Chapter 2

Funeral arrangements?

Even though he was mentally prepared, Han Muye was still startled.

Without cultivation, one cannot survive for more than a year.

He knew that coming to the Sword Pavilion was not a good idea, but he didn't expect it to be so perilous.

After a moment of contemplation, he looked at Huang Laoliu, bowed, and said, "Senior, I wonder if having cultivation can help one survive for more than a year?"

"How is this year divided? Twelve months, which month will have the danger of sword qi injuring people?"

"Senior, could you tell me what is special about the sword qi here? If I am careful, can I survive for a year?"

The series of questions made Huang Laoliu slightly stunned.

He looked at Han Muye with a strange expression and said, "Do you really want to be a Sword Observer?"

No.

But what choice does he have?

Han Muye nodded.

Huang Laoliu grinned, revealing two missing front teeth.

"Follow me."

He beckoned, and Han Muye walked into the pavilion.

As soon as he entered, Han Muye felt his hair and body hair stand on end.

On the wooden racks, countless long swords stretched endlessly!

Some swords glowed with a faint cold light, as if ready to devour a person.

Others looked ancient and ordinary, but seemed to be like lurking beasts, ready to draw blood at any moment.

In the dark distance, there were fleeting glimmers of light, as if swords were about to fly out.

A chill seeped into his bones, making his teeth chatter.

"Not bad, you didn't wet your pants when you came in," Huang Laoliu looked at Han Muye and then pointed to the countless swords, "A Sword Observer watches these swords."

Watch these swords?

Han Muye was a bit puzzled.

"Newly forged swords are fine, but those used by others, which carry residual grudges, might want to drink some blood at midnight. You see, these swords need to be watched," Huang Laoliu grinned.

His toothless smile, paired with the dim sword light, was somewhat eerie.

Swords want to drink blood?

Han Muye regretted taking this job.

"But as a Sword Observer in the Sword Pavilion, as long as you don't die, you get ten spirit stones as monthly salary, and all the benefits of an inner disciple of the Nine Profound Sword Sect are the same."

"If you can survive for ten years, you will directly become an official of the Nine Profound Sword Sect."

"If you can survive for sixty years, hehe..."

Huang Laoliu's other words didn't matter to Han Muye anymore.

Ten spirit stones, inner disciple benefits, these are enough!

With his max-level enlightenment, he was confident he could embark on the path of cultivation.

"Are you tempted?"

Huang Laoliu pointed to a small room on the side, "The last Sword Observer left three days ago, you can stay in this room."

Han Muye walked into the room, which was a quiet chamber with a wooden bed and a long table.

He was exhausted these past few days, so he lay down on the bed and fell asleep.

When he woke up and walked out of the chamber, it was already bright outside.

Huang Laoliu looked at him with a strange expression, led him to a small courtyard behind the pavilion to wash up, and pointed to a few steamed buns on the stone table, "You eat breakfast, I'll go get your badge and clothes."

Huang Laoliu was quite enthusiastic, so Han Muye bowed and said, "Thank you, Senior."

Huang Laoliu remembered Han Muye's name, hometown, and other information, then walked out.

After a few steps, he suddenly turned back and said, "Don't call me Senior, I'm not much older than you."

Han Muye, with a mouth full of buns, froze, and didn't recover until Huang Laoliu left the Sword Pavilion.

Huang Laoliu was hunched, with gray hair and missing teeth, clearly old.

But he said he wasn't much older than Han Muye.

Is this the effect of the sword qi in the Sword Pavilion?

Suddenly, Han Muye found it hard to swallow the buns.

In this cultivation world, he was planning to find a beautiful immortal and experience the joy of dual cultivation.

But if he starts to age like Huang Laoliu, wouldn't he be powerless?

After a quick breakfast, Han Muye walked to the wooden racks filled with long swords.

Each sword looked extraordinary, and if taken to Earth, they would be priceless.

He reached out and gripped the hilt of a long sword, tightened his fingers, and pulled hard.

"Hmm?"

Seeing no one around, he blushed slightly and let go.

Embarrassed, the sword did not come out of the scabbard.

Unwilling to give up, he tried several more times, determined to pull out the swords on the racks.

"Clang—"

After walking past a few racks, he pulled out a slender long sword.

The clear sword light shimmered like water, the blade was long and narrow, with a faint blue glow.

"Good, cheap..."

Han Muye's eyes fell on the sword, and his mind buzzed with images.

Before him, several craftsmen swung hammers, sparks flying with each strike.

Thousands of hammer blows.

These burly men struck millions of times, shaping the iron ingot.

Quenching, polishing, adjusting, and decorating.

A long sword was forged.

"38,251 heavy strikes, 86,513 light strikes."

"5,620 polishing strokes, 9 tempering sessions."

"2 feet 8 inches 9 points long, 3 inches 1 point wide."

"8 pounds 6 ounces 7 mace heavy."

"Nine-turn quenching technique, hundred-fold forging method."

Murmuring, Han Muye's eyes glowed.

A subtle, almost imperceptible aura entered his body and disappeared.

Is this the power of max-level enlightenment?

With one glance, the long sword in his hand had no secrets, and he understood two forging techniques.

With such a golden finger, how could he worry about not being able to cultivate?

He put the long sword back and reached for another one.

Without effort, he felt he could pull it out.

"What are you doing? Do you want to shorten your life?"

Before he could pull the sword, Huang Laoliu's voice came.

Letting go, Han Muye walked away from the rack.

"If you want to live longer, stay away from these swords."

Huang Laoliu threw the clothes and badge in front of Han Muye and said coldly, "The last Sword Observer was too curious and left after less than three months."

"Where did he go?" Han Muye picked up the badge and unfolded the gray-green robe of the Nine Profound Sword Sect.

"Where did he go?" Huang Laoliu laughed, "He died, his blood and qi were drained by a long sword, and he died very uneasily."

Saying this, he looked at Han Muye, "Last night, you slept in his room, didn't you hear any sounds?"

Han Muye, who was tying his belt, froze.

...

The swords in the Sword Pavilion are either newly forged, waiting for disciples to claim, or are the swords of fallen disciples of the Nine Profound Sword Sect, waiting for their next owner.

The first floor of the Sword Pavilion houses tens of thousands of swords, mostly ordinary.

The second floor houses over a thousand swords, all at least of the spirit level.

As for the third floor, Huang Laoliu didn't introduce it.

With no outsiders visiting the Sword Pavilion for a day, Huang Laoliu, who was actually in his early thirties, explained the general situation to Han Muye.

"The first floor of the Sword Pavilion is divided into twelve areas, each with about three thousand long swords. We, the Sword Observers, need to polish one area each month."

"All the swords need to be polished at least once a year."

"Every June 6th, the swords need to be aired out."

"Other times, avoid them if you can."

When closing the pavilion door at night, Huang Laoliu patted Han Muye's shoulder and said, "You're quite interesting, I don't want you to die within three months."

Lying on the wooden bed, Han Muye's mind alternated between the images of forging the long sword and the story of the sword drinking blood.

In a half-awake, half-asleep state, he suddenly heard a soft voice.

"Sir, do you want to practice dual cultivation?"