568: Chapter 568 This place is not where I belong

The three-year mourning period had ended, which meant that the plain clothes worn for three years could finally be changed.

No one was happier than her.

"It's finally here!"

Qin Zhaoer rushed into the backyard, almost skipping, a neatly folded stack of clothes in her arms. As soon as she entered, she began holding them up against Qin Wangchuan.

For these three years, every time she looked at those plain clothes, she felt annoyed; she was sick of them.

But with the mourning period in effect, no matter how much she disliked them, she couldn't say anything or change them; she could only wait.

Now, she had finally reached the end of the wait.

These clothes were all prepared by her well in advance. She had picked and chosen the Materials and patterns for a full half-year!

"Don't move."

She stood on tiptoe, draped a moon-white long robe over his shoulders, stepped back, and narrowed her eyes to look him up and down.

"This one... is nice."

"Hmm!"

She set it aside and changed to another.

She held it up, then wrinkled her nose.

"This one is a bit lacking."

She huffed, annoyed.

"That auntie selling the clothes swore on her life that you'd look good in it—what complete nonsense! If she dares to blabber like that again, this Young Miss will overturn her pathetic stall!"

Qin Wangchuan let her hold them up against him and rarely interjected.

"When people sell things, how could they ever say their own goods are bad?"

"That doesn't mean she can lie!" Qin Zhaoer retorted, neck stiff, feeling completely justified.

Though she scolded fiercely, her hands didn't stop for a moment.

She held them up against him one after another, nodding after each one.

"Keep this one."

"This one works too, keep it, keep it."

As she picked, more than half of the stack in her arms was gone.

She didn't ask for Qin Wangchuan's opinion, instead laying out the selected pieces one by one and arranging them in order.

"Today, you wear this moon-white one first."

"Tomorrow, change to that bamboo-green one."

"The day after tomorrow... the day after tomorrow, this stone-blue one."

One after another.

She had clearly planned what he would wear for the next few days, leaving no room for anyone else to interject.

As she picked, Qin Zhaoer belatedly realized something. Her movements paused, and she circled around Qin Wangchuan.

"I'm telling you, why didn't I notice before—"

"Your build is actually a clothes hanger that can wear anything."

"The sun must be rising from the west." Qin Wangchuan raised an eyebrow. "So Eighth Sister actually knows how to compliment people."

"Stop with the glib talk." Qin Zhaoer rolled her eyes at him, but her hands didn't stop.

Qin Wangchuan smiled and didn't reply, turning his head to look into the room.

The wardrobe standing in the corner was already stuffed full, the doors barely closing.

That was the second one.

That's right, the second one.

These clothes were not the first batch Qin Zhaoer had brought over.

In Qin Wangchuan's view, this wasn't the Immortal Court, where one had to worry about the Qin Family's reputation.

Clothes were just things; as long as they were clean, fit well, and could be worn, that was enough.

He never really cared much about Materials or patterns.

If he really had any concerns, it was just that with so many clothes, washing them would be a headache later.

Qin Zhaoer didn't think so.

Their thoughts had never been on the same page.

Fortunately, when these clothes got dirty, he didn't have to wash them himself.

As for who took care of them, it went without saying.

After picking the clothes and giving her instructions, Qin Zhaoer was satisfied and walked out, humming an off-key tune.

Her footsteps were so light she seemed ready to skip.

Passing under the jujube tree, seeing Bailu lying there, she didn't forget to greet it affectionately.

"I'm leaving, you dead deer."

Bailu lazily lifted its eyelids, glanced at her, and closed them again.

For ordinary people, three years meant growing taller or getting frost at the temples.

But for a deer that had long since gained sentience.

Three years was but a snap of the fingers; not even a single hair had changed.

It was still the same snowy-white, lazy creature it had been back then.

If there was any difference, it was that the current Bailu could now use Spells.

Qin Wangchuan withdrew his gaze.

It was also at this moment that the courtyard gate was pushed open, and a figure entered.

It was Jiang Zhuo.

Three years had passed, and the heroic spirit honed in battle had grown even stronger.

But Qin Wangchuan saw at a glance that the white hair at his temples had increased significantly.

"Brother Jiang."

Jiang Zhuo nodded in acknowledgement, his gaze passing over him to the backyard.

"I've come to pick up that item."

He was naturally referring to the custom-made weapon.

In earlier years, the weapons used by the martial arts hall all came from Blacksmith Song in town.

But Blacksmith Song only had one pair of hands, and his work was fully booked; often, one would have to wait ten days or half a month without getting a turn.

Those who couldn't wait would settle for less and come to Qin Wangchuan to place an order.

At first, it was mostly out of consideration for his relationship with Qin Rang; they came to help out with his business, not expecting anything good to be forged.

But when they got their hands on them and used them, they were stunned.

In terms of appearance and fine decorative finishes, they naturally couldn't compare to Blacksmith Song's seasoned expertise.

But those who used weapons only ever wanted them to be handy and durable.

In this regard, what Qin Wangchuan forged was just as good.

Over time, more and more people came knocking, and he gradually became a bit overwhelmed.

The two went into the backyard together.

On the workbench, three swords and two sabers were neatly arranged.

Jiang Zhuo reached out and drew a saber; the moment it left its sheath, his eyes lit up.

The blade was bright as snow, chillingly sharp, its edge unreservedly and aggressively displayed.

He picked up a sword and slowly drew it.

This time, the admiration in his eyes deepened.

"I've seen it so many times, but I still find it amazing."

"Your saber has its edge on the outside; at a glance, you know it's a good tool for killing."

"But this sword..."

Jiang Zhuo paused, seemingly weighing his words, but ultimately couldn't find a suitable way to put it.

"I can't put my finger on it. I just feel like there's something else hidden inside."

Qin Wangchuan didn't reply, just smiled.

Jiang Zhuo returned the sword to its sheath and changed the subject.

"When will you increase the output?"

"Only three to five a week; it's simply not enough."

"There's no helping it if it's not enough." Qin Wangchuan shook his head. "Blacksmithing looks rough, but it's actually meticulous work; you can't rush it, and you can't hurry it."

Jiang Zhuo also knew he couldn't force it.

Moreover, he knew that blacksmithing was just one of this person's livelihoods.

Over these three years, Qin Wangchuan had also been working as a physician, often being invited out to see patients; his reputation for miraculous healing had long since spread throughout the surrounding villages.

A blacksmith shop that also handled weapons and medical consultations—he was so busy he couldn't even touch the ground.

Being able to spare the time to forge these few for the martial arts hall was already out of friendship.

Thinking of this, Jiang Zhuo actually felt a sincere sense of relief.

This kid was living better and better.

Not bad!

After taking the weapons, Jiang Zhuo didn't stay long; he thanked him and left.

He had barely stepped out of the alley.

The courtyard gate was knocked on again.

The door wasn't bolted; the person pushed it open a crack, poked half their body in first, hesitating.

"Master Qin, are you... open for business today?"

According to the usual schedule, it wasn't time for the shop to be open yet.

"Not yet." Qin Wangchuan didn't look up, answered, and then continued:

"Come in."

It was the manager of the rice shop in the west of town, who had arranged to come today to pick up a newly forged wood-chopping knife.

After seeing off the rice shop manager, before he could even rest for half a cup of tea, someone else came knocking.

There were farmers who had ordered farm tools, women coming to get medicine, and travelers who had heard of his reputation and came seeking a sword.

Batch after batch, the courtyard gate almost never truly closed.

Qin Wangchuan had to deal with those picking up goods while also finding time to tend to the work on the forge.

Occasionally, when asked about medical principles, he had to stop and answer a few questions.

He was truly busy.

But this kind of life, with its coming and going and the smoke and bustle of daily existence, was one he lived without haste or impatience, possessing an indescribable sense of stability.

Seeing off the last guest, the night had grown deep.

Qin Wangchuan closed the courtyard gate and turned back to look; the few lanterns in the front yard were still lit, bathing this small courtyard in a warm glow.

Daily necessities, the comings and goings of people.

Such a life was actually not bad.

Very not bad.

He didn't dislike it.

But as he turned to go to the backyard, when his gaze fell upon the sword in the corner of the workbench, that something deep in his heart ultimately could not be suppressed and floated to the surface.

It was a sword cast from ordinary iron, the blade covered in cracks, re-forged to imitate its old appearance.

Qin Wangchuan walked over, his fingertips brushing over the cracks, and whispered its name.

"Ten Directions Marvelous Law Sword..."

A trace of eagerness, which he would never have at ordinary times, flashed in his eyes.

He knew better than anyone what that sword should look like.

It contained ten types of Imperial Laws and could swallow all laws and a hundred weapons.

Such an Imperial Sword.

Such a strongest sword!

He really wanted to return to the Immortal Court immediately, gather the Materials worthy of it, and forge it with his own hands.

As soon as the thought arose, it was suppressed by Qin Wangchuan.

"Not yet."

He let out a soft breath.

"It's still not time."

Life was stable and comfortable.

But beneath this comfort, there was a trace of clarity that could never be erased.

No matter how good Liuxi Town was, it was only a stop along the way.

Waiting for this life to reach its end, waiting for that door to open, waiting for the day to return to the Immortal Court.

That would be the moment the Imperial Sword was born.