[Where the Heavenly Dao collapses, my sword remains unsheathed]
For three hundred years, the world believed that the blue-robed swordsman who once carved the words “Sword Qi Endures” had long since merged with the mountains and rivers.
That is, until black sword rain poured from the inverted Sea Eye and the seventy-two sages of the Confucian Temple wept blood in unison.
Qi Jingchun, erased from existence, left a line of sword marks on a blank stele: When in doubt, cut down the spring breeze.
Chen Ping'an took up the rusty old sword strip and discovered that the shards of his natal porcelain from the Pearl Cave Heaven had sealed away the final wager made by the founders of the three teachings before they transformed into the Dao:
If the human world is used as a furnace, can it forge a sword that severs karma? Or will it create another prison of divine law?
The histories altered by the Heaven-Mending Pavilion are devouring reality. The bones of the first Sword Lord crawl out from beneath the ruins of the Sword Qi Great Wall. The true names of every sword cultivator appear upon Ning Yao's sword heart, and the very last line reads: Chen Ping'an, to be executed.
The game spanning three hundred years has finally reached its endgame:
Will he become the Heaven-Mending Man who upholds the Ritual Sage's Heavenly Dao,
or the godslayer foretold by Lu Chen?
When the bronze giant gates swing open,
the answer given by a fifteenth-realm sword cultivator is this:
Break your natal sword, and borrow a wisp of spring breeze from the human world.
