Chapter Thirty-Nine: Perfect and Imperfect People

After days of relentless snow, the storm finally ceased. Now, the sun was setting once again.

Sunrise and sunset—nothing could be more ordinary in this world.

Yet today was destined to be different.

Bai Yufei had already wiped clean the tables in the main hall, doing more work than the other staff and in less time. Steward Wu, watching him, could not help but smile, pondering whether to suggest to Shen Lian that a few workers be dismissed altogether.

Shen Lian, meanwhile, idled away the time, sipping tea—common leaves, melted snow water, wisps of steam rising gently.

Others saw only Bai Yufei’s diligence, but Shen Lian noticed something more: Bai Yufei was cultivating a peculiar martial technique with each movement.

His center of gravity was lower than most people’s. When he stepped, his body leaned forward, but his heels touched the ground first; the posture seemed strange, yet on him it appeared natural, so that few noticed anything odd.

This technique must be a movement skill, its essence rooted in balance.

An ancient saying goes: “Cultivate oneself, govern the state, bring peace to the world.” The “peace” is balance.

Of all things in the world, balance is the hardest to achieve.

This movement skill seemed tailor-made for Bai Yufei, whose spine was somewhat deformed compared to others. Because of this, his center of gravity was unique, always unstable, yet he found his own point of balance, fitting perfectly with the technique.

“His blade may not be fast, but when he wields it, his movements will be swift,” thought Shen Lian. If Bai Yufei had had a chance to strike before, his movement skill would have let his swordplay flow in succession, making it hard for anyone to avoid.

Yet it was clear Bai Yufei’s swordsmanship had not reached the unity of man and blade; thus, his movement skill and sword technique were not perfectly integrated, so he was injured before he could even draw his blade.

Though Bai Yufei was working, he did not feel tired. He had never done such tasks before, never earned his own living; once he entered the martial world, he was swept along by fate.

He lacked a sense of security, but with Shen Lian here, for the first time in his life, he felt an irresistible sense of respect. Shen Lian was a person worthy of admiration, for he possessed something others lacked.

It was in Shen Lian’s gaze—no matter whom he looked at, he saw them without calculation or prejudice.

Bai Yufei had wandered the martial world, met many people, and had his own way of judging others. Shen Lian was by far the most unusual, unparalleled in his uniqueness.

“Master, the old lord is in trouble—you must go back at once!”

A man in a gray robe burst through the door. He was a member of the Green Bamboo Gang, and the “master” he addressed was not Shen Lian, but An Renjie.

An Renjie shouted, “Is the old man faking illness again to trick me into coming home?”

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The servant replied, “This time it’s serious, young master. The heir of Famous Sword Manor has arrived, taken the treasure from our gang, and the old leader is injured. You should return and see for yourself.”

An Renjie’s expression changed. However unconcerned he was about martial affairs, he knew well the reputation of Famous Sword Manor.

Bai Yufei, too, was visibly affected; after all, they had come at last.

“If only we’d burned that wretched painting, none of this would have happened. The old man insisted on keeping it as a treasure. If it were truly a celestial artifact, our family would have produced an immortal by now. I never got any immortal luck off it, and now it’s gone—I don’t have to worry anymore. That’s a good thing,” An Renjie said, not saddened but rather pleased.

He turned to Shen Lian, “Young Master Shen, you’ve always been interested in that thing—now’s your chance. Go retrieve it, and it’s yours. I guarantee the old man won’t dare ask for it back.”

“No need to seek it—it will come of its own accord.” Shen Lian smiled serenely; gain and loss are unpredictable, governed by fate.

Good fortune has its own fate, kindness its own fate, evil its own fate; fate gathers and disperses beyond comprehension.

The gray-robed man’s face suddenly turned pale with fear, pointing ahead, “Young master, there is the heir’s sedan from Famous Sword Manor.”

The pale blue sedan did not come from the ground or the snow, but flew down from the sky.

Sword servants in blue garb carried the sedan, leaping from the rooftops opposite.

The sedan descended like a lantern in the wind, gently landing as if freed from gravity. The evening sun shone impartially, casting a long shadow that stretched perfectly across the entrance.

“Sir, there’s an inn up ahead,” Sword Thirteen announced, clearly reading the couplet at the door: “Cultured guests are always welcome, our Literary Inn always greets you.” The poetic charm lingered—Shen Lian was indeed a refined man.

“Bai Yufei is here, too,” said Sword Fourteen, obviously remembering Bai Yufei well.

After all, it had been the two of them who chased Bai Yufei all the way to the border of Qingzhou.

******

No one expected the young master of Famous Sword Manor to be a cripple, reliant on a wheelchair.

When Bai Yuqing saw Ye Liuyun clearly, all his hatred from past injuries melted away.

For Ye Liuyun was born into privilege, possessed extraordinary grace, and his martial skill was sublime—he was the very embodiment of genius envied by fate.

When a person is too perfect, any flaw is a tragedy, one that wounds the soul, not the body.

A stone, no matter how pitted, rarely evokes pity.

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But a priceless white jade wall, if flawed, brings sorrow and regret to all who see it.

Bai Yufei felt sympathy; An Renjie was astonished. The gray-robed messenger had never seen Ye Liuyun in person, for Sword Thirteen alone had been enough to deal with the Green Bamboo Gang.

“Brother Bai, when we parted so abruptly that day, there was no time for words, only your blade was left behind. Now that I see its owner again, it should be returned to you.”

Ye Liuyun held a blade with a white edge, its hilt black—like holding a shaft of light.

Such a blade would stand out in the night, for although Bai Yufei had committed theft, he never attacked from ambush when dueling.

A flash of white light, then the blade settled securely into Bai Yufei’s hand.

He took up his blade and glanced at it, his expression suddenly shocked.

On the blade’s surface, there had once been two characters—Bai Yu.

Now, there were still two characters, but Bai Yu had become “Broken Jade.”

One could clearly see the “Broken” character, each stroke deeply impressed with the ridges of a fingerprint.

Without question, Ye Liuyun had not only erased the original “Bai” character but engraved “Broken” with supreme finger strength.

If the jade is broken, what becomes of the man?

“Does Brother Bai find the inscription I added displeasing? If you dislike the name ‘Broken Jade,’ you may alter it yourself, or ask someone else to do it for you.” The blade’s material surpassed even tempered steel; only finger strength akin to the Diamond Finger could carve characters upon it, regardless of martial prowess.

That last sentence was clearly meant for Shen Lian.

From the very start, Ye Liuyun’s attention had been drawn to Shen Lian.

In fact, Shen Lian seemed like Ye Liuyun’s perfected counterpart—dazzling, radiant, and without crippled legs.

ps Thanks to Dugu Drunken Sleep for the 200 reward, zxh1973, Ale Comet, and Qianxuzi for their donations.