From Li Family Village to the small town, one had to take a bumpy ride on a freight carriage.
Along the road—
Li Zhexian finally learned—
That Li Family Village lay on the northern frontier of the Heaven Dou Empire. Separated from the prosperous imperial capital by the vast Star Dou Forest, it was instead much closer to the forest's edge.
By the time their family arrived at the town—
They saw that from the temporary high platform erected at the town center, all the way to the not-so-wide streets, the place was already packed to the brim with people.
Though the scene was a sea of humanity, it was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
Only the storyteller's voice on the high platform—amplified by Spirit Power—rose and fell rhythmically, echoing through the air.
They had arrived too late.
Even with a Spirit Master transmitting sound, the Li family standing several hundred meters away could not hear clearly.
Xiao Hu sat on his father's shoulders, clutching his wooden sword and craning his neck, yet he could see nothing.
Just as his lips puckered, about to cry,
the woman's brows snapped upward and she raised her hand.
In most matters she indulged Xiao Hu,
but when it came to Lord Sword Wine,
this rural woman would tolerate not the slightest disrespect.
"Xiao Hu, come."
Li Zhexian lightly lifted Xiao Hu by the collar with his right hand. With a gentle tap of his toe against the ground, his figure floated upward.
Like a falling leaf, he landed soundlessly on a rooftop by the street, not even disturbing a single tile.
Catching sight of the flying eaves of a two-story tavern beside the platform,
he moved again.
His coarse hemp garments traced a gray streak through the wind, and in an instant he stood steadily at the corner of the eaves.
"Wow! Big brother—"
"Shh."
Li Zhexian shook his head slightly.
His swift rooftop movements had made no sound at all, nor stirred even the slightest ripple in the crowd.
Everyone was holding their breath, afraid to miss a single word from the storyteller.
Leaning casually against the eaves,
he untied the wine gourd at his waist and tilted his head back for a sip.
It was a cloudy, home-brewed wine—made by farmers from leftover grain, mixed with overripe fruit. A single vat could last from early summer to the end of winter.
Li Zhexian liked the taste.
Layers of sourness wrapped around a faintly throat-burning wildness, sending a pleasant shiver from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.
Chewing on the wine lees,
he looked toward the storyteller on the platform.
"This Lord Sword Wine…"
"Even people in such a remote place revere and love him so deeply…"
He murmured to himself:
"He truly was someone extraordinary."
Pa!
The sound of the wooden clapper rang out sharply.
The storyteller's voice shook the long street:
"Last time, we left off at—"
"Lord Sword Wine cleaving open the Heaven's Gate with a single sword strike!"
"Pope Bibi Dong looked up at the firmament and saw that heaven-splitting sword descending, and she was so frightened that her soul nearly left her body!"
He snapped his folding fan shut and struck the edge of the table, lowering his voice by several degrees.
"Esteemed listeners, you might ask—she had already stepped half a foot into godhood, so why did fear still arise in her heart?"
"It turns out—"
"The edge of that sword sent the Pope reeling back in time, to years past, when Lord Sword Wine nailed her to death atop the Divine Mountain with a single strike!"
"Bravo!!!"
Cheers erupted sky-high through the streets.
Li Zhexian, too, joined the crowd in lightly clapping his hands.
Yet—
when the storyteller's voice rang out again,
the jubilation subsided within mere breaths, and the entire crowd returned to utter silence.
"No matter how boundless Bibi Dong's hatred, beneath Lord Sword Wine's blade, even a so-called divine body shattered inch by inch!"
"Years later, Lord Sword Wine once more pierced Bibi Dong with a single sword, nailing her alive into a bottomless abyss!"
"With a mortal body, Lord Sword Wine forcefully invoked secret methods to reach divine might—until at last, the oil was spent and the lamp burned dry!"
"Miss Zhuqing coughed blood from her lips, countless prodigies wept until their hearts were torn apart, and the elder Titled Douluo shed bitter tears!"
"But behold—hundreds of thousands of Heaven Dou soldiers fell to their knees with a clatter, the sound of weapons striking the ground shaking heaven and earth!"
"In the boundless sky, blood-red clouds suddenly appeared—yet clear as glazed glass!"
"Where the clouds parted, countless blood-red petals drifted down from the heavens!"
"Ten thousand miles of crimson—"
"all for Lord Sword Wine alone!"
The townsfolk throughout the streets all lowered their heads.
Inside and outside the streets, silence reigned so completely one could hear a pin drop.
When the storyteller reached the part where Lord Sword Wine dispersed into a mist of blood, sorrow surged like a tide, clogging hearts and choking throats.
Those quick to tears had already begun sobbing softly.
"Lord Sword Wine…"
"A youth so astonishingly gifted… how could he—"
"I heard the imperial capital has cast a golden statue for Lord Sword Wine! Since he said he would return in a year, shouldn't we cast even more statues for him?"
"That's right! When Lord Sword Wine returns, he'll surely become a god!"
Up on the rooftop,
Li Zhexian slowly let out a breath, gently rubbing his brow with his fingertips.
He felt more and more that something was wrong with him.
Why did the stories from the storyteller's mouth always carry an inexplicable sense of familiarity?
"Have I… heard this somewhere before?"
Clatter—
Clatter—
Life in a frontier town was hard.
Aside from a few merchants who tossed silver soul coins onto the stage,
most farming families could only produce copper soul coins. Many more instead threw up melons, fruits, vegetables, or even eggs they had saved up at home.
From afar,
produce of all kinds surged toward the platform like a tide, creating a truly spectacular sight.
The storyteller, however, turned pale with fright.
If not for seeing the crowd's fervent emotions, he might have thought he had botched the performance.
The Spirit Master beside him also changed expression and hurried to stand in front of the storyteller.
As his Spirit Power surged, it formed a great net that caught everything being thrown.
"Thank you, fellow villagers, for your generous affection!"
Wiping the thin sheen of sweat from their foreheads, the storyteller and the Spirit Master clasped their hands repeatedly toward the cheering crowd.
They exchanged a glance, each seeing relief and satisfaction in the other's eyes.
They recalled the early days when they had first taken to the road of storytelling.
It hadn't been constant rejection—
but there truly hadn't been many people willing to sit down and listen to tales of Lord Sword Wine.
Now, wherever they traveled, every city received them with honor, and every household cast golden statues for Lord Sword Wine.
This recognition
made the two of them truly feel the worth of what they were doing.
"This town is finished. Let's head to the next one," the storyteller said.
"Everything according to your wishes, sir," replied the Spirit Master.
On the rooftop,
Li Zhexian took out a few copper soul coins from his robe—coins the Li family's man had secretly pressed into his hand.
They had originally been meant for buying him new clothes in town.
He flicked his finger.
The copper coin traced a dark-golden arc through the air,
landing squarely on the storyteller's desk.
It spun in place with a crisp ringing sound.
At the instant he withdrew his hand, Li Zhexian couldn't help but feel momentarily dazed.
That familiar sensation came again.
As if…
he had performed this very action countless times before.
The clear sound on the desk made the storyteller lower his head.
When he saw the spinning copper coin,
he froze where he stood.
The emotions that had yet to disperse from his storytelling moments ago all transformed into a warm current, surging upward and heating his eyes.
He hurriedly lifted his gaze to search—
and saw, upon the flying eaves of the second-story tavern, a figure as hazy as a mirage.
Coarse hemp clothing fluttered gently in the wind.
The young man's lips seemed to carry a faint, elusive smile as he quietly looked back at him.
"Sir, everything's packed—"
Before the Spirit Master could finish speaking, he noticed the storyteller standing there in a daze.
Following his line of sight,
he too saw the dreamlike figure on the eaves.
Though the features could not be clearly made out,
an unprovoked sense of familiarity stirred in his heart.
But in the next instant,
the figure vanished like a mirage,
leaving behind only a hazy afterimage imprinted in their eyes…