Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Immortal Blade Marries

When Chu Youcai entered the trial space, he was momentarily dumbfounded by the scene before him. Instead of a haunted fortress, he found himself in a bustling city, teeming with people. Crowds jostled shoulder to shoulder, the air alive with the calls of servants hawking wares, the shouts of martial challenges, and the lively clamor from taverns. He stood in the eastern part of the city, in its marketplace, where every inch was filled with dazzling vessels for sale.

Beside him stood a grand tavern, its sign reading “Heroes’ Loft,” from which wafted a fragrance of wine unlike any Chu Youcai had ever known. Next to the tavern was a platform labeled “Hero’s Arena,” with an inscription: “Win three consecutive bouts and drink for free.”

The heat was oppressive, the peak of summer, and the aroma of wine stirred a deep thirst within Chu Youcai. The sensation was as if he were being scorched by the desert sun—fierce and unendurable. He recalled the hardships of recent days, the meager fare at home, and how he hadn’t tasted a good meal in ages. Hunger surged within him, wild and uncontrollable.

Yet, his gaze soon grew calm.

“Before, this space tried to break me with loneliness and isolation—I braved the elements and even ate raw flesh. And now, it seeks to tempt me with comfort and pleasure?”

“No matter. Nothing can sway my heart from the path.”

Suppressing his hunger and thirst, he drew his fish-scale blade and began to carve words into the ground amidst the throng: “To seek the company of the virtuous brings boundless benefit; one’s virtue grows, and faults diminish by the day. To shun the virtuous brings endless harm; the petty thrive, and all things decay…”

These words, drawn from the Rules for Disciples, warn that if one fails to keep company with the righteous, villains and vice will seize the opportunity, leading to ruin. Such villains may not be people but negative emotions as well.

Resolute, Chu Youcai continued to write, undaunted by the blazing sun, by the jeers and whispers of those who thought him merely a show-off. Only when he finished did a profound clarity settle upon his mind—he was struck by sudden enlightenment.

He strode into the Heroes’ Loft, declaring in a steady voice, “Innkeeper, bring me your best wine and finest dishes.”

Immediately, a server approached, shaking his head. “Sir, the rule of Heroes’ Loft is payment before service.”

There was a mocking gleam in the server’s eye. News of Chu Youcai’s peculiar behavior downstairs had already reached the upper floors, and many had dismissed him as a fool.

Chu Youcai smiled faintly, gazing at the fresh fish, tender chicken, roast goose, seasonal fruit, and warming spirits. “I have no money,” he said.

The server placed a hand on a rack of weapons. “Then I cannot serve you!”

“But I very much wish to drink,” Chu Youcai replied.

“In that case, why not challenge the Hero’s Arena downstairs?” The server gripped an iron rod on the rack.

“Very well!” Chu Youcai’s tone sharpened. In a flash, he was beside the server, his wrist flicking as his fish-scale blade sliced through the heavy iron rod. With a backward swing, he sent half the rod flying out the window, straight toward the Hero’s Arena.

With a thunderous crash, the broken rod pierced one corner of the arena, embedding itself deep within.

The server froze, and everyone around was left in awe. This seemingly ordinary youth possessed such extraordinary strength—more formidable than any hero they had ever seen!

The server’s knees nearly buckled, and his voice trembled. “You…”

Chu Youcai’s smile remained undisturbed, as if nothing had happened. “May I ask if you still have wine and meat?”

“Yes, yes!” the server stammered, hastening to fetch strong liquor and pour Chu Youcai a cup, while delicious dishes flowed to the table as if in a stream. The onlookers could not help but exclaim in wonder, their eyes filled with envy.

Chu Youcai wasted no time, downing the cup of strong wine in a single draught, feeling an indescribable satisfaction. A true man acts with a clear conscience; if others mock or wrong him, what does it matter?

That gulp of fiery wine sent waves of heat through him, and his thoughts turned to generous, heroic sentiments. He began to drink and sing: “Though battered by a thousand trials, my resolve stands firm, unmoved by the winds from any quarter.” He paid the crowd no heed, reveling in a joy beyond words.

To do heroic deeds, one must drink as heroes do!

Chu Youcai was utterly exhilarated, body and soul. The more he acted thus, the more those around looked upon him with reverence. Even the server’s eyes shone with delight, and before long, the manager himself was summoned.

Chu Youcai’s meal was the most satisfying he had ever known. The manager soon respectfully brought him a cup of tea.

Yet there was an inextinguishable sorrow in the manager’s eyes.

Chu Youcai drank the tea, then smiled and said, “Manager, your tavern serves rare delicacies and enjoys thriving business. Why, then, do you look so troubled? And why have you set up a Hero’s Arena beside your tavern? Are you perhaps threatened by someone seeking to seize your establishment?”

The manager was startled, glancing furtively around before saying, “Hero, would you follow me to a private room to discuss this further?”

Chu Youcai smiled. “Having drunk your wine, how could I refuse? Lead the way.”

He followed the manager to a guest room, where the latter began his tale. Years ago, this place had been a haunted fortress, until a divine blade appeared and slew all the ghosts within. The people, refugees from nearby, settled here. Over the years, more and more refugees arrived, and business flourished, so many came to worship the divine blade as a deity.

Something stirred in Chu Youcai’s heart. Was this place the very ghost fortress he had seen, now emptied? And could the divine blade be none other than Lei Yinyang’s fish-scale knife?

He asked, “Is your trouble related to this divine blade?”

“Exactly. The divine blade can take human form and often comes here to drink. The more he drinks, the more irascible he becomes. Three months ago, in a drunken rage, he declared he would marry my daughter,” the manager explained.

“If the divine blade is the guardian spirit of this place, wouldn’t it be a blessing for your daughter to marry him?” Chu Youcai asked.

“But I am unmarried. How could I have a daughter?” the manager replied.

Chu Youcai was taken aback. “Did you tell him?”

“Of course I did. But the divine blade insisted that, daughter or not, he would have his way. Yet, in consideration of all the good wine I’ve served him, he gave me a chance: I could set up a Hero’s Arena. If anyone dared stand up for my tavern, he would spare me,” said the manager, his face clouding with deeper distress.

“In the past three months, many heroes and champions have come. After enjoying my hospitality, they were fired with passion, but when they learned the opponent was the divine blade himself, they all left immediately.”

Now Chu Youcai understood. “How much time until the divine blade returns?”

“It’s tonight,” the manager said, his eyes a mixture of helplessness and hope. “Hero, would you…”

“Tonight, then—tonight it shall be!” A surge of heroic spirit welled up in Chu Youcai. His cultivation had advanced, and the matter of Hongyu’s substitute fairy had inspired him. Now, with the wine coursing through him, his courage was ironclad. “Bring more wine—I’ll wait for him!”