Chapter 36: Ye Yun

"What a fast sword."

Yang Le's blade flashed past. In Lin Cangbei's eyes, there seemed to be nothing more than a faint, inexplicable flicker of light.

And then, there was no "then."

"What... is happening?"

Muttering to himself, Lin Cangbei suddenly realized that his perspective had shifted. From his head down to his torso, he saw the ground, which smelled faintly of damp earth.

Oh, only then did Lin Cangbei understand.

His head had already fallen to the ground.

At that same moment, Lin Cangbei's headless corpse collapsed with a thud. It had rained the night before, leaving the ground muddy, and the falling body splashed up a spray of sludge.

The mottled gray-black mud mingled with the blood, creating a grotesque, slushy mess.

Yang Le used the tip of his sword to pierce Lin Cangbei’s head, then gave it a flick. It landed precisely back upon the neatly severed neck.

"I’ll leave you with a whole corpse; at least that is what you wanted."

After finishing off Lin Cangbei, a glint of killing intent flashed in Yang Le's eyes, instantly locking onto Ye Yun, who stood nearby in a state of shock. "Now, it is your turn."

"Senior, I am no lackey of the Great Qian! I only wanted to learn the sword, I truly only wanted to learn the sword! I have studied the sword for thirty years!"

"I beg you, please! I will pay any price to learn the sword. I am willing to be a spy for you in the Great Qian—just teach me how to manifest the momentum of the sword!"

To Yang Le's surprise, Ye Yun's reaction after Lin Cangbei's death was entirely unexpected.

Once Yang Le locked onto him, Ye Yun neither fled nor fought back. He did not even draw his own weapon to engage.

Instead, he knelt, his eyes wide as if witnessing something beyond comprehension.

Ye Yun only cared about the sword. He only wanted Yang Le to tell him how to achieve the sword momentum he had spent nearly thirty years painstakingly seeking. For that, he was willing to sacrifice everything.

"If we had met before this, I could not have taught you, but I could have offered some guidance."

Yang Le’s emotions remained cold. Even seeing Ye Yun’s intense fervor, he remained as calm as still water. "But now? You are not worthy."

"What? You say I am not worthy?"

"I am the Third Young Master of the Burying Sword Villa! I have seen countless famous swords under heaven. I have memorized every sword manual by heart, and I have even visited every sect in the Great Qian with a sword legacy to spar with them. Among sword cultivators, I am an invincible existence!"

"To seek this path, I have spent tens of thousands of gold!"

As Yang Le spoke, Ye Yun, already emotionally unstable, became even more frantic, his words laced with madness.

"This sword was forged from century-old cold iron from the depths of the South Sea! This technique is the Cloud Sword, passed down for a hundred years in the Burying Sword Villa! My talent is heaven-defying: Tenth Grade at three, Ninth at seven, Eighth at fifteen, Seventh at twenty, and by thirty, I reached the Sixth Grade!"

"With all that, you dare say I am not worthy to possess sword intent?!"

At this moment, Yang Le watched as Ye Yun descended further into madness, the image of the graceful young master replaced entirely by a manic shell.

"Indeed, you are not worthy. The momentum of the sword speaks of acting with ease, not of having nothing."

Yang Le remained calm, his tone growing even colder. "Furthermore, you have abandoned the sword in your hand. In this lifetime, you will never possess true sword momentum."

As Ye Yun stood before him, Yang Le caught a glimpse of the cruel, bloody aura hidden in the deepest recesses of his soul.

Yang Le finally understood: Ye Yun had been practicing demonic arts, but the aura of thirty years of sword cultivation had masked it. That was why Yang Le hadn't noticed it initially, but now that they were close, he saw it clearly.

"What do you know? What are you saying!"

"Do you know the humiliations I endured in pursuit of the sword?"

"I did not abandon it! It is the sword path itself that is garbage—the trash of all trash! Back then, I was a prodigy. With my cold iron sword, I left the Burying Sword Villa under the hopeful gaze of my parents, dreaming of the day the Cloud Sword would make a name for itself in the Great Qian!"

"I was full of spirit then, striving to prove myself for humanity, to prove myself for the sword!"

"I wanted to use my blade to cut through the corruption of the Great Qian and restore its clarity. But do you know what happened when I first arrived in Xuzhou? I encountered an Eighth-Grade demon cultivator humiliating a woman in a tavern. I was Seventh-Grade then, and I drew my sword, intending to right the wrong."

As he spoke, Ye Yun’s state temporarily stabilized, his madness subsiding slightly.

But it was replaced by deep fear and despair. "I had barely drawn my sword when that Eighth-Grade demon trampled me underfoot. A sense of impending death rushed into my heart."

"Fortunately, killing is forbidden in Xuzhou city. But I was hung on the tavern's archway for an entire day, suffering every humiliation. Every martial artist passing by looked at me like a clown, and my sword—my sword—was treated like a mere toy in the hands of that demon, used to carve meat."

"A day later, they tossed me out along with that girl and my sword. The girl was nothing but bones, and my sword was covered in dark, dried blood."

Having finished, Ye Yun collapsed into madness. His entire body trembled, and tears streamed uncontrollably from his eyes. "I didn't give up! I used my talent to enter the Linghua Pavilion, I practiced again, locking away my heart and my grievances. And now, you tell me I am not worthy?"

"You are not worthy. You have practiced demonic arts; you have already abandoned the sword in your hand."

It was pitiful. Having heard his story, Yang Le knew Ye Yun was a tragic figure, but... the things he had done... he was truly unworthy of possessing sword momentum.

The "entries" Yang Le possessed granted him not only ability and talent but also a profound understanding of the sword. As someone who had traveled much further on the path, Yang Le could clearly see the state of Ye Yun’s spirit.

His sword... had become too heavy. So heavy that Ye Yun could only hold it with both hands. If he could not even hold his sword, how could he speak of sword momentum?

"I abandoned my sword path..."

"I deserve to die."

"But the demonic arts... they are so strong! They are truly so strong!"

At these words, Ye Yun’s Dao heart shattered.

"Since it is like this, I understand. I, a man who has abandoned the sword, am not fit to dirty your blade, Senior. Let me do it myself."

After the total emotional collapse, Ye Yun entered a brief moment of clarity.

He seemed to have realized something, or perhaps he had simply decided to give up on everything.

This time, Ye Yun drew his sword again. It was the first time he had drawn it since he began practicing the demonic arts.

It was heavy, but even as he gritted his teeth, using every ounce of his strength, he forced it out.

Finally, the blade cleared the scabbard.

Without hesitation, Ye Yun plunged the sword into his own dantian, destroying it completely.

In an instant, his inner breath and the bloody aura cultivated from the demonic arts dissipated into the heavens and earth.

From this moment on, the Fifth-Grade expert, the practitioner of the Cloud Sword, and the Third Young Master of the Burying Sword Villa, Ye Yun, belonged to the past.

There was only a man who had abandoned his sword—Ye Yun.

"Hahaha, I am trash. I really am trash..."

"Miss Yun, my sword could not save you, and it could not even save me."

"But now, I am a human again! I am no longer a half-human, half-demon practicing demonic arts!"

Ye Yun was completely broken. Clutching his sword, blood seeped from the wound in his abdomen, staining his white robes.

He limped toward the depths of the bamboo forest.

"You were only one step away from sword momentum."

Watching the shattered man depart, Yang Le did not strike him down. He looked at the retreating figure with eyes full of regret.

Why regret?

When Ye Yun destroyed his own dantian, in the midst of the chaotic energy, Yang Le had sensed a glimmer of sword momentum—a spark of it, brewed by Ye Yun himself.

But now, that moment had passed. The budding momentum had scattered into the air.

"The momentum is gone, but the intent has sprouted. As a fellow sword cultivator, to give up one's cultivation in this madness and find the seeds of sword intent in one's return to humanity..."

"Interesting."

Suddenly, as Ye Yun reached a hundred paces away, Yang Le smiled.

He realized that within the wound in Ye Yun's dantian, a tiny, negligible thread of sword intent had been born.

Yang Le nodded.

"If we meet again, and you are a swordsman, I will teach you the way of the sword. If you are a demon cultivator, I will cut you down."

Muttering to himself, Yang Le sheathed his blade and returned to his courtyard.