In the Blade

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the moon is bright and the stars are sparse.

Du Chengfeng sat up from the bed. After sleeping all day, Du Chengfeng was already full of energy. However, he was not in a hurry to get up. Instead, he recalled what he had seen when he was sharpening his sword.

It's not the sword moves that have been polished to the extreme by Cui Yuan, but Cui Yuan's behavior itself.

Du Chengfeng didn't know who Cui Yuan's teacher was, but Du Chengfeng found the way that person educated Cui Yuan very interesting - after all, for any ordinary person, after the teacher left, there was no one to supervise him. He would soon slack off in his studies, but Cui Yuan was completely different. He could persist in training three thousand swords a day for fifteen years, and the perseverance he showed was truly admirable.

This is no longer just practicing swordsmanship, it is simply practicing treating oneself as a sword.

"Yes! That's it!"

In an instant, Du Chengfeng caught this fleeting inspiration.

That's it, that's what inspired me during the day. Although Du Chengfeng didn't know how to practice martial arts, he knew how to sharpen a knife - in other words, if pushing the blade on the whetstone again and again can be regarded as polishing the blade... …

Can the act of wielding three thousand swords every day also be regarded as polishing oneself?

Is it to sharpen your body? Or sharpen your will? Du Chengfeng couldn't tell the difference for the moment, or it might be both.

But none of this matters.

The important thing is that this inspiration opened the door to a new world for Du Chengfeng's thinking.

"Since knives can be sharpened, can people sharpen them?"

With this thought in mind, Du Chengfeng got out of bed and picked up the heavy knife.

Under the moonlight, Du Chengfeng raised the sword high and then slashed it down.

This can't even be called a move, it's just a chopping force. The original owner of this knife, Fatty Yang, chopped off countless pig heads with one knife in this way.

"He must have made mistakes before."

While waving the knife, Du Chengfeng thought of Fatty Yang's big face.

Although Fatty Yang was already able to cut off a pig's head with this sword when he first met him, Fatty Yang must have gone through a lot of hard training before that.

Mistake after mistake, adjustment after adjustment.

Remember the position of the bone seams again and again, and correct the feel again and again.

What is right? Fatty Yang may have been confused before, just like Cui Yuan who wielded three thousand swords every day. Are all three thousand swords correct?

No, I have also missed it, and I have been confused. After all, although the sword moves are just those, whether I can do it or not is another matter. But it is because of this repeated polishing and correction that those rough edges and blunt edges will become sharp, and those basic sword moves will become sharp and capable of killing people.

Just like Fatty Yang did after he got this big knife.

With a swing of the knife, the pig's head fell down.

The blade wandered between the bones, not cutting or slicing.

"call……"

Exhaling a breath, the thick blade swam across the wooden table next to him.

At this moment, Du Chengfeng completed his first polishing.

Putting away the big knife, Du Chengfeng turned around with soft footsteps.

And half of the wooden table behind him slid to the ground silently.

There was a muffled sound.

Following the inspiration he had just grasped, Du Chengfeng kept walking all the way to the warehouse.

This is the place where a large number of weapons are stored. Some of them are scimitars commonly used by barbarians, and the other part are bone warhammers commonly used by grassland people-it is said to be a warhammer, but in essence it is just a cast-iron spike that hits the head. It's just mounted on a wooden stick, and some careless ones even use bones.

There was a time when Du Chengfeng didn't know how to polish these bones. After all, these things have no point or edge, just an iron head. If you want to use a whetstone to touch it, there is no way to handle it.

But thinking about it now, is it really a whetstone that he needs to use?

Just like when he polished his body, does he really want to rub it with a whetstone?

No, obviously not.

When he wields the broadsword, that broadsword and that style of Cooking the Pig are the whetstones for sharpening his sword.

So, if you want to polish it, do you need to use a stone?

"Maybe try this."

With this in mind, Du Chengfeng found a piece of deer skin.

The soft deerskin is often used to wipe weapons. Now, Du Chengfeng squatted down and used this piece of deerskin to gently wipe the blood on the war hammer in his hand, feeling every line on the warhammer. Every bump, every bright or dark crack.

Every crack is the pattern of a story.

Along with the wiping process, Du Chengfeng seemed to see the military life of a prairie warrior.

The poor prairie man couldn't afford a sword that required a lot of iron, so he could only buy some iron and put it on a wooden stick to make the cheapest weapon - but no matter how crude the weapon was, it was enough. Breaking the bones and cracking the head is enough for him to follow the leaders to conquer here and there to save some wealth for himself.

However, just when this prairie warrior participated in several robberies and finally could afford a sword, he found that he had long been accustomed to the bones in his hands.

A sharp blade will wear out after just a few hits, but a hard bone will remain the same no matter how many times it is hit. A cheap warhammer that can be seen everywhere is like the life of every prairie warrior. They who can grow up in the cold wind are no longer afraid of any hardships, just because those who are weak have already died in the wind.

So the only ones who survived were the strong ones.

"We deserve everything!"

In the camp full of grassland warriors, they raised their arms and shouted.

"We deserve everything!"

In front of the crowd, the man named He Xiqing was also shouting loudly.

"Why do we have to suffer! Why do we have to freeze! Why do our old people and children die in the cold wind! Why do disasters always fall on us! Why!"

"We also want to eat food! We also want to live in a big house! We also want warm land! We also want to survive!"

"We also want to survive!"

The grassland warriors looked at the man named He Xiqing, their eyes full of fanaticism.

It was at this time that the man named He Xiqing pressed down his arm.

"Take your weapons and practice your skills."

"We will take what God does not give us."

Accompanied by this order, the grassland warriors went to their own formations. They would go south one by one to the place where the weak Chen people lived, and use their swords and their lives that could not be killed by the cold wind to get everything they wanted from the cowardly Chen people.

As the original owner of this war hammer, the grassland warrior was incorporated into He Xixuan's team. This grassland warrior was quite excited. He knew that He Xixuan was He Xiqing's younger brother. Being able to train in this team meant that he would most likely be selected into He Xiqing's personal guard and become an eagle soaring under the blue sky.

But what this grassland warrior did not expect was that He Xixuan, a man as strong as a giant bear in the snow, would be beheaded by someone at a glance.

Then, Du Chengfeng saw his own face in this memory.

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