Martial Cultivator

There was no question that Scenic Mountain Pass could not be held. Nor could Pine Pavilion Pass behind it.

Once the great war began, the scouts were the first to die. After the scouts came the defending generals and soldiers stationed at the forward passes. Covered in blood from head to toe, Song Ming gasped for breath. By now, he was taking in far less air than he was letting out.

A Bitter Sea martial artist could do almost nothing on a battlefield like this. When the strength of both sides was relatively equal, he could still command from the rear and determine the outcome of a battle through strategy. But at a time like this, he was no different from an ordinary soldier, standing atop the city walls and doing everything he could to keep the demons from climbing up.

But now, all he could see before him was an endless sea of demon soldiers. The walls could no longer be held.

A demon centurion first smashed the old sword cultivator's flying sword with a single punch, then punched a hole clean through the old sword cultivator's chest. Only then did the centurion reach in and tear out the old sword cultivator's heart and liver. After giving them a glance, he tossed them aside in disgust. His lips moved, speaking in the demon tongue.The meaning was simple enough.

Too old.

Song Ming grinned, blood constantly spilling from his mouth. He had not seen how many demons the old sword cultivator had killed, but he had seen enough to know there were at least quite a few.

That was enough.

The problem was, once every defender, soldier, and cultivator here had died... No matter how many demons he had killed, who would be left to tell his disciple?

So Song Ming laughed, thinking the old sword cultivator was a fool. He hadn't thought of that, had he?

Then again, he himself was about the same, both of them were fools.

He remembered the first time he had climbed onto the Northern Frontier Great Wall. The squad leader had asked his name, and he had answered that he was called Song Ming. The squad leader had immediately frowned and said that with a name like that, he never should have joined the army.

Song Ming, "Song Ming" sounded exactly like "sending oneself to death." Wasn't it obvious he was destined to die here sooner or later?

Back then, Song Ming had simply laughed it off, saying that once everyone climbed onto the walls, they were all going to die eventually. Whether it was sooner or later didn't matter.

As a result, the squad leader had given him a thorough scolding.

Coming to the city walls had been their own choice. But no one had ever wanted to die here.

Back then, Song Ming had always felt that his squad leader was cold and unapproachable, always wearing a stern expression. But in the end, during one battle when the demons attacked the walls, that very squad leader traded his own life for Song Ming's.

From that day onward, Song Ming no longer regarded himself as truly alive. His life no longer belonged to him. It belonged to his squad leader.

So he never left the city walls. If he was going to die, then he would die here.

His vision gradually blurred. Song Ming watched a demon soldier walking toward him, yet there seemed to be nothing he could do.

He desperately wanted to tighten his grip on his saber and take one more demon soldier down with him. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. When he finally collapsed with a heavy thud, he merely tilted his head toward the south, looking in the direction of the Northern Frontier Great Wall that he could not see.

If demons had never existed, then they would not have had to spend most of their lives guarding this place.

They could have seen the soaring sword qi of Yellow Dragon Prefecture, the flourishing literary fortune of White Deer Prefecture, the traces of immortals in Ying Prefecture...

But sadly, there were demons.

......

......

Sword Sect.

Song Xun had been very happy these past few days, for two reasons.

The first was because the Sect Master had made his own insights into the sword dao available for all Sword Sect disciples to study. The second was because, these days, the Sect Master had actually begun giving occasional guidance to the Sword Sect's younger disciples.

He had been fortunate enough to receive three opportunities to ask the Sect Master about difficulties he had encountered in the sword dao.

And he had benefited immensely.

Already a young sword cultivator with considerable talent, Song Xun's sword dao cultivation naturally advanced by leaps and bounds after receiving personal guidance from the Sword Sect's Sect Master. He was already showing signs of breaking into the top ten among the Sword Sect's current generation of disciples.

Song Xun himself knew that the number one sword cultivator of this generation ought to be the senior brother named Meng Xi. He had long heard the martial uncles on the mountain say that Senior Brother Meng's talent for the sword surpassed even that of Senior Brother Yu Xiyi. In the future, he would surely stand head and shoulders above everyone else in his generation, leaving all the other sword cultivators of his age with no choice but to lower their heads and sigh.

But Song Xun had never cared much about such things. Practicing the sword had never meant he absolutely had to be number one.

In fact, while everyone else consciously or unconsciously kept their distance from Meng Xi, he had become friends with Senior Brother Meng instead.

Having nothing to do today, he went to look for Meng Xi.

However, Meng Xi was still meditating at the time, so Song Xun did not disturb him. Instead, he sat down on a large gray boulder nearby.

Looking at the small stream before him.

Tiny fish swam through its waters.

Only after a long while did Meng Xi finally open his eyes.

Meng Xi looked at this peer. Rising to his feet, he walked over to the large gray boulder where Song Xun was sitting. After taking a seat beside him, he softly said, "A'Xun."

Song Xun turned his head and looked at Senior Brother Meng without saying a word.

"Something on your mind?"

Although Meng Xi devoted himself entirely to the sword dao and was somewhat slow when it came to things outside of it, Song Xun's expression was far too obvious. It was impossible not to notice.

"No."

Song Xun rubbed his eyes, then stood up and said, "I'm leaving."

He had come only to leave again, just to sit there for a while?

Meng Xi stood up and looked at Song Xun's back, and said "A'Xun, if something's bothering you, don't keep it bottled up. You can tell me. I won't laugh at you."

Song Xun stopped walking, but never turned around.

"A'Xun, whatever it is, say it. If there's anything senior brother can help you with, I will."

Meng Xi did not have many friends in the Sword Sect. Perhaps everyone thought he was a genius and instinctively kept their distance from him. That was why he had always treasured Song Xun, who was willing to be his friend.

Song Xun continued facing away from Meng Xi, but his eyes had already turned red.

"I'm fine."

In the end, Song Xun merely shook his head and uttered those two words.

The truth was, he had had a terrible dream the previous night. He had dreamed that something had happened to his master in the north, so he had wanted to ask Meng Xi whether his master had received any letters from the Northern Frontier lately.

After all, Meng Xi's master, Jiao Xinchen, was in charge of handling all the correspondence.

But when the words reached his lips, he no longer dared to ask. He had heard that war could break out in the north at any moment. If a letter really had arrived, there was a good chance it would bring bad news.

Song Xun could not bear such an outcome.

He could not face the possibility that his master was already gone.

So he no longer dared to ask.

As he ran all the way back, tears filled the young sword cultivator's eyes. He muttered over and over, "Master... don't die in the north... don't die in the north..."