met free Chapter 38: The Strange Guest
Chapter 38: The Strange Guest
Ding Baiyun felt the gazes of everyone, especially Xue Bufeng, lowered her eyes slightly, then raised them again, her voice clear and melodious:
"I should set off now; the journey through the world is long and arduous..."
She paused, her gaze seemingly casually sweeping across Xue Bufeng's face.
"There will come a day when we meet again."
Having said that, she looked away from everyone, gave a slight bow to Bai Tianyu and Madam Bai, nodded slightly in the direction of Xue Bufeng, then shouldered the black sword case containing the Fish Intestine Sword, her white robes fluttering, and turned to walk alone toward the official road stretching into the distance outside the Divine Blade Hall.
The spring breeze swept up the fine sand of the Gobi Desert, brushing against her white dress and her ink-black hair.
Her back was straight and solitary, and she soon disappeared into the sparse branches and shadows of the poplar forest and the light sandstorm.
The crowd watched her disappear into the distance, their expressions varied.
The Thousand-Armed Rakshasa turned his face away.
Hua Baifeng pursed her lips and continued to fiddle with her Azure Demon Hand.
Some thoughts need not be spoken aloud.
"Senior brother..."
After playing with the gloves for a while, Hua Baifeng took Xue Bufeng's arm again and looked up at him with her bright little face:
"Shall we set off now?"
Xue Bufeng smiled slightly.
He took one last look at the vast blue sky above the border town, at the fluttering sword flag of the Divine Sword Hall, and at the various expressions on the faces of the people around him.
"Set off."
He turned and walked toward the carriage.
Yuanyuan and Bingbing quickly lifted the carriage curtain.
The Thousand-Armed Rakshasa silently followed.
Hua Baifeng cheered and excitedly pulled Xiao Shen into the carriage.
The carriage moved slowly, its wheels rolling over the dry ground in front of the Divine Blade Hall, leaving two shallow ruts.
They have set sail towards the Central Plains, towards the wider and more dangerous world of martial arts.
The wind picked up.
The newly sprouted buds of the poplar forest rustled softly.
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
Shouyang is not a very large city.
There are only three gangs in the city and five or six aristocratic families. They were once well-known in the martial arts world, but now they are like leftover flatbreads, still hard but with a faded aroma, and few people pay attention to them anymore.
Overall, this is a relatively peaceful place compared to other places in the martial arts world.
Few outsiders or江湖客 (jianghu ke, meaning martial arts practitioners) cause trouble here.
Because there's really nothing to argue about.
Life is like the Fen River outside the city, flowing calmly and peacefully, rarely stirring up any alarming waves.
At the end of an old alleyway paved with bluestone in the east of the city, the eaves are low and the door is narrow. The signboard is so old that its original color is no longer discernible, and only the shadow of the character "面" (mian, meaning noodles) is vaguely visible.
The tables and chairs in the shop were worn smooth and shiny, gleaming with the patina of years of wear.
This is Liu's Noodle Shop in Shouyang.
The size of this shop in Shouyang City is as insignificant as Shouyang itself is in Shanxi Province.
Although it doesn't look elegant or spacious at all, it's quite famous in Shouyang County.
The noodles are famous for their chewy texture, the soup for its rich flavor, and the braised meat for its hearty taste.
If you want to eat noodles in Shouyang, this is definitely a good idea.
The owner's surname is Liu, and he is an old man.
His back was terribly hunched over, as if he had dedicated his entire life to the steaming pot in front of him.
The wrinkles on his face were so deep they looked like they had been carved by a knife, and they were red and shiny from the constant dampness.
But his hands were very steady. Grabbing the noodles, shaking them, putting them in the pot, scooping them out, pouring the sauce... every movement was extremely skillful and fluent, no less than that of an old boxing master who had practiced martial arts all his life.
As the saying goes, "Read a book a hundred times and its meaning will become clear; practice a boxing style a hundred times and its movements will become apparent."
In fact, no matter what kind of skill or craft you have, you will eventually become proficient and adept with practice.
The same applies to making noodles.
His entire life seemed to consist of only one thing—making noodles, and it seemed that he only needed to do this one thing.
Nothing else could attract his attention, whether it was the butcher next door getting married or the scholar across the street being beaten for stealing books.
But in the past few days, he has not only started paying attention to what's happening in the city, but he's also become quite curious about it.
It was simply because, without anyone knowing, his little noodle shop suddenly became much busier.
Although his skills were excellent, the place was still too dilapidated and rudimentary.
Wealthy people usually maintain their status and would never stoop to such a place.
How can someone who has no money eat out often?
So he is actually quite free on weekdays.
However, he has been unusually busy these past few days.
There are always some new faces who come in, sit down, eat a bowl of noodles in silence, praise the noodles after they're full, drop off their money and leave in a hurry, and then they're never seen again.
The group that came yesterday wasn't the same one as today, and the group that will come tomorrow will be a completely different one.
As for why they came or where they were going, Old Man Liu had not heard any of them say so yet.
There were only two exceptions.
Unlike the others who left in a hurry, they had been eating noodles at the shop for several days in a row, and even stayed in the dilapidated house behind his shop.
—That’s not really an inn, just a few old rooms where he and his wife rest, barely enough to give guests a place to stay.
One of them was a teenager.
He looked to be no more than seventeen or eighteen years old, far from being of marriageable age.
In the still-chilly spring, he wore only a thin, coarse cloth garment. He was somewhat thin, but his bones exuded a strength harder than cold iron.
His face was clean, and his eyes were bright, as cold as snow.
What's most special is the "sword" at his waist.
Old Liu has lived to such an old age and has seen many travelers from all over the country, sometimes even swords and knives.
But he had never seen a "sword" like this before.
—It looked like a child's toy, two unevenly shaved wooden boards with a sharpened iron bar haphazardly tied together with hemp rope. No one would take such a sword seriously.
As for the other person, he was far more frightening.
That was a man in black.
He was black from head to toe, as black as ink that couldn't be dissolved in the darkest night.
He was extremely tall and imposing, always blocking out most of the light from the doorway when he stood there, yet he didn't appear bulky at all; instead, he resembled a black panther poised to pounce.
His face was a strange, deathly gray, with his eyebrows slanting into his temples, and his eyes always held a condescending indifference and arrogance when he looked at people.
A few sparse strands of beard stood up stiffly.
He had a sword slung diagonally across his back; it was an iron sword with a black scabbard and a black handle.
Although the sword was not drawn, its heavy, chilling killing intent emanated from the sheath, sending shivers down one's spine.
Old Liu only glanced at it secretly, and never dared to look at it a second time.
The boy usually stayed in the shop during the day or in the back room, and disappeared as soon as it got dark.
The man in black, on the other hand, is never seen during the day and always returns only when night falls.
But today, dusk has just arrived, and the sun is about to set.
After waking up, the boy sat in his usual spot against the wall, slowly drinking a bowl of noodle soup, and hadn't left yet.
The man in black had already pushed open the creaking wooden door and returned, bringing with him the chill of the outside air. He sat down at the table furthest from the boy.
Although there was more than half a shop between them, it was as if an invisible string was taut in the air.