The moon was high when Xu Tian left his courtyard.White light spilled across the flagstones, cold and pure. The sect was quiet, yet beneath that silence the mountain breathed with restless intent — a thousand swords humming faintly in the dark, their will lingering from generations of cultivators.
He walked toward the Outer Sword Pavilion, where manuals were stored for disciples who had earned merit. The pavilion's wooden doors loomed tall, carved with sword runes that gleamed faintly under moonlight. Two guards sat cross-legged nearby, their eyes closed in meditation, but Tian felt their spiritual sense sweep over him the moment he approached.
He bowed with courtesy. "Xu Tian, tenth in the new rankings, comes to study."
The guards opened their eyes, exchanged glances, then nodded. "You may enter. But remember: manuals may only be read within. No copying, no theft. The Pavilion watches."
Tian inclined his head and stepped inside.
The pavilion smelled of cedar and ink. Scrolls lined the walls, some old and faded, others new and sharp. Each exuded faint sword intent, like echoes of past masters whispering through parchment.
Rows of disciples sat at low desks, immersed in study. Some frowned deeply, struggling to comprehend; others muttered half-formed insights. The air was thick with ambition, envy, and the faint rustle of paper.
Xu Tian walked slowly, his gaze sweeping across the manuals. Most were foundational techniques: Flowing Stream Sword, Iron Edge Stance, Seven Petal Cut. Useful, but common. He did not pause until he reached a dim corner where older scrolls rested upon dusty shelves.
There, one manual caught his eye. Its binding was cracked, its title nearly erased: "Fragments of the Ninth Sky."
He reached for it, his fingers brushing the worn cover. At that moment, a faint pulse stirred within his blood — recognition.
Before he could unroll it, a sneering voice interrupted.
"Well, if it isn't the sect's shining star."
Xu Tian turned calmly. Bai Heng stood a few steps away, his face pale with lingering humiliation, but his eyes burning with venom. Several other disciples loitered behind him, their gazes unfriendly.
"Your victories," Bai Heng spat, "are nothing but tricks. Do you think we don't see? Each of your opponents lost not to your skill, but to some hidden curse."
Xu Tian said nothing.
Bai Heng stepped closer, his voice rising. "I will not allow a cursed bastard to stain our sect's name! Hand over that manual. Someone like you doesn't deserve it."
The watching disciples stirred, whispers spreading. Some eyes gleamed with agreement, others with fear.
Xu Tian met Bai Heng's gaze, his voice calm as still water: "This manual does not belong to you. If you wish to read it, then earn it with merit."
The air thickened. Bai Heng's hand tightened on his sword hilt.
Before a duel could erupt, a cold voice cut through the tension.
"Enough."
A man in gray robes emerged from the shadows between shelves. His presence was quiet yet sharp, like a sheathed sword whose edge could not be seen. His hair was streaked with silver, his face weathered, his eyes calm yet unreadable.
"Disciples shall not quarrel within the Pavilion." His gaze swept the room. "Do you wish your names struck from the rankings?"
Bai Heng froze, then bowed stiffly. "Elder."
The man's gaze lingered on Xu Tian. For a moment, Tian felt as though every secret in his blood was laid bare. Then the elder spoke softly:
"The manual you hold… it is incomplete. Few find worth in its fragments. But if you choose to study it, do so with care. The Ninth Sky… is not easily grasped."
He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading like a whisper of steel.
Xu Tian bowed silently, then carried the scroll to a quiet desk.
Unrolling it, he found scattered passages, some written in elegant strokes, others broken mid-sentence. The words spoke of a sword that reached beyond mortal sky, a blade that split destiny itself.
His blood stirred. His father's handwriting marked the margins.
"The ninth sky is not a place above… but a thread beyond. To cut it is to cut what binds all."
Xu Tian's breath slowed. So it was true. His father had walked this path. The sect had sealed it away, erasing its name, burying its truth.
He traced the faded strokes with his fingertip, feeling as though his father's hand guided his own.
Fragments of the Ninth Sky… Silent Heaven-Cutting Sword.
He closed the scroll, determination steady in his eyes.
Outside the pavilion, Bai Heng seethed, his fists trembling. One of his followers whispered, "Senior Bai, should we strike him down? Tonight, in his courtyard—"
Bai Heng snarled. "Fool. If we kill him openly, the sect will punish us. No. We will whisper. We will sow doubt. We will let the sect itself crush him."
He leaned closer, hatred dripping from his voice.
"Mark my words. Xu Tian will not rise. If the heavens do not strike him, I will."
That night, Xu Tian sat by the lantern's glow, the Fragments of the Ninth Sky etched into his memory. He practiced silently, his blade moving through air with fluid arcs.
Each cut seemed ordinary, yet within each he felt threads tightening, loosening, whispering. The lantern flame flickered strangely, shadows bending as though sliced.
His hand stilled. He looked at the faint distortion in the air.
"Father," he murmured, "I will not falter. Even if the heavens decree my fall… I will sever their decree."
The sword hummed softly, as if answering.
Above the mountain, the fractured sky trembled, lightning veins flickering faintly across its cracks. And deep within the sect's inner halls, the Supreme Elder opened his eyes, sensing that tremor.
"The Ninth Sky…" he whispered coldly. "So the boy has found it."