The sky above Divine Sword Valley was red, like it was bleeding.
It wasn't morning. It wasn't evening. It was the blood of those who had fallen, staining the clouds like a sad song from a dying world. Each drop fell heavy, full of pain and betrayal.
In the middle of the valley, where sharp mountains reached for the sky, a man knelt alone. His name was Li Tianchen, once called the Sword God of the Nine Realms. His white robes were torn and covered in blood. His back was straight, his eyes fierce, but his sword—Starshatter, the blade that had cut through mountains and challenged gods—was broken beside him. His heart was broken too, not by wounds, but by a betrayal that hurt more than any sword.
Around him lay the bodies of twenty-seven elders, twelve sword guardians, and five old friends. Some had drunk wine with him under the stars. Some had trained with him in the moonlight. Some had called him "Brother." Now, they were all dead. Killed by his own hand.
The wind whispered their names, asking, Why, Tianchen? Why did this happen?
He stayed silent, waiting for the one person whose betrayal still didn't make sense.
A soft voice came, like snow falling gently. "Li Tianchen… I didn't want this."
He didn't turn around. He didn't need to. His heart knew her before his ears did.
Mu Yuelin.
The woman he once thought he'd spend forever with. The woman whose sword now pressed against his back, its cold tip shaking with her sorrow.
"Did they promise you eternal life?" he asked, his voice rough, like it carried a hundred years of pain.
She trembled. "They promised me peace."
He laughed, a tired, bitter sound. "Peace? In a world ruled by gods too scared to face their own lies? There's no peace, Yuelin. Only chains."
The valley went quiet. Even the wind stopped, as if the world was holding its breath.
Then, her sword moved. It stabbed through his back, straight into the heart that had loved her completely. For a moment, everything froze—the valley, the blood, the sky.
Then, light exploded.
A bright, heavenly burst came from his chest. His soul ripped free, scattering like stars into the darkness. The valley shook, the earth groaned, and the gods above cried, knowing his end was not the end.
One Hundred Years Before
Thud.
A young man woke up in a broken-down hut, gasping like he'd been pulled from a river. His body shook, his bones hurt, and his veins burned like fire. The air smelled of old wood, wet straw, and failure.
His name was Li Tianchen.
But he wasn't supposed to be here.
"I died…" he whispered, his voice weak. He touched his chest, expecting a wound. There was none. No blood, just a racing heartbeat that felt too young, too alive.
He stumbled to a cracked mirror on the hut's wall. The face looking back was his, but different. Seventeen years old, thin and bruised, with rough hands from hard work, not fighting. His eyes, though—they were too old, too heavy with memories of battles and betrayals.
This was him, a hundred years ago. The boy everyone in the Falling Cloud Sword School called trash. The cripple born without spiritual roots, mocked by others, doomed to clean floors and be forgotten.
A storm of memories hit him like thunder. The Heaven-Devouring Sword Vein. The Betrayal of the Sky. The Forbidden Ninth Sword Law. Mu Yuelin's tearful face as her sword pierced him. His blood on the sacred jade of Divine Sword Valley.
"Rebirth…" His voice shook, not with fear, but with fire. "I've got another chance."
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his skin. The heavens had destroyed him once, but now he'd make his own path. He'd rise, not as a tool of the gods, but as their judge.
Bang!
The hut's weak door flew open, kicked hard. "Hey, cripple!" a mean voice shouted. "Still pretending you're worth something?"
Li Tianchen's eyes narrowed, but he didn't move. He knew that voice. Zhao Feng, an inner disciple of the Falling Cloud Sword School. A bully with too much pride and not enough skill. He stood in the doorway, sneering, his wide shoulders blocking the light.
"Look at you," Zhao Feng said, stepping inside with a smug grin. "Too weak to even die right. Thought hiding in this dump would save you from a beating?"
Li Tianchen stayed still, staring at Zhao Feng. There was no fear in his eyes, only a strange, quiet strength. It made Zhao Feng's grin waver, though he didn't know why.
"What, you deaf now, trash? Or just stupid?" Zhao Feng stepped closer and slapped Li Tianchen's face. The sound echoed, dust falling from the floor. But Li Tianchen didn't move. He didn't blink.
Instead, he tilted his head slowly. "Do you believe in fate, Zhao Feng?" he asked, his voice calm but sharp.
Zhao Feng frowned, confused. "What?"
"In karma. In payback." Li Tianchen's lips curled into a small, dangerous smile. "What you do comes back to you."
Zhao Feng laughed, but it sounded nervous. "You threatening me? You, a nobody?" He grabbed Li Tianchen's torn robe and pulled him up, their faces close. "Know your place, cripple."
But then he stopped.
Li Tianchen's eyes were wrong. Too deep, too old, like they'd seen things no seventeen-year-old should. They were the eyes of someone who'd faced gods and lived.
Zhao Feng's gut told him to back off, but his pride wouldn't let him. "Crazy idiot," he growled, raising his hand to hit again. "I'll put you back in the dirt."
The hit never came.
Li Tianchen's hand moved, catching Zhao Feng's wrist gently, like catching a leaf. But it was strong, too strong. Zhao Feng's eyes widened, his confidence breaking. "How…?" he gasped. "Your meridians… they're blocked!"
Li Tianchen leaned closer, his voice soft but heavy. "You should've broken me yesterday, Zhao Feng. You waited too long."
With a quick twist, a loud crack filled the hut. Zhao Feng screamed, falling to his knees, holding his broken arm like it was glass. Before he could react, Li Tianchen's fist hit his chest—fast, quiet, deadly. Zhao Feng flew back, crashing through the hut's weak wall into the muddy courtyard outside.
Servants and outer disciples outside gasped, staring as Zhao Feng, the proud inner disciple, lay in the mud, coughing blood, his pride broken in front of everyone.
Inside the hut, Li Tianchen stood still, his breathing steady despite the storm inside him. Deep in his body, something woke up. A spark, purple and black, glowed like a living flame. Then came a sound, like thousands of swords whispering together. A pulse followed, like thunder under his skin.
And then, a voice.
| [Heaven-Devouring Sword Vein: Waking up…]
| [Host found: Soul Signature – Li Tianchen]
| [Time Reversal Found. Cause: Forbidden Ninth Law Break]
| [Starting Fragmented Heaven Core… Connecting to Host…]
Pain hit him, worse than death. His veins glowed black, his bones cracked, and his blood burned like fire. The air around him shook with old, powerful energy, so strong the grass outside turned to dust. The world seemed to bow to something ancient and forbidden.
In his mind, he saw it—a sword, huge and endless, floating in a dark void. Its blade pointed at the sky, its edge eating stars. He saw his own hand holding it. He saw the heavens split open, gods crying as their power fell.
He screamed, not in pain, but in strength. The Sword God was back.
The voice spoke again, cold and clear:
| [First Sword Core: Start Taking Protocol]
| [Nearby Cultivator Found: Zhao Feng (Mid Qi Condensation)]
| [Do you want to take their sword fate?]
Li Tianchen smiled, a smile both cold and bright. "Yes."
A thin line of golden light rose from Zhao Feng's body in the courtyard, soft like silk, alive with power. It floated to Li Tianchen's hand and sank into his chest. Warmth spread through him, strength filled his broken veins, and his weak body started to heal, glowing with new life.
He laughed, a sound cold but full of promise. The world of cultivation used to follow fate and the will of the heavens. Not anymore. This was his world now, and he'd make a path that shook the stars.
"You took me once, Heaven," he whispered, his voice a promise carved in blood and steel. "Now, I'll take you."
Outside, the courtyard was alive with whispers. Servants and outer disciples stared at the scene, shocked. Zhao Feng, the strong inner disciple, was defeated by the sect's biggest failure. Their eyes turned to Li Tianchen as he stepped through the broken wall, his torn robes moving in the wind, his presence like a storm ready to break.
"Who is he?" a young disciple asked, gripping his broom.
"He's no cripple," another said, fear and wonder in his voice. "He's a monster."
Li Tianchen ignored them. His eyes looked up at the sky, where dark clouds spun, as if they felt the birth of something that could challenge them. The Heaven-Devouring Sword Vein pulsed inside him, its power like a song of destruction and creation, promising revenge and greatness.
A hundred years ago, he'd been a pawn, betrayed by those he loved, crushed by the heavens he tried to fight. Now, he was reborn, with the knowledge of his past life and a power that could eat the stars. Mu Yuelin's face appeared in his mind—her smile, her tears, her sword. His heart hurt, but he pushed the pain down, fueling his determination.
This time, he wouldn't fall. This time, he'd write a story that would echo forever.
The wind roared, carrying his whisper to the sky. "Wait for me, Yuelin. Wait for me… gods."
Chapter 1 ends.