The Bamboo Casket Chapter Twelve: Three Swords

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Qianjing City, Hundred Flowers Tower.

The enigmatic swordsman who had appeared without explanation still stood atop the tower at sunset, quietly watching the streak of red along the horizon fade from blazing to dim, until the three full moons hung high in the sky.

Dong Sangen suddenly found himself missing the Sword Qi Great Wall, missing the stern elder he had never liked.

The past reprimands and instructions transformed into a faint longing, along with the secret letter in his hand, all shattered into fragments and drifted away with the wind.

Since his departure, the Sword Qi Great Wall remained unchanged; without him, the sword immortals atop the city walls continued slaying demons. His name was only mentioned when children played in the streets.

What would they say about him?

A young prodigy of the Dong family who had reached the Golden Core stage at an early age, yet had disappointed his clan by venturing alone into the wilds, his fate unknown.

Of course, in their hearts, Dong Sangen was surely dead.

Dong Sangen raised his hand to grasp the one-zhang-long sword at his waist and gently drew it.

Under the moonlight, the broken blade gleamed coldly.

"Just a few of you? That won’t be enough."

Dong Sangen spoke softly.

"Oh, truly worthy of being the first great swordsman to survive in the Wild World throughout history—how arrogant!"

Wu Yunbiyue, whose crimson eyes flickered through the dense black clouds.

“History or not, if you die here today, it’s all worthless. No one in the Wild World will remember you, and the Sword Qi Great Wall certainly won’t. Or rather, I’ll toss your head atop the city wall and see if anyone recognizes you!”

Behind Dong Sangen, a black robe cloaked half the brightly lit Hundred Flowers Tower. The billowing cloak rustled fiercely, and within the shadow, a grim-faced old man hung suspended.

“You have good talent. If you come to our Wild World, perhaps you could earn a throne!”

On the main street of Qianjing City, there was no one in sight except a youth in monk’s robes pacing forward.

The youth’s expression was sorrowful, his eyes bright and radiant.

Dong Sangen remained silent, his one-zhang sword more than half drawn at his waist.

“Stop wasting words with him. Attack!”

The great demon that blocked the three moons roared fiercely. The clouds above truly pressed down, and the Hundred Flowers Tower trembled as if about to collapse.

Before Dong Sangen, suddenly a golden-armored soldier appeared.

The golden soldier glared fiercely and swung a long spear toward Dong Sangen.

The black-robed old man waved his arm, and the massive cloak contracted swiftly. The once half-visible Moon Tower was plunged into darkness.

From the sky, the tall tower in Qianjing City seemed never to have existed, disappearing without a trace.

The monk-robed youth sighed, stepped forward, and appeared above the Hundred Flowers Tower. He pulled out a string of prayer beads and sat cross-legged in the void, softly chanting.

Dong Sangen, surrounded by three great demons, remained motionless.

One-zhang sword, about to be drawn fully.

...

Inside the Hundred Flowers Tower, the enchanting mistress pushed open a wooden window, gazing out into the darkness, her body trembling.

What to do?

Could it be that today she would die here?!

“Sister, I told you back then we should’ve found a chance to leave, but you insisted on staying!”

A woman pushed open the mistress’s door, clearly angry.

“Now look, we’ll perish together with him!”

The woman bore a striking resemblance to the mistress of the Hundred Flowers Tower.

The mistress stared blankly out the window, whispering, “Was I really wrong?”

Should she not have gambled?

But that man...

The mistress’s mind replayed Dong Sangen’s indifferent expression.

Perhaps...

He was not invincible after all.

Silence reigned. Suddenly, a sword’s whistle pierced the air.

The sky brightened abruptly, illuminating the mistress’s lost and sorrowful face.

Startled, she immediately pressed close to the window, looking into the distance.

The black robe that had enveloped the Hundred Flowers Tower was forcibly split open. Though the outside remained dark, the bright moonlight now poured in.

...

Atop the Hundred Flowers Tower, Dong Sangen gripped his one-zhang sword, sweeping his gaze over the three great demons.

The demon blocking the three moons bled from its eyes, its golden armor shattered.

The black-robed old man’s cloak had a large hole, his face pale—clearly his life force had been struck.

The monk-robed youth silently watched the string of prayer beads in his hand, each bead cracking after centuries of nurturing, without a word.

“When did the great demons of the Wild World become this weak?”

Dong Sangen stepped forward, raised his sword, and brought it down.

The monk-robed youth’s expression changed drastically; he dodged swiftly. Yet the sword’s energy, which should have traveled straight, flickered and reappeared, striking the youth’s face.

Dong Sangen remained calm and raised his hand again.

The black-robed old man snorted coldly, lifting the cloak, which forcibly blocked the second sword strike. When the cloak shrank, the old man’s lips bled slowly.

Dong Sangen paused, then raised his hand a third time.

The golden soldier suddenly retreated. Black clouds materialized around him, slowly eroding his body. When the sword energy dispersed the clouds, the soldier had vanished.

The three moons shone even brighter.

Dong Sangen snorted coldly, “Cowards.”

After three sword swings, Dong Sangen finally lowered his hand. He looked at the remaining old man and asked, “Want to try?”

The black-robed old man’s expression flickered, but he did not strike back. His figure flickered and disappeared.

Dong Sangen exhaled, yet gripped his one-zhang sword tighter.

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There was still one more...

Dong Sangen glanced at the grand palace at the heart of Qianjing City.

...

Beneath the moon, Lu Yun suddenly retreated, looking toward Yuan Bai, who had been struck by an arrow.

Yuan Bai turned his head toward a distant hill, groaned softly, and pulled out the arrow.

“If you hadn’t stopped her, this fight would be over.”

Yuan Bai casually discarded the arrow and pulled out a talisman from his sleeve, slowly grinding it to dust.

The talisman’s dust spread around him on the wind.

Yuan Bai’s expression softened, and the wound on his chest began to heal.

“Let me spend most of my fortune, and you can be proud.”

Lu Yun’s expression remained calm. He knew that now, only Sheng Ge could be called upon.

Suddenly, Lu Yun’s expression shifted. He fixed his gaze on the woman in Taoist robes in the distance.

Lu Yun opened his mouth and said something, which Sheng Ge relayed to the woman—mistress of the Moon Tower. The woman nodded, no longer entangled with Zhique, and moved toward Lu Yun’s side.

“Let’s go.”

Lu Yun gave Yuan Bai one last glance and spoke to the woman in Taoist robes.

“Zhique, block them!”

Yuan Bai roared.

In the next moment, a sword flashed before Lu Yun’s eyes. The moonlight fell perfectly on the blade, which hesitated for a moment—and in that instant, Lu Yun and the woman vanished.

Yuan Bai gritted his teeth, roaring in frustration.

At that moment, a second arrow came riding the wind.

Zhique moved instantly, catching the arrow with his hand and easily snapping the wooden shaft. The man looked toward the distant hill.

“Such a pity. Let’s go.”

On the hilltop, An Luo patted Shui Ze on the shoulder.

Still dazed, Shui Ze had no time to react before his brother pulled him away.

...

“Absurd! Absolutely absurd!”

Yuan Bai shouted angrily at Zhique, “This is the second time! What excuse do you have now? Can’t you even kill those two?!”

“They’re from Luoze City,” Zhique replied after a moment of silence.

Yuan Bai was left speechless.

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