Xuanchen Road

In the early summer morning in Qingfeng Town, the mountain fog had not dispersed, and the moisture condensed into dewdrops, hanging on the eaves of the dilapidated wooden house at the east end of the town. As the morning sun rose, the golden light penetrated the mist with difficulty and fell into the small courtyard. Lin Chen's upper body was bare, and his muscular arms swung the axe. There was a click, and the last piece of firewood split into two halves. Beads of sweat slid down his angular cheeks. The young man wiped them off and stacked the firewood neatly in the corner with clean and neat movements. "Chen'er, take a rest, the porridge is ready." Mother Su Wan walked out of the house with two steaming bowls of whole grain porridge, her voice gentle. Lin Chen responded, put down the ax, and turned his gaze to the silent figure under the locust tree. Lin Shan was sitting on a stone bench, lowering his head and polishing a rusty iron sword. The sword looks ordinary, but if you look closely, you can see that there are vaguely strange lines on the sword, which are faintly visible in the morning light. "Dad, this sword is so rusty, why should I sharpen it?" Lin Chen approached and asked. Lin Shan didn't even raise his head, and lightly touched the blade of the sword with his skinny fingers: "Old fellow, you have been with me for most of your life." His tone was calm, but there was an imperceptible complexity hidden in his eyes. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.