Chapter 4
The Sword Graveyard stretched behind them like a scar in the world. Every step away from its shattered silence made the air lighter, but the tension between them heavier.
Nyxen adjusted the new sword strapped across his back. It was heavier than steel, not in weight but in will. The inheritance hummed against his soul, pressing its intent into him—testing, questioning, resisting. He grinned at the sensation.
The sword wanted purity. He was corruption.
It would break, or it would bend. Either way, it would be his.
Beside him, Liuying's expression was unreadable. Her movements were precise, disciplined, every step measured. The faint white glow of her qi had dimmed since the battle, but its purity still lingered, like moonlight that refused to fade even after dawn.
Nyxen flicked her a glance, crimson eyes gleaming. "Still glaring at me, snow maiden?"
Her gaze didn't shift. "You stole what was not yours."
He chuckled. "Correction—I claimed what I could hold. If the sword didn't want me, I'd be ash already. Perhaps you're angry because it rejected you."
For the first time, she stopped walking. Her hand tightened on her blade, but she did not draw it. Instead, she looked at him with a calm that was more dangerous than fury.
"It chose wrongly," she said softly. "And one day, that choice will devour you."
Nyxen tilted his head, grin widening. "Then I'll devour it first."
The Mountain Path
The graveyard ended at the base of a mountain path. The trail coiled upward, narrow and jagged, carved by wind and old battles. Ancient inscriptions lined the rocks, half-eroded warnings left by long-dead sword saints.
"Only one may ascend," Liuying murmured, tracing the faded carvings with her fingers.
Nyxen leaned closer, reading the characters with a lazy squint. "Funny. Looks like two of us are doing just that."
Her eyes narrowed. "This path wasn't meant for those without honor. It will test us."
He laughed, sharp and low. "Honor is a pretty word for chains. Let's see if this mountain cares about your righteousness."
Trial of Voices
The path grew steeper, mist curling around them. The deeper they climbed, the heavier the air became—not from gravity, but from whispers.
At first, faint. Then louder.
The voices of countless swords.
Not the broken blades of the graveyard—these were sharper, clearer, living echoes of masters who once ruled this mountain.
"Unworthy."
"Corrupted."
"Defiler."
The voices rained upon Nyxen, drilling into his ears, his soul. He staggered for a moment, teeth gritted. The inheritance sword on his back burned, resisting his aura, as though trying to tear free.
Liuying walked untouched. The voices that reached her were different.
"Pure."
"Disciplined."
"Endure."
She seemed at peace, her steps lighter as the mist embraced her.
Nyxen barked a laugh, even as blood dripped from his ears. "Hah… so they like you. Of course they do."
Liuying turned, her face pale with quiet pity. "The path rejects you."
He raised his hand. Shadows coiled around his palm, twisting into claws. "Then I'll reject it harder."
He slashed the air. His demonic qi tore through the mist, devouring the voices. For every whisper that cursed him, he fed it into his aura, twisted it, and spat it back as fuel.
The path trembled. The voices shrieked, not in triumph—but in fear.
Liuying's eyes widened. She whispered, "You… turned their judgment into strength?"
Nyxen's grin was bloody. "Why kneel before judgment when you can eat it alive?"
An Uneasy Balance
By the time they reached the halfway point of the mountain, both were battered.
Liuying bled from her lips again, not from wounds of the body, but the soul. Even purity had limits, and the whispers had clawed into her spirit. She sat beneath a crumbling archway, eyes closed, meditating to repair the damage.
Nyxen leaned against a rock, chest heaving, his aura flickering like a storm barely restrained. His skin crawled with black veins, his demonic qi unstable from the flood of corrupted voices he had consumed. But in his eyes burned delight.
"Not bad," he muttered to himself. "Not bad at all."
Liuying opened her eyes, watching him quietly. For a moment, neither spoke.
Finally, she said, "Why walk this path? Why suffer, if all you seek is to corrupt?"
He tilted his head back, looking at the mist above. "Because I was cast into this world with nothing. No past, no place, no mercy. If I don't climb, I'll be crushed. So I climb."
Her gaze softened—barely. "Even if every step leads you further from the Dao?"
He looked at her then, a sharp smile curling his lips. "Snow maiden, you speak as if Dao is a road. To me, Dao is prey. And I'll hunt it until it bleeds."
The Mountain's Judgment
As night fell, the mountain revealed its second guardian.
The mist parted, revealing a vast stone gate car