Chapter 3
The rain of blades did not cease.
It thickened.
The air itself screamed as thousands of swords tore free from the earth, rising in spirals of steel. Each glowed faintly, etched with runes of long-dead masters. Their collective Sword Intent fused into a storm that threatened to shred body and soul alike.
Liuying stood unshaken. Her sword flowed with her breathing—one slash, two slashes, then a ripple of movement that turned dozens of incoming blades into harmless fragments. She was a river. No strike wasted, no intent corrupted. Her sword purified, dissolving the violence without stain.
Nyxen, in contrast, radiated corruption. His demonic qi boiled, shadows twisting into serpents and wings. Every blade that entered his aura decayed instantly, their brilliance smothered into black ash. Where Liuying dissolved, he consumed. Where she upheld, he defiled.
And yet—side by side—they advanced.
A Forest of Dead Masters
The ground quaked as something greater stirred. The graveyard resented them; two philosophies too different to coexist within its silence.
From the deepest cluster of swords, a figure rose. Not flesh, but intent given shape—an armored warrior forged entirely of blades. Each step it took rang like a thousand swords being unsheathed.
Liuying's expression grew solemn.
"The Gravekeeper."
Nyxen's grin widened. "A toy made of knives? How delightful."
The Gravekeeper's head turned toward them. No eyes, only the hollow sockets of a helmet. Yet its presence suffocated the air, radiating the weight of every sword cultivator who had died in this place.
Without warning, it struck.
A single swing cleaved through the plain. Not steel, not qi—pure Sword Intent, condensed into a blade the size of mountains.
Nyxen cursed, darting aside as the shockwave split the ground. His robes whipped in the force, a spray of broken steel slashing his arms. Black qi hissed from the wounds, knitting his flesh back together.
Liuying did not retreat. Her sword blazed with pale light as she met the strike head-on. The impact rattled the world. Sparks burst, Sword Intent clashing in waves that cracked the ground beneath her feet.
For a moment—just a moment—her purity held against the Gravekeeper's wrath.
Then she was flung back, blood at the corner of her lips.
Nyxen caught her glance as she steadied herself. Her eyes were calm despite the wound. His grin sharpened.
"Not invincible after all, snow maiden."
She ignored him, gaze fixed on the Gravekeeper. "It tests conviction. Not strength alone."
Nyxen tilted his head. "Conviction, you say…" His crimson eyes narrowed. "Then let's cheat."
Nyxen's Cunning
The Gravekeeper swung again. Instead of meeting it, Nyxen surged forward. His demonic qi flared—not in defense, but in whispers. Threads of shadow stretched, winding between the countless swords planted in the earth.
Liuying's eyes widened. She could feel it. His qi was corrupting the grave itself.
One by one, the fallen swords began to tremble—not resisting, but bending. Their wills cracked under the pressure of Nyxen's demonic whisper. Broken steel rose at his command, their rusted edges glinting with stolen intent.
The Gravekeeper faltered. Its form rippled, unstable, as the weapons it commanded turned traitor.
Liuying's voice cut sharp. "You dare—"
"Spare me your righteousness," Nyxen hissed, lips curling. "If the trial demands conviction, mine is simple: I will live. No matter what I corrupt. No matter what I break."
He raised his hand.
The stolen swords spiraled into a vortex around him, forming a storm of blades. Shadows dripped from them like tar, staining their steel black. He pointed at the Gravekeeper.
"Die for me."
The vortex howled forward, a tidal wave of corrupted intent.
The Gravekeeper swung its colossal sword to block. But the sheer weight of betrayal tore it apart. The swords it was made from unraveled, consumed by Nyxen's corruption, until its body collapsed into fragments of ash.
The storm cleared. Silence returned to the graveyard.
Liuying stared at him, her face pale, not from fear—but fury. "You twisted the legacy of thousands of cultivators. You mocked their pursuit."
Nyxen licked blood from his lip, smiling faintly. "They're dead. I'm not. That's all that matters."
The Graveyard's Judgment
But the graveyard was not silent for long.
The earth shuddered again.
Not in rage. In acknowledgment.
From the ashes of the Gravekeeper, a single sword remained. Unlike the rusted and broken ones around it, this blade gleamed—pure, unblemished, a remnant of some ancient master. Its aura pierced straight into the soul.
Liuying stepped forward, reverence in her eyes.
"A sword of inheritance."
But when she reached for it, the blade pulsed—then drifted away from her hand. It turned in the air. Slowly, inevitably, it pointed towar