A hundred years ago, I was a revered Sword Immortal, able to shatter miles of demonic energy with a single strike. I was gravely injured in a great battle, and my master took me in. I became the first disciple of a declining sect. He was always nagging me about how distant and indifferent I was. Before long, he brought home another disciple, my junior brother. His spiritual root had been weak since childhood, and he was never destined for greatness. But my master refused to accept that, nourishing him with countless rare treasures. He even joked that he had found me a child bridegroom and told me to treat him well. But later, my junior brother wanted to repair the golden core of the woman he loved, so he brutally dug out the golden cores of every disciple in the sect and murdered my master. When we met again, he stood atop a mountain, holding the sword I had forged a hundred years ago, his eyes full of contempt. “I’ve inherited the Sword Immortal’s true teachings. You’re asking for death!” I casually snapped off a willow branch and smiled coldly. “My teachings? You think you’re worthy?”
