Chapter Eighteen: Blades!

“Hey, block and punch, elbow strike and knee jab—White Bun, you’re dead… Parry and counter, side strike to the throat—White Bun, you’re dead again!”

“Master, have I died more than twenty times this morning already?”

“Heh, if you want to stop dying, you’d better learn well. Once you master this combat technique, no one will ever bully you again.”

“Master, I still can’t learn it!”

…

At dawn, Li Zhao practiced martial arts in the small shrine, moving hands and feet with deadly intent. His sparring partner was White Bun—there simply was no one else available.

White Bun was clever and quick-witted, adept at gathering information. With a bit of training, he’d make a first-rate intelligence operative, but he wasn’t cut out for martial arts. Li Zhao had taught him for months, yet it was like trying to carry tofu in a hemp rope—utterly futile!

But after being “killed” countless times, White Bun did pick up a few tricks for survival: climbing like a monkey, burrowing like a black dog… Most impressive was his lazy donkey roll—quick and far, so much so that even Li Zhao couldn’t catch him.

As the saying goes: strike first, defend well!

Earlier, a kick had crippled Steward Huang, disgracing Li De and Lady Zheng in front of their many guests. Then he had tricked Li Chong and Li Fei, leaving them in misery for the rest of their lives. With such a venomous family, revenge was sure to follow.

Li Zhao wasn’t afraid of trouble or their retaliation, but for safety’s sake, he remained cautious, avoiding going out for several days, hiding away in the small shrine, practicing martial arts and iron sand palm.

But skill alone wasn’t enough; he needed to prepare some weapons for self-defense—preferably small, sharp, and easy to carry, so he could draw them instantly if danger struck.

“White Bun, is there a good blacksmith nearby who can make weapons?”

“Master, in Wu’an County town, there’s a whole street of blacksmiths. They forge all kinds of weapons and can even customize them to the customer’s liking!”

“Good, let’s pay them a visit!”

The Tang Dynasty was founded on martial strength, and the local system allowed for the forging of weapons by civilian blacksmiths, though with restrictions. Only short blades like knives and swords could be made; long spears, battle axes, bows, armor, and horse gear were forbidden. Those caught forging such items would face charges of treason and execution for their entire family!

Moreover, while knives and swords could be made, not everyone could carry them. Besides professional soldiers, only three types of people were allowed: officials, nobles, and scholars. Otherwise, if everyone had a blade at their waist, the slightest disagreement could turn deadly—chaos would reign.

Li Zhao had no official post, nor had he passed imperial exams, but as a member of the idle royal clan, he was a minor noble and thus entitled to carry a sword.

Self-preservation was urgent. The next morning, the two set out for the city again, this time on horseback rather than by ox cart.

There were no cars in this era; horseback was the fastest way to travel. But neither Li Zhao nor White Bun knew how to ride, so they bought two mediocre horses at the market for twenty strings of cash—one a dry yellow, the other a ragged green.

These were plodding horses, small and slow, but gentle and obedient—perfect for beginners. Recently, Li Zhao had been diligently practicing riding, and his progress was rapid; he could already gallop several laps in the open fields.

…

The northwest corner of Wu’an County was lined with weapon shops—at least thirty or forty, each with a grand name: Divine Armory, Heavenly Blade Shop, Sharp Edge Hall… Their boasts nearly touched the sky.

Plenty of customers visited—mostly well-dressed noble youths or scholarly gentlemen, wandering about and selecting their favorite blades. When someone found a sword to their liking, he’d draw it and demonstrate a few moves, earning rounds of applause.

But keen observers could see that these nobles practiced only decorative forms—flashy, but lacking any real lethality.

“Honored guest, what would you like to buy?”

“Daggers.”

“Certainly, please proceed to the third floor. We have every kind of dagger imaginable; if nothing suits you, we can craft one to your specifications!”

Li Zhao chose the largest weapon shop and entered. It was a three-story building with a spacious interior: swords on the first floor, knives on the second, and the third filled with short weapons, mostly small daggers.

The attendant hadn’t exaggerated. There were all styles:

A snow-white ivory-handled dagger, adorned with a fingernail-sized ruby, glittering brilliantly.

A pale red sandalwood-handled dagger, pungent with fragrance, almost like a small incense burner.

A golden dagger, dazzlingly bright when unsheathed—nearly blinding.

…

Li Zhao wandered, amazed but shaking his head repeatedly; none caught his eye.

These daggers were indeed beautiful and expensive—true works of art—but useless for actual combat.

Not just the daggers; the knives and swords were the same. Some were inlaid with gold or jade, extravagantly decorated, but the blades themselves were mediocre, poorly sharpened, some not even edged—a mere ornament.

He visited several shops, all offering the same flashy but impractical wares.

Frustratingly, these useless weapons were snapped up by noble youths and scholars, each trying to outdo the other in terms of lavishness and precious jewels.

Seeing this, Li Zhao was speechless, yet faintly enlightened. The small things reveal the big picture.

The Tang Empire, it seemed, was much like these ornamental blades—imposing, wealthy, and awe-inspiring on the surface. Yet the spirit of its founding days, that drive for progress, had faded. From high officials to commoners, everyone was lost in the pleasures of peace, lacking any sense of crisis.

Wu’an County was like this; Chang’an, too, probably. If this society and nation did not face calamity in the future, it would be a miracle.

After exploring the whole street, Li Zhao hadn’t found the weapon he wanted, but his stomach was rumbling… Time to find a meal!

…

At the end of the street, he found a mutton soup shop—small but spotless. A plump cook was busy inside, preparing fresh lamb, boning and simmering.

“What would you like, young masters?”

“Four large bowls of lamb stew with bread, double meat—charge extra.”

“You two are eating four bowls?”

“Oh, almost forgot—make it eight bowls!”

It’s said that teenage boys can eat their parents out of house and home, and indeed, Li Zhao and White Bun polished off eight bowls of lamb stew, leaving not even a drop.

Satisfied, they paid and prepared to leave, when something caught Li Zhao’s attention…

Crunch… crunch!

Behind the mutton shop, a young girl was splitting firewood. Her axe was rusty, yet she easily split pine branches as thick as a grown man’s arm—without the slightest effort.

Among woods, pine is quite hard. Splitting it isn’t easy—either the person is strong, or the axe is exceptionally sharp. This was obviously the latter.

“Shopkeeper, may I ask who forged this axe?”

“Blacksmith Jin!”

“Oh, where does Blacksmith Jin live?”

“Eight miles east of the city—Vermilion Bird Village. His craftsmanship is superb. His axes stay sharp for years and are very affordable. Everyone nearby buys his wares!”

“Thank you.”

Li Zhao’s eyes lit up. If Blacksmith Jin could make axes this sharp, his weapons must be even better.

He immediately left the mutton shop, heading with White Bun straight to the east—Azure Luan Village.

Azure Luan Village was really just a small hamlet, home to about a hundred households, mostly ordinary farmers and craftsmen. In the center stood a massive ancient parasol tree, nearly a thousand years old. Legend said a great blue bird once rested there before flying east.

In myth, the phoenix is divided into five types; those with blue feathers are Azure Luan. Hence the village was named Azure Luan.

The name was auspicious, but generations passed without a phoenix ever rising from the grass; the villagers remained poor.

There was no need to ask directions—they soon found the place.

Blacksmith Jin lived in the first house at the village entrance—a simple courtyard with three clay and thatch rooms, blackened with smoke, surrounded by a low yellow earth wall and a plain wooden gate, marked by a blacksmith’s sign.

Inside, a middle-aged man worked at a blazing forge, hammering a glowing red iron block—sparks flying, ringing loud. He was making a kitchen knife.

At the gate, a wooden rack held plows, hoes, sickles—iron tools for farming. Villagers came to buy, some paying with coins, others bartering grain or cloth.

Some were so poor they had nothing to offer, but Blacksmith Jin didn’t mind—he’d let them take the tools on credit.

Li Zhao approached, examined the iron tools, picked up a kitchen knife and swung it a few times, felt its sharp edge, and nodded with satisfaction—at last, he’d found what he needed.

“You have a keen eye, young master. This little blacksmith shop may be humble, but our iron tools are solid and durable, and the price is fair. This kitchen knife is only twenty coins, and it’ll stay sharp for three to five years without dulling.”

“I’m not buying a kitchen knife.”

“Oh? Then what would you like? We have every kind of farm tool. If you buy more, I can give you a discount.”

Seeing a new customer, Blacksmith Jin set down his hammer and warmly greeted them.

Li Zhao sized him up and bowed politely. “May I ask your name, sir?”

“Just call me Jin Ruifeng—everyone knows me as Blacksmith Jin. What do you need, young master?”

“I’d like to trouble you, Master Jin, to forge some weapons for me.”

“Weapons?” Blacksmith Jin was surprised. Those wanting weapons usually went to the big shops in town; no one ever came to his humble forge. And this young master looked barely fifteen—what would he need weapons for?