Zanxing (Retranslated)

Chapter 203 - The Weeping Sword Spirit (2)

Memories seemed to be frozen here, unchanged—white snow, red flames, the blacksmith and white iron, sparks flying, blood pouring into bowls, and the clanging sound that seemed endless.

Zanxing could not leave this place.

She tried to stop the memories, but no matter which way she went, she always returned to this cold, desolate courtyard. So she could only sit down, as carefree as in the past, and watch the blacksmith continue to nourish this sword—whether it was a blessing or a curse—with blood.

Unlike the warm memories, these repetitive days passed quickly; it seemed that in the blink of an eye, the last bowl of blood was already poured.

The flames in the snow grew wildly, as if something was about to break through the earth. The short man had almost become a withered skeleton. He stood before the fire, staring at the flames with a fervent and frenzied gaze.

“It’s almost done…” he murmured, “I haven’t given you a name yet.”

“Graceful and shy like a young girl, carefree through the years.” He looked tenderly at the flames, “Your name will be Wuyou.”

After saying this, he began to slowly remove his outer garments, revealing his emaciated body.

Zanxing understood; he was about to offer his soul, to become the sword spirit.

Chai Sang leaped into the flames without hesitation.

In an instant, the fire roared skyward. From the raging flames came suppressed screams, accompanied by the smell of burning flesh.

Zanxing couldn’t bear to watch any longer.

Making a deal with the devil was never an easy task. Offering one’s soul was a process more painful than death itself—it involved peeling the soul away from the body bit by bit, repeatedly forging it, and this suffering wasn’t fleeting. As long as his soul remained bound to the sword, this torment would repeat daily.

The mournful cries, screams, whimpers, and wails gradually subsided, burned away by the fierce flames, along with laughter and love, tears and memories.

When the last ember extinguished, countless shifting glimmers swirled around the ashes. It was a silver-white sword, extraordinarily beautiful, with a blade as smooth as a pearl, and at the hilt, there was an engraved small frost flower.

He was reborn within this sword.

Before his death, Chai Sang had instructed a neighbor to retrieve the sword. When the time came, the neighbor knocked on the long-desolate courtyard door, finding it empty except for the beautiful long sword left in the smoldering ashes. He bent down to pick up the sword and, as if bewitched, placed it in a box and sent it to the general’s mansion.

What happened next was easy to guess.

The general of the mansion, fond of collecting various weapons, gladly accepted the divine sword when he heard of its arrival. Yet, as soon as he took hold of it, his mind was bewitched.

The general, wielding the sword, killed everyone in the mansion.

This was an evil sword. From the moment Chai Sang decided to sacrifice his soul, he understood that such a sword spirit would be extremely dangerous. Even if it began with his desire for revenge for his daughter, and even if he himself became the sword spirit, some things, once started, could not end.

The sword later passed through many hands, sometimes that of a poor scholar with no name, sometimes a wealthy young master in fine clothing, sometimes a farmer, and sometimes a noble.

In obtaining this sword, they gained unparalleled power, but at the same time, they lost their sanity, turning into demons who delighted in killing. The country of Yuezhi fell into turmoil because of the sword, and even the most renowned sorcerers could not subdue it. In the end, the common people fled the land, the city decayed, and before his death, the king personally took the sword into his tomb, sealing the Wuyou Sword away to prevent it from causing further disaster.

It wasn’t until a group of cultivators, who had stumbled upon news of the divine sword, came here with a glimmer of hope to subdue the sword spirit, that the long-silent Wuyou Sword reemerged into the world.

The gray mist had unknowingly dissipated.

The silver-white sword stood before Zanxing, its blade trembling slightly, as if weeping.

She could feel the sadness emanating from the Wuyou Sword. The intense sorrow seemed to quickly invade every corner of the heart, making one mournful as well.

Zanxing was silent.

She had thought that this seemingly gentle and exquisite long sword, named Wuyou, might be the transformation of Chai Sang’s daughter. But she hadn’t expected that the reality was even more regretful—the sword spirit within this blade was Chai Sang himself.

He had sacrificed his soul but could not control the sword. The evil sword not only consumed the mind of its wielder but would also gradually absorb him completely, along with all his memories. By then, he and the Wuyou Sword would become one, truly becoming a monster that kills.

Neither Gu Baiying nor Meng Ying could subdue this sword. Besides the suppression of the sword spirit, the sword itself was an evil weapon forged with Chai Sang’s blood and dark sorcery. In the realm of cultivation, there was no such forbidden technique. Zanxing speculated that the book containing the records and diagrams might belong to the demon realm. The evil power contained within the sword continuously surged. Cultivators who absorbed it would gradually have their minds devoured. However, the Xiao Yuan Pearl, being a treasure of the demon realm, was unaffected and could actively absorb the disruptive power that disturbed the mind.

So, the Wuyou Sword was able to briefly regain its clarity and deliberately let Zanxing see its memories.

“I’ve seen those memories,” Zanxing said softly, looking at the sword. “What do you want me to do?”

The Xiao Yuan Pearl suppressed the surging evil energy within the sword, allowing her to stop and converse with the sword spirit.

The Wuyou Sword—or rather, Chai Sang—looked quietly at Zanxing. Suddenly, a mournful clang resonated from the blade, a sound filled with desolation and like a sincere plea.

Zanxing’s gaze shifted slightly. “You want to be freed.”

The price of making a deal with the devil was something mortals could hardly bear. He had avenged his daughter, but the curse was not over. The swordsmith had been bound to the sword all these years: as the sword spirit, he had led countless people to kill, his hands long stained with blood. He had become a mere tool.

Of course, he wanted to be freed.

Enduring the torment of burning flames daily, unable to move on in death, the more people died within the Wuyou Sword, the more evil it became. If not for Zanxing’s Xiao Yuan Pearl suppressing the evil energy and reminding the sword spirit of its past, perhaps soon it would have even forgotten what Wuyou meant.

The sword trembled, and from its tip, large drops of clear liquid flowed out. It was weeping.

Zanxing sighed inwardly.

This sword was born from Chai Sang’s protection and love for his daughter. He suffered from his own helplessness, hated the arrogance of his enemies, and in the end, took desperate measures by sacrificing his soul to obtain an evil sword. He avenged his daughter and also killed many innocent people. Whether he had ever regretted it, no one could know.

Zanxing could not blame him, because she herself might have made the same choice as Chai Sang. Sometimes, it’s not that people walk to a dead end, but rather that there was no path ahead.

“I can erase the sword spirit’s existence,” Zanxing said, looking at him. “Have you really made your decision?”

Gu Baiying and the others’ spiritual energy would be absorbed by the Wuyou Sword, becoming part of its evil nature, but the energy from the Xiao Yuan Pearl would not. Zanxing speculated that it was due to the demonic aura. She could kill the sword spirit, which would turn the Wuyou Sword into an ordinary top-grade spiritual weapon. Without a sword spirit, it would naturally be unable to bewitched people.

However, Chai Sang would also disappear from this world.

The Wuyou Sword stood before Zanxing and lightly nodded.

“Good,” Zanxing said.

She didn’t say anything more. With both hands, she activated the Xiao Yuan Pearl at her heart and enveloped the silver-white sword with her spiritual energy. In an instant, the Wuyou Sword seemed to sense something and began to struggle wildly. As if there was another force besides Chai Sang, it sensed the danger and tried to break free, but was immobilized under the Xiao Yuan Pearl’s suppression.

Zanxing felt a force resisting her, as if something was drilling into her mind, filled with various emotions and unfamiliar faces flashing through her thoughts. She knew these were the souls of those who had died under the Wuyou Sword. The sword was attempting to counterattack, trying to disrupt her mind. Several times, Zanxing felt she was about to give in, her body unable to endure the prolonged strain.

But she had promised Chai Sang that she would do it.

The Xiao Yuan Pearl continued to operate fiercely, stubbornly wearing down the malevolent force within the divine sword. After an unknown period, the struggling sword gradually began to calm.

The clanging sound began again.

In the snow-covered courtyard, the short blacksmith was adding iron pieces to the furnace. With the New Year approaching, red lanterns hung from the eaves. A little girl in a flowered cotton jacket fluttered into the courtyard like a butterfly, her voice ringing with a clear accusation: “Dad, the neighbor’s little Hu said that a big bear will come down from the mountains at night to eat people!”

“A big bear, you say?” The blacksmith wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled as he brushed a small smudge of coal dust from his daughter’s face. “Don’t be afraid. Daddy is a blacksmith, and Daddy will protect you.”

The little girl rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Daddy, you say that all the time. You’re a blacksmith, but you don’t know martial arts. How can you protect me?”

“How can’t I protect you? Once Daddy forged a divine sword with a sword spirit for you, it will protect its little master!”

“That’s a lie. There are no sword spirits in the world!”

“There are no sword spirits in the world, but there’s Daddy! Just wait, one day, Daddy will give you a unique divine sword!”

The laughter in the courtyard gradually faded away, leaving only the silent, gentle snowfall. The clean snow layered upon the ground, extinguished the furnace, buried the courtyard, and erased all traces.

From the blade of the Wuyou Sword, countless dazzling lights emitted, scattering through the air. They drifted away, forming a small frost flower as they fell to the ground, shattering into countless sparkling pieces, fading into silence.

With a clang, the silver-white sword fell to the ground, gentle and cold, no longer the sinister and malevolent entity it had been.

The sword spirit was gone.

It had become an ordinary divine sword.