Nine Thousand Years as Sword Lord

Mist clung to the blue-black cliff face, gathering into beads of water that fell toward the pool. Shen Chen lay prone on the green stone at its edge, blood still seeping from the wound in his chest. Yet the water in his increasingly clear vision revealed an iron sword, broken into three pieces, resting at the bottom. The current was scouring the rust on its spine, bringing out tiny glimmers of light.