Listen to the Snow Without a Knife

Listen to the Snow Without a Knife

by Writersuphsk

Length:
2Kwords1chapters
Latest:
Ch. 1, Snowfield·headless City
Activity:
Updated 4mo agoScraped 3d ago
0QD Score

About This Novel

I, Shen Wu Jiu, am only worthy of making one sword in my life. Before the sword is unsheathed, the building has collapsed; before the snow has fallen, the person has been killed. In the twenty-third year of the reign of Emperor Yin, the iron cavalry of the Zhenwu Division burned down the rivers and lakes, and the first sword tower in the south, "Tingxue Tower", turned into ashes overnight. As an orphan picked up by the original poster, I was repeatedly ordered by my master: "Don't draw the sword." But that night, as the fire illuminated the snow, he pushed me into Shura with his own hands-- "No blame, you can kill people today." I killed thirty-seven people and could not save any of them. The master was buried in the snow, the plaque fell to the ground, and the four words "Listen to the snow without a knife" split into two halves. From then on, I carried an empty scabbard and walked across the northern border, not for revenge, but just to ask: "Why was it Tingxue Tower that was destroyed?" At the end of the snowfield, I met the head of Zhenwu Division who looked exactly like me; Deep in the ghost market, the blind girl used the strings as a blade to play, "I lack snow in my life"; The madman said that I was a "knife corpse", and the young man said that I was his "conscience that died young." The closer the truth comes, the hollower I feel - It turns out that the whole building has already moved into my bones, and I am the last sword left by the building owner. When the snow falls again, the sword is finally unsheathed, but there is no edge, no move, and no one around. I just heard the secret that had been buried in the snow for a lifetime: "Tingxue has no sword, because the person holding the sword is not alive." This is a martial arts film about "forgetting who you are". The first page you turn to is my scabbard; The last page you cover is my return to the snow.

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