A heavy silence filled the Awakening Hall.
Zhou Yu stood with the jade tablet in hand, its soft glow illuminating the carved murals around them—murals depicting battles that shattered continents, heroes whose names were forgotten by time, and a single shining figure cleaving heaven and earth with a single sword stroke.
Tian Jian—the Primordial Sword Saint.
Even the ancient murals seemed to bow under his presence.
The disciples stood frozen behind Zhou Yu, their breaths shallow.
Liang Chen's bronze core pulsed erratically in his chest.
Feng Lian clasped her cold hands together, knuckles white.
Su Mei pressed her palms together, as if praying.
Han Xiang simply stared, eyes wide, mouth trembling.
The jade tablet's glow pulsed again—
And the hall shook, as if something ancient had been stirred awake.
Then—
The voice spoke.
Not a whisper.
Not an echo.
But a presence.
A will so vast that even Zhou Yu felt the weight press on his shoulders.
"To my successor—or whatever fragment of my sword remains—hear my final message."
The disciples felt the air grow heavy. Ling lowered his head and flattened his ears, whining softly.
The Sword Saint's voice filled the hall like a storm.
"If you are hearing this… the seal has weakened."
Liang Chen felt his spine stiffen. Feng Lian's breath caught.
"And if the seal has weakened… then the Blood Moon Monarch stirs once more."
Han Xiang's knees nearly buckled. "I knew it… Master was right…"
The Sword Saint's voice continued, every syllable filled with ancient exhaustion and unyielding determination.
"Ten thousand years ago, the Monarch nearly annihilated the Immortal Realm. Entire continents drowned in blood. The skies were torn apart. The heavens cried for mercy."
Su Mei clutched her robes tightly. The murals around them shimmered, showing illusions of the Cataclysm:
A sea boiling into crimson fog.
A giant demonic moon hanging above a ruined world.
A figure wrapped in shadows, standing atop mountains of corpses.
Even Zhou Yu exhaled quietly.
The Monarch had been unimaginable.
"The Monarch was not a single being," the Sword Saint continued.
"He was a plague, a concept, a sentient calamity born from corrupted laws."
Feng Lian whispered, "A… living calamity?"
Zhou Yu nodded. "A calamity with a will of its own."
The voice continued.
"Though I severed his physical form and shattered his demonic throne, I could not erase his essence. I sealed what remained in the Outer Heaven Frontier."
Zhou Yu's hand tightened around the tablet.
Outer Heaven Frontier…
The most dangerous region in the Boundless Heaven Domain—where immortal ruins slept and where ancient seals decayed.
The perfect place for a nightmare to be buried.
"Successor. If the Monarch returns, the world will face a second Cataclysm."
The sword murals around the hall shifted, forming new illusions.
Zhou Yu saw the Heavenly Sword Sect—not in ruins, but in its prime. Thousands of sword cultivators trained in synchronized precision. Sword pavilions soared through the clouds. The Sect Guardian Beast—an enormous Sky-Piercing Sword Falcon—spread wings that split storms.
The Sword Saint spoke:
"The Heavenly Sword Sect was never meant to be a mere sect."
The disciples inhaled sharply.
"It was a bulwark.
A weapon.
A divine sword forged to oppose the Monarch should he ever return."
Zhou Yu closed his eyes briefly.
Pieces of history… lost for ten thousand years…Finally revealed.
Liang Chen gasped, voice trembling.
"Th-then the sect… everything… was built for that one purpose?"
The Sword Saint's voice answered:
"Yes. Our entire existence, our techniques, our formations, our beasts, our legacy—it all exists for that final battle."
Su Mei clutched her chest. "That's… terrifying…"
"But fate is cruel," the Sword Saint continued.
The images shifted again—now showing the sect engulfed in flames, falling under demonic siege.
"During the Cataclysm, we fought at the forefront. We cut down legions. We held the line when others fled."
His voice grew softer.
"But in the end… we fell."
The murals showed disciples dying by the hundreds. Sword Saints collapsing. The Sect Guardian Falcon pierced by demonic spears. The Sword Saint himself bleeding, half his body torn away.
Liang Chen stared in horror. "Master… this is…"
Zhou Yu remained silent.
He had known the sect fell.
He had not known the extent.
The illusions faded.
Only darkness remained.
"Successor… I had hoped my line would never be restored. Not because I wished for the sect to remain dead… but because I hoped the Monarch would never return."
A soft sadness filled the hall.
Even Ling whimpered quietly.
"If you are hearing my voice, then my hope has failed."
The disciples lowered their heads.
"But all is not lost."
The jade tablet flared.
"I left behind my core inheritance for one purpose:
not to recreate me—but to surpass me."
The disciples looked up in shock.
"The Monarch grows stronger with every passing century. If you face him with the same power I wielded, you will die. The Heavenly Sword Sect needs a new blade—sharper, stronger, unshackled by old limits."
Zhou Yu exhaled slowly.
This was not simply a message.
It was a burden.
A mantle.
A world-shaking responsibility.
Feng Lian whispered, "Master… this fate is too heavy…"
Zhou Yu's expression did not change.
But inside, something stirred.
I know.
The Sword Saint's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Descendant of my sword, walk the path I could not. Reach beyond immortality.
Become a Primordial Immortal."
The hall trembled.
Han Xiang nearly fell over. "PRIMORDIAL? Master—that realm is a legend!"
Feng Lian turned to Zhou Yu, eyes wide.
"Master… he expects you to… to surpass him?"
Su Mei shook her head in disbelief. "How could anyone surpass a Primordial Immortal Sword Saint?!"
Zhou Yu remained silent.
But deep within his chest—in his dantian—a strange warmth pulsed.
Like a sleeping memory stirring.
The illusions changed again.
Three glowing swords appeared in the air.
Each sword radiated a different aura—one calm
one violent
one boundless.
The Sword Saint spoke:
"I have left behind three supreme techniques.
Even Immortals have never witnessed them."
The disciples' eyes widened.
"Technique One:
Heaven-Splitting First Form
'Silent Skyfall.'"
Feng Lian placed a hand over her mouth.
She had heard legends of a technique that could end wars with a single strike.
"Technique Two:
Mythic Sword Sutra
'Eternal Dao Edge.'"
Zhou Yu felt his fingers tremble.
Only slightly—but even that was shocking.
For the first time, the great sword heritage called to him.
"Technique Three:
"The Sword Saint's voice lowered.
Solemn.
Reverent.
Dangerous.
"…The Forbidden Sword Law."
The room darkened.
Even the jade tablet flickered.
"This one I never mastered. I only glimpsed it. If you cultivate it, you will transcend the sword itself."
Liang Chen whispered, "Transcend… the sword?"
Zhou Yu looked at the forbidden symbol floating above them.
The technique pulsed—dormant
yet alive
like lightning caged in a seed.
He knew instantly:
This technique was the key to reaching realms beyond Immortality.
The Sword Saint's voice grew faint.
As if fading with each word.
"Successor… my time ends here."
The jade tablet dimmed.
"Walk the path I could not.
Restore the Heavenly Sword Sect.
And when the Blood Moon rises…"
The hall went still.
Every disciple leaned closer.
"…cut it down."
The jade tablet cracked.
Light burst outward—
—filling the hall—filling Zhou Yu—filling the core of the sect itself.
A deep rumble shook the mountain.
Zhou Yu inhaled sharply.
His dantian erupted with blinding silver light.
Not rising in realm—but rising in comprehension.
To Feng Lian, it felt like watching a star being born.
To Liang Chen, it felt like witnessing a sword god awaken.
Han Xiang fell to his knees.
Su Mei covered her mouth, eyes wide with awe.
Ling crouched with his tail tucked and head bowed.
Zhou Yu's Sword Intent surged—
Not violently
not chaotically
but with absolute dominance.
The murals, the walls, even the air…all bent under the pressure.
The Sword Saint's inheritance was doing more than giving him techniques.
It was unlocking the dormant part of his soul.
The Sword Saint fragment within him stirred.
Awaken.
Zhou Yu closed his eyes.
His mind filled with images—
A young Tian Jian swinging a sword for the first time
The Heavenly Sword Sect rising
The demonic armies flooding the sky
The Monarch descending
The final battle
The sealing
The death
The regret
The hope
Everything flowed into Zhou Yu.
Every memory imprint.
Every battle instinct.
Every sword comprehension.
The ancient voice echoed one last time—
"Awaken, successor of my sword."
Zhou Yu's eyes snapped open.
They shone silver.
Two concentric rings glowed around his pupils—the mark of a Sword King Awakening.
The disciples gasped.
"Master…!"
"His eyes—!"
"He's changing—!"
Zhou Yu's voice was calm.
"I have accepted the inheritance."
He looked toward the exit of the hall.
"And now… our path begins."
Zhou Yu turned toward his disciples.
They straightened instinctively.
"From this moment onward," Zhou Yu said, "the Heavenly Sword Sect no longer aims to simply survive."
His eyes sharpened.
"We prepare for war."
Liang Chen swallowed but nodded fiercely.
Feng Lian clenched her fists.
Su Mei inhaled deeply, fear replaced by determination.
Han Xiang took a shaky breath and stood tall.
Zhou Yu continued.
"In one month, the Scarlet Moon Sect will return. But we will not meet them as the weak, broken sect they once crushed."
He lifted the cracked jade tablet.
"We will meet them as the descendants of the Sword Saint."
His voice echoed through the hall.
Cold.
Steady.
Unbreakable.
"And when the Monarch returns…we will be the sword that ends him."
Ling howled.
The hall trembled.
And the Heavenly Sword Sect was reborn.