Volume One, Chapter 9: What Was Meant to Come Has Finally Arrived
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It’s done?!
Han the blacksmith, Han Li, and the two young assistants all stared dumbfoundedly at the knife on the anvil.
The blade was dull and gray, lacking the usual luster of ironware; at first glance, it looked like an unsharpened iron billet, utterly unremarkable. Yet when Zhang Muyang’s fingers traced the spine of the blade, he felt a subtle vibration emanating from deep within the metal, as if it were alive and pulsing.
“Watch closely.”
Without further words, Zhang Muyang lifted the knife and headed outside the cave.
Under the moonlight, a jujube wood stake, as thick as a bowl’s mouth, stood upright in the snow, its bark encased in a thick shell of ice. This wood was as hard as pig iron; an ordinary firewood knife would at best leave a white scar upon striking it.
Crack!
The blade sliced through the stake with a crisp snap.
The cut surface was smooth as a mirror and shimmered with a faint blue glow in the moonlight. Even more astonishing, frost patterns quickly formed at the break, lingering for three breaths before slowly melting away.
This...
Han the blacksmith dropped his hammer with a clatter, and the two assistants stood agape.
“Husband, are we... done?” Han Li’s face flushed with excitement as she hurried to Zhang Muyang’s side.
“We are!” Zhang Muyang weighed the knife in his hand. Though plain in appearance, it held a restrained sharpness. “Let’s call it Cold Feather.”
“Good! What a perfect name!” Han the blacksmith rubbed his hands, the exhaustion vanishing from his face. “This knife is forged with meteoric iron crystals, quenched in cold spring water. Ordinary iron tools would dull instantly upon contact!”
Suddenly, Han Li’s body weakened and she collapsed with a thud.
“Girl!” Han the blacksmith cried, rushing over.
Zhang Muyang’s reflexes were swift; he caught her, pressing his fingers to her pulse. The rhythm was faint but steady. “Don’t worry, Old Han. She’s just exhausted. A little rest will be fine.”
Three days and nights of guarding the forge, tending the fire, passing the iron, pumping the bellows—no strong man could endure that, let alone a young woman.
Han the blacksmith exhaled in relief, waving his hand tiredly. “You all go rest. I’ll stay here. When I have time, I’ll help you make a second Cold Feather knife, though without meteoric iron crystals, it won’t be as sharp.”
“That’s enough,” Zhang Muyang assured, gently lifting Han Li and wrapping the Cold Feather knife in coarse cloth. “Old Han, you should rest early too. Don’t overexert yourself.”
By the time they left the cave, the snow had ceased, and the moonlight spread a silver carpet across the snowfield.
Zhang Muyang carried Han Li, walking with uneven steps. Her head rested on his chest, breathing even, cheeks flushed with fatigue yet lips curving faintly as if dreaming a sweet dream.
He glanced down, softening his steps.
Upon returning home, Yang Wenxiu, Yang Wenjuan, and Su Ying were still awake, sitting around the oil lamp making cotton shoes. Seeing them return, the three hurried over.
“Husband, the Cold Feather knife... is it done?” Su Ying’s eyes sparkled as they fell on the cloth bundle at his waist.
“It is, though rushed. Only one was made.”
Zhang Muyang laid Han Li on the kang bed and tucked her in, his voice tinged with concern. “Han Li pushed herself too hard and collapsed from exhaustion.”
“Ah? Is she alright?” Yang Wenxiu quickly felt Han Li’s forehead. Seeing no fever, she relaxed.
“She’ll be fine after some sleep.” Zhang Muyang sat on the edge of the kang, rubbing his stomach. “By the way, is there anything to eat? I’m hungry.”
“There is!”
Yang Wenxiu dashed to the kitchen and soon returned with a bowl of coarse rice topped with several pieces of roe deer meat and stewed cabbage. The meat broth shimmered with a layer of oil, its aroma mingling with the scent of the hearth.
In these times, a meal of dry rice was more precious than even New Year’s feast.
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Zhang Muyang didn’t hesitate, devouring it all with loud slurps, licking the bowl clean of every drop of broth.
The fire on the kang blazed warmly, flushing everyone’s faces with a rosy glow.
As Yang Wenxiu cleared the dishes, she spoke softly, “Husband, the day after tomorrow you must report to the county garrison. Tonight... let Wenjuan keep you company.”
Yang Wenjuan’s cheeks reddened like ripe apples. She twisted the corner of her clothes nervously and whispered, “Husband, I... still don’t understand much, but I’ll learn. Please don’t despise me...”
“Silly girl.”
Zhang Muyang smiled, tousling her hair gently. “How could I ever despise you?”
With only two days left before leaving for the garrison, he dared not slacken.
After washing up, he lay down on the kang. The room was dark except for moonlight filtering through the window lattice, casting dancing shadows of tree branches on the floor.
Yang Wenjuan bit her lip, carefully climbed onto the kang, and lay beside him.
Compared to Yang Wenxiu’s poised gentleness and Su Ying’s cold elegance, Han Li’s passionate fervor, Yang Wenjuan had the bright innocence and youthful liveliness of a girl. Her small hand tentatively grasped the hem of Zhang Muyang’s clothes, fingertips trembling like a startled fawn.
A surge of tenderness rose in Zhang Muyang’s heart as he moved gently onto her...
Ding!
Suddenly, a system alert exploded in his mind:
[Physique: Elite Soldier (Expression) 1 (Progress 2/4)]
[Current number of wives: 2 (Names: Yang Wenxiu, Yang Wenjuan)]
[Current status: Stamina 1.0 (Expression) 2.0]
[Danger Perception +1 (from Yang Wenjuan) (Detection range 30 steps)]
[Unlocked: Squad Leader Physique]
Note: Skin at the peak of Refining Leather Realm gleams with a bronze sheen, texture as tight as aged bullhide, possessing 800 jin of strength, capable of overturning a half-ton wooden cart barehanded and shattering half-foot-thick bluestone with a single punch.
Zhang Muyang’s heart leapt. He sprang off the kang. His muscles seemed to cheer, the sound of rushing blood ringing in his ears. He could even feel the fiber beneath his skin quietly changing—becoming tougher, more explosive... This was the power of the Squad Leader Physique!
“Husband, where are you going so late?” Yang Wenxiu, still awake, asked anxiously. “Is Wenjuan being difficult?”
“No, I’m going to train with the knife!” Zhang Muyang grabbed the cloth bundle with the Cold Feather knife. His eyes shone intensely.
“I’ll go with you.”
Su Ying, unable to resist, immediately followed him out.
They unwrapped the coarse cloth layer by layer.
This... was the Cold Feather knife?
At first glance, it resembled the Swallow Feather knife, but lacked its sharpness—ordinary to the extreme.
Su Ying frowned in disappointment and asked, “Will this knife work?”
“Sigh, I don’t know either. Try chopping that bluestone.”
“Hmph!”
Impossible!
Su Ying gripped the Cold Feather knife and struck a palm-thick bluestone.
Crack!
The half-foot-thick bluestone split cleanly in two, the break veined with spider-web-like frost patterns!
Su Ying stared in disbelief.
Zhang Muyang smiled. “Well? Not bad, right?”
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“I... want Master Han to make me one too!”
“Hehe!”
Zhang Muyang tied one end of a rope to his wrist, the other to a willow branch at the corner of the courtyard. He practiced drawing and sheathing the knife repeatedly. The Cold Feather knife sliced through the air with sharp whistles, each strike faster and more precise than the last.
The Swordsmanship of the Killing God Path became increasingly refined in his hands, as if the knife was an extension of his own body.
Su Ying’s eyes widened with amazement. She had trained in the Killing God Path for ten years and barely grasped its essence, yet Zhang Muyang achieved mastery in just a few days—his comprehension was terrifying!
Yang Wenxiu and Yang Wenjuan leaned against the window, their faces radiant with relief.
On the kang, Han Li turned over and even began snoring softly, sleeping more soundly than before.
Time passed; the moon rose high at its zenith.
Zhang Muyang sheathed the knife and stood, sweat beading on his forehead, crystallizing in the cold air. Holding the Cold Feather knife, he felt every fiber of his being brimming with strength, itching to find a target.
“Rest now, it’s too late.”
“All right.”
Zhang Muyang and Su Ying returned inside and collapsed on the kang, falling asleep without a single dream.
They slept deeply until well past mid-morning.
Just as Zhang Muyang opened his eyes, Yang Wenjuan’s panicked voice rang in his ear. “Husband, the soldiers... the soldiers are here!”
“Soldiers?”
Boom, boom...
The clanging of war drums echoed. The lame man on watch had spotted them.
Zhang Muyang’s heart tightened. He sat up sharply, calculating the time—only one day remained before he had to report to the garrison. Why had the soldiers come so early? This was no good!
He swiftly grabbed the Cold Feather knife and fastened it to his waist, exchanging a sharp glance with Su Ying. They rose simultaneously, moving like lightning.
Yang Wenxiu was awakened too, her face full of alarm.
Han Li rubbed her eyes, still groggy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Yang Wenxiu quickly covered her mouth, signaling her to stay silent.
“Su Ying, change into men’s clothes quickly.”
Zhang Muyang’s gaze sharpened like a blade as he strode outside. “I’ll go see what’s happening.”
This was serious!
After all, Su Ying was from Northern Yan. If the soldiers caught her, it could mean death by execution or worse, forced into military brothels.
In the snow-covered village entrance, a dozen soldiers clad in leather armor blocked the way. A burly officer, wearing the rank badge of a squad leader, was angrily berating the elderly clan chief.
Villagers gathered nearby, pale and breathless with fear.
Zhang Xiaobei approached, clenching his fists. “That’s Zhang Kui, Zhang Heizi’s cousin! He claims to be searching for Northern Yan spies!”
Hmph!
The spy search is a pretense—the real aim is to cause trouble for us!
Zhang Muyang’s eyes darkened. He gripped the Cold Feather knife behind him.
What is meant to come... has finally come...