Shen Li had spent seven years honing other people's swords in Lichuan City. All he owned was an old iron sword with a chipped edge.
He wanted to earn a place in the Qingheng Sect and learn a sword technique that was truly his own.
After falling into a fissure while saving someone, a broken sword seal landed in his palm: gather his own energy, store a single strike.
The energy he cultivated himself could be stored and released in one sudden sword strike. Once used, it was gone; storing too much would damage his meridians. What he had once given away could now be reclaimed, but even then, it was only good for one use.
On a broken bridge, his companions drew the wolves away for him, and he finally got his chance to strike. Back at the sword-testing grounds, however, his peers saw through his weakness and waited for him to use up that one strike before moving in to win.
From the Northern Ridge token trials to the cultivation resources of the Qingheng Sect, Shen Li had to fight for everything with his old sword. As struggles between sects, dynasties, and sacred grounds spread across the spiritual ley lines of three realms, those who had once crossed a bridge together each took up their own weapons.
Before him, Jiang Shen's sword had already closed off the center line. Shen Li did not draw out the edge stored in his palm. Instead, he first took half a step back.
