Chapter 1

The fat man beside him was crunching on malt sugar, the afterglow of the sunset spread over the land, and the wind was as gentle as a feather, devoid of the usual harshness and cold. Ai Hui didn't know if he would remember this day in the future.

"Have you made up your mind?" the fat man asked, his words muffled.

"I have made up my mind," Ai Hui replied firmly, having already made his decision, with nothing left to hesitate over.

The fat man seemed to be sighing, or perhaps envying: "Don't let those brats outshine you; it would make me feel ashamed. I just don't understand, what's so good about fighting and killing? With this money, we can live a good half-life back home! How many people from our batch entered the wilderness? Two thousand! Only two of us survived! This is money for our lives, do you understand! If I die, my family can still receive this money, but if you die..."

"So I have to live," Ai Hui interrupted the fat man, who was getting increasingly agitated and had stood up. His rebellious face was unusually calm at this moment.

The opportunity to enter the Five Elements Heaven was hard to come by. His qualifications were not outstanding, and he originally had no right to enter the Five Elements Heaven. However, over the past three years, his performance had been very excellent, showing remarkable calmness in complex and tense situations, and demonstrating courage and fighting spirit at critical moments, which left a deep impression.

When he requested a spot to enter the Five Elements Heaven, the higher-ups considered it and ultimately agreed.

Out of two thousand laborers, only two survived, and even if luck played a significant role, it still revealed many issues.

The fat man sat down dejectedly, knowing Ai Hui's stubbornness all too well. After a moment's thought, he became excited again, his face full of sincerity: "Remember to write my name in the compensation column; it's better to benefit me than others."

Ai Hui ignored him, casually plucking a blade of grass and putting it in his mouth, lying down comfortably with his head on his arms. Over the past three years in the wilderness, his nerves had been constantly on edge, with blood, life, and death, in a cold and dark world.

He didn't know how he had made it through these three years and didn't want to recall them; they were not pleasant memories.

The afterglow of the sunset warmed his body, making him feel comfortable. His frown relaxed, and the sternness on his face gradually softened, becoming peaceful and serene.

How comfortable!

His warm body gradually relaxed, and his thoughts became scattered, like mist without restraints, silently spreading out.

The warm sunlight and the slightly intoxicating breeze, a feeling that was both unfamiliar and familiar, awakened deep-seated memories in his mind.

Three years before the past three years, the sunlight and breeze in the sword cultivation dojo were just like this.

The sun had not yet risen, and he was breathing in the cold air, starting to clean the dojo that had been converted from an old warehouse. He wiped the floor three times as a warm-up. After wiping the floor, he began to hit the wooden frames. The wood he used was collected from nearby streets, varying in length and thickness, so the shape of the frames was not very precise.

After building the wooden frames, he began to organize the sword manuals and secret books that the boss had recently collected.

These secret books were priced at 20 yuan per kilogram in the market. Paper books were cheap, iron coupons and gold shells were a bit more expensive, and jade slips were the least valuable. The workload was significant, but no one was in a hurry, and Ai Hui never rushed, casually flipping through and commenting on them.

Occasionally, he would fantasize about what it would be like if he were in the cultivation era, how glorious it would be, and how he would sell sword manuals until his hands ached.

After organizing the sword manuals and secret books, he would start organizing the flying swords and treasure swords.

The sun had now risen, warm and cozy, just like now. A faint smile appeared on Ai Hui's lips.

Although the flying swords and treasure swords had lost their spiritual energy and were dull and lifeless, just a pile of scrap metal, in the sunlight, Ai Hui was often captivated by their ancient charm.

Flying swords represented the pinnacle of the cultivation world, the most favored by generations of alchemists, with a wide variety of shapes, some so strange that they couldn't be associated with flying swords at all.

He didn't touch the ones that were too rusty, for fear they might break, and the boss would scold him.

No wages, but three meals a day, such a life was as beautiful as the current sunlight for a homeless child who had wandered for the first ten years of his life. He couldn't find better words to praise it.

The boss was a good person, just not very good at business.

Would a qualified businessman run a sword cultivation dojo?

Ai Hui stayed in the dojo for three years, and the number of visitors was less than ten. Nine out of ten people who saw the sign for the sword cultivation dojo turned around and left.

Who still practices sword cultivation nowadays?

The dojo had countless secret books, manuals, treasure swords, and flying swords, and to collect these, the boss had traveled to waste markets all over the place, even bringing back batches from business trips.

One could say that the boss's enthusiasm for sword cultivation was almost irrational, with the shipping costs far exceeding the value of the items.

Of course, occasionally, Ai Hui thought that with the boss's meager finances, he could only afford such a cheap hobby as sword cultivation.

Ai Hui had advised the boss to change to something like body strengthening, which would have a much better future. The boss flew into a rage, scolding him severely, and Ai Hui then realized that the boss's business acumen was truly lacking.

Staying in the empty dojo, Ai Hui decided to study the sword manuals and secret books priced at 20 yuan per kilogram. He didn't become a sword cultivator, but thanks to his consistent training, he became quite good at fighting, attracting a few young brats.

The boss was not skilled, and his business failed, leaving him in debt. He committed suicide. Ai Hui was very sad; the boss was a good person but not very strong.

Paying off debts was a matter of course, and the dojo should belong to others. On the last day, when the debt collectors came to take the dojo, Ai Hui told himself this.

But when he saw the crude bookshelf he had built being knocked down, the secret books and manuals scattered everywhere, half of which the boss had dragged back from distant cities. When he saw the sword racks he had to clean several times a day being trampled into pieces by the debt collectors, the boss had said they were treasures from a sword master's cave, where the flying swords had once stained a thousand miles with blood, intimidating all the heroes. When he saw the nine-sword wind chime hanging from the eaves being torn apart, the boss had said it was the mountain's treasure of the once-renowned Nine-Sound Sword Sect, where the nine swords breaking through the void.

He couldn't hold back, like a wounded wolf on the brink of death, he lunged forward madly.

It was just a struggle, yes, a desperate struggle.

Ai Hui didn't know the boss's name, so he wrote "Boss" on a piece of wood as a memorial tablet, used thin branches as incense, and burned all the burnable sword manuals for the boss, bowing and wishing that the boss could fulfill his sword cultivation dream in heaven.

With a body full of injuries, he stared at the devastated dojo for a long time before turning to leave. Walking through the sunlight that filtered through the uneven rooftops, he moved mechanically, not knowing where he was going.

Even after a year, the feeling of being lost and alone was still so clear. He remembered feeling a bit cold, wrapping himself in his washed-out clothes, hands in his pockets, the sunlight that day was different from today, cold and piercing.

As he walked, he didn't know how long it had been until a strong sense of hunger woke him from his daze. Cold and hungry, he saw the announcement for the Five Elements Heaven recruiting laborers for the wilderness.

With nowhere to go and no path to take, he went.

Fortunately, he survived.

...

Ai Hui's thoughts returned, and he found his body had unconsciously tensed. He couldn't help but laugh bitterly; such a beautiful moment had been ruined by not-so-pleasant memories.

He took a deep breath, trying to relax his tense muscles.

For three whole years, he had survived in the wilderness. Out of their team of two thousand, only two survived, one of whom was him, the other being Qian Dai. Oh, the fat man's name was Qian Dai.

The families of the dead laborers would receive a compensation, and the survivors would get a large sum of money; the Five Elements Heaven was never stingy in this regard.

Qian Dai was preparing to return home, where he had a family of orphans and widows to support, and his pressure was greater than Ai Hui's.

"Alright, I know you're stubborn, set in your ways. You have a bad temper, many flaws, and never listen to advice. You're not young anymore, how will you find a wife? Spend the money wisely..." Qian Dai kept rambling, perhaps because they were about to part ways.

The nagging that usually annoyed him didn't seem so bad, but as soon as Qian Dai mentioned money, Ai Hui's forehead started to ache. This guy would get excited like he had been injected with adrenaline whenever money was mentioned.

Sure enough, seeing the veins on Qian Dai's neck start to bulge, Ai Hui decisively threw a cloth bag: "Here, take it!"

Qian Dai looked at Ai Hui with confusion but caught the bag with surprising agility. As soon as he got the bag, his small eyes widened.

With his thick, carrot-like fingers, he quickly opened the bag, and his whole body trembled with excitement.

Ai Hui turned away in disgust; Qian Dai's face when he saw the money was unbearable.

"Smack!" Qian Dai rushed over, gripping Ai Hui's hands, his face full of gratitude, tears welling up in his eyes.

Seeing Qian Dai like this, Ai Hui was also moved, realizing he had underestimated Qian Dai. They had fought side by side for so long, and the bond was sincere and deep. He wasn't used to such scenes and wanted to shout "get lost," but thinking about the impending separation, he restrained himself, speaking in a stiff voice: "I'm alone, and I don't have many expenses. You're going back to the old land, where you have a family to support, and you have more expenses than I do..."

"Good brother! You're really a good brother!" Qian Dai choked, shaking Ai Hui's hands vigorously, tears streaming down his face: "The Five Elements Heaven provides food and lodging, and you won't use the other half. Why don't you give it to me?"

To still have hopes for this guy was truly naive. Ai Hui's hands, which were being held, suddenly reversed the grip, applying a gentle force. Qian Dai, like a light, fat cloud, flew out over ten meters, landing and spitting out a mouthful of malt sugar.

"Get lost!"

It felt so good to finally speak his mind.

Ai Hui casually patted his hands and touched the money bag in his chest; Qian Dai's hands were very quick, and he had to be careful.

Qian Dai picked himself up from the ground, covered in dirt.

The whistle for the final assembly at the distant camp sounded, and both of them fell silent.

The time to part had come, the last assembly. Ai Hui was heading to the Five Elements Heaven, and Qian Dai was returning to the old land. The orange sunset, almost touching the ground, stretched their shadows long and longer.

"Live, Ai Hui!"

"Okay."

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