Chapter 202 The Weeping Sword Spirit (1)

In the foggy memory, a beam of light suddenly appeared.

This beam of light shone on Chai Sang's face, like a trace of vitality in a desperate situation, making the craftsman's lifeless face for a long time finally have a breath of life.

Hairpin Xing walked to his side, and his eyes fell on the yellowed and broken scroll.

When Chai Sang was young, he tried to be the greatest swordsmith in Yuezhi Kingdom, just like his ancestors. So he often spends a lot of time searching around for some special sword casting maps. Some were picked up from the unwanted items in the farmer's house, and some were given to him by the ranger in exchange for weapons. Those old scrolls contained his childhood dreams. However, as time passed, the old books and tablets were put away and piled up with the pictures left by countless fathers, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

After all, raising a family is more important.

Among those maps, some are real, some are fake, and some look more like scribbles, which are impossible to achieve. He looked at it upside down when he was a boy, and he hadn't opened the box for many years.

But now, he is holding the tablet in his hand, as if holding all the hopes in the world.

The craftsman knelt on the ground and opened the tablet tremblingly.

The hairpin star sat beside him and watched with him.

The booklet was opened, perhaps because it had been left behind for many years, and as soon as it was opened, a damp and decadent aura immediately came out. And in that decay, there is an intriguing aroma, which is very special.

The handwriting is bright red, like blood stains left on the slip, which makes people tremble.

Hairpin star was stunned for a moment, this is not a map of forging swords.

She followed Chai Sang's movement of turning the book, and the more she read, the more frightened she became.

This is a book about forging swords, but it is different from ordinary maps. This is a map that tells the world how to breed sword spirits.

The sword spirit is formed after the spiritual tool has a mind. Most artifact spirits are naturally raised, or they travel with their masters, and they are formed by chance. But it can never be cast by ordinary craftsmen, ordinary sword casting materials in the world cannot give birth to the soul of the sword.

This booklet records a method, as long as the person who casts the sword uses his own blood to water the sword forged by Wen Yang for three hundred and sixty-five days, it is possible to give birth to an extraordinary sword.

Of course, that alone is not enough.

Because it has not been tempered by cultivation base and has not been opened to spiritual wisdom, even if the ordinary sword is poured with blood, it is only an empty shell.

Chai Sang turned to the last page of the booklet, Xing Xing gasped for breath, and couldn't help but say, "No way!"

It is impossible for mortals to conceive a sword spirit, there is only one way.

The last step in tempering the sword spirit is to sacrifice the soul of the sword maker, to sacrifice oneself to the forged sword, and to become that "sword spirit".

It's not casting a sword, it's a deal in a way. Use your soul to exchange for a "sword" with a sword spirit.

How in the world can there be such a map? The method of casting swords recorded on this tablet is bizarre and evil, and at a glance, it can be seen that it is a trap. In all likelihood, the divine sword born by the swordsmith sacrificing his soul and pouring his own blood is an evil sword. When Chai Sang really becomes a "Sword Spirit", who knows whether he can retain his original memory and consciousness, or whether his whole body, from body to heart, will be swallowed up and completely used by this sword.

Now it seems that it does.

Hairpin Xing wanted to stop the craftsman's next move, but he stretched out his hand across the opponent's shoulder, as if he had touched the false air, leaving no trace.

She can't change the past that has happened.

As a swordsmith, Chai Sang knows this better than anyone. He knew the strangeness of this map, the ominous method of recording, and the fate of plotting with tigers was probably the price he had to pay for his soul.

But it was his only hope.

What does it matter if the soul is not the soul, or from the moment Wuyou died, he was already an empty shell.

There was a tinkling sound in the yard again.

But this time, there was no little girl sitting in front of the door watching him work.

The sound of the ding ding dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang dang sword was originally very full and crisp, but now it has become chaotic and dull. He worked day and night, and neighbors passed by and said in surprise, "Chai Sang, how did you become like this?"

How did he become like this?

He was originally just short and ugly, but now he uses his own blood to warm and nourish the sword body every day, and his body loses weight quickly, his skin is yellow and his cheeks are skinny.

When the neighbors saw him like this, the children were afraid and walked away from him. The person of good deeds pointed at him behind his back, and whispered: "What if my daughter is dead, he is a commoner, and it seems that he gave up."

The young master of the General's Mansion was still dressed in fine clothes and food, and the matter of killing a young girl was insignificant to a powerful person like them. Occasionally I hear people mention it, but it's just a disdainful laugh: "Oh, it's not dead yet, that trash."

These voices fell in the ears of the craftsman, and he was indifferent.

He was just intent on forging the most ferocious sword in the world. This sword can avenge him and get justice for his daughter.

Chai Sang became more and more eccentric, more and more withdrawn, he stopped going out, closed the door, did not interact with people, people could only hear the sound of "ding jingle" in his yard day and night to guess that he was still alive. Alive, they all thought he was crazy.

Hairpin Xing felt that Chai Sang was not far from madness.

He forged that sword with great care.

The body of the sword is beautiful silver-white, and the shape is small. It is very light at first glance. He carefully carved a small frost flower on the hilt, which was made of white crystal. For this white crystal, he sold it. Everything you can sell at home.

Zhu Xing sat in the yard, watching him hold the white crystal, carving it with a little bit of heart, the translucent stone slowly bloomed into a fragile crystal at his fingertips, beautiful and fragile.

This sword is exactly the same as the sword that Wuyou wanted.

And he also had feelings for this sword.

Chai Sang sometimes muttered to himself in front of the sword, not knowing what he was muttering in a low voice. Just staring at the sword for a long time, his eyes are gentle and nostalgic, as if looking at something else through this sword.

He was getting thinner and thinner every day. Hairpin Xing sometimes felt that he didn't look like a living person, and it was surprising how such a body was moving and doing things that he didn't finish every day.