Guyue Sword Shop, which had been shrouded in some kind of dark cloud all morning, the atmosphere of panic finally eased.

At the gate of Guyue Sword Shop, the craftsmen of the sword shop couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief when they saw the young county magistrate and other people from the county government walking away.

Inside and outside an old sword furnace halfway up Xiaogu Mountain, the original tense atmosphere dissipated, all the figures disappeared, and the tranquility of the past was restored.

Inside the sword furnace room.

Only the lonely figure of the old swordsmith was left, and an empty sword-making furnace without fire.

besides.

There is a piece of blue origami left on the table.

There is an arc on the paper made of pure Pythagorean shapes.

This "arc" looks like a circle but not a circle, and looks like a blade but not a blade.

Inside the empty sword furnace room.

The old swordsmith sat at the table.

His face was silent.

Ten burnt-yellow fingers unraveled the "arcs" on this blue origami piece by piece.

Put it back together again.

The old swordsmith moves skillfully.

It was as if this had been done thousands of times.

It is no less ingenious than those women weaving sword spikes in the breakfast shop.

"Disciple, the best swordsmith must have the best aesthetics."

He remembered his master once said this.

The old swordsmith agreed with this statement.

But I don’t agree with the master’s aesthetics.

His predecessors had an almost pathological paranoia about straight lines.

Straight lines are also the most commonly used element in swords in the world.

But in the eyes of the old swordsmith, straight lines are hard and crude, rigid and stiff.

In his mind, the feeling created by straight lines is like watching a swallow returning to its nest crash and die on the eaves of a blue-black roof.

Flesh and blood were blurred, feathers were scattered, and the whole world around him began to look bad.

The old swordsmith hated straight lines.

The curve is completely opposite to the straight line. It is feminine and changeable.

Just like the rice wine he poured down his throat, its shapes changed in ever-changing ways and warmed the drinker's stomach.

However, in the eyes of the master and others, the most beautiful curves in the world, apart from the pair of sun and moon above her head, are nothing more than a woman's breasts and butt.

This is a small path, and it is difficult to reach the elegant hall.

The difference between aesthetics and sword-making concepts is also the reason why the old sword-smith left the apprenticeship in the first place.

So he didn't feel much regret when his master died tragically later.

It was just that I had two more bottles of wine on hand in the dead of night.

Later, the old swordsmith also discovered it belatedly.

Not all things in this world are necessarily straight and right, black and white.

For example, isn't he currently making a sword for the enemy who killed his master?

In front of the ancient table, the old swordsmith lowered his head and murmured:

"The old guy is right, the curve is too soft and it is difficult to hide the spirit of the sword.

"But a straight line is too rigid. If it is too rigid, it is easy to break, and if it is too soft, it will be weak.

"So I want to find an 'arc', an 'arc'...

"Between the curve and the straight..."

An arc is like an iron bar. If you exert a little force on both ends, an arc will appear in the middle.

But it resists with all its strength, ready to return to a straight line at any time.

It is tense.

"Oh, there are Confucian sages who say that we should distinguish right from right, but I can't."

The old swordsmith suddenly smiled.

"Let those who come after us use this sword that is indistinguishable from right to wrong to cut off things that are inseparable from right and wrong."

The old swordsmith who was folding paper quietly in the room saw an "arc" gradually taking shape between his fingers.

At a certain moment, he seemed to think of what the young man said not long ago. The old man showed admiration in his eyes and sighed with the same emotion:

"It's so beautiful..."

But at this moment.

There was a sound of footsteps outside the sword furnace.

It's Liu Zian.

After finally seeing off the young county magistrate and other uninvited guests, he hurried back to the mountainside.

With a "squeak" sound, the door to the sword furnace room was pushed open, and Liu Zian walked in with a gloomy and ugly face. He pointed at the sword furnace and asked with a frown:

"What's going on? Where's the sword? Haven't you been making swords all these years? Where's the sword?"

Just now, the old swordsmith opened the sword-making furnace in front of everyone. Everyone could not help but be stunned. Even Liu Zian was suddenly startled and full of suspicion.

After carefully sending Ouyang Rong away, and hastily sending away Liu Zilin and other followers, he hurriedly returned to Jianlu alone to ask for an explanation.

The old swordsmith's face was expressionless and he pretended not to pay attention.

Blue origami paper in hand.

The "arc" takes shape again.

In front of the frowning Liu Zian.

The old swordsmith grabbed the "arc", stood up with his rickety body, turned around and walked to the empty sword-making furnace at the back.

He threw it in.

There is no fire in the furnace.

But the "arc" of this paper fold has just entered.

It disappeared into thin air.

There was a "clang" sound.

The circular iron door of the sword-making furnace was tightly closed again.

In front of the furnace, the old swordsmith turned his head silently, his eyelids drooping, like a tiger in its old age that still has some remaining power.

"You question me?"

Liu Zian looked at the strange scene of "wiping into ashes" just now with a dumbfounded expression. Immediately, he waved his hand with a sneer:

"How could I dare to question the old gentleman? It's just that the sword shop was forcibly broken into by outsiders early in the morning, and they bothered the old gentleman to make swords... I am a little impulsive.

"However, the old gentleman is still very powerful. This sword-making technique is so ingenious that neither Ouyang Lianghan nor Xie Lingjiang noticed the clues. Haha, even I was confused."

Liu Zian talked quickly, but the old swordsmith didn't say anything, and the atmosphere was still a bit awkward.

Liu Zian tried and said:

"So, old sir, this sword is still being tempered in the sword-making furnace? Is there some profound deception behind it?"

The old swordsmith looked calm and glanced at him, his tone seemed to be curious:

"Who said swords must be refined in a furnace?"

"Where to temper it?"

The old swordsmith turned to look at the endlessly flowing Butterfly Creek at the foot of the mountain outside the door, and said nonsense as if for no reason:

"Wherever you can refine a sword, it will appear there. Who said you must use a sword furnace to refine a sword?"

Liu Zian was choked and speechless.

The old swordsmith turned around and asked suddenly: "Is Liu Ziwen dead?"

Liu Zian was silent for a while and nodded.

The old swordsmith seemed to have known something for a long time, and his expression showed no surprise.

There was no regret at all about the death of the young head of the Liu family, whom he had known and dealt with for more than ten years.
To be continued...