Gu Yun carefully took out the hollow Wind Slasher. It seemed too thin for him, it could be held by his two fingers. He could hardly feel the weight in his hand. He wiped the dust off its tail with his fingers, and the clear handwriting of "Gu Yun" appeared, followed by smaller letters, which said "Xiao Shiliu". It was not the kind of writing that he was used to, which deliberately pursued elegance. It was deeply engraved, not flashy, it appeared even slightly surly.

The soldiers of Black Iron Camp each had their own name engraved on the Wind Slasher. Gu Yun thought that he was the only one who did not, but his name was here.

He was stunned. This was the real evidence, which proved that his faint and hazy memories were all true. He looked at it, and suddenly a scene came to his mind...

(VI)

Little Gu Yun stood on his tiptoes and held on to a man's arm. The man's strength was very great, even while carrying him, his hand holding the knife didn't even shake. He carved the two words "Gu Yun" in one stroke, then showed it to him: "I have carved your name, this is now yours."

The little boy didn't know the characters yet. He spread his fingers and counted the characters carefully: "Xiao - Shi - Liu, ah?"

It seemed like one word was missing.

Gu Shen laughed and said, "It says 'Gu Yun.' Son, engraving Xiao Shiliu on the Wind Slasher, do you want to be laughed to death by the enemy on the battlefield?"

Gu Yun didn't understand what he was laughing at. He thought and said: "Gu Yun is alright. I wanted to carve Xiao Shiliu as well."

On that day, Marshal Gu's laughter could be heard across the courtyard.

(VII)

"This is what the old Marquis ordered from Ling Shu Institute," Uncle Wang squinted at the hollow iron bar in Gu Yun's hand, "Except that there is no inner core, the shell is minimized according to the real Wind Slasher."

Gu Yun caressed the old thing carefully, not saying a single word.

All he had of his father was hardness and ruthlessness. The sword that was put into his hand since childhood had been used to kill people. The iron puppets who accompanied him to practice swords could really break his bones, or even kill him.

Uncle Wang whispered: "The world had forced his hands, the old Marquis couldn't help it. Please don't blame him."

If this was said to Gu Yun twenty years ago, he would not be able to understand it, even if one broke up each word and tried to explain it to him. Now, as he had grown to his father's age, even just hearing a sigh, he could understand the cause.