The fifth divine sword is named "Integrity."

Mei Zhen’s lovely face showed a hint of confusion as she nodded and said, “The letter indeed mentioned an important matter, but Uncle Jing Jie did not specify what it was. He only said he would discuss it with you once he arrived here.”

It was no wonder Mei Zhen was puzzled; Cao Ding rarely acted with such caution. Upon hearing this, Cao Hong searched his memory but could find no recollection of Dong Zhuo’s tyranny in the sixth year of Zhongping. He remembered only the Yellow Turban uprising and the strife between the Ten Attendants and the imperial relatives. This meant that Dong Zhuo had not yet begun his dictatorship, or it had just started and news had not yet spread, for in ancient times information traveled much more slowly.

Cao Hong then spoke, “Uncle Jing Jie has his own intentions. When he arrives in Qichun, the truth will be revealed. But you, Mei Zhen, we have been together in harmony for over three years, and you have never told your husband about the origin of your martial skills.”

Mei Zhen laughed playfully and replied, “Husband, did we not agree that if you could best me in one move, I would tell you of my master? If not, I must keep silent.”

Cao Hong responded with a hearty laugh, “Very well, then let us go to the training hall.”

Mei Zhen smiled, “Husband, please go ahead. Allow me to change my clothes.” With that, she rose and went into the inner chamber.

Cao Hong made his way to the training hall alone. The hall was located along the central axis of the rear courtyard—a single-story building with elegant flying eaves and ornate corners. Carvings adorned the beams, and the pillars were engraved with images of swirling clouds, combining refined beauty with a robust majesty. Clearly, Cao Hong was a man of taste.

Inside, it was a spacious room, roughly five hundred square meters in size. Along the walls stood weapon racks lined with an array of arms: sabers, spears, swords, halberds, polearms, bows, and crossbows—all arranged in perfect order. The long weapons had wooden shafts and steel blades.

The sabers and swords bore the distinctive marks of the Han dynasty. The saber was a “ring-hilt” type, named for the circular ring at the end of the hilt. This ring served not only as a place for intricate decorations and tassels but also for balance. On the battlefield, many soldiers would thread a cord through the ring and tie it to their wrist, making the saber less likely to slip from their grasp. The ring-hilt saber was two fingers wide, single-edged, thick-backed, and lacked a blood groove, measuring four feet five inches in length (with a Han foot about 23.5 or 24.5 centimeters). The blade and hilt were forged as a single piece, and the hilt was wrapped in animal skin or cloth to protect the hand.

As for the “eight-faced Han sword,” its name was apt—a long sword whose blade was ground into eight faces. If one cut the blade and viewed its cross-section, it would be a small octagon. The sword was over three fingers wide, with a raised spine and flat sides, double-edged and without a blood groove, with variable length—the shortest exceeding five feet. The eight-faced Han sword’s forging process was far more complex than the ring-hilt saber, making it much heavier.

Both the ring-hilt saber and the eight-faced Han sword represented the pinnacle of Han dynasty metallurgy. Hydraulic bellows, quenching, and carburization techniques appeared in the Han, predating the West by a thousand years. In his previous life, Cao Hong had seen artifacts of Han ring-hilt sabers but had never witnessed the craftsmanship of the eight-faced Han sword—only the four-faced variety, which could not compare in skill or quality. Anyone skilled in forging ring-hilt sabers could forge a four-faced Han sword, but blacksmiths capable of crafting an eight-faced Han sword were rare, even in this era, and such a sword could fetch a king’s ransom.

In Cao Hong’s training hall, there was only one eight-faced Han sword. Its hilt was wrapped in finely carved wood, and between the hilt and blade was an openwork steel floral motif. The scabbard was inlaid with jade, and it rested quietly on the weapon rack—a true masterpiece.

What surprised Cao Hong most was that this eight-faced Han sword had been given to Mei Zhen as part of her dowry by her master. The identity of the sword’s blacksmith, like Mei Zhen’s master, remained a mystery.

Cao Hong approached the eight-faced Han sword and grasped the hilt. Instantly, a chilling cold invaded the meridians in his hand. He let out a low grunt, focused his mind, and his whole body’s qi and blood surged. Drawing in a deep breath, he tensed his body and concentrated his thoughts on his niwan palace, silently invoking, “Refine qi into spirit!” Then, as he relaxed, his qi and blood abruptly expanded—the elasticity of his blood vessels noticeably increased, capable of bearing greater torrents. At this moment, Cao Hong’s explosive power and endurance both rose to a new level.

In his previous life, Cao Hong had reached the pinnacle of martial arts and understood them deeply. In truth, “vital energy” was simply the process of conditioning the body, making it stronger through a particular force. Refine qi into spirit meant using vital energy to nourish the body, strengthening it continuously, and mastering this art.

“Refining spirit to emptiness” meant training one’s organs and bloodlines to be infinitely strong, so one’s body became as vast as the universe, able to absorb and emit vital energy freely, protecting the organs and oneself. This absorption and emission of vital energy meant every cell could stretch and contract at will, generating force and resisting harm.

Earlier, Cao Hong had drunk several cups of hot tea to invigorate his qi and blood, and now seized the opportunity for a breakthrough.

With a metallic ring, his qi and blood surged, resisting the icy chill. He drew the eight-faced Han sword, and a brilliant cold light filled the hall, the temperature dropping sharply. Cao Hong could not help but praise, “What a sword! Even now, it possesses a commanding aura—a masterpiece indeed! Sadly, no one in later generations could forge such a divine weapon.”

The sword was six feet five inches long, almost one meter sixty, reaching Cao Hong’s chest—clearly custom-made for him. At the tip of the blade was engraved a winding character, “Lian,” obviously for Cao Hong’s courtesy name, Zi Lian. Mei Zhen’s master must have specially crafted this sword for him as part of her disciple’s dowry.

“A sword of metal, engraved with ‘Lian’—is this not the same as my codename, ‘Scythe of the Reaper’? It seems my coming here was destined from childhood.” Cao Hong mused with emotion.

Just then, Mei Zhen’s voice sounded behind him, “Husband, why did you draw ‘Lian’? Be careful of the cold entering your body.”

Cao Hong turned, sword in hand, and saw Mei Zhen dressed in a round-collared nomad’s outfit, boots on her feet. The outfit reached her knees, with tight trousers and a waist sash, far more convenient and simple than Han clothing, ideal for fighting. The current emperor’s father, Emperor Ling, favored the nomad style—eating nomad cakes, sitting on nomad chairs, wearing nomad clothes, and using nomad bows. Thus, many people among the gentry wore such attire, especially wealthy youths and noble ladies, who preferred it for hunting and martial contests.

Mei Zhen’s hair was tied up, her oval face and fair skin, eyebrows like distant mountains, and delicate red lips gave her a gentle yet martial air.

Yet worry showed in her expression, clearly concerned that the sword’s sharpness might harm her husband.

Cao Hong laughed heartily, flicked the sword, assumed his stance, and began to sing:

“Smoke rises, gazing north to the rivers and mountains, dragons stir, horses neigh, sword’s aura like frost, heart as boundless as the Yellow River, twenty years, across the land, who dares stand against?”

Mei Zhen stood stunned, watching her husband, struck by a strange sensation. It seemed that today, her husband was very different from the cautious man she had known. From the moment he solved the case, she had felt it—now, even more strongly.

“Fury stirs, where the long saber points, how many loyal souls lie buried in foreign lands, what fear have I of a hundred deaths for my country, sighs suppressed, words unspoken, eyes brimming with blood and tears.”

The hall was now filled with cold light, sword energy swirling. Outside, early autumn brought a slight chill, but inside, frost seemed to blanket the room. Dressed in white, Cao Hong moved with effortless grace, wielding the renowned “Xiang Sword Rain” style of the future Two Lakes region. Its main techniques were intricate and dazzling, as tumultuous and dense as the rains of Xiang.

Mei Zhen had never seen this style before and was awed. She thought, “When did my husband learn such advanced swordplay? It rivals my master’s ‘Blade Severing Water.’”

“Horses gallop south, men gaze north, grass turns green and yellow, dust rises. I vow to guard our land and reclaim our borders. Let all nations—come in tribute!”

With the song ended, Cao Hong stood with sword in hand and laughed, “To dance beneath the heavens with a divine sword—this is the true joy of life!” He had never used “Xiang Sword Rain” since mastering it, believing no sword worthy of matching its brilliance. Now, with this sword in hand, his spirit soared as he wielded it.

Mei Zhen’s eyes sparkled with admiration. She had never seen her husband so dashing and valiant. Besides her master, she knew no one who could wield a sword with such elegance. Suddenly, her master’s words came to mind:

“Disciple, I have nothing else to give you, so I asked a friend to forge a precious sword. Though I know it may be a hidden gem, you are my disciple, and your husband deserves this sword.”

“Master, this sword is not a hidden gem but perfectly matched! So my husband was letting me win all along!” Mei Zhen sighed inwardly.