Peace Order
Chapter 652 - 59: Plotting for Oneself, Plotting for the World, Divine Sword, Divine General_2

Chapter 652: Chapter 59: Plotting for Oneself, Plotting for the World, Divine Sword, Divine General_2

He would smile while buying candied hawthorn sticks, and watch ripples form as he fished.

He watched two children play, then played a zither, his zither sounds melodious and gentle, not as aggressive as a sword. Murong Qiushui said whatever tone he played could be expanded into a whole piece of music. He was skilled in delicate brush paintings, then folded the painting into boats and let them drift downstream.

The boats dispersed in the water flow, but the ink on the paper blurred, and instead of diminishing the painting’s divine charm, it added a feeling as ephemeral as misty clouds. Back then, many scholars would squat downstream, reaching out to catch the boats for the paintings, a beautiful scene in Jiangnan’s Tao.

Murong Qiushui stood before the courtyard for a long time before slowly walking in.

As summer arrived, the temperature was quite high, yet humid; lotus blossoms bloomed extensively in the pond while willow trees formed a shade, and the cicadas too languid to rant merely cried intermittinally, which was annoying.

Murong Qiushui picked up a stone and threw it, making a cicada fall with a clang.

After Old Si Ming had resolved her Dharma Form issue, she had relaxed a lot, her Primordial Spirit recovered to the Five-layered Heaven, allowing free circulation, and though she had never practiced any martial arts, her aim was still decent.

Murong Qiushui dusted off her hands, slightly proud as she said,

"That’ll keep you quiet!"

She was not the type to sorrow over the seasons; at this moment, annoyed that the old man and the young one had gone to Central State without her, she walked over but then noticed a wooden sword under an old tree.

Two hundred years ago, Murong Longtu wished to learn the sword but was scolded by the Murong Family master at that time, who whipped his back dozens of times with a thin bamboo as punishment. Murong Longtu, undeterred, shunned any revered swords or sharp weapons.

He just used a large stone to carve out the figure of a sword from the tree wood used for firewood, striking time after time. Li Guanyi had seen it before; the old man said when he was young and held the sword he carved himself, he felt like the greatest swordsman in the world.

But later, driven by scores of blood revenge, he roamed the Martial World with a lethal sword.

He reclaimed the mystical weapons forged by his family.

Then, he challenged the collective might, leveled all the Sword Sects across the realms, and finally could wield ninety-seven mystical weapons, dominating the Martial World and reaching an unbeaten state. But thinking carefully, in over two hundred years, apart from at the age of five, when he held this sword, he never again held this rough and ordinary wooden sword, which once made a young child feel like the greatest in the world.

The sword is still placed on that tree stump.

The material was merely wood, and the worst kind at that.

Precious wood would be made into exquisite items for nobles; average wood turned into beads to be given to aristocratic families and the Buddhist Tao; tall and straight trees would become pillars for palaces, while sturdy ordinary wood would become the beams of houses.

The worst ordinary wood, twisted and unsuitable for crafting, was chopped down for firewood.

This was a piece destined to be kindling, nothing notable, ignored by traders, artisans, and woodcutters.

Two hundred years of wind and rain had already taken its toll.

Even birds, standing on the handle of the wooden sword, would lean down to catch insects in the old wood.

Tik-tik-tik, tik-tik-tik.

This sword, not crafted from Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures or tempered, would barely qualify to be placed here if not for Murong Longtu. Murong Qiushui worried about Murong Longtu, hearing that he still commanded the Martial World with a sword.

That day at The World’s First Building, he only brought fifty-five mystical weapons.

Some said Murong Longtu no longer needed mystical weapons, but skill level and combat power were different. Murong Qiushui knew that even a swordsman who had long broken free from fixed forms would be stronger in battle with a sharp Divine Weapon in hand.

He challenged the four great legends, six Palace Masters, ten Grandmasters.

What if there was no suitable weapon in hand?

Murong Qiushui sighed. Her gaze swept over the unremarkable wooden sword, finding no difference, and she turned to leave, hoping to find some weapons, but the Murong family could only forge mystical weapons.

The wind blew past, and the trees behind the wooden sword trembled slightly, a leaf falling.

This leaf was broad and soft, landing perfectly on the wooden sword.

Despite being two hundred years old and merely a piece of kindling, the wooden sword had not changed at all.

The leaf naturally split down the middle, falling to either side.

A faint sound of a sword echoed from this sword.

The bird continued catching insects unharmed. The wind blew past, and all was natural, including this sword.

Divine Weapon, how indeed are they forged?

How are they named "divine"?

How do they connect to the spirit?

......

The recommendation letter written by the Mo Family Master for Li Guanyi was delivered by Flying Eagle to the newly built Changfeng Building in Central State. Despite being the center of the world, the royal and noble families valued the benefits Changfeng Building could offer, and it opened quite smoothly.

When the letter arrived, descendant of the Red Emperor, Ji Zichang, was personally assessing the scholars’ talents—rumors had spread in the Academy about several heroic rulers arriving here, grand ambitions and towering plans, how could Ji Zichang remain unaware?

He chose not to silence these scholars directly.

Neither did he order the arrest and punishment of those spreading rumors.

Instead, seizing the opportunity when the news spread, he came personally and posed challenges for the many scholars to demonstrate their talents. Such sincerity naturally won the favor of many scholars.