When the rusty sword first trembled in my palm, I heard a whisper from the abyss.
The wind in Qingyan Town swept yellow dust across the ruins of a dilapidated temple. I clutched the rust-covered longsword in a body whose meridians were as dry as a parched well. The world laughed at me as a cripple, never realizing that the sword held the remnant soul of an ancient Sword Sovereign. Guided by blood-red runes, it led me onto a path of swordsmanship no one had ever trodden. So what if I had no spiritual power? My will was sharper than the heavens, and one slash of my sword could shatter the shackles of fate.
As a novice swordsman, I endured humiliation and pretended to be weak and easy to bully. As a Sword Master, I wielded a blood sword to slay my enemies, but paid for it with my memories. Every strike of the reincarnation sword was a wager with death, while cracks spreading across the mirror of the real world looked just like my mind slowly coming apart.
When my sword soul resonated, sword cries like dragons roaring echoed between heaven and earth. It was the pact between me and Lingxiao Sword Sovereign, and the prologue to my descent into darkness. The life force I drew from my killing intent made me stronger, but stained my pupils blood-red. The cycles of karma and reincarnation let me reverse life and death, but brought the Netherworld Hall of a parallel world into our realm ahead of time.
Above the Nine Heavens of the Jiuxiao Realm, a sword strike that would unite all tribulations was about to fall. The rusty sword had been unsealed to its eighth layer, and its guard had become the head of a Taotie beast. Would it devour my enemies' souls, or the last of my humanity? If the sword is my fate and blood is my path, then in this life of mine, Lu Yuan, am I protecting the last glimmer of light in my heart, or using a hundred reincarnations to bury myself with my own hands?
