Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Senior Brother’s sword had a beautiful name: Shanting.

As its name suggested, it shone when purging evil and rusted when cutting down the good.

Unless its master harbored killing intent, the moment it touched a good person, it would automatically transform into fluttering feathers. It was, through and through, a sword with a saintly heart.

Now, only half of Shanting remained.

Senior Brother said he worked so hard to slay evil spirits and demons so Shanting would grow back.

Ever since I learned that, I paid special attention to Shanting.

After watching Senior Brother display his skills a few times, I followed at his side, carefully poked Shanting, and asked, half doubtful, half believing,

“Senior Brother, will Shanting really grow longer?”

It didn’t look any different.

Senior Brother said,

“…”

“It has already grown a little.”

Supposedly, when Shanting was at its shortest, it had only been the length of a finger.

It was only because Senior Brother devoted himself to doing good, traveling everywhere to rid people of harm, that it had become what it was now.

Compared to his glorious battle record, there was something I was far more curious about.

“Senior Brother, have you killed a lot of good people?”

Was that why Shanting had rusted into this state?

How many had he killed? Why did he kill them?

I had many questions I wanted to ask, but every time I opened my mouth, Senior Brother would withdraw Shanting and stop letting me touch it.

His temper was still bad, but he had at least grown a little more tolerant of me.

“Mind your own business.

“Have you remembered your name? Your parents? Do you know the way home yet?”

“No, no, and I don’t know the way.”

Guilty, I drooped my head. Then I heard Senior Brother let out a heavy sigh, sounding deeply disappointed in my lack of progress.

“Then hurry up and remember.

“Following me will only make you more pitiful.”

I did not quite agree with that.

Although I had forgotten my past, I felt my life now was actually pretty good.

The only regret was that I ate steamed buns almost every day.

After following Senior Brother for only a few days, I realized he was very poor.

Wealthy families troubled by evil creatures would invite someone to drive them out early on.

Only poor families would end up waiting for someone like Senior Brother, who drew his sword to help when he saw injustice on the road.

Naturally, they could not offer any generous payment. At most, they gave a few copper coins.

Senior Brother always accepted them calmly, then used the coins to buy me steamed buns.

One meal a day. Two buns per meal.

“You ate raw meat before. If the Silver Light hadn’t protected you, you would have lost your little life long ago.

“So you need to eat more steamed buns to build yourself back up, understand?”

At first, I was so grateful I nearly wept, nodding again and again.

But after no more than three days, when I looked at those pale white lumps, I truly became an ungrateful wretch. I could barely swallow them.

I had a strong intuition that the old me probably did not eat this sort of thing.

And so, the time it took me to eat my steamed buns grew longer and longer.

At first, I had wolfed them down. Now, I dragged it out, tearing off the bun skin bit by bit, the taste as dull as chewing wax.

I had also thought about pleading with Senior Brother and asking him to buy me red date cakes instead.

But whenever that thought appeared, my gaze would unconsciously fall on Senior Brother’s clothes and mine.

An old woman had kindly given them to us after we encountered a flash flood on the road.

Senior Brother’s robe had several holes in it. Mine had almost had several holes in it.

The moment I saw those holes, I would silently stick the torn-off bun skin back on and choke it down.

Sigh. Forget it. I should just eat the steamed buns.

My senior brother really was too poor.