The Hall of Whispering Blades held its breath as Sun Xiaolan knelt before the Sword Saint. Incense smoke curled around her like hesitant serpents, its sandalwood scent clashing with the metallic tang of unsheathed power.
"Disciple greets Master." Her voice trembled only slightly—a fact that made Li Lingfeng's beard twitch in approval.
Gift of Thorns
The Sword Saint's fingernail traced an ancient sigil in the air. From the vaulted ceiling descended a blade that sang in a language older than Shu Mountain itself. The Celestial Radiance Veilblade's edge shimmered with trapped starlight, its obsidian hilt carved with the weeping faces of demons it had slain.
Dun Che's foxfire aura dimmed instinctively. "That's no training sword," he muttered to Zhao Rui. "That's a dynasty-breaker."
Sun's reflection warped in the blade's surface—a mortal girl staring at her god-touched future. When her fingers brushed the icy metal, phantom screams echoed through meridians not yet opened.
Web of Favors
Li Lingfeng's laughter boomed as Sun attempted refusal. "Foolish child! This blade chose you the moment Zhao Rui set foot on our sacred peaks." His words hung pregnant in the air, the unspoken bargain binding tighter than any oath.
From the shadows, Li Jingyan watched. His thumbnail carved crescent wounds into jade pendant—a twin to the Veilblade's guard stone.
Whispers in Jade Pavilions
News rippled through Shu Mountain's floating isles like poisoned rain.
"Did you hear? The mortal keeps Celestial Radiance in her chamber!" A junior disciple dropped his broom, its bristles singed by leaking sword qi.
"Master's gone mad," hissed another, crushing medicinal herbs beyond recognition. "Jingyan Senior Brother studied decades for just a hairpin's worth of recognition!"
In the Hall of Echoing Resentments, a hundred practice swords trembled in their racks. Li Jingyan stood motionless as their vibrations hummed through his bones—a chorus of disapproval shaking ancient stones.
Alchemy of Ambition
Dawn found Zhao Rui and Mysterious Sage Xuanying sharing wine atop the Fractured Cloud Peak. The aged alchemist's cup never emptied—a subtle flex of spatial manipulation that didn't escape Zhao's notice.
"The Sword Saint gambles heavily," Xuanying remarked, watching condensation patterns form dragon-shapes on his cup. "Three Elixirs of Marrow Purification required phoenix plumes plucked from Yanluo's own cloak. The Veilblade's awakening ritual consumed enough spiritual jade to ransom a kingdom."
Zhao swirled his wine, watching moonlight fracture in the liquid. "No feast in the celestial realms comes without cost."
Xuanying's chuckle shook snow from nearby pines. "Clever boy. You understand he buys not a disciple, but an heir. Through Little Orchid's hands, Shu Mountain's sword points at your enemies—and your back."
Veilblade's Whisper
In her moonlit chamber, Sun traced the Veilblade's runes. Each glyph burned cold against her skin, whispering fragments of forgotten battles. When the seventh symbol flared azure, phantom memories flooded her mind—Li Lingfeng's younger self standing atop a mountain of demonic corpses, the blade drunk on blood and glory.
She recoiled, crashing into a celadon vase. Shards bit her palms as the sword's laughter echoed—dark and hungry.
Crimson Calculations
Li Jingyan found his master at the Starfall Altar. The Sword Saint stood barefoot in a pool of lunar condensation, his reflection showing the handsome youth who'd first wielded the Veilblade.
"Does Master regret?" The question slipped out like a dagger.
Li Lingfeng's smile held winter's edge. "Regret is mortal weakness. The Veilblade always finds worthy bearers—through merit or... catalytic circumstance."
As dawn's first light struck the altar, Jingyan understood. The blade wasn't a gift, but a catalyst—a whetstone to sharpen Zhao Rui into Shu Mountain's living weapon.
Ephemeral Peace
At the training grounds, Sun stumbled through basic stances. The Veilblade dragged her arms earthward, its edge carving accidental trenches. Disciples snickered until Zhao appeared—then found sudden interest in cloud formations.
"May I?" Zhao's fingers closed around hers on the hilt. Their combined qi sparked violet-gold, momentarily silencing the blade's whispers.
Dun Che watched from a maple branch, tail flicking. "Foolish human courtships," he grumbled, though his eyes softened watching Sun's determined smile.
When Zhao withdrew, the Veilblade felt fractionally lighter.