A hush fell over the forest clearing, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the low groan of the dying beast. Ning Rongrong stood frozen, wide-eyed, her breath caught in her throat. Before her, a boy in flowing white robes stood with his back to the sun, the light catching the gleam of his blade as he pulled it free from the massive skull of the three-eyed tiger.
A single stroke. A soul beast over thirty thousand years old—slain.
The elderly man who arrived moments later on a flying sword landed softly beside the girl, his face carved with disbelief. He stared at the fallen beast, then at the young swordsman, eyes wide. A child... had done this?
"This isn't just a ten-thousand-year soul beast..." the old man murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "That thing was over thirty thousand..."
Impossible. Unthinkable. A boy so young, standing calmly as though slaying such a monster was a matter of routine.
The white-haired elder stepped forward, composing himself as best he could, and gave the boy a polite nod. "Young man, I am Chen Xin. This is Ning Rongrong, daughter of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan. May I ask your name?"
The boy blinked once, surprised. He hadn't expected this encounter today. So the old man was Chen Xin—the Sword Douluo himself. And the girl beside him? Ning Rongrong, heiress to one of the most powerful clans on the continent.
Fate had a funny sense of timing.
The boy sheathed his sword with a quiet whisper of steel against steel and replied, cool and steady, "Qian Yu."
The name hung in the air for a moment. Qian Yu—no clan name, no grand title. Just that.
Chen Xin's gaze drifted down to the sword at Qian Yu's side. His breath hitched.
Even from a distance, he could feel it: the pressure that sword exuded. It wasn't just a powerful weapon—it surpassed even his own Seven Kill Sword. There was history in that blade. Blood. Divinity.
He took a tentative step forward. "That sword," he asked, voice almost reverent, "is it... your martial soul?"
Qian Yu gave a slight nod.
A shiver ran down Chen Xin's spine.
That sword. That name. It couldn't be...
"May I ask... what is it called?"
"Zhu Shen," Qian Yu answered softly. "The Godslayer."
The elder froze.
His mouth moved, but no sound came out. He reached forward, grabbing Qian Yu by the shoulders as if to steady himself.
"Did you say—Zhu Shen?"
Memories rushed in like a flood. Long-buried legends, bedtime stories whispered by his grandfather. Stories of a man once hailed as the greatest swordsman the continent had ever known—the one they called the Sword God. He wielded a sword said to cleave even the heavens. A sword named Zhu Shen.
As a boy, Chen Xin's grandfather had told him that their family once served under a secretive order: the Pavilion of the Sword God. Their ancestor, Chen Tian, had been a disciple of that mythical figure.
Over time, the Sword God had become a myth. A man said to have stood alone against the continent's greatest sects and emerged victorious. A man who challenged even the gods—and won.
"Your sword..." Chen Xin murmured. "It is said the Sword God's blade could cut through fate itself."
Legends claimed the gods, threatened by his power, descended to challenge him. And with Zhu Shen in hand, the Sword God struck them down, even as a mortal. Shortly after, he vanished—some say ascending to the divine realm, others whispering of reincarnation.
And now, this boy stood before him with that very same sword.
"Who... who are your parents?" Chen Xin asked, voice thick with awe. "Where do you come from?"
Qian Yu's expression remained unreadable. "I'm no one special," he said simply. "Just someone passing through."
The answer was maddeningly calm. For someone who had just slain a thirty-thousand-year beast, it sounded almost... humble.
Chen Xin opened his mouth to press further, but stopped. The boy wasn't ready to speak, and he wouldn't force him. Not yet.
Behind them, the silence was broken by a timid voice.
"Um... Thank you. For saving me," Ning Rongrong said, stepping forward with a nervous flutter in her steps.
Qian Yu glanced at her, expression softening.
"No need," he replied. "That beast was already my target. I chased it here—I should be the one apologizing for letting it scare you."
"N-No! You don't need to apologize!" she said quickly, cheeks flushed. "It's my fault for being in the way."
There was an awkward pause.
Then she looked up at him, eyes wide and shimmering.
"Can I... can I call you Brother Qian Yu?" she asked, voice hopeful.
Qian Yu blinked, slightly taken aback. "If you'd like," he said.
Her face lit up. "Brother Qian Yu!"
And then, without warning, she threw herself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist in a sudden, heartfelt hug.
He stiffened. "Wha—"
"You were so cool just now!" she said, beaming up at him. "You looked like a hero out of a storybook! Brother Qian Yu... when I grow up, can I marry you?"
The clearing fell silent.
Qian Yu stood frozen. His expression blanked.
What kind of plot development is this...?
Chen Xin's face darkened as he pulled the girl back. "Rongrong, you can't just go saying things like that!"
"But it's true!" she pouted. "Mama said I should marry someone I like when I grow up. I like Brother Qian Yu, so I'm going to marry him!"
Qian Yu stared up at the sky, as if hoping some higher power would explain how his day had taken such a turn.
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