Forgotten Tale of Jianghu

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, a soft snowfall began, casting a hazy veil over the towering walls of Kunming City. From his horse, Xin Long gazed at the city's silhouette, his heart an odd blend of stillness and anticipation.

A single assassination that could pit him against an entire city. A single assassination that could turn him into an enemy of the entire martial world.

But for a hired blade like him, such matters held no weight.

If someone paid him to kill, the only question was whether the blade would strike true — not whether the task was impossible. Success meant silver. Failure meant death — or worse, disgrace.

The thoughts gnawed at him during the journey, swirling like the winter wind.

It wasn't hard to realize that Murong Jing wanted him dead. To order a mission like this — sending him to kill someone whose death would draw the wrath of countless sects — was as good as signing his death warrant.

Yet, Xin Long wasn't just a mercenary under Murong Jing. He was also a member of the Shadowmoon reaper sect. Whether this mission was a trap or not didn't matter. Orders were orders. His sword would only stop once the target's blood stained the snow.

Success depended solely on his skill — nothing else.

His horse halted at the edge of a forest, just outside the city walls. Still astride the beast, Xin Long's cold gaze remained fixed on the distant gates of Kunming, his mind a tangle of silent calculations.

Without breaking his focus, his hand reached behind him, pulling free a blade wrapped in dark cloth — a weapon entrusted to him by Sangguan Yun'er. His right hand unbound the cloth slowly, revealing the cold steel beneath.

It wasn't to admire the weapon.

It was a quiet preparation — a simple habit. To unsheathe the blade meant readiness.

Sangguan Yun'er…

At this moment, she was likely alone, brooding in a dark corner of some desolate inn, lost in thoughts of her own. Or perhaps, she was quietly smiling to herself, her mind swirling with unseen schemes.

He couldn't know for sure — he never truly understood her.

What she thought, what she felt… these things remained a mystery.

But whether she was grieving or pleased, one truth was certain — when he returned, she would be waiting for him.

Of that, Xin Long had no doubt.

As Xin Long unwrapped the sword given to him by Sangguan Yun'er, his thoughts drifted to her once again.

The sword's scabbard, dark as the midnight sky, and its hilt — cold and unyielding — seemed to steal the very breath from the air around him. For a brief moment, he wondered if any who gazed upon this weapon would feel the same silent, suffocating dread.

The hilt seamlessly connected to the scabbard, carved with delicate, masterful patterns of blooming flowers. The craftsmanship was so precise that it stirred an odd sense of admiration within him — a rare feeling.

His right hand closed around the hilt. With a slow, deliberate motion, he drew the sword free with his left hand.

The sword, unsheathed, drank in the last light of the setting sun — its surface so dark, it seemed to absorb the surrounding shadows. And yet, there was a cruel gleam to it, an ethereal glow that made his vision waver for a fleeting second.

What was this sword made from? It was darker than any steel he had ever seen.

A double-edged sword — just the kind he favored. Deadly from every angle.

As the sword slid free, he felt it — a sudden rush of air, as though an invisible gust of wind had struck him the moment the weapon left its scabbard. Was it his imagination? A mere trick of the mind?

He couldn't tell.

But the sword, shrouded in its shadowy aura, made his blood pulse harder, faster.

The longer he held it, the more a strange, violent urge crept into him — a slow, gnawing desire to kill.

Why?

Why did he feel this way?

His grip tightened. His cold, dark eyes fixed on the blade, as though searching for an answer.

And then, he saw it.

Etched into the sword was the figure of a dragon — its form coiled, its fierce eyes glaring, carved so vividly it seemed almost alive.

The falling snow dampened the metal, causing the dragon's image to shimmer, as though it, too, was breathing.

A treasured sword. Yes.

This was no ordinary weapon. It had to be a sword of great value — a masterpiece.

Xin Long came to this conclusion without hesitation, his thoughts cutting as sharply as the sword in his hand.

Indeed… the sword that Xin Long brought from Sangguan Yun'er was none other than a legendary treasure sword.

It was crafted by the legendary blacksmith Jian Hu Jing in a bygone era, forged from collected lightning-struck metals. Remarkably, the moment the sword was first cast aligned with the hour of sunset. Likewise, when the final stroke was carved, completing the weapon, it was during a night when a lunar eclipse darkened the sky.

Because of this, the legendary blacksmith Jian Hu Jing named the sword the Soulreaper Sword.

Later, due to its bloodthirsty nature, the sword gained infamy and became known as a legendary demon sword.

Upon hearing rumors of the demon sword's existence, several martial artists sought to seize it, gathering like a storm to claim its power. However, when they arrived, both the sword and Jian Hu Jing mysteriously vanished, swallowed by the mists of time.

No one ever laid hands on the sword. To this day, not a single martial artist in the entire martial world knows where the demon sword truly rests.

And from that night forward, not a single soul in the martial world knew where the Demon sword had gone.

It was as though the sword had simply been swallowed by the shadows.

By a twist of fate, Sangguan Yun'er came into possession of this lost blade.

A man — wild-eyed like an addict, obsessed with gambling as if his very life depended on it — had brought the sword to Nan Hai City. With every coin he had squandered, his desperation grew. When his pockets were empty, he wagered the sword itself in one of the gambling halls owned by Sangguan Yun'er's father — Sangguan Jin Hu.

By mere chance, Sangguan Yun'er had accompanied Twin Blades Yiyue to the gambling den that day.

Perhaps out of amusement, or simply on a whim, she purchased the sword without bothering to unsheathe it.

For as fate often dictates — a treasure will only reveal itself to those it deems worthy.

Strangely enough, despite acquiring such a weapon, Sangguan Yun'er had never once unwrapped the cloth that covered the sword.

The events unfolded just three days before Xin Long arrived in Nan Hai City.

Was it truly coincidence?

Or had fate chosen to bestow wings upon a tiger, preparing it to soar?

When Sangguan Yun'er met Xin Long, perhaps out of a desire to make an impression, or simply to maintain a certain air of mystery, she gave him the sword — still tightly wrapped.

And now, the sword had passed into Xin Long's hands.

Wherever demons walk, the Demon sword follows.

Had the demon arrived at last?

Xin Long gazed at the Demon sword before him, silently forming his judgment. After a brief moment, he slid the blade back into its scabbard. Wrapping it carefully in cloth, he slung it over his back — the familiar place where a tiger always carried its fangs.

The moment he secured the sword to his back, a surge of confidence crept into his heart. Yes. Confidence.

With a treasured sword now in his grasp, wouldn't it surely help him accomplish his mission?

"Roar..."

Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop...

Fueled by the sudden rush of belief in himself, Xin Long let out a low, growling shout. With that, he pushed forward at full speed toward the mist-shrouded city of Kunming.

As the wind howled past him, a wild thought echoed in his mind—

"The so-called Dragon-Tiger Master, huh? I'm coming to kill you!"

End - 31