Jianghu Ballad

My whole life, I have been rushing towards death one after another. It wasn't until I met him that I began to learn how to live. ——Bai Qingyao The surface of the river is like ink, and a storm is coming. A awning boat was parked in the middle of the river, with a man in a black cloak standing on the bow. He was slender, but his back was straight, like an unsheathed sword. Jiang Feng Xunxun lifted up a corner of his cloak, revealing two knives hanging from his waist. One is called "Jinghong" and the other is called "Zhaoying". A shocked person kills a person, but a shadow saves someone. There is only one person in the world who can use these two swords in three hundred years. "Dingshu." A handsome man walked out of the cabin, holding a folding fan, with a face like a crown jewel and a smile on his lips. That smile is gentle and elegant, like the warm sunshine in spring, making people's hearts feel hot. But if you look carefully at his eyes, you will find that there is nothing there. "Guess what method the Murong family will use to kill me this time?" Dingshu didn't look back, and his voice was as light as the mist on the river: "Young master, why do you ask questions when you know everything?" Murong Qiu Shui, the richly dressed young man, unfolded his folding fan with a click. On the fan was a picture of a beauty, holding a pipa in her arms, her eyebrows lowered, as if she was mourning someone. He put the fan bone against his chin and said slowly: "Let me guess... Poison? Assassination? Or... A honey trap?" "Here we come." Dingshu suddenly spoke. Before he finished speaking, three water pillars suddenly exploded on the river! Three speedboats burst out of the water, their hulls painted black and almost unrecognizable in the night. There were seven or eight well-dressed men standing on each ship. The crossbow arrows in their hands were shining with cold light and the arrow tips were blue, showing that they were quenched with poison. "Let go!" With an order, arrows flew like locusts. Dingshu's figure flashed, and the Jinghong Sword was already unsheathed. The sword was as bright as snow, drawing an arc in the night. She chopped down all the crossbow arrows that were fired, and they landed on the boat with a clanking sound. She tiptoed the side of the ship, and her whole body turned into an afterimage, rushing towards the nearest speedboat. There was no sound when the Jinghong Knife fell. Only blood. The seven well-dressed men fell to the ground almost at the same moment, with a line of blood as thin as a hair in their throats. They didn't even see how the knife was struck. Dingshu stood on the bow of the boat, his cloak rustling in the river wind, his face calm, as if he had just brushed off the dust on his clothes instead of killing seven people. "Excellent sword skills!" Murong Qiu Shui smiled while stroking his hands on the black-topped boat, "A shocking strike is indeed worthy of its reputation. It's just..." His voice suddenly became very strange, with an indescribable regret. "... It's just that I'm more curious. If you knew what kind of person you were protecting, would you still be so desperate?" Dingshu turned around. Murong Qiu Shui stood on the side of the ship, swinging her folding fan gently, still looking dignified and leisurely. But his eyes changed, as if a pool of spring water had suddenly frozen, so cold that it sent chills down one's spine. "Look, these eighteen killers," he pointed to the corpses floating on the water, "are all members of the Murong family. I revealed my itinerary to them three days ago." Dingshu's hand holding the knife tightened slightly. "I gave them opportunities, gave them men, gave them the most poisonous arrows and the fastest swords." Murong Qiushui sighed, "But they still can't kill me. Because you are so powerful, Dingshu. You can always protect me. You can block mountains of swords and seas of fire for me. You will never let me die." He laughed, and the laughter seemed particularly harsh on the empty river. "But tell me, is this thing itself funny?" "A knight who was supposed to do justice for heaven has become the best knife for me, Murong Qiu Shui." Dingshu was silent for a long time. The river wind blew up the hood of her cloak, revealing a pale and cold face underneath. It was a face that had seen too many lives and deaths. There was no feminine charm between the eyebrows and eyes, only the sharpness of a blade. But her eyes were beautiful, like a cold pool in the depths of winter, crystal clear but unfathomable. "It's not funny." She suddenly said. "Oh?" "Because I'm not a knight." She sheathed the knife, turned around and walked back to the cabin. When she passed by Murong Qiu Shui, she dropped a word. "I just owe you my life." Murong Qiushui looked at her back, and the frost in his eyes suddenly melted a little, revealing a trace of deep fatigue underneath. But he quickly hid his fatigue, put on his cynical smile again, and followed in while waving his folding fan. "The tea is cold. Make me a new pot." The river wind whimpered, rolling up layers of turbid waves. The awning boat slowly sailed away from the blood-stained river surface and disappeared into the vast mist. Where the boat passed, eighteen corpses were found on the bottom of the river. No one cares about their names. This is the autumn of the seventh year of Dachu Yonghe. The rivers and lakes are still the same rivers and lakes - some people become famous overnight, some people expose their bodies in the wilderness, some people draw swords for a word, and some people work hard for a copper plate. The storyteller in the teahouse told stories about knights performing heroic acts of justice day after day. The listeners gave red slaps and threw away coins, but no one knew that most of the knights in those stories died miserably. The story of Dingshu begins three years ago. That year, she was not Murong Qiushui's bodyguard. She is also the most feared killer in the world - Dingshu, the "striking sword". Intention: If people walk in the darkness for too long, they will forget what light looks like - but there is always someone who deserves you to believe in the light again. Through the struggle and protection of the female killers Dingshu and Murong Qiushui in the web of conspiracy, this book explores "whether broken people can be redeemed" and conveys the attitude towards life that "despite being in the quagmire, you can still choose to draw the sword for those who are worthy".