Peace Order
Chapter 619 - 51: The Transformation of Sword Madman, Arrival of the Qilin Army

Chapter 619: Chapter 51: The Transformation of Sword Madman, Arrival of the Qilin Army

The Qilin, Li Guanyi, headed to Central State.

And with Sword Madman Murong Longtu re-entering the Martial World, two major events thunderously descended upon this world, stirring up winds and surging waves. The one who felt these tumultuous undercurrents the most was the grand sect of Chen Country’s Northern Border, the Sky-reaching Sect. The Sect Master of the Sky-reaching Sect had been almost sleepless recently.

Marquis Qin Wu, the Sword Madman.

He had not anticipated that the Qilin Hunting Conference would stir up such a huge trouble.

At this moment, he could only hope that the Sword Madman would not come here and that Marquis Qin Wu was not someone who held grudges. Hopefully, he would not come here again over last year’s incidents.

Within the Martial World, some people were terrified, some delighted, and others just waited to see what earth-shattering events the Sword Madman, the unparalleled grandmaster of the world, would bring now that he had introduced ninety-seven mystical weapons.

Still, there were always those who did not care much for such things. Old Bai, who liked to fish, was one of them. He considered himself a martial artist, boasting that he was once part of a top sword sect.

When he was young, his sword sect was located just outside this town on the highest mountain. The sect had a magnificent Taoist Temple, and every morning before dawn, under the leadership of the elder disciples, they would practice swordsmanship, with the sound of swords cleaving the air continuously, like birds flapping their wings.

At night, the glow of swords lit up the sky, outshining even the stars.

Such scenes, such grandeur, tsk tsk tsk!

There were many disciples in the sect, each skilled in different things, all passionately discussing swordsmanship. At night, they would go to the Eight Diagrams Tower to meditate and practice breathing exercises, then return to their quarters to care for their swords as they would their own limbs.

Righteously wielding their swords in the Martial World felt so exhilarating and free.

The martial artists within thousands of miles knew of their sect.

In those days, martial artists entering the mountain needed to hang their swords on a large stone under the Guest Welcoming Pine before they qualified to proceed.

When Old Bai spoke of these things, his expression came alive, his brows lifting and his eyes gleaming brightly; he became like a wall painting that suddenly animated.

However, no one believed his tall tales. The mountain wasn’t far from here; everyone had been there at least once. After the arduous climb, all they saw was a pockmarked landscape with a vast flat area.

Let alone a sword sect, you couldn’t even find a single blue brick. During the day, birds flew over the area with a piercing clatter, which resembled not the gathering of majestic swordsmen, but rather, a somber graveyard.

When people said such things, Old Bai would get so angry that he turned pale and would swing his fishing rod at them, forcing them to run away laughing.

Old Bai was indeed very old, and everyone didn’t want to make him too angry.

Eighty years old? Or even older. No one knew for sure. He knew no swordsmanship, but he liked stories of the Martial World and understood some methods of breathing and sleeping. He boasted about being a practitioner of the ’Supreme Sword Manual Introduction’, using the sword to express the Tao, and he could talk about it so eloquently. Except for children, nobody believed him.

If he were really a swordsman, why would he be cooped up here, afraid to even step outside? Even when it came to fishing, which he was not good at, he couldn’t catch fish even when they were fattest, and could only resort to using a club to stun the fish and drag them ashore.

Cursing as he shook off the rain that had wetted him, Old Bai caught many things with his hook besides fish, such as wooden wheel hubs, tree branches, and old clothes. One day, when his hook caught a fish, he was overjoyed.

But he found that the fish struggled and tangled the fishing line around a branch and a broken basket in the middle of the river. Fishing Old Bai cursed and assessed the waist-deep water. Despite his old age, he gritted his teeth, held the fishing rod in one hand, and waded into the water, determined to get the fish back.

What he found in the basket around which the fishing line was tangled was a baby. In the end, Old Bai threw the big fish away and stepped onto shore, holding the bamboo basket with the child inside.

He coaxed an old calico cat down from the roof with a little fish and placed the child under the cat’s belly. The old cat had just given birth to kittens and took the child as one of her own, nursing it back to life.

Fishing Old Bai now had a fascinating task: raising the child. He taught him to read and write, and helped him grow. So when he heard the rumors about the Sword Madman entering the world, he simply sneered, not taking the news seriously.

"Sword Madman? Bullshit, what does he know about swords? He’s nothing but a murderer. He dares to use a sword. Besides, this is Ying Country now. This is Ying Country’s territory, what can the Sword Madman do here?"

"Come, Bai Mao’er, let grandfather tell you about our Galaxy Sword Sect back in the day..."

Old Bai squinted and smiled, sipping from his jug of cloudy wine as the child listened to his stories from the past. Then suddenly, they heard someone knocking on the door—a door that was nothing more than a wooden fence nailed together.

The child named Bai Mao’er ran to open the door.

Old Bai, holding a jug of cloudy wine, was too lazy to get up. On the other end, the child gleefully said, "Ah, it’s Grandpa’s guest, and they’ve given us money." A calm voice said, "Go on, child, buy some meat to accompany the drink."

"Okay!"

Bai Mao’er happily ran off.

But Old Bai’s body stiffened. The jug of cloudy wine in his hand fell to the ground. He slowly lifted his head, and his eyes changed. They no longer held the playful mockery of the past, but held instead a sharp madness, and a fear that seemed impossible to wash away even if one spent a lifetime trying.