Seeing the storyteller looking toward him, Li Zhexian smiled and cupped his hands in greeting.
He was just about to turn and leave,
when a trembling voice called out from the platform:
"Young sir, you look familiar—would you care to come down for a word?"
Li Zhexian did not refuse.
With a light movement of his body,
he drifted down onto the platform, bringing Xiao Hu with him.
Below the platform,
the Li family's woman widened her eyes.
"What's Li Chen doing going up there?"
Li Zhexian had forgotten his own name, but daily life still required a way to address him.
So he had taken the single character 'Chen'—dust—to mean that the past was buried beneath dust.
This owed itself to the Li family man, who had once studied with a brush and ink for several years.
At this moment—
The Li family man looked at the youth on the platform and sighed softly.
"Li Chen is not an ordinary person."
"He won't be staying with us for long."
The storyteller forcibly suppressed the turmoil in his heart and cupped his hands as he asked:
"May I ask, young sir, what is your surname and given name? And where do you reside?"
Xiao Hu rushed to answer:
"My big brother is called Li Chen!"
Li Zhexian gently patted Xiao Hu's head and smiled.
"This junior has suffered a condition that makes some memories elusive."
"As for where my home is…"
"For now, let it be Li Family Village."
The phrase, "memories are elusive," sent a sharp shock through the storyteller's heart.
A flash of insight appeared, yet it was like viewing flowers through mist.
The youth's appearance, his voice, and even that fleeting realization were all gradually veiled by a hazy mirage.
The storyteller gripped the copper coin in his hand, just as he had gripped the gold coin years ago.
"Young sir…"
He hurriedly said:
"Would you be willing to travel the world with this old man, telling stories for a living?"
"Though we would eat and sleep in the open, you would never go hungry. We would measure the mountains and rivers with our feet, and tell the legend of Lord Sword Wine to all under heaven."
"Travel the continent…"
The wine gourd at Li Zhexian's waist swayed gently, though no wind blew.
He accepted with a nod after barely a moment's thought:
"Thank you for your kindness, sir. This junior is willing to go."
"Brother Li Chen!"
Xiao Hu suddenly grabbed the corner of Li Zhexian's clothes.
Young as he was,
he still understood that this was a farewell.
"Please allow me a moment, sir, to bid farewell to my family."
"Of course," the storyteller replied.
...
Outside the town gate,
the storyteller and the Spirit Master had already finished packing.
Li Zhexian led Xiao Hu to the Li couple and explained his departure.
He bowed deeply.
"Many thanks to Uncle and Aunt for your care these past days."
"When I recover my memories, I will certainly return to visit you both."
"All right, all right—enough with the refined talk!"
The woman waved her hand impatiently.
"Following a storyteller is far better than chopping firewood in our house!"
The man pushed back the wine gourd Li Zhexian offered.
"You're leaving in such a hurry—we didn't prepare any gifts."
"Keep this wine gourd. Don't throw it."
"Brother Li Chen…"
Xiao Hu handed over his wooden sword.
"This is for you."
Li Zhexian took the wooden sword and rubbed Xiao Hu's head again.
"Practice the sword moves I taught you properly."
"Mhm!"
As he was about to depart—
The woman stuffed another bundle into his hands.
"Be careful on the road."
Only after the Li family had walked him out of the town, and he had gone more than a mile with the storyteller and the Spirit Master, did Li Zhexian open the bundle that clinked softly with each step.
Several pieces of silver and copper rolled out from the layers of cloth…
He recognized them.
This was the money the woman had carefully counted before—meant for buying a new plow and winter clothes.
..
The Divine Realm
"Of all the mysteries of fate, none are more profound than this."
Ji Dong's long sigh rippled across the sea of clouds.
"The sword and the wine that Li Zhexian once cherished as his very life have returned to him in such a manner."
The God of Destruction folded his arms, his fingertips rhythmically tapping against his armor. Purple light flowed in his eyes with the aura of annihilation, yet what they reflected was only an ancient, eternal indifference.
The Asura God spoke slowly:
"The mirage beast is indeed an anomaly of heaven and earth."
"This reincarnation is both tribulation and opportunity for Li Zhexian."
"Only by breaking himself and rebuilding anew—by surpassing his former cultivation—can he tear through the mirage fog and rediscover his true self."
"Otherwise…"
"To see flowers through mist is to be forever separated by a veil."
"He and this mortal lifetime will pass one another by, completely."
...
From that day on, Li Zhexian followed the storyteller and the Spirit Master, beginning a life of drifting from place to place.
They traveled through the watery border cities of the Heaven Dou Empire and set foot in the wind-scoured towns of the Star Luo Empire.
Through countless dawns and dusks, the cloth robe that had once been untouched by dust was long since soaked through with the grime of the road.
Those hands that once wielded a sword to slay gods now more often cradled coarse clay bowls, haggling with common folk over a few copper soul coins.
At first,
he would still feel his heart stir whenever the storyteller spoke of "Lord Sword Wine," unconsciously rubbing the wooden sword Xiao Hu had given him at his waist.
But after hearing it thousands upon thousands of times, even the most thrilling chapters eventually became nothing more than routine scripts for making a living.
He became no different from any other traveler struggling for survival along the road.
The carefree spirit buried in his bones was quietly replaced by worldly slickness.
He learned to drink and toast with merchants in taverns, skillfully using witty words to amuse the children gathered around.
That sword heart which once severed divine rings—
Now concerned itself with…
The quality of tomorrow's lodging and meals.
He looked even more like a seasoned rogue of the jianghu than the storyteller or the Spirit Master.
The name Li Zhexian completely rolled into the boundless mortal world, becoming the marketplace youth known as Li Chen.
"I said it long ago—even a god's heart can be drowned by the mortal world, let alone a mere mortal youth."
The God of Destruction spoke coldly.
"Even if sword and wine return to his hands, what use is it?"
"Does the present Li Zhexian still possess the state of mind he once had?"
The aura of destruction surged like a tide.
"The sword does not answer, the wine has lost its luster—
the fallen immortal is buried in dust, and return is all but impossible."
His voice paused briefly.
A solemn gravity entered the God of Destruction's tone.
"Evil, Asura—do not think my heart is narrow."
"Though I entered this wager with you, all my thoughts are for the future of the Divine Realm."
"I too hope this child can slash through the fog and ascend to the Divine Realm."
The Evil God and the Asura God remained silent, yet knew his words were sincere.
Though the God of Destruction acted with rigidity,
his sense of duty and responsibility in safeguarding the order of the God Realm surpassed that of all others.
The sea of clouds fell silent for a moment.
Then the Asura God's deep voice sounded:
"Let us wait and observe."
"Li Zhexian will not stop here."
...
Night was ink-dark, the light rain newly ceased.
The three arrived at an abandoned ancient relay station to rest.
After days of travel,
the storyteller and the Spirit Master seemed to have fallen asleep beside the campfire.
Li Zhexian, however, felt no drowsiness and wandered alone into the courtyard.
Rainwater still pooled on the muddy ground.
It reflected the night sky, now exceptionally clear after the clouds had scattered—stars glittering like shattered silver cast into a deep pool.
He lowered his gaze to the puddle at his feet.
The water held the reflection of a young man…
Skin rough and darkened by travel, stray bangs plastered messily against his cheeks, murky eyes flashing with the calculating shrewdness of the jianghu.
He stared at it blankly, staring…
And in a daze, found the reflection strangely unfamiliar.
Just then, the wooden sword at his waist suddenly slipped free. With a plop, it fell into the puddle, sending ripples spreading outward.
The water rippled, shattered reflections swaying.
The water quivered; broken reflections swayed.
Amid those trembling waves and watery traces—
He seemed to see a youth dressed in white.
The youth carried an unrestrained, carefree air; brows sharp, eyes bright, lips curled in a wild smile—piercing through the water's surface and looking back at him.
...
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