Gossamer veils fluttered as Cecilia danced under the moonlight, swirling mist with the branch in her hand. Moonlight bathed her form, and with her enchanting movements, she glowed with an ethereal brilliance.
With her long brows, luminous eyes, graceful fingers, slender waist, ornate headpiece, and jingling bells at her hips, Cecilia's dance was exquisite—sometimes drifting like gentle clouds, sometimes spinning like a sudden whirlwind. Between strength and softness, her steps seemed to tell a story, sorrowful yet beautiful, each movement heavy or light in turn.
Eugene Smithson watched with awe, struck by the beauty before him. Never had he seen such an extraordinary woman, nor such a remarkable dance—every gesture radiated elegance. Yet the tree branch in her hand marred the perfection of this sword dance, like a flaw in a masterpiece.
The dance ended abruptly. Cecilia suddenly furrowed her brows and clutched her chest, beads of sweat gathering on her forehead. Eugene Smithson was startled by the sight—her beauty now tinged with frailty. He hurried to her side.
"It's nothing serious, Mr. Smithson. I've suffered this pain in my chest since childhood—it will pass soon."
Eugene Smithson supported Cecilia to a nearby table. As he turned away, an idea had already formed in his mind—what kind of sword would be worthy of this peerless beauty?
"Sir, would you care to listen to some of my ramblings?"
Eugene Smithson picked up his hammer, then set it aside and bowed to Cecilia.
"I am all ears."
This is a story that evokes deep sorrow, yet burns with anger.
After Yue was defeated, Gavin sent Victor Fan across the nation to search for beauties. In Zhuluo Village, during a local ritual, Victor met the sisters Dawn Summers and Cecilia. With the king's command, Victor found the ideal beauty Gavin sought.
Over time, Victor Fan's erudition and wit deeply attracted the sisters. Both Dawn Summers and Cecilia grew to admire this high-ranking, cultured man.
Victor Fan was torn—he loved both sisters deeply. Caught between the elder and the younger, he hesitated. Sensing his inner turmoil, Cecilia spoke up to ease his troubles.
Yue had become a vassal to Wu. Gavin suffered humiliation, and though Wu appeared to lower its guard, Yue's army was greatly reduced. Wu's envoys routinely inspected them, and spies lurked everywhere; any sign of rebellion would mean Yue's destruction.
On Winston Chung's advice, Gavin decided to exploit King Fuchai's fondness for beautiful women—by sending one to him, hoping Wu would relax its vigilance toward Yue.
Victor Fan once suggested sending Dawn Summers, but though the sisters were both beautiful, Dawn's looks could not rival Cecilia's breathtaking beauty.
With Yue in dire straits, Victor Fan knew he must set aside personal feelings to help Gavin restore the kingdom. In the end, Cecilia herself volunteered to become a royal consort and go to Wu.
Eugene Smithson watched Cecilia in silence, knowing that when the sword was finished, it would be time for her to depart for Wu.
"Miss Cecilia, aren't you afraid to speak so openly to a rough man like me...?"
Cecilia covered her face and laughed, shaking her head.
"I always feel, Mr. Smithson, that there's an unusual aura about you. I've never met anyone like you—it's as if you're a sword yourself."
Cecilia spoke, her gaze soft as she looked at Eugene Smithson.
"I don't understand matters of state. I only wish to cherish the man I love, but Victor Fan—he suffers. If I can help him in any way, that is enough for me."
As Cecilia spoke, a trace of sorrow flickered in her eyes. Eugene Smithson understood—her feelings for Victor Fan were love, yet Victor, faced with power and affection, chose the former. So Cecilia called herself an instrument.
"Thank you, Mr. Smithson, for listening to my troubles. I'll take my leave now, so as not to disturb your sword forging."
After Cecilia left, Eugene Smithson could not forget her. Though Cecilia and Victor Fan loved each other, before the nation, they could never truly be together.
Eugene Smithson sat quietly, staring at the hammer in his hand. If he was to forge a sword worthy of the world's greatest beauty, it could not be like any ordinary blade. Swords then were broad-backed, made for killing and hacking.
Now I finally understood why this Soul-Stealing Ghost Blade was so slender—almost like a Tang sword.
On the second day, Eugene Smithson began his work. He melted the finest ore he'd collected, his mind filled with Cecilia's dance from the night before. The sword's shape had already taken form in his heart.
Day after day, Eugene Smithson refined the ore, raising its purity until the material gleamed with a translucent luster. He hoped to add something special to it.
A touch of color would be best, giving the sword a hint of dazzling beauty—making it even more suited to Cecilia's divine grace.
Five months passed swiftly. Every day, Cecilia practiced under the guidance of ritual masters and dance instructors.
At the time, a beauty required three qualities: stunning looks, skill in song and dance, and proper etiquette. When Victor Fan first found Cecilia, she only possessed the first; the other two were honed over two years of relentless training.
By now, the weapon's shape was nearly finalized. Unlike ordinary swords, it was only a few millimeters wide, and its curve was subtly arched—a fine, graceful arc, like the crescent moon, both natural and exquisite.
But there remained one problem: although the sword gleamed brilliantly and was extremely light, appearing soft, its hardness was exceptional. Yet its appearance was almost too simple.
This chapter has no conclusion ^.^ Please click the next page to continue reading!
At that moment, Grant came up the mountain alone, carrying several jars of fine wine. He knew he wanted to witness the moment his elder brother finished forging the sword, his heart brimming with joy.
When Grant saw the sword, he couldn't help but think: this might be his brother's greatest masterpiece.
"What a beautiful sword, brother. I've never seen anything so exquisite."
After several months apart, Grant had grown taller and stronger. After exchanging some family news, the brothers began discussing the sword. The final step was to add an inscription worthy of the blade.
At that moment, Grant proposed an intriguing idea: to use human blood mixed with minerals to create subtle patterns on the blade, resulting in a faint pink hue.
This idea solved Eugene Smithson's dilemma. He and Grant immediately set to work; on a certain day, they recast the sword, using a special mineral mixture infused with both their blood.
"It's time, brother."
Eugene Smithson held a small chisel, while Grant stood by with an iron hammer.
The sound of hammering rang out for hours. At last, it was done—Eugene Smithson lifted the sword, and in that instant, its fleeting beauty was revealed: pink mist-like patterns swirled along the blade, graceful and shrouded in mysterious allure.
Victor Fan and Cecilia stood behind them, both smiling. Cecilia's smile was pure joy, laughter escaping her lips, while Victor's was one of relief and accomplishment. Yet to Eugene Smithson and Grant, these smiles mingled into a sorrowful undertone.
"Mr. Smithson, what is the name of this sword?"
Victor Fan asked. Eugene Smithson respectfully presented the sword to Cecilia.
"This sword shall be called Beauty..."
As soon as Eugene Smithson finished, Victor Fan praised the sword. Beauty was unsharpened—made for dance, even the tip was left rounded. Yet in Cecilia's hands, it radiated an overwhelming sense of grace.
Grant knew that if the sword were sharpened, its latent fierceness and killing aura would erupt instantly, chilling all who beheld it.
"Take care, Mr. Smithson. Cecilia is leaving now."
Before leaving, Cecilia spoke simply to Eugene Smithson, then turned away. Eugene bowed deeply, his heart conflicted—such a noble woman, yet doomed to a tragic fate.
The sword forging complete, Eugene Smithson and Grant drank heavily in the mountains. Their hearts weighed down—between country and love, it was as if a boulder had fallen, sending ripples through their souls.
"Brother, if it were up to me, I would choose love—and you would too, wouldn't you?"
Grant spoke, and Eugene Smithson nodded happily.
Months later, news arrived—Cecilia had won King Fuchai's favor, becoming the talk of both Wu and Yue. Rumors spread through every street and alley.
Eugene Smithson and Grant devoted themselves to sword forging, ignoring the world around them. With their families, they lived happily each day.
Six years passed in a flash. During this time, Eugene Smithson crafted countless famous swords, with lords from all nations seeking his work. Maya also forged many blades.
During those six years, Yue steadily recovered. Rumors reached Eugene Smithson that King Fuchai spent his days in pleasure with his favored consort Cecilia, neglecting state affairs.
Finally, in the seventh year, while King Fuchai traveled north to Huangchi for a summit with other lords, Gavin seized the opportunity and led his troops in. Wu surrendered, and its fate was sealed.