"This Demon Sword Wujian," Qi Sibai said slowly, "has, in essence, become a malevolent artifact formed from the wrathful spirits of one hundred thousand unjust dead."
He waved his hand. The tea in the air coalesced into a water mirror. Within the mirror appeared the face of a middle-aged man, his skin a bronze hue, features square and solemn, with a burn-like scar at his temple.
Most peculiar of all were his long arms, so long they nearly reached past his knees.
"The first host, Tie Baiyuan, I've told you of him already," Qi Sibai began. "He was the master of Jie Kun, the swordsmith who forged Wujian, and second-in-command of the Sword Furnace Pavilion at the time. A reclusive, taciturn man obsessed with the art of forging. He was widely regarded as the next Pavilion Master, until Jie Kun went astray and he disappeared along with him."
"At the same time, the Pavilion Master went mad, as did over 170 of Tie Baiyuan's household. This incident nearly crippled the Sword Furnace Pavilion entirely."
Qi Sibai paused, his gaze deep. "But what's strange is that many of those who went mad weren't even near Tie Baiyuan at the time. Some were scattered throughout Great Zhou. One was even living in the neighboring state of Yang."
"For example, Tie Baiyuan's daughter, she was living in Yang, far from her father, yet she too succumbed. All of them went mad on the same day: the day Tie Baiyuan awoke."
"Some committed suicide immediately. Others just descended into madness. But they all said the same thing: that the world before them was a lie, something entirely different from the one they knew."
Chen Kuang frowned in thought. "In other words, those affected by the Demon Sword don't need to have direct contact with the host. It's enough if they're... connected to the host in some way?"
Qi Sibai nodded. "That's right."
He went on to describe the other two known former hosts of the Demon Sword.
The second host had been a lowly member of a small faction in Great Zhou. A mortal. No cultivation. An orphan with no status to speak of.
When he fell ill, the faction assumed it was a terminal fever and dumped him, half-dead, into a mass grave.
Seven days later, he reemerged, caked in mud, dressed in rags, running through the streets laughing hysterically. He ran straight into his faction's headquarters.
Wherever he passed, people began laughing with him, until over a thousand individuals committed mass suicide. Others who had once interacted with him also went mad.
Then he vanished again.
The third host was the female governor of a city in Yang. She had Innate Realm cultivation.
The results were even worse..
Seven days later, her entire city fell into madness and death.
The emperor of Yang, terrified, ordered the city to be burned and the incident buried. He then called for Dao Lord Qingpingzi of the Mysterious Divine Path Sect, Shen Xingzhu's master, to perform rites and seal away the evil.
"Dao Lord of the the Mysterious Divine Path Sect?" Chen Kuang raised his eyebrows. "No wonder Shen Xingzhu's master is paying close attention to this. He's been involved from the start."
Qi Sibai nodded. "The Mysterious Divine Path Sect has been tracking the Demon Sword, but to no avail. Its appearances are too erratic, too brief. Even divination techniques offer no clues."
"That's why this burden eventually fell to our Heavenly Observatory Division."
"And I... am the only one left who can still perceive the Demon Sword's fate."
He said it with a bitter smile.
It was a burden, and he clearly hadn't asked for it. But for the Heavenly Observatory Division, fate wasn't just something you studied, it was something you lived.
Chen Kuang could understand that.
There was no discernible connection between the three previous hosts.
The only consistent factor: each fell unconscious for seven days, and when they woke, those around them went mad.
Moreover...
"If we look at each case," Chen Kuang said, "it seems the more people the host had contact with, the more were affected afterward..."
He rubbed his temples. The implications were staggering.
"And the current host of the Demon Sword... is that little slop bucket girl. She's a royal descendant of the fallen Liang. If the restoration of the kingdom ever succeeded, damn it, this could be catastrophic!"
Chen Kuang took a deep breath and asked seriously, "Brother Qi, the people affected, were they only those who knew the host?"
Qi Sibai shook his head. "There were others who had no real-life contact."
"For instance, in the second case, one woman who lived over a thousand miles away in Liang also went mad. She claimed the host was her husband, and that they had a child together."
"Other madmen claimed the host was a legendary hero, completely different from who he actually was."
Qi Sibai said grimly, "The same thing happened with the third host."
"From what little I've seen in fate's threads, I believe the Demon Sword influences another world, the host's 'dream' world. It affects everyone who has a connection to them... within that illusion."
Qi Sibai looked at Chen Kuang and Shen Meinan.
"And now... that dream is likely the 'Illusory Realm.'"
"Illusory Realm. Wujian Purgatory. Sun and Moon in the same sky. Exchanged for this world.. Those lines mean the Demon Sword is using the host as a conduit, to overwrite our reality with a parallel world."
"And once the switch happens... anyone whose identity in the dream contradicts reality will go completely mad."
Chen Kuang now understood.
The Demon Sword wasn't merely corrupting minds, it was creating a full-blown alternate reality.
And now, it was trying to drag that world into this one, to replace reality.
From a single household... to a faction... to an entire city...
And now, perhaps... an entire country.
It was truly terrifying.
Chen Kuang's brow furrowed. "So if the little princess is already within the Illusory Realm, then the dream-world simulation has begun. Even waking her now could cause part of that world to manifest in reality. At the very least, those closest to her would be affected..."
This was another version of the trolley dilemma.
And it wasn't even clear how far the dream had progressed.
He fell silent. "An impossible choice. Is there really no solution?"
Qi Sibai shook his head. "I told you to come to me if you had clues, didn't I? I wouldn't have asked you that if I had nothing to offer."
He paused.
"Not long ago... I glimpsed a thread of fate."
"One that told me, Tie Baiyuan, the very first host of the Demon Sword... is still alive. Moreover... he's here. At the Eastern Court Lake.. He may know how to break the Demon Sword's curse."
...
At the same time, Chen An, having calmed his sister, wandered the docks in a distracted daze.
He soon spotted an old fisherman crouched over his net.
"Old Yuan," Chen An greeted. "Where's your Xiao Hong today?"
The old man looked up. His weathered skin was dark as bark, his hair white and messy beneath his straw hat, and his arms absurdly long.
He grinned. "Young Master Chen, you always ask about my Xiao Hong, but I don't think she much likes you."
Chen An frowned. "I don't ask every time! I just didn't see her today, that's all."
"She went to the east market."
"Someone with her?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"The Li family girl from the west."
"Oh..."
Chen An wandered in circles a few times, then finally started heading east.
The old man straightened his back and put down his net. Under his hat, his eyes were clouded with age.
"He's gone."
He called out toward the cabin.
"Xiao Hong... he's a good lad. Why do you always avoid him?"
A young girl climbed out from the boat cabin. She wore her hair in thick braids, her features delicate and lovely, with natural rouge on her cheeks like lotus blossoms in water.
Xiao Hong silently watched the direction Chen An had left.
Then she smiled faintly and said,
"Grandpa Yuan... you know why.. He and I are not of the same world."