Chapter 504 – As Warm Snow Falls, the Six Kingdoms Rise; The Path of The Hero, A Bond Between Soul and Blade - Part 2

Chapter 504 – As Warm Snow Falls, the Six Kingdoms Rise; The Path of The Hero, A Bond Between Soul and Blade - Part 2

A few days later.

Li Yuan arrived in Silkfloss Province. He stood at the base of a desolate mountain, gazing at a lonely cenotaph, an empty tomb erected in memory of someone lost.

Etched into the cliff above were the words—

“Here lies Zhang Xiu.”

He stood in silence.

Memories welled up. That was the time when he’d still believed in righteousness. Still walked the road of justice, blade in hand.

𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

But that chapter of his life had ended when he buried himself right alongside the ideals he once carried.

“So,” he murmured, “do I really want to keep living that way?”

He had seen too much darkness on this road. And now he understood something clearly. A blade alone couldn’t fix the world.

He could kill a man, two, a hundred, a thousand. But he couldn’t slay all evil.

And the men he’d killed...were they all truly deserving? Each had a family. Each had a child, a wife, someone who waited for them. Maybe before they turned down the path of crime or cruelty, they’d tried to make an honest living. Maybe they’d failed. Maybe the world had failed them first.

Yes, they

should

have died. And yes, he

could

kill them all. But even if he did, would it end there?

What good was it to pluck a few weeds from poisoned soil, when the rot beneath kept festering?

Ordinary heroes...their strength was limited. Their lives were short. All they could do was protect the moment, guard what was right in front of them.

But Li Yuan...was no ordinary hero. If he was going to walk the path of a true hero, it couldn’t start from

the moment

or

what was right in front of him.

He knew that unless he could change the soil—the very ground from which these poisonous weeds grew—then all his talk of

walking the path of a hero

would be nothing more than self-deception.

This time, he wasn’t looking to figure out the clues to break through to the next rank. He had just spent too long walking in the dark. He wanted to see the light again. So, no more lies. Not to others. Not to himself. Yet standing here, on the very ground where he'd once buried a piece of himself, he hesitated.

Because now, he realized he

couldn’t

walk this path of heroism the way he imagined.

Others could. For them, the path of a hero meant fighting for justice, protecting the people, defending the nation. That was the limit of their strength, and so their righteousness had meaning.

But him? He was different. For someone like him, that kind of heroism no longer meant anything. It was like a billionaire tossing coins at beggars and calling it charity. Or flinging cash into the wind without caring where it landed, then claiming he’d done good. But was that good?

That was the kind of

justice

Li Yuan used to practice.

But now...now he wanted to be a

true

hero.

Yet he found he couldn’t even draw his blade. Because the reason to draw it... just wasn’t strong enough anymore.

Fortunately, the continent was at peace for now. Or at least, peaceful enough for someone like him.

So he made a decision. He would take time. He would search...search for a reason that would quiet the unrest in his heart.

His figure shifted. He donned a conical hat and stepped once more into the chaotic, broken lands of Silkfloss Province.

This was a place where real beggars and fake ones ran wild. A place that once birthed monsters like Happyland Zoo, a den of unthinkable cruelty and forbidden acts.

His hat cast a shadow over his face, hiding his appearance. Of course, not that it mattered; he’d long since mastered Mortal World Transformation, and the face he now wore wasn’t his own. Even if someone saw him, they wouldn’t recognize him.

Yet still, he hid his face. Why? Because deep down, he knew everything he had done so far was insignificant. He

could

change the world. But he

hadn’t

. Not yet.

That was the guilt a true hero carried.

Li Yuan wanted to find light again. So, for now, he buried his heroic heart deep within.

And in doing so,he felt guilt.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Time passed.

Spring turned to autumn, and back again.

In Silver Creek, Xie Yu trained in peace, undisturbed.

Li Yuan, meanwhile, roamed every corner of Silkfloss Province with blade in hand.

He saw many things.

He met a father who had committed evil deeds to afford treatment for his sick daughter, a daughter who knew nothing of it. When Li Yuan raised his blade to strike the man down, the frail girl collapsed to her knees, clinging to his leg, sobbing, begging her father to run.

He met families so deep in poverty they couldn’t even feed their children. So they sold them. Because losing a mouth to feed and gaining a little coin meant the rest could survive. And the brokers who took the children swore up and down they’d be sent to wealthy households to live good lives—as servants, nothing more.

And that was only the beginning.

Again and again, he saw the same thing. Tears, pain, and despair...all born from the same transactions, the same unbearable choices.

Li Yuan moved through it all like a man possessed. He cut down evil wherever he saw it. But every time he struck down a villain, he brought more sorrow in its place.

He gave out money. Settled families. One home after another.

Money wasn’t a problem for him. Strength wasn’t a problem for him.

But still, he couldn’t change anything.

He had thought about seeking out Gu Xuejian, the current head of the Holy Tree Temple, and asking her to implement strict policies, use the power of the sect to forcibly root out the evils he had witnessed.

But would that really help? Would it not just result in

more

fathers too poor to treat their daughters...

more

corpses left to rot by the riverside...

more

nameless graves scattered across the wasteland?

Even if Gu Xuejian agreed, even if she wanted to help, could she stop any of it?

Maybe, in the beginning. For a short while, perhaps there’d be results. But then would come the false compliance. The polite smiles. The backroom deals. The silent resistance. Investigate them? How?

This was the Grand Union of Yin and Yang, a paradise for martial artists, and a living hell for the common folk.

Unless every region became like Gemhill County, the problem would remain.

Even Gemhill’s success was only relative. It wasn’t a utopia; it had simply made poverty

equal

. Its prosperity came from merchant guilds importing goods from the outside world, from careful balance and trade.

But the real key, the reason people dared not do evil, was because of Yan Yu.

Because there existed a rule of rewarding virtue and punishing vice.

Because justice had a name, and that name was feared.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

In the blink of an eye, five years passed.

It was the middle of winter.

A man in a wide bamboo hat walked through a snowstorm, a blade on his back.

The wind howled. The heavy snow fell in waves, blanketing him in white.

He stepped slowly, deeply, each footprint swallowed by the next wave of falling snow.

Behind him trailed a group of women and children. They had been locked in a basement, captives of a beggar gang, waiting to be sold.

The man had slaughtered the gang and was now bringing them home. But in his mind, he still remembered the last beggar he killed.

That man had knelt on the floor, blood streaming down his face. He wasn’t afraid, just angry.

He had shouted, voice hoarse and bitter, “You could save

them

, so why didn’t you save

my

child back then?! WHY?! Why didn’t you show up sooner?!”

The man had stood there, silent for a long time, then finally answered, “I wasn’t there.”

And then, quietly, he continued, “But that doesn’t excuse what you did.”

The beggar had laughed, crazed and broken.

“I joined the gang. I did their dirty work. That’s how I got strong enough to get revenge!”

“Come on, Hero in White. I’ve heard of you. I know you’re one of the good ones. I

should

die at your hands.” He had closed his eyes, wearing an expression that was half peace, half despair, waiting to die.

The man remembered all this as he watched the rescued women and children disappear into the safety of their village. But he’d barely made it a few steps away before the screams began.

He rushed back. From a distance, he saw the woman he’d just returned, a young mother, hanging from a white silk rope, swaying gently beneath a tree.

People in the village stood around, whispering.

“Who knows how filthy she’d gotten in there...better off dead. Now at least she’s clean.”

Beside her, her husband’s face was like ice. He held their child, who was crying and shouting, “Mother! Mother!”

And in that moment, the man wondered,

If I hadn’t saved her, would she have died so soon? Would she have died so...hopelessly?

But how could he not save her? What kind of person would that make him?

Now he walked alone through the snow again, as night fell.

He found a secluded spot, glanced around, then changed his appearance.

In his hand was a token, the Nine Provinces Provisional Patrol Token.

And just like that, he vanished.