Chapter 163: The Wandering Light Sword Forged by a Crazy Martyr

The first day of the Sword Distribution Conference came to a close.

Thirty-six competitors advanced, chosen from a total pool of merely about three hundred participants—a mix of freelancers and disciples from martial schools.

Freelancers aside, that scene was quite chaotic.

Disciples from established schools usually sent only one representative to challenge for a sword. The rest simply came to watch.

But with their deep resources, school disciples typically scored high placements.

Of the thirty-six who advanced this round, thirty were school disciples, leaving only six freelancers.

Lin Feng, naturally, was one of those six.

The rest weren’t empty-handed either. Each got a sword, and even the lowest quality blade was better than those sold at ordinary blacksmith shops.

For this decade-spanning Sword Distribution Conference, Myriad Sword Manor clearly spared no expense. The swords handed out weren’t cheap—they’d easily fetch over a hundred silver taels each if sold individually.

But that’s individual pricing. Coming straight from the manufacturer at wholesale? Their cost couldn’t have been much—maybe ten taels per sword at best.

After all, Myriad Sword Manor relied on this craft. Materials, labor time, production time, plus R&D—pricing seemed fair to them.

This batch targeted wealthy buyers, though cheaper swords for other budgets existed too.

Thump, thump, thump~

Night had fallen. Seated cross-legged, sword cradled in his arms, Lin Feng’s eyes briefly flashed open before quickly returning to their usual calm.

“Who comes?” His tone held an edge of ice.

“Lin Feng, it’s Ye Meng and Chen Xiyi,” Ye Meng’s voice responded, accompanied by another knock.

Truthfully, Ye Meng hadn’t planned on coming. Neither had Chen Xiyi thought to invite him—Chen was there to earn goodwill points alone. They’d just happened upon each other en route, so Ye Meng tagged along.

A flicker of confusion crossed Lin Feng’s eyes: “Second Master Ye? Why seek me?”

Baffling as it was, he couldn’t just leave them outside. “Enter,” Lin Feng granted once he’d opened the door, his gaze briefly landing on Chen Xiyi. Unfamiliar. And not among tomorrow’s thirty-six finalists.

Devoted to the sword? Lin Feng was. But that didn’t make him socially inept. Guests welcomed in meant tea offered, seats provided.

“Second Master Ye, such a late visit—what urgent matter demands it?” Lin Feng silently noted one doesn’t visit without reason. Something must be the matter.

“No great urgency,” Ye Meng gestured plainly toward Chen Xiyi. “My friend here saw your bout today. Felt he clicked with you instantly, so he came to introduce himself.”

Chen Xiyi nodded eagerly. “Exactly! We’re clearly meant to be friends, so… friends?”

Lin Feng silently processed this. Was befriending this effortless?

“Fine. Friends we are.”

[You conversed happily with the martial artist Lin Feng. His Favorability toward you increased by 1. Current Favorability: 1 Star]

“???”

Stunned silence from Chen Xiyi this time. Accepted just like that? They’d barely exchanged words! And he still had entire speeches planned!

“Ah, well… May you grasp top honors tomorrow. And the Wandering Light Sword,” Chen Xiyi managed.

“My thanks.”

[You conversed happily with the martial artist Lin Feng. His Favorability toward you increased by 1. Current Favorability: 1.5 Stars]

Another update to the Game Log. Another half-star gain. Chen Xiyi accepted the truth: People differed. Yan Guilai took ages for one point. Lin Feng? Two sentences equaled 1.5 stars. Suddenly, Yan Guilai felt ever more disappointing…

“Won’t take more of your rest time then. After winning Wandering Light, drinks are on me,” Chen Xiyi announced, heading for the door.

“Mm. Farewell.”

Utter bewilderment struck Ye Meng. The walkover lasted longer than that entire chat! But dismissal signaled the end. Ye Meng followed Chen Xiyi out, gently closing the door.

Footsteps faded. Lin Feng’s fingers traced his sword. “To genuinely seek friendship… intriguing indeed.”

His Heart-and-Sword Communion did more than sharpen focus. It sensed faint intentions others held toward him via the blade’s resonance. From Chen Xiyi? Pure goodwill. True friendship sought. Acceptance followed naturally.

Ye Meng? Just the middleman.

This clarity transcended steel—it touched minds too.

A small flourish spun his blade. “So… what makes Wandering Light special?”

Lin Feng cared little for the specific sword itself. His current one had traveled with him since training began.

But “Wandering Light”—those two characters ignited something within him. Quiet assurance pulsed: He and this named, unknown sword belonged together.

So he participated. He wanted its story, its truth.

…

“Become friends that fast?” Ye Meng demanded, catching up to Chen Xiyi outside.

“Well, friendship established. Rest important, yes? That sword demands fierce focus tomorrow,” Chen Xiyi declared solemnly.

Ye Meng paused briefly before voicing his blunt view: “Lin Feng’s good. But top thirty-six is his peak. Wandering Light isn’t for him.”

Total disagreement flared from Chen Xiyi: “Barring a rigged contest? He’d best the other thirty-five combined.”

“That confident?” Ye Meng remained skeptical. Chen Xiyi—mysterious, yes—but obviously untrained in martial arts. No practice meant no eye for technique assessment.

Judging martial opponents typically involved watching stance, breathing patterns, calluses—initial clues to power level. Actual clashes tested inner strength—Internal Energy capacity, technique mastery—for confirmation. Not some innate sense of their exact state.

Such abilities remained beyond this world’s progression. Only Innate Warriors projected Internal Energy externally. Below? Internal Energy merely enhanced strength, agility, movement techniques—never entirely leaving one’s body.

“Guess we’ll root for him then,” Ye Meng conceded lightly. Yet his tone darkened: “Though winning Wandering Light is hard enough… yielding it safely is another battle entirely.”

Chen Xiyi frowned instantly: “Problematic blade?”

“The blacksmith died forging it,” Ye Meng stated flatly.

“…” Chen Xiyi’s mind briefly conjured absurd ends—choking on dinner? Everyone died eventually, himself included recently. Why fuss over one craftsman?

“Death followed madness.”

Ah. Mental collapse preceding demise. Clear enough.

“During his breakdown… he raved. Uttering nonsense—a terrified, then frenzied babble nobody understood,” Ye Meng explained gravely. “His end was obsession: death became sacrifice to his creation. And once life left him… Wandering Light emerged whole.”

“But that was merely the start. Each succeeding owner met madness, then demise—pattern unbroken. They eventually sealed the blade away.”

“Until now. My brother—for reasons unknown—decided to offer Wandering Light as this Conference’s star prize.”

Ye Meng paced the tale slowly, clearly gauging Chen Xiyi’s fright response.

“What an oddly constructed ghost story. Might write a better one if you practiced,” Chen Xiyi waved dismissively. A spooky sword in this martial arts world? Utter nonsense.

Ye Meng offered a strained chuckle: “Too obvious? My descriptions still lack polish.”

“Anyway. Part ways here.” Chen Xiyi simply turned and walked off alone.

Watching that retreating back, Ye Meng’s expression barely shifted.

‘If only this tale weren’t truth.’

…

Walking home, Chen Xiyi pondered Ye Meng’s words.

The Status Bar rarely lied: genuine horror likely underpinned that tale.

‘Darn it. Don’t shift genres mid-story! Wanted easy martial world fun. Not… paranormal encounters!’

He recalled Murphy’s Law—expect bad luck, and it surges stronger. Yet… one fact surfaced: Ghosts didn’t frighten him.

His last world? What he did to demons there would terrify most spectres.

‘Point being: Once that Health Bar shows up… I carry escape backup.’

He’d almost declared: “Show Health equals kill.” Then Chris flashed before his eyes—Phoenix Bloodline Holy Knight. That man’s healing power defied reason—recovering beyond 100% Health per second? Undying by sheer regen? It unnerved him somewhat.

Not that Chris’s appearance really phased him. He still had 20,000 triple-enchanted TNT tucked away. Previous ten-thousand-blocks spent? Crafting filled the gap again. A brilliant tool… especially when death wasn’t truly final.

‘Tomorrow unveils Wandering Light’s origins. How cursed can one sword actually be?’

‘Whatever it is… beats those Qi Refiners for sheer weirdness.’

This world seemed low-tier to him. Modules were scarce. Items holding Historical Connotation numbered barely one. How potent could its powers climb?

Reassuring himself brought calmness. Self-inflicted fear, likely. Low-level dangers? Minimal threat.

True danger arose? Simply dig deeper. Build another Underground Shelter. Hide.

If even the Underground Shelter failed? Retreat further—the Homestead sanctuary beckoned. Tolerable refuge until the Cycle Function reactivated.

Back in his room, Chen Xiyi lifted a floorboard, revealing a passage downward—into darkness.

He always crafted such sanctuaries beneath him. Excellent Homestead waypoints.

Guest status initially barred his room access earlier? Connections solved that. Ye Meng arranged it. Saved walking back to his rented Inn space too. Saved precious coins—coins “gifted” generously by traveling heroes past.