Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Cangcheng Sure Is Beautiful (Not)

【Bright Future Chat Group】

Asta: "Teeny tiny new recruit, taken down!"

Asta: "Ahem — as for the data collector issue, I'll need to ask Ms. Ruan Mei. Probably won't have an answer until tonight."

Asta's avatar didn't light up again until past two in the afternoon, finally addressing the long-shelved question.

Wangshu: "Your Herta Space Station sure is busy. Based on everyone's chat activity, I'd always assumed you spent work hours goofing off~"

Asta: "..."

Asta: "Speaking of which, did you do your sword practice today?"

Wangshu: "Doing it right now."

Wangshu: "Sword_practice_photo.jpg"

Wangshu: "The illusion of a divine weapon calling from the distance is gone, but every swing makes me feel my control improving. Maybe I really am a genius!"

Asta couldn't relate.

She practiced because she was already there — might as well. Besides, having a Sword Champion as her instructor was the kind of tutor even her family's wealth might not secure.

Wangshu: "@Jingliu, Senior! How long did it take you to become the Sword Champion?"

He vaguely recalled the storyline mentioning it, but details that granular had slipped past his attention.

Jingliu: "Over 900 years."

Her reply was brief and even. By the time she'd become Sword Champion, Yingxing had already been born.

Jingliu was quite long-lived by any measure. An ordinary long-life species only averaged about 800 years... As for why 800? Because on the Xianzhou, falling to mara was considered equivalent to death.

Wangshu: "..."

Asta: "Lol."

Jingliu: "On another note — that sword of yours looks like quality material. Should be a Cloud Knight vanguard-class weapon. Where'd you get it?"

Standard Cloud Knight swords were mostly six feet five inches long, weighing fourteen catties. Only upon reaching vanguard rank was one authorized to wield this three-foot-seven-inch blade on the battlefield.

It wasn't about agility — long-life species simply had tremendous physical strength. The Cloud Knight heavy sword's edge channeled separation fire, capable of cleaving through a war-beast's inert outer plating on contact. For regular Cloud Knights, this was their most effective killing tool.

Wangshu: "..."

He went quiet for a moment, stopped mid-swing, and rested the sword behind his back. The blade was polished bright. He brought it forward again — so clear it could almost mirror his reflection.

He sighed, fingertips tracing the cool blade.

Wangshu: "It's... your father's sword, Senior. There's also a broken blade, covered in cracks."

Wangshu: "Little Jingliu and I found them when we were cleaning out the storage room."

The group went silent for a beat.

Jingliu: "Is that so. I'd assumed those two swords were long lost."

Her tone, even through text, betrayed no ripple — as if recounting someone else's old story.

Jingliu: "Don't slack off. Your talent is better than mine. Perhaps that sword will only reach its true potential in your hands."

Perhaps. Star Calendar Year 6299 — Cangcheng had no active conflicts at present, but that didn't mean none existed. The anti-war sentiment here ran deep. The past Jingliu hadn't understood why fighting was necessary either.

Until Star Calendar Year 6300, when survival demanded she pick up a sword. Then came the individual absorbed into collective hatred, steeped in the emotions of war, trapped in an endless cycle.

Jingliu: "And if one day you reach my level, I'll gift you a divine weapon."

Speaking of divine weapons, she recalled the day she'd been crowned Sword Champion. That wildly arrogant smith, standing with hands behind his back, had cast his sword into the earth — the blade sinking several feet deep, leaving only the hilt exposed.

That sword — the Severance Blade — five feet long, weight beyond measure.

Unfortunately, the Forging Commission of Star Calendar Year 6299 wasn't about to craft a divine weapon for a non-Xianzhou native.

Wangshu: "I will. Since fate gave me a chance to start over, I'll make the most of it."

He hadn't been a big believer in fate before. But with fate now openly playing on his side, Wangshu decided to revise that stance.

After all, he was a transmigrator — and a transmigrator with a chat group, no less!

Coming back to himself, he looked at his own smiling reflection in the blade and exhaled deeply. The group had gone quiet again — a three-person chat was simply too prone to dying.

He repeated the sword swings, over and over, so focused that even his concentration began to fray. Daytime practice was for cementing fundamentals; nighttime training converted those fundamentals into experience.

The artificial sky neared dusk. Wangshu finally stopped, breath slightly labored, his sword arm sore yet filled with a peculiar satisfaction — though under his enhanced physique, recovery was swift.

Only then did he sense someone watching. By the guest room window, a petite figure leaned against the frame. Little Jingliu had one fist propping up her cheek, soft blue-and-white hair tumbling from her shoulder, her little head tilted slightly. Her crimson eyes watched with rapt attention — how long she'd been there, he had no idea.

Wangshu smiled and waved toward the window. "Hungry? I'll go cook."

Jingliu didn't reply.

Wangshu instantly read the room. He shifted the sword to one hand behind his back. The support flying swords circled into formation around him. The frost he could have suppressed flared outward again, adding a dramatic backdrop.

"Does it look good?"

He really couldn't help himself. The question slipped out softly.

Little Jingliu stared, her gaze slightly unfocused. After a moment of eye contact, she turned her head just a fraction. Her voice came out soft, a little stubborn, a little unsteady.

"I just noticed today that the Cangcheng I've lived in all my life... is actually this beautiful... this dazzling. That's all."

It definitely wasn't about admiring the indecent little Wangshu. For all she knew, he'd spent the entire afternoon she was asleep chatting and laughing with some other girl.

Wangshu looked out. Cangcheng at dusk was bright and radiant — truly dazzling and beautiful.

He went with the flow: "Right, right — so, is our dazzling little Jingliu hungry? I'll go make dinner."

As he spoke, Wangshu gave a light flick of his wrist. The blade traced a half-arc through the air as it came to rest — like a crescent moon. The support flying swords lined up neatly along the windowsill, swaying gently in the evening breeze, yet somehow never clinking against each other.

"A little..."

Jingliu ducked her head, then sneaked a look toward the front door. She desperately tried to recall whether the door had looked exactly like this when she'd come home — the angle of the lock? The light through the crack? Had little Wangshu snuck out during the afternoon?

But young Jingliu hadn't even made it inside before she'd drifted off to sleep in the cart.

While little Wangshu headed to the kitchen, she bounced off the bed, hooked her toes into her slippers, bent forward to catch the heel with a fingertip, and swiftly slipped out of the room.

She inspected the courtyard carefully. Cangcheng was indeed beautiful and dazzling — but she'd seen it so many times that it held no interest whatsoever.

"Little Wangshu, I think I vaguely heard a teacher calling for me this afternoon. Did you see anyone?"

She raised her voice, aiming toward the kitchen, trying to sound casual.

"Nope — I was in the courtyard all afternoon. Not a single visitor."

The sound of chopping paused for one second, then Wangshu's clear, smiling reply carried out.

"Oh... I see." Jingliu blinked, long lashes casting small shadows beneath her eyes. "Then maybe... I was dreaming."

She blinked again, clasped her hands behind her back, and slowly wandered back inside.