldn't hold back. "You're all regular imperial troops! Can't you fight a war without some divine treasure?" He Lingchuan eased the long saber at his waist to check—it was still there, it hadn't vanished. This was likely the only real object from the illusory realm. "What are your plans, Dad?" He Chunhua pondered for a moment. "Send more men back in to look around." The rest of the group took two steps back in unison. Not a single person wanted to return to that damned ghost of a place. He Lingchuan casually picked up a stone and tossed it into the pool-well. *Plop.* Though the water still carried a reddish tint, everyone could see the stone sink straight to the bottom of the basin.