Transmigrate into Gu Long's World: I Am Ximen Chuixue

Some people have already come close to the realm of the gods, because they have no feelings. Some sword techniques are invisible to everyone, because all those who once saw them are already in their graves. Some loneliness cannot be described, because it comes from the depths of the soul. A swordsman from the lands beyond the Great Wall came to the martial world of the Central Plains when he was young. It was the season when snowflakes drifted down. Perhaps even he, still a child at the time, could not have imagined what kind of impact he would one day have on the martial world of the Central Plains. Ximen Chuixue's sword is a sword for killing. "My sword isn't for looking at." His swordsmanship is for killing. "When you drive your sword into their throats and watch snowflakes bloom beneath your blade, if you can see the brilliance of that instant, you'll know that no beauty can compare." This is Ximen Chuixue's aesthetic. After hearing him say this, Hua Manlou told Lu Xiaofeng, "Now I understand how he mastered that kind of swordsmanship. He really does regard killing as something sacred and beautiful. He's devoted his whole life to it. He is truly alive only when he kills. The rest of the time, he's merely waiting." Those who are exceptionally gifted but unlucky, those who are disillusioned with the world, and those who love settling scores all share this mindset to some degree. They hone a single art until they reach a height where the cold is unbearable. Guess who came to mind? Lu Xun, and his words: "Don't let a single one get away." Ximen Chuixue's era was an age when white robes were whiter than snow. He seems to have become a symbol, lofty and untouchable. The spirit of Ximen Chuixue lies not in the lightning-fast draw or thrust of his sword, but in the string of blood droplets sliding from its edge as he sheathes it. Ximen Chuixue doesn't blow snow away. He blows blood away... Those who are always trying to catch up to him will never reach his level. Because when they blow the blood from their swords, all they feel is the joy and excitement of victory. But Ximen Chuixue has an indescribable helplessness and sadness flickering in his eyes. He has long since left this mundane world behind. He was never someone who took life lightly. Besides, there were very few people in the world truly worth drawing his sword against. And after Ye Gucheng, there were even fewer. Ximen Chuixue had immersed his entire being in the pursuit of the Way of the Sword. Everything about him, from his every move to his way of life, revealed his pursuit of perfect beauty. To him, a sword was no mere weapon. It was an art. Ximen Chuixue could be called an idealized figure, a man devoted to beauty. If the Way of the Sword truly has such a thing as a Sword God, then Ximen Chuixue is undoubtedly the man who came closest to becoming one. Where he lived, there were only flowers. The clothes he wore were always snow-white. He never asked anyone for anything, and no one ever asked anything of him. There was nothing he set out to do that he couldn't accomplish. If he couldn't do it, no one else could. And if he was willing to do something, no one needed to beg him. If he wasn't willing, begging would be useless. That was simply who he was. Ximen Chuixue was sincere with others, which was why he won a friend as priceless as Lu Xiaofeng and a lover as devoted as Sun Xiuqing. His sincerity let him live without desire or demands, with a clear conscience. Desirelessness makes one unyielding, and a clear conscience makes one pure. Thus he reached the pinnacle of the Way of the Sword, where man and sword become one. Friendship and love may seem like shackles, making Ximen Chuixue's sword lose some of its former sharpness now that he has feelings. Yet those same bonds gave him the certainty of victory and a powerful will to win. He knew that no matter what, somewhere at the far end of the world, someone was watching him. He was no longer alone. Even if only for the person waiting for him, he had to go on living. Ximen Chuixue was also a person with blood and tears, laughter and loyalty, and feelings. He had all the emotions of an ordinary person. He simply never expressed them. He could ride alone a thousand miles to fight a peerless master in a duel where life and death were decided in an instant, all just to avenge and vindicate a stranger. But if he thought something wasn't worth doing, he wouldn't do it even if Lu Xiaofeng, his only friend in the world, begged him. He even had a sense of humor. Once, he deliberately set out to do something for Lu Xiaofeng, but insisted that Lu Xiaofeng first shave off those two whiskers that looked more like eyebrows than a mustache. In short, he was utterly impossible to fathom. About the duel atop the Forbidden City: Ximen Chuixue's battle with Ye Gucheng was an unparalleled duel. Though they were opponents, they were also kindred spirits. Their swordsmanship was equally peerless, their personalities equally proud, and their loneliness the same. Hatred was not all they felt for each other. Their hatred also contained understanding and respect. And the hatred itself was something they were born into, something imposed on them, something they could not help. Perhaps Ye Gucheng hated the fact that, if Ye Gucheng had to be born, why did Ximen Chuixue have to be born as well? Perhaps Ximen Chuixue felt the same. There was no loser in that duel. If there had to be one, it was Ye Gucheng, defeated by himself, by his desire for fame and fortune. Or perhaps he had grown unable to bear his loneliness. Ximen Chuixue understood Ye Gucheng. So when Ye Gucheng's sword, which should have struck true, suddenly went astray, he understood. "If I have to die, why not die by Ximen Chuixue's sword? Dying by Ximen Chuixue's sword is at least more glorious than any other way." In the end, Ye Gucheng was grateful to Ximen Chuixue, and Ximen Chuixue respected Ye Gucheng. "I defeated Ye Gucheng with that sword. Who in all the world could be worthy of making me use it again?" Ximen Chuixue granted Ye Gucheng his wish. Ye Gucheng at least got the cleanest and most glorious death he could have wanted. But what about Ximen Chuixue? The price of granting that wish was to spend the rest of his life tasting loneliness all alone. "There's at least one thing about Ximen Chuixue that no one else can imitate." "His sword?" "Not his sword. His loneliness." The icy loneliness of snow on distant mountains, the star-like loneliness of a winter night. Gu Long said that only someone who could truly understand this kind of loneliness and willingly endure it could reach the level Ximen Chuixue had attained. Perhaps that was the difference between Ye Gucheng and Ximen Chuixue. He understood loneliness, but in the end he could not bear it. The loneliness of heights so cold that none can endure them can only be understood by those who stand at the summit. Ximen Chuixue was the sort of person who, "knowing how cold the heights are, still loves them." Someone once said, "If only a person's character could be as pure as snow, without a heart as cold as snow." But sometimes that very purity is expressed through coldness. People are always blaming snow for its cold, but snow offers no explanation. It answers everything with its whiteness. The characterization follows the character portrayals in Menghuan Gu Long. If that's not your thing, please don't read. The protagonist transmigrates as Ximen Chuixue, and the plot is a bit all over the place. Ye Gucheng is his pairing. If that's not your thing, please don't read. The love interest is younger, and things may differ from the original. The writing may not do the characters justice, so if that's not your thing, please don't read. This story is modeled after Xiao Da's Days of Becoming Ximen Chuixue. If that's not your thing, please don't read. That's all. If you don't like it, please don't read. Please give it a gentle little poke~