The Family of the Blade

This year, winter came to Guandong earlier than ever. Just after Cold Dew, snowflakes began to drift down from the sky. The region was cold and dry, so the snow rarely melted, instead settling like sand, accumulating on the ground. In just one night, the entire street was covered in a white shroud.

Tianyu remembered her employer’s instructions and rose early, sweeping the snow from the smithy’s threshold. Once finished, she returned inside and boiled a large pot of water. As the water came to a boil, her younger brother Tianyong awoke. The siblings washed their faces together. The warmth of the hot towel revived them considerably.

Tianyong squeezed the towel, exhaled, blinked, and asked, “Brother, what would you like to eat? I’ll make it.” Tianyu thought for a moment, then replied, “Let’s simmer some noodles in last night’s black-bone chicken soup. That’s the master’s favorite.” At her words, the young boy’s face fell, and he muttered, “I was asking what you wanted to eat, not what the master likes.”

Tianyu said nothing, only looked at her disgruntled brother in silence. Soon enough, under her calm gaze, Tianyong gave in, turned his face away, and said, “Alright, I get it. I’ll go make it now.” Relieved by his concession, Tianyu relaxed.

If she could, she wouldn’t be so strict with the only family member she had after crossing over. But given their current circumstances, they had no choice but to curry favor with the smithy’s owner, the only person willing to shelter them.

Yes, Tianyu was a transmigrant. In her previous life—or rather, before she crossed over—she was an actress, competent in her craft but hardly famous, drifting from set to set, playing minor roles whose total screen time rarely added up to half an hour. Compared to other actresses of her rank, she had the advantage of a dance background and remarkable flexibility, which allowed her to excel in action scenes, especially in period dramas.

Her crossing over, curiously enough, was related to an action scene. She had unexpectedly landed a major supporting role in a high-budget fantasy drama, cast as the third female lead—a female war god with many fight scenes, perfectly suited to her strengths. But on the very first day of filming, something went wrong with her harness. On a small set, even if the wire malfunctioned, the consequences wouldn’t be severe, but this production insisted on shooting on location for visual splendor. The fateful scene was by a waterfall.

From the moment the accident happened to when she was swept away by the torrent, only a few seconds passed. In those moments, she mentally reviewed her entire acting career. She hadn’t even finished reminiscing before darkness took her.

When she opened her eyes again, she was a four-year-old girl. This little girl bore her name—Tianyu—but had a surname before it: Bai.

Before Tianyu crossed over, the child Bai Tianyu had fallen ill from a chill caught in the snow. A cold is nothing in the modern world, but in this ancient setting, it could be fatal, even for a young lady from a martial family.

Upon learning she’d transmigrated into a noble daughter of a sword-wielding clan, Tianyu’s feelings were complex. She remembered that the role she’d played before her death had also wielded a blade; even when she was swept away beneath the falls, she had been gripping a prop sword.

She really had no desire to inherit the clan’s famed sword techniques. At the time, she’d thought that once she settled in, she’d hint to the elders that she’d rather study something else. As for the family blade, she had a younger brother—he could learn it when he was old enough.

But six months in, just as she’d begun to adapt and was about to broach the subject, disaster struck. The Bai family fortress was attacked by enemies. That night was chaos—flames engulfed the stronghold, and countless lives were lost. Her mother led her through a secret passage, pressed her barely toddling brother into her arms, and told her to run as far as she could, before returning alone to the burning fortress.

There was no returning; to go back would be certain death. She had just died once—not eager to repeat the experience, she gritted her teeth and fled, carrying her brother.

The Bai fortress lay in Guandong, where summers were short and winters long. For at least half the year, the land was locked in snow and ice. Fortunately, the night of the massacre was the warmest time of the year. With her stumbling brother in tow, at least they wouldn’t freeze to death.

The siblings wandered for an unknown time before collapsing, exhausted, by the roadside. When they awoke, they found themselves in a blacksmith’s shop.

The blacksmith’s owner said he’d found them unconscious while gathering firewood in the forest. Judging from their attire, he’d guessed they were from a wealthy family and brought them back. Tianyu thanked him and took the pearl flower from her hair as a token of gratitude. He only smirked, saying, “If I kept that, I’d probably have the Seven Great Clans of Guandong after me the moment I tried to pawn it.” Instantly, Tianyu understood that this seemingly ordinary smithy owner knew exactly who she and her brother were.

Faced with his smoke-darkened countenance, she thought hard, then decided she had nothing left to lose. “Since you know who we are yet still saved us, you must be a good man,” she said. “My brother and I have nowhere else to go. Might you shelter us a while longer?” He snorted at the word “good man.” “I’m no such thing,” he said.

During a decade in the entertainment industry, Tianyu had met all manner of people and was adept at discerning sincerity. She could tell the smithy owner truly did not see himself as a good man. But with survival at stake, she had no other choice but to persist. “If you shelter us and help us elude the Seven Great Clans, my brother and I will repay you one day.”

He regarded her for a moment, then sighed. “If you want to stay, from now on, you mustn’t be siblings. Only brothers. And you mustn’t keep the Bai surname.”

She understood he was doing this to protect them, and had no reason to refuse. So from that day, she became simply Tianyu again, and her brother was only Tianyong, not Bai Tianyong. They settled in at the smithy.

Five years passed. At first, they were too young to do much besides cleaning. As they grew, Tianyu volunteered to learn smithing from the owner. Perhaps this body’s genetics were exceptional—she possessed remarkable strength and quickly mastered the trade. By her third year, she could forge the shop’s best-selling kitchen knives unaided.

Her brother Tianyong was sensible as well. A year ago, he began learning to tend the fire and cook, becoming quite adept. Since they were still weak and had no means of vengeance, Tianyu had never told him about their family’s fate, only that their parents were gone and they were orphans, indebted to the smithy owner for a roof and food.

Perhaps because he didn’t know the truth, Tianyong didn’t revere the owner much, sometimes even resented him. After all, in his eyes, eight out of ten knives sold in the shop were forged by his brother, and all three residents’ meals were his responsibility. The owner? He merely provided a place to stay.

Fortunately, the smithy owner was not one to quarrel with children. Over five years, Tianyu had learned his ways well—he appeared cold but was actually easygoing. He allowed customers to haggle, often selling at cost price. Tianyu was exasperated, but he was the owner and held their secrets; she could only acquiesce.

Last night, with the season’s first snow, he’d drunk himself into a stupor, barely touching dinner and muttering sorrowfully in his sleep. She thought she caught a name in his ramblings and felt a pang of sympathy, only to find herself amused at the irony. She, who had lost everything, pitying someone else?

By the second hour past dawn, the owner awoke, and Tianyong finished preparing noodles. The three of them shared the meal. With winter, farm tools no longer sold, so after eating, Tianyu began forging arrowheads.

Guandong’s winters were harsh, and the people relied on hunting to survive. That meant they needed iron arrowheads—anything less would be too dangerous. With three years’ apprenticeship, Tianyu was adept at producing sharp, standardized arrowheads on her own.

She worked until dusk, preparing to close up, when urgent hoofbeats sounded down the street. Having survived death and the destruction of the Bai fortress, Tianyu had developed a keen instinct to avoid trouble. Horses were rare in town; hoofbeats at this hour seemed ominous. She stepped back into the shop, ready to close the door.

The hoofbeats drew closer, then stopped at their door. Through the wind and snow, a deep voice called, “Wait!” The man dismounted swiftly and strode toward her. Tianyu gripped the last shutter, feigning calm. “We’re closed for the day. Please come back tomorrow.” The newcomer frowned. “I’m not here to buy anything. I’m looking for your master.”

“May I ask who you are?” Tianyu replied.

“Tell him we come at the request of an old acquaintance, from Suzhou,” the man answered, surprisingly polite. Hearing “Suzhou,” Tianyu realized his accent was indeed not local. If he wasn’t from Guandong, he probably wasn’t one of the Bai clan’s enemies.

Feeling somewhat reassured, she nodded. “Please wait. I’ll fetch the master.” The middle-aged horseman nodded, but did not try to enter, which raised her opinion of him.

She went to the backyard and relayed the message. The smithy owner’s expression remained neutral until he heard the word “Suzhou,” when his gaze sharpened. “Stay here,” he told her. “Don’t concern yourself with what’s outside.” Then he went out to meet the visitors.

Everyone has secrets they’d rather keep. Since he wanted her to stay away, she obediently helped Tianyong prepare supper. Before long, the owner returned. Tianyu noticed a new knife at his waist—unusual in shape, with a simple sheath and hilt, and a short blade. She was certain the smithy owned no such knife; it must have been given to him by the visitors.

She did not ask. However, the owner noticed her gaze and looked at her. Their eyes met.

“Do you recognize this blade?” he asked.

Tianyu shook her head.

“As expected. When your family fell, you were only four. I suppose… you wouldn’t even recognize your ancestral blade,” he said quietly.

Tianyu remained silent, unsure of his meaning.

After a while, he continued, “I’ve seen you secretly practicing the blade. You have talent, but your form is incomplete—useless for real combat.”

“If you have something to say, please say it,” Tianyu replied.

“Your family’s sword style is bold and forceful, peerless in Guandong. But if you seek revenge, you mustn’t use it openly.” He drew a deep breath. “I won’t avenge you, but I can teach you another sword technique. If you master it, this blade is yours.”

How could she explain she practiced only for health and to better forge iron, not for vengeance? It wasn’t that she didn’t want revenge, but the Bai clan had been destroyed by the Seven Great Clans of Guandong. Revenge was a near-impossible feat—she was neither the protagonist of a martial epic, nor blessed with extraordinary fortune. How could she hope to avenge her family?

She decided to refuse indirectly. “If I master your technique, will I truly be able to take revenge?”

The owner glanced at her, his lips barely moving. “Yes.”

“Wait… what?”

“You heard me. Yes.”

“With my blade art and this knife, not one among the Seven Great Clans could withstand three moves from you.”

Tianyu was speechless. The Seven Great Clans—how could he make it sound as easy as forging a kitchen knife? Could her master truly be an expert of legendary skill, hidden in plain sight?