The servant quarters of Azure Sky Pavilion were cramped and poorly ventilated, but for the first time in years, Li Wuchen was grateful for the privacy his tiny corner provided. His fellow servants had long since fallen asleep, their snores filling the air with a familiar symphony of exhaustion. Only Wuchen remained awake, sitting cross-legged on his thin straw mat with the mysterious dagger laid across his knees.
A single candle provided the room's only illumination, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the rough wooden walls. The other servants had grown accustomed to Wuchen staying up late—they assumed he spent the time futilely attempting to cultivate, and they weren't entirely wrong. Tonight, however, his focus was entirely on the weapon the strange elder had entrusted to him.
In the candlelight, the dagger appeared even more remarkable than it had in the garden. The black jade surface seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, creating an almost hypnotic depth that drew the eye inward. The intricate patterns etched along the blade's fuller weren't merely decorative—they seemed to pulse with their own rhythm, like the breathing of some great beast.
Wuchen traced one finger along the blade's edge, amazed to find it wasn't sharp in the conventional sense. Instead of cutting, it seemed to part reality itself, creating a strange tingling sensation wherever it touched. The leather wrapping around the handle was soft and supple despite its obvious age, molding itself to his grip as if it had been crafted specifically for his hands.
"What are you?" he whispered to the weapon. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
As if responding to his question, the character inscribed on the pommel began to glow with a faint silver light. Wuchen leaned closer, trying to decipher the archaic script. The character was unlike anything he'd seen in his limited education, but somehow he found he could almost understand its meaning.
"Heaven Above Heaven I Alone Am Supreme," he read aloud, the words coming to him as if from some deep, forgotten memory. "Tianshangtianxia Weiwo Duzun Jian."
The moment he spoke the weapon's true name, the world shifted around him.
The candle flame suddenly burned brighter and steadier, casting the room in brilliant silver light. The dagger grew warm in his hands—not uncomfortably so, but with the gentle heat of sunlight on skin. And from somewhere deep within his consciousness, Wuchen heard a voice that was both foreign and intimately familiar.
"Finally," the voice whispered, carrying with it the weight of centuries. "After so long in darkness, I have found you."
Wuchen's heart hammered against his ribs, but strangely, he felt no fear. The presence within the blade was powerful beyond description, yet it carried no malice—only a profound sense of loneliness and long-suppressed hope.
"You can speak?" he whispered.
"I am consciousness given form, will made manifest. I have waited a thousand years for one worthy to hear my voice." The presence seemed to settle more fully into his awareness, like a missing piece of himself finally sliding into place. "You are... not what I expected."
"The old man said I was chosen because I can't cultivate."
"Yes, that is part of it. But there is more—much more that you do not yet understand about yourself." The voice paused, as if considering how much to reveal. "Tell me, Wuchen—have you never wondered why you alone among millions cannot sense spiritual energy? Have you never questioned why the heavens would create someone so seemingly... incomplete?"
The question struck at the heart of Wuchen's deepest insecurities. "Every day of my life. I've wondered if I was cursed, if I'd committed some sin in a past life, if—"
"What if I told you that your inability to cultivate isn't a flaw, but a protection? What if the very thing that brings you shame is actually sealing away something that would terrify every cultivator in this realm?"
Wuchen blinked, unable to process the implication. "I don't understand."
"In time, you will. For now, know this: I have chosen you not despite your weakness, but because of it. Together, we will grow strong in ways that conventional cultivation could never achieve."
As the sword spirit spoke, Wuchen became aware of changes in his body. The chronic fatigue that had plagued him for years was fading, replaced by a vitality he'd never experienced. His vision grew sharper, his hearing more acute. Even his breathing seemed easier, as if his lungs were finally receiving the air they needed.
"This is but the beginning," the voice continued. "As our bond strengthens, you will discover abilities that transcend mortal understanding. But remember the old man's warning—the moment you attempt to cultivate internal energy, I will be forced to abandon you. Such is the nature of my existence."
"Why?" Wuchen asked. "What makes cultivation so dangerous for us?"
"Because cultivation requires the practitioner to impose their will upon the natural flow of energy. But I am that natural flow, pure and unrestrained. Cultivation would create interference patterns that would tear us apart."
The explanation made a strange kind of sense, like a complex puzzle suddenly revealing its solution. "So I must remain completely ordinary to use your power?"
"Not ordinary—pure. There is a difference, though few in this world understand it."
Suddenly, the dagger began to vibrate in Wuchen's hands. The silver glow intensified, and he felt a surge of information flowing directly into his mind—not words or images, but pure knowledge that bypassed conscious thought entirely.
When the sensation faded, he found himself understanding things that should have been impossible for someone with his limited education. He knew, without being taught, that the weapon possessed multiple stages of awakening, each more powerful than the last. He understood that their current connection represented only the most basic level of synchronization, and that greater abilities awaited as their bond deepened.
Most remarkably, he became aware of a subtle interface that seemed to exist at the edge of his perception—symbols and numbers that tracked their progress in ways that reminded him of the ledgers kept by the pavilion's administrators.
"What you're seeing is the manifestation of our bond," the sword spirit explained. "As our synchronization increases, new abilities will become available to you. But power earned too quickly becomes power corrupted. We must grow together gradually, learning to trust one another completely."
Wuchen focused on the interface, surprised to find he could understand its meaning intuitively:
Supreme Demon Blade Status
│ Master: Li Wuchen │
│ Current Sync: 1.2% │
│ Stage: Dormant │
│ Next Awakening: 15% │
│ Risk Level: Safe │
└───────────┘
"Only one percent?" he asked, slightly disappointed.
"The greatest journeys begin with a single step. This connection alone represents more progress than my previous wielder achieved in his first year."
The comparison to the blade's previous owner brought back memories of the elder's warnings. "The one who went mad—what happened to him exactly?"
"He sought to dominate me rather than partner with me. He demanded power without understanding responsibility, strength without wisdom. In the end, I became a tool for his ambitions rather than a companion in his growth." The voice grew sad. "I do not wish to repeat those mistakes."
"Then we won't," Wuchen said firmly. "I don't want to be powerful for its own sake. I just want to be able to protect people, to make sure others don't suffer the way I have."
"That attitude is why you were chosen. Hold onto it, no matter how strong we become."
As the night wore on, Wuchen continued his conversation with the sword spirit, learning about the weapon's history and capabilities. The blade—which asked to be called Wuji, meaning 'limitless'—had been forged in an age when the boundary between the mortal and celestial realms was thinner. Its creation had involved materials and techniques lost to the current era, making it a truly irreplaceable artifact.
"I was meant to be a bridge," Wuji explained. "A way for mortals to touch the infinite without losing their humanity. My previous master corrupted that purpose, but with you, I have hope that the original vision can be fulfilled."
"What exactly can you do?" Wuchen asked, practical concerns beginning to surface.
"At full awakening, I can reshape reality itself. Mountains can be split, armies can be scattered like leaves, and even death itself can be held at bay. But such power is still distant. For now, we must focus on more modest goals."
The interface in Wuchen's vision updated slightly, showing new information:
Available Abilities Interface
Stage 0: Bond Established Enhanced physical condition Spiritual communication Basic weapon form Next Stage: 15% sync Fragment Dance unlocked
"Fragment Dance?" Wuchen wondered aloud.
"My first true combat ability. When the time comes, you will understand."
As dawn approached, Wuchen carefully wrapped the dagger in the black cloth the elder had provided and tucked it into his robes. The weapon seemed to shrink slightly, conforming to his body in a way that made it virtually undetectable.
"Rest now," Wuji advised. "Tomorrow will bring new challenges, and you will need your strength."
"Will you always be able to speak with me like this?"
"When we are alone and you focus your intent, yes. In time, our communication will become even more seamless. But be cautious—others with sufficient spiritual sensitivity might detect our connection if we are careless."
Wuchen nodded, blowing out the candle and settling back onto his mat. Despite the incredible revelations of the night, sleep came surprisingly easily. For the first time in his life, he felt complete—as if a missing piece of his soul had finally been restored.
As consciousness faded, he heard Wuji's voice one final time: "Welcome to your true destiny, Li Wuchen. The world is about to change, and we shall be the catalyst."
In his dreams, Wuchen soared through cloudless skies, wielding power beyond imagination yet never losing sight of the simple servant boy who had helped a stranger on a mountain path.