The carriage stopped behind a roadside horse inn. This place was in the middle of nowhere, yet it was an essential stop for caravans. The horse inn was specifically established for them.

Those who roamed far and wide, who had tasted exotic delicacies, could naturally patronize this humble mountain inn.

There were guest rooms—essentially just sheds with thatched roofs—where one could wrap themselves in a mat or their clothes and make do for a night.

There was food, and even meat, which smelled wonderfully fragrant.

At this moment, the Blind Man was sitting before a large pot of “meat stew,” holding two steamed buns in his hand.

Ding Heng and Cui Linfeng, using the spoons provided by the inn, were eating with gusto from the pot. Each also held a large steamed bun. For every two mouthfuls of stew, they took a large bite of bun; they ate with great relish.

This was caravan stew, but this particular caravan stew was completely different from the kind the Blind Man knew…

“Can’t get used to it?”

The Sword Saint sat down beside the large pot, requested a spoon from the innkeeper, and also held a steamed bun.

As expected of a swordsman, the Sword Saint’s technique was swift and precise. With a WHOOSH, he scooped a large meatball from the pot, popped it into his mouth, and followed it with a bite of bun.

“HUFF…”

The Sword Saint let out a long, satisfied sigh, appearing quite content.

The feeling was akin to a Sichuanese person, long away from home, finally returning to savor an authentic hot pot.

The Blind Man swallowed. The spoon was in his hand, but he just couldn’t bring himself to dip it in.

It wasn’t that he was squeamish about everyone eating from the same pot without serving chopsticks; the Blind Man wasn’t that particular. After all, they were on the road, and having a hot meal was an excellent treat.

When traveling in a hurry, it was impossible to plan where they would rest for the night or eat the next day.

The problem was this stew. The innkeeper had collected leftovers from restaurants and inns in a small town more than ten li away, brought them back, mixed them all together, and stewed them into a big hodgepodge. This was the caravan stew of the Jin region. People who lived by the strength of their legs generally had limited means but still craved something oily, so they specifically sought out this kind of meal.

Sometimes, the food would inevitably go a bit sour. But the innkeepers had their methods. Much like how street vendors would later sell lamb skewers, they would add a lot of strong spices to it, and the sour taste would be covered up, leaving only the aroma.

The way they charged for it was also interesting: by the spoonful. You paid based on how many spoonfuls you took, similar to how, in later times, the bill for skewered delicacies was settled by counting the bamboo sticks.

So, each dip of the spoon was a gamble. Scooping up meat made you feel like you’d gotten a bargain. But if you only brought up a few vegetable leaves… TSK TSK…

The Sword Saint ate with such gusto that the Blind Man couldn’t help but wonder if the Sword Saint’s master had specifically brought him here to practice swordsmanship in his youth.

All arts are interconnected at their core. Who’s to say one can’t practice swordsmanship with a spoon? As long as one has a sword in their heart, a physical sword is unnecessary.

Lost in these rambling thoughts, the Blind Man didn’t dare to eat the stew. Instead, he asked the innkeeper for a bowl of hot water and squatted to the side, slowly gnawing on his dry bun.

Eventually, Ding Heng and Cui Linfeng finished eating. The Sword Saint, however, was still battling on. The innkeeper’s young son stared wide-eyed, intently watching the Sword Saint’s movements.

The Sword Saint’s spoon started to become increasingly audacious. He was no longer content with just one scoop; instead, he swept and hooked with his spoon. When it came up, it carried seven or eight times the amount of an ordinary spoonful.

The young son was on the verge of tears as he watched. If this man kept scooping from the large pot of caravan stew like this, they wouldn’t make back their costs! If later customers glanced in and saw no meat, who would bother sitting down to scoop?

The innkeeper was an elderly but spry man. Observing this, he didn’t get angry but silently brought over another bowl of rice wine.

“I didn’t order this wine,” the Sword Saint said.

“It’s on the house. Please accept it.”

The Sword Saint nodded, took the wine bowl, had a sip, and then put down his spoon. He shook his head and sighed, “It’s been many years since I’ve tasted this flavor. I’ve really missed it.”

“Indeed,” the old innkeeper replied with a smile.

The Sword Saint reached out, patted the innkeeper’s young son on the head, and asked, “How many spoonfuls?”

“Twenty.”

“It was clearly eighteen,” the Sword Saint corrected.

The innkeeper’s young son pouted, looking at the Sword Saint.

The Sword Saint fumbled in his pocket and said, “For the other two, add it to my bill. By the way, that Blind Man didn’t take a single spoonful.”

“Here you are, sir.” The old innkeeper handed him a bamboo tally stick.

The Sword Saint paid, took the tally stick, and walked back to the carriage, picking his teeth.

Behind the carriage lay a man, his face covered in blood, his right arm broken. He wasn’t dead but was hanging by a thread.

“Sir, this dog thief tried to sneak into our carriage while we were in the inn,” Ding Heng reported.

The carriage was right beside the inn. Of those eating here, never mind that Ding Heng and Cui Linfeng were old hands in the street, the Blind Man himself had built-in radar, and there was also a bona fide Sword Saint present. To try and steal from this carriage… this thief was truly asking for bad luck.

Inside the carriage, the baby started crying again.

Ding Heng quickly picked up the child. As soon as he held him, the baby stopped crying.

“HEH HEH.”

The Sword Saint chuckled, looked at the Blind Man, and said, “Tell me about that Lord’s son. He really is strange, isn’t he? Anyone else holds him, and he cries nonstop. But when this coarse, sweaty man with a brawny, fierce-looking face holds him, he doesn’t cry. He even smiles.”

The Blind Man said, “The Lord’s son likes killing intent.”

“And me? Haven’t I killed far more people than that Ding fellow?”

The Blind Man shook his head. “Sir, you only have extremely pure sword energy about you, no killing intent. Any killing intent was refined away by you long ago.”

“You rascal, were you a fortune-teller before?”

“Sir is perceptive. You even saw through that.”

“I’ve been wandering the world for some years now, and people as skilled with words as you are indeed few and far between.”

“You flatter me, sir.”

The Blind Man also felt helpless. These days, he truly was relying on flattery to get by. And there were six others as unfortunate as him.

“Everyone’s eaten their fill, right? Let’s hit the road,” the Sword Saint called out.

The carriage set off again.

Ding Heng was still inside the carriage holding the baby, with Cui Linfeng ready to nurse. The Blind Man and the Sword Saint drove the carriage.

“You didn’t eat a single bite.”

“My palate was spoiled in childhood. My apologies, my apologies,” the Blind Man said ruefully.

When someone shares their ‘childhood comfort food’ or ‘local specialty’ with you, and you don’t take a single bite, it really is a terrible slight.

“Heh heh, you just weren’t hungry enough.”

“Yes.”

“The world is bored and likes to rank the Four Great Swordsmen. To be honest, among the Four Great Swordsmen, Li Liangshen could probably stomach this stew. The other two wouldn’t be able to eat it either.”

“It’s well known that the household of the Earl of North Border eats plainly. It’s said that on the day the Earl of North Border entered the imperial capital, he ate four or five ducks in one go.”

“Heh heh, yes. But did you know, while Li Liangshen also ate plainly, this ‘plainness’ was only in comparison to the exotic delicacies of true nobles? He was adopted by the Earl’s household as a son since childhood. No matter how ‘badly’ he lived, how bad could it truly have been?”

“That makes sense.”

“Then take Baili Feng of Qian State. Everyone thinks he only rose to prominence after traveling by boat to the imperial capital in a white robe, where the Qian monarch appointed him as the Crown Prince’s martial tutor. In reality, his Baili family was already a major clan in Jiangnan, possessing vast fertile lands.”

“So that’s how it is. I really didn’t know.”

“And as for that one from Chu State, he was originally a great noble of the Chu region. His family’s fiefdom was by no means small, which is why he had the leisure to spend decades engrossed in swordsmithing.”

The Blind Man quickly said, “So, only you, sir, came from humble beginnings?”

When someone wants to wax lyrical, you have to help set the stage.

“‘Humble beginnings’ isn’t quite right. My surname is Yu, the imperial surname of Jin. But everyone has seen what kind of life the Yu emperors have had in recent years. To be honest, my father and mother passed away early, and my younger brother and I often didn’t have enough to eat.”

“So, sir, among the Four Great Swordsmen, I’ve always admired you the most. It’s truly inspirational.”

“Hmph. So the world evaluates our four swords, saying each has its own destiny, its own merits. Little do they know, the path my sword has taken is fundamentally different from theirs.”

“Sir, if I may be so bold…”

“Bold? Your courage is certainly not small. You took off my younger brother’s head, dared to pursue his older brother’s carriage, and have even dared to sit beside his older brother for so many days.”

“…” The Blind Man was silent.

“Afraid?”

“That was a matter of the battlefield. Each serves their own master.” All traces of sycophancy vanished from the Blind Man’s face, replaced by a calm composure.

“This is how you should truly be. Not bad, quite handsome, actually.”

The Blind Man suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. The preferences of people from Jin land are truly… unique.

“After the Yan Army withdrew, before I went to Li Tian City, I returned to the capital city region. Did you happen to go there and eat a bowl of meat soup? At an old, time-honored shop.”

The Blind Man pondered for a moment, then said, “Indeed, a discerning palate can truly invite trouble.”

That night, the Yan Army pacified the Jin forces in the capital city region.

The Blind Man and the other Demon Kings had jointly killed Yu Huacheng. Liang Cheng took the head to report his merit, while the Blind Man knocked on the door of an old, time-honored meat soup shop in the city, said to have a hundred-year tradition, and had a bowl of soup.

The scent of blood still clung to him. To then savor a dish with such historical tradition—it was very much in line with the Blind Man’s penchant for refined sensibilities.

“I also go to that shop often,” the Sword Saint said. “How was the taste?”

“It was indeed delicious.”

“Sigh, let’s put it this way. I believe your principle of ‘each serves their own master.’ As for my revenge, my younger brother’s death, I’ll count it on Tian Wujing’s head. I don’t want to pursue others; otherwise, I’d have to kill tens of thousands of Jingnan Army soldiers by myself, which isn’t realistic.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But since you’ve delivered yourself to my doorstep, I won’t be polite. You must answer: how is my sword different from the other three? Answer correctly, and all is well. Answer incorrectly, and leave your life behind.”

The Blind Man took a deep breath.

Without much thought, he slowly began to speak:

“The sword of the Chu State swordsmith has too much artifice; the Baili family’s sword has too much nobility; Li Liangshen’s sword has too much balefulness. Only you, sir…”

“What ‘ness’ am I?”

“‘Groundedness.'”

“Oh?”

“This isn’t flattery. The reason the Marquise of Jingnan dared to entrust her child to you, sir, is clearly because ‘a gentleman can be exploited by appealing to his principles.’ But this is also what makes you most respectable. To be trusted by an enemy is, in itself, a form of truth.”

“Alright. Though you say it’s not flattery, those words are more pleasing to my ears than any flattery. Smell that.”

“Hmm? Smell what?”

“You don’t smell it?”

“Smell what?”

The Sword Saint pointed forward with his hand and, at the same time, stopped the carriage.

“An overwhelming aura of nobility.”

From the side of the road, a woman emerged. She wore a dark yellow long skirt and held a sword.

“Baili Xianglan?” the Blind Man said.

“Well, now. You certainly know quite a few people. Interesting.”

“I’ve seen her before. I know her, but she doesn’t know me.”

The Sword Saint pointed at Baili Xianglan ahead.

He said to the Blind Man, “Look at her. We’ve been traveling for days without bathing. But this person, here to rob us, apparently even took the time to burn incense, bathe, and change into a clean skirt before coming out. And look at those shoes. Stepping out from the mud, yet they’re barely stained. They must be new, too.

Now that’s an overwhelming aura of nobility.”

Baili Xianglan held her sword horizontally before her.

She spoke, “Baili Xianglan pays her respects to the Sword Saint of Jin State.”

The Sword Saint leaned back slightly.

He waved his hand and said, “Miss, you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

Baili Xianglan said, “I never thought the Sword Saint of Jin State would enjoy jesting in a lady’s presence.”

“No jest. Where would one find a Sword Saint of Jin State?”

“Aren’t you him?”

“But Jin State… perished long ago.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep