The first blade struck a finger's breadth from Ye Qingxiao's left foot, embedding itself in the mountain path with a sound like a struck bell.
He froze mid-step, watching as the sword—a slender jian with a pearl-set pommel—vibrated violently before shattering into mist. The droplets hung suspended in the air, each reflecting a distorted fragment of his face.
"Don't move." A'Qing grabbed his sleeve, her silver eyes darting across unseen currents. "The rain has teeth."
Above them, the sky churned like a pot of molten steel. Dozens more swords materialized within the clouds, their descent silent until the last moment before impact. One grazed Ye Qingxiao's shoulder, drawing a thin red line before dissolving into the same eerie mist.
The bronze fragment zipped around them in defensive circles. "Identified: Celestial Forge Precipitation. Historical record suggests this phenomenon precedes—"
A sword the size of a man's thigh slammed down between them, cutting off the fragment's voice mid-sentence. This one didn't shatter—its obsidian blade pulsed with veins of crimson light, the guard shaped like interlocked serpents.
A'Qing recoiled. "That one's hungry."
Ye Qingxiao's brand burned fiercer as the Taiyi Sword Treasury updated:
Warning: Bloodforged Abyssal WeaponOrigin: Seventh Heavenly Demon Smithy
Before he could react, the obsidian sword twisted in its stony sheath, the serpent guards coming alive to hiss at them. The ground beneath it darkened, grass withering to ash in concentric circles.
The bronze fragment emitted a series of rapid clicks. "Containment failure confirmed. Progenitor awareness at eighty-nine percent. Suggested immediate action:—"
A deafening roar drowned out the rest.
From the direction of the ruined sect, a column of black fire erupted, coalescing into the shape of a winged dragon composed entirely of broken swords. Each beat of its wings sent another volley of blades raining down around them.
A'Qing shoved Ye Qingxiao behind a boulder as a particularly large sword-spear hybrid impaled the ground where he'd stood. "Your sword casket fragment has terrible timing!"
Ye Qingxiao peered around the rock's edge. The obsidian sword had partially unsheathed itself, revealing a blade etched with screaming faces. Worse, the hollow soldiers—or what remained of them—had reassembled near the dragon's base, their shadow-serpent forms weaving through the sword rain unharmed.
The bronze fragment pressed against his temple, its voice now inside his skull:
"Swordbearer must reach primary repository before full manifestation. Current options: 1) Activate emergency resonance at risk of severe meridian damage. 2) Utilize local anomaly."
"What local—" Ye Qingxiao's question died as he followed the fragment's projected gaze toward A'Qing.
The blind girl knelt with both palms flat against the earth, her silver eyes rolled back until only whites showed. The veins in her neck stood out like sapphire wires as she whispered:
"...eighteen paces northeast...buried beneath three layers of star-iron...a sword that remembers your name..."
Ye Qingxiao didn't hesitate. He lunged through the deadly rain, counting paces until his boot struck something metallic. Dropping to his knees, he clawed at the rocky soil until his fingers closed around a hilt wrapped in rotted silk.
The moment he pulled, the sword rain ceased.
Every suspended droplet froze midair. The obsidian sword shuddered in its makeshift sheath. Even the dragon of broken blades paused mid-roar.
Then the buried sword came free with a sound like a thousand sighs—a slender blade of bluish steel, its surface marred by seven star-shaped pits matching the bronze fragment's engravings. As Ye Qingxiao held it aloft, the suspended sword droplets streamed toward the blade like iron filings to a lodestone, coalescing into a single perfect sphere of liquid metal that floated above the tip.
The Taiyi Sword Treasury burned white-hot in his mind:
Recognition: Starmetal Core Sword "Frostmourn's Echo"Status: Dormant (Awakening Protocol Initiated)
A'Qing collapsed with a gasp. "It's singing the same song as your forehead scar!"
The bronze fragment zipped to hover between sword and bearer. "Primary repository access key confirmed. Warning: Progenitor has reached—"
The ground split open beneath them.
Three Days Earlier: The Silent Monastery
The blind monk's fingers paused over the whispering scroll.
In nineteen years of deciphering the Monastery of Unseen Blades' archives, he'd never encountered a document that resisted reading so fiercely. The parchment squirmed in his grip, its ink rearranging itself whenever he traced a character.
"Elder Brother?" A novice hovered at the cell's entrance. "The rain has started again."
The monk tilted his head toward the window—though no eyes hid beneath his silk blindfold, he perceived the sword-shaped droplets perfectly. "Not rain. Memories."
He returned to the scroll, this time pressing his palm flat against its surface. The moment skin touched parchment, the ink surged upward in three-dimensional spikes, forming a miniature landscape:
A mountain peak crowned by seven swords.A river delta where shadow serpents coiled.And at the center—a youth with a brand like a drawn blade over his heart.
The novice gasped as the monk's blindfold darkened with blood. "Should I summon the abbot?"
"Summon the gravekeepers instead." The monk's voice remained calm even as crimson tears soaked his beard. "The Seventh has found its bearer. The swords will fall until—"
His head snapped toward the east as if hearing some distant cry. The scroll burst into blue flames, its ashes forming one final character in the air before dispersing:
Flee.
Present: The Shattered Ground
Ye Qingxiao tumbled through darkness, the star-metal sword clutched to his chest.
The collapse had swallowed everything—A'Qing, the fragment, even the sword rain. He fell through layers of increasingly ancient soil, catching glimpses of buried artifacts:
A helmet from some forgotten dynasty, its crest shaped like a dragon's spine.A skeleton clutching a jade slip engraved with sword forms.Finally, an entire underground pavilion, its pillars carved with scenes of celestial warfare.
He struck water with bone-jarring force. The impact should have killed him—but the star-metal sword pulsed, forming a bubble of air around him as he sank deeper into what appeared to be an underground lake.
Luminescent algae revealed the lake's staggering contents:
Swords.
Thousands upon thousands of them, planted blade-down in the lakebed like some monstrous metallic garden. Their varieties spanned every era and style—from bronze ritual jian to massive two-handed zhanmadao, even foreign-looking sabers with curved quillons.
The bronze fragment materialized beside him, its voice distorted by the water:
"Welcome to the First Repository. Time remaining until progenitor manifestation: seven minutes."
A stream of bubbles burst from Ye Qingxiao's lips. "Where's A'Qing?"
"Anomaly located." The fragment darted toward the lake's center, where a familiar slender figure floated amidst the sword forest. A'Qing's hair fanned out like black silk, her silver eyes wide open but unseeing. Most disturbingly, seven swords had detached from the lakebed to orbit her slowly, their points aimed inward as if contemplating a killing thrust.
Ye Qingxiao kicked toward her—only for the star-metal sword in his hand to suddenly grow heavy. It dragged him downward, past A'Qing, toward the very center of the lake where an enormous stone slab lay covered in barnacles.
As his feet touched the slab, the barnacles fell away in unison, revealing an inscription:
Seven centuries of hidden swordsUntil the Abyss returns
The bronze fragment positioned itself over the slab's center. "Authorization required. Swordbearer must—"
A shockwave rippled through the water. Above them, the lake's surface boiled as something enormous penetrated it—the obsidian sword, now grown to the size of a warship's mast, its serpent guards thrashing as it arrowed straight down toward them.
Ye Qingxiao acted without thinking. He raised the star-metal sword and brought it down on the stone slab with all his strength.
The resulting crack wasn't heard so much as felt—a vibration that passed through bone and soul alike. Every sword in the lake shuddered in response, their tips tilting toward the center as if paying homage.
The slab split open, revealing a staircase spiraling into infinite darkness. From those depths came a sound the Taiyi Sword Treasury immediately identified:
A dragon's heartbeat.
A'Qing's voice echoed strangely through the water: "Too soon! The cradle isn't ready!"
The obsidian sword was twenty feet away when the first hand emerged from the staircase—a skeletal thing clad in corroded gauntlets, followed by an armored figure so ancient its breastplate bore Qin dynasty markings.
More figures rose behind the first, each wielding a sword that shouldn't exist outside legends. They moved with the eerie synchronization of puppets, forming a wall of blades between the intruders and the staircase.
The bronze fragment's light dimmed to near extinction. "Final warning: This is not a repository. It's a prison. And you've just awakened the guards."
As the first ancient swordsman leveled its blade at Ye Qingxiao's throat, the Taiyi Sword Treasury seared its final message across his vision:
Fourth Realm: Dancing with Entombed Blades
Then the world dissolved into steel and shadows.