I, Who Signed In at the Execution Grounds for Fifteen Years, Emerged Invincible

After fifteen years as an executioner at the gallows, I thought my life would amount to nothing more than beheading countless people, an unremarkable existence. Then one day, the Ministry of Justice brought in a girl dressed in white. She looked up and smiled, and the ghost-head saber in my hands shattered with a crack. “Sir,” she said softly, “that blade can’t cut me.” The supervising official screamed in terror, but I suddenly understood: immortals really did exist in this world. That night, I opened the ancestral manual of sword techniques. On the first page, in bold characters, it read: “Slay immortals for nine hundred years, and you shall bring them to an end.” It turned out that the place I signed in every day wasn’t an execution ground, but… a graveyard for immortals.