Chapter 2871: Chapter 1520: Life's sword follows in death to the tomb, the capricious path lies within the Wen Ting residence_2

Chapter 2871: Chapter 1520: Life’s sword follows in death to the tomb, the capricious path lies within the Wen Ting residence_2

The right hand reached out before Mei Siren could move and touched the pearl on the hilt of the Mei Ziyu sword that was slanted into the ground first.

Unexpectedly…

The crying Mei Ziyu had just quieted down when the white-clothed swordsman’s hand touched it.

“Mei Ziyu should not be buried with Elder Gu.” He spoke shockingly, looking directly at Mei Siren, and said without mincing words:

“The Number One Sword Deity’s sword, Sword Opening Mystical Gate, is acknowledged as ‘first-class under the heavens’, and it will surely become a famed sword in the future.”

“Both merits and sins cancel each other out, the sword itself harbors no disaster; however, under such circumstances, if it’s buried together with Elder Gu, after the person’s death, neither will find peace.”

After he finished speaking, he gave a slight nod:

“Please accept my condolences.”

Mei Siren stood frozen in front of the sword, his thoughts ceasing to spin.

Memories of Su Qianqian flashed through Xu Xiaoshou’s mind…

At the Tiansang Spirit Palace that time, the first famed sword he encountered was Su Qianqian’s Epitaph of City Snow.

He later learned that to protect this sword, the entire Su family could not rest day or night.

Ultimately, Epitaph of City Snow was brought by Su Qianqian to the Tiansang Spirit Palace, yet it still attracted countless sword thieves.

Fortunately, with the strong influence of the Spirit Palace, wave after wave was fended off.

But…

In the very end…

A grand one came…

“While alive, swords accompany men, in death, swords return to the tomb.”

The man closed the Sword Sutra, placed his hands behind his waist, and said, “Elder Gu and Mei Ziyu’s fate has reached its end, I will go and look for the next generation sword-bearer.”

Mei Siren, who had not yet reacted, suddenly became startled upon hearing these words and resignedly said:

“You’ve grown up so much…”

The middle-aged man smiled silently.

A flash of spiritual light went through Xu Xiaoshou’s mind, and his eyes widened as he finally remembered who this man was.

That’s right!

It was him!

What was his name?

That… One of the Seven Sword Deities, from the previous generation!

The expressions of those around him were all the same, each looking like they had just remembered something, yet they all furrowed their brows in thought.

Feng Zhongzui grabbed the Dao Imparting Mirror, excitedly patted the man, and became dumbfounded.

“Hmm! Eh! Hmm…”

He struggled for a long time but could not utter a word.

Eventually, he managed to push through and screamed at the top of his voice:

“Wen Ting!!!”

Clang—

Wen Ting pulled out the Mei Ziyu sword with a laugh, glanced at the Dao Imparting Mirror, and it hit Feng Zhongzui hard.

“Damn it! He actually looks like that…”

“Damn it! I’ve never seen his portrait before, no, that’s not right, I must have seen it… Have you all seen it?”

He grabbed the Dao Imparting Mirror, shaking it excitedly, then freed his hands to wave hello:

“Sword Immortal Wen! I am Feng Ting Chen, a descendant of Feng Zhongzui!”

Wen Ting had already turned back towards Mei Siren and said gently, “If you have no objections, I will take Mei Ziyu back to the Burial Sword Tomb.”

Mei Siren turned his head to ponder, and Wen Ting’s consideration was not without its reasoning.

Moreover, after the death of the owners of the world’s famed swords, whether they are stolen, robbed, or taken forcefully, if they cannot be kept safe, their ultimate destination is almost always back to the Burial Sword Tomb.

Water flows eastward, swords return to the tomb.

It’s a stroke of fortune for Mei Ziyu to have the personal involvement of this generation’s tomb keeper to collect the sword.

“Alright.”

Mei Siren, holding Gu Yu, nodded heavily.

“You have no objections either, right?”

Wen Ting chuckled and patted the sword in his hand.

Mei Ziyu, sentient, knew that this was fate playing tricks, trembling silently as if giving its consent.

“Then it is decided.”

After Wen Ting took the sword, he opened his mouth and swallowed the whole Mei Ziyu into his belly.

Huh?

Xu Xiaoshou’s eyes bulged out in shock.

After Wen Ting had swallowed the sword, he took a long breath, then smiled and turned to look at the many ancient swordsmen present, not caring whether he recognized them or not, he nodded in greeting to each one.

Finally, he looked at Xu Xiaoshou.

“Watched, Passive Points, +1.”

Looking at me?

Xu Xiaoshou, not understanding why, also looked back.

After staring blankly for three breaths, he suddenly realized that this Wen Ting was too illusory, perhaps not a real person?

And his face…

Xu Xiaoshou clearly saw that Wen Ting’s face was quite distinctive. He could say the man was handsome, but if asked to describe him, he couldn’t remember at all.

It was like a famed sword concealing itself, a demi-saint restraining its Aura.

Wen Ting either intentionally didn’t want to show his true face, or it was objectively so.

“The younger generation is indeed to be feared.”

At the end, Wen Ting’s lips curled up slightly, as if to say hello.

After turning around, he flung his water sleeves wrapped around his wrist into the sky, turning them into two blue and white dragons that flew off into the distance.

Under the snow, only the sound curtailing the moving clouds was left, gradually fading into a distant operatic tune:

“And let those pear blossoms heavy with rain fall, grant him a moment of emotion, as the great dream wakes! It causes one to sigh! To lament! Endlessly—”

Huh?

Xu Xiaoshou was stunned again.

Just like that, he appeared abruptly, swallowed a sword, sang a piece, and then just as abruptly left?

And nothing else happened?

From afar, Feng Zhongzui held the Dao Imparting Mirror until the white figure had completely vanished at the horizon before reluctantly putting down the mirror.

He didn’t understand what Wen Ting was singing, not even catching the words clearly.

But he was so immersed in that mood, unable to pull himself away.

“I feel like he was a sword saint.” Feng Zhongzui looked down and clicked his tongue twice before speaking to the mirror, “But I feel like describing him as ‘Immortal’ fits better… What do you think?”

Across the mirror, a flood of curses ensued:

“Damn it Feng Zhongzui, are you sick in the head or what, what are you shaking that at me for!”

“Damn, I’ve been blessed by a dog; I’ve waited so long for Sword Immortal Wen… I’ve never heard of his deeds in my life, I only know he’s a Sword Immortal, and I’m curious! Damn it, I didn’t see his face? Crap!”

“Sob, Feng Zhongzui, I’m going to butcher you…”

At the old site of Jade Capital City, Xu Xiaoshou watched Wen Ting leave, lost in thought.

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