(This story was rewritten by artificial stupidity. The author is not responsible for any problems.)
In 2025, the Iron Curtain of the "Sword Ban" has covered the city for ten years. Beneath neon lights and dust, ancient martial arts have become a long-buried taboo.
Lin Qi, a man with old injuries embedded in his ribs and a deathly stillness in his eyes, hides in an underground tomb beneath an abandoned factory. Every morning at five sharp, he wakes the dust-covered longsword and dances in the shards of neon seeping through a broken window. Its edge slices through empty air, as if chiseling at the iron shell wrapped around the world.
Then Xiao Wu, a rash young apprentice, barges into this silence. When hot blood accidentally splashes onto the ancient bronze sword named "Life Offering," the hilt greedily drinks it in, and rust spreads like a living thing. Deep in the basement's shadows, a heavy iron door, barely concealed by a pile of gears, silently cracks open. Thick darkness writhes soundlessly within, giving off a rotten chill of rust and mold accumulated over ten thousand years.
A blood-red prophecy from ten years ago screams in his mind: "When the ninth count is spent, blood must feed it without end. When the sword is complete, it too will enter the demonic path..."
Lin Qi knows the sword has tasted fresh blood. Whatever lies behind the door has awakened. And the hunters of the "Duan Shui" organization, like hyenas sniffing out blood, are closing in, following the scent of blood and signs of disturbance.
The burning fanaticism in the boy's eyes, the silent hunger of the evil sword, the eternal chill seeping through the crack in the door, and the tearing, dull ache beneath his ribs: Lin Qi grips the sword and stands at the edge of the abyss. This time, will he swing at the surging menace outside the door, the darkness within that's about to devour everything, or... his own soul, rusting, changing, and being dragged into the abyss?
