The village rose before the sun.
A thin frost crusted the roofs, and the scent of morning smoke drifted low through the huts and fields. Chickens clucked in wary silence, and the river fog hugged the banks like a ghost unwilling to lift.
Zhan Kai Tian stood near the granary, bundle slung over his back, wearing the same patched tunic his mother had folded. The gold-and-jade bracelet sat dull on his wrist. Beside him stood the others: Guo Sheng, puffed up and preening like a rooster, arms folded like he already owned the sky; Lin Mian, still and sharp, arms crossed, blade resting against one shoulder. A few other children from nearby hamlets had arrived during the night. Most wore the same expression—excitement or fear, carefully disguised as boredom.
The villagers gathered at a distance.
They didn't cheer.
They just watched.
Zhan Kai Tian looked toward the edge of the square.
His mother stood there.
Shoulders drawn tight, a cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms. She wasn't crying. She wasn't smiling. She watched him like a cliff watches the sea, unmoving, bearing the pull and crash of a thousand waves without saying a word.
He raised a hand.
She nodded.
That was all.
He looks just like him, she thought.
Not in the face. Not in the voice. But in the way he stands.
Zhan Kai Long had stood like that once, shoulders straight, hands steady, as though the world was a river and he had no fear of crossing it.
But that man was gone now. Swallowed by the mountains, swords, or whatever it was that took men who reached too far and forgot to look back.
If he had been here, he would have been proud. He wouldn't say it, but I would see it in his eyes just like I see it in mine.
Then came the rumble.
Soft at first, like thunder too far to fear. But growing—deeper, heavier. The earth hummed beneath their feet. Hair stood on end. The wind shifted.
The sky split.
Clouds peeled back in a spiral, light pouring through as something vast descended.
The flying treasure was shaped like a boat. It was long and sleek, its hull carved from dark wood and veined with glowing jade. The front sharpened into the beak of a hawk. Silver latticework framed the sides, runes pulsing across its surface. Three curved sails of spiritual light shimmered above it, though no wind touched them.
It hovered above the village square, silent and immense, casting a long, perfect shadow.
A ramp unfolded from its side, touching down gently on the dirt with a soft chime.
Then she appeared.
The silver-robed woman, her hair bound high with an iron clasp, descended the ramp like a blade drawn from its sheath. Her expression was unreadable—not cruel, but cold. Focused. A sword spirit made flesh.
She stepped onto the earth and raised her voice, not loud, but clear enough to still every breath in the square.
"The Boundless Sword Sect recognizes the following as outer sect disciples."
She opened a scroll.
"Guo Sheng."
He swaggered forward, chin high, giving the crowd a full view of his smirk.
"Lin Mian."
She moved like a shadow slipping into place, not looking at anyone.
"Zhan Kai Tian."
He stepped forward.
The ramp of light pulsed with his steps.
He passed the others without looking. He didn't bow. He didn't smile.
He boarded the flying treasure, and she turned. The ramp folded behind her.
The flying treasure rose, and the boy who had pulled nets from the river vanished into the sky as a disciple of the Boundless Sword Sect.
The treasure cut through the clouds like a blade through silk.
Zhan Kai Tian stood near the back of the deck, the wind brushing across his face—not harsh, but cool, smooth, and constant like standing in the breath of a mountain. He said nothing, eyes fixed on the horizon. Guo Sheng, ever restless, leaned over the railing, grinning like a fool as if he could drink in the sky. Lin Mian sat near the mast, eyes closed, steady as stone.
They had been flying for hours, but Kai Tian couldn't tear his eyes from the land below. Villages turned to pinpricks, rivers to silver veins. Mountains once thought distant now lie behind them like mere ripples on a field. He wasn't a scholar, but from listening to the village merchants who traveled further, he knew such distances should've taken months on horseback.
He kept that thought to himself. It wasn't the kind of thing to share—not with Lin Mian, who was often cold with him, and not with Guo Sheng, who already acted like he was above everyone else. But inside, he couldn't help it.
He was in awe.
This world had always been above him; now it was taking him into its heart.
They began to descend hours later.
The clouds parted slowly, and before them rose a mountain range vast enough to shame the sky. The central peak rose so high it vanished into mist, its jagged cliffs wrapped in stone bridges, floating pavilions, and waterfalls suspended in midair. Light drifted along the mountainsides like a slow breeze, and spirit beasts soared between the peaks—cranes with wings of cloud, serpents of gold and thunder.
As the treasure descended, they saw it:
The Boundless Sword Sect.
Even the wind stilled for a moment.
Massive walls wrapped the lower portion of the mountain, and within those walls stood what looked like an entire city, but far cleaner and grander. Stone-paved paths wove between towering halls, gardens, training grounds, and distant arenas etched with spiritual formations.
The treasure landed softly near a platform carved into the cliffside. The silver-robed woman stepped down first, her expression unchanged.
The recruits followed.
Zhan Kai Tian barely noticed the others' movements. His eyes had locked on the main entrance—two immense doors, each at least ten meters tall and six wide, carved from white stone streaked with deep veins of gold.
Dragons coiled across their surface, interwoven with phoenixes, warriors, and storm-clouds.
Above them, three characters burned with faint golden light:
Boundless Sword Sect.
Zhan Kai Tian swallowed hard.
He had nothing to say.
No words worthy of the moment.
He had walked in mud and slept beside nets. Fished through blood and brine. And now—this was his new home.
The silver-robed woman, who revealed herself as a sect elder, turned toward them.
"This is the outer sect," she said. "You will not be shown the inner peak where the inner disciples are, nor the core peak where the core disciples reside. If you earn it, you will see them yourselves. Lastly, the sect leader is in seclusion at the highest peak."
She led them down stone walkways, past rows of disciples training with weapons, meditating, or carrying crates of pill ingredients and ores.
"The Boundless Sword Sect has over 100,000 disciples across outer, inner, and core branches. You are now outer sect disciples—at the bottom of that mountain. Climb if you can."
Guo Sheng, for once, stayed silent.
They were guided past several key areas:
The Discipline Hall, built like a fortress, was manned by cultivators in black-hemmed robes.
"Break rules here," the elder said, "and you will be shown the consequences."
The Alchemy Hall, where the scent of burning herbs and glowing cauldrons leaked through open windows.
The Formation Hall, where disciples etched runes into stone tablets under the gaze of three stooped elders, and rooms where one could pay to train under increased gravity.
The Blacksmith Pavilion, filled with the ringing of hammers and the glow of enchanted forges, was where callused hands shaped treasures.
Finally, they passed the most silent place—the Sect Library, a tiered tower carved into the mountain with jade bells ringing faintly in the wind.
"You are not permitted inside without a token," the elder said.
She brought them next to the Resource Hall, a grand, circular structure guarded by sword formations and stone lions that watched with gemstone eyes.
Inside, each new disciple was given their basic kit:
A robe of muted gray, with a single sword embroidered on the chest.
A bag containing four Qi Gathering Pills—glowing faintly, sealed with spirit wax.
And three small jade tokens, marked with flowing script.
"These tokens grant you entry to the library once," the elder said. "Use them wisely. One is for a cultivation manual, one for a sword technique, and one for a movement technique. Choose based on your instinct or your ambition. No one will guide you further."
They hadn't even had time to marvel before they were led away—this time to a field unlike any other.
The Sword Grove.
The elder spoke plainly. "You may choose a weapon, or—if one is alive—it may choose you."
She stepped aside.
"Enter."
Zhan Kai Tian stood still for a moment. The jade tokens in his hand felt cool, and the weight of the sect robe hung heavy on his shoulders.
Then he stepped forward.
The Sword Grove was silent.
The weapons were arranged in neat lines—some new and gleaming, others old and dulled with age. A few shimmered faintly with aura or heat. Most waited, motionless, the sun glinting off their steel.
Other disciples moved between them, hands twitching with eagerness, eyes scanning for beauty or power. Kai Tian did not rush. He strolled, his gaze calm and unreadable, passing weapon after weapon.
He didn't know what he was looking for.
Until he found it.
Near the edge of the grove, where the grass grew longer and fewer feet had trodden, a sword lay half-hidden, its hilt barely rising above the blades.
He crouched beside it, reached for the hilt, and pulled.
It didn't come easily. The soil clung to it, like it didn't want to be disturbed.
But he didn't stop.
With effort, he drew it out.
And when he did, he paused—genuinely in awe.
The blade was roughly two meters long, nearly as tall as Zhan Kai Tian. It was double-edged and tapered slowly to a fine, piercing point. It was forged from black steel, clean and shadowed in the light. The hilt was a muted silver, and the scabbard plain black—nothing ornate, nothing meant to impress.
The grip was wrapped in worn leather, fraying slightly with age. Etched into its surface was a faint circular pattern—like an old map, or a celestial wheel, its lines carefully worked but softened by time.
The sword was heavy. It would take effort and training to wield it properly.
He slung it over his back and turned, making his way toward the sect elder.
As he approached, she looked at him—truly looked—for the first time.
His skin was pale, like fresh snow, untouched by the sun. His black hair hung just past his shoulders, clean and soft in the breeze. But his eyes caught her—their color a deep, strange black-violet, shadowed at the edges, striking against the fairness of his face.
His lips were a natural reddish-pink, slightly parted as he walked, and they carried an unintentional softness—something almost delicate.
There was something in his face—not striking, not loud—but quietly beautiful, in the way still water catches the moon.
The elder frowned faintly to herself.
Once he begins cultivating… he'll grow into those features.
That could be a problem. He will likely get distracted with other things—though perhaps that's just the nature of this sect. There's always a hint of debauchery.
But she said nothing aloud.
She turned, gesturing him forward.
"Come. There's still the library."
The Outer Sect Library stood at the far end of the outer sect grounds, carved directly into the side of the mountain. Its base was broad and circular, its upper floors tapering into a stacked jade and stone tower.
Zhan Kai Tian followed the elder through the main gate.
The air inside was cooler and drier, thick with the smell of ink, old paper, and wood. A formation lit the inside, inscribed along the curved stone walls.
They stopped where a quiet-robed man sat behind a long desk of polished black pine. The elder greeted him.
"Elder Wang, these are the new disciples."
Zhan Kai Tian handed over the three jade tokens, and the elder behind the desk nodded.
"One scroll from each section," he said, voice calm. "Any more, and you get nothing."
Zhan Kai Tian nodded.
He walked alone toward the first area—cultivation methods, slotted neatly in racks.
He read titles quietly to himself:
Blooming Circulation Technique
Blazing Qi Technique
Twilight Yin Gathering Art
Iron Qi Manual
None of them caught his attention.
He finally settled on a scroll called the Five Element Harmony Circulation Method.
It was unremarkable—thin parchment, plain ink, bound with a bit of twine. But the description was clear: a method designed to slowly refine all five basic qi elements through steady, continuous work.
He took it.
The second alcove was for sword techniques.
Cloud Piercing Stroke
Sweeping Branch Form
Flowing Draw
Splitting Blade
Six Cuts, One Breath
He picked one near the bottom of the rack. The scroll was older, but well-maintained.
Mountain-Crushing Sword Style.
It felt right.
He took that, too.
The last alcove was movement techniques.
Here, the scrolls were thinner—lighter, in a way that made him nervous. These weren't things you could learn by standing still. They required wind, weight, and motion.
He scanned the names:
Cricket Step
Wind Crossing
Leaf Drift
Swift Stride
One scroll caught his eye.
It was titled "Swallow Steps Across Water."
A swallow's gliding movements over a lake's surface. The user distributes their weight through short bursts of qi, allowing them to make light, extended strides, even over shallow water or unstable surfaces.
He tucked it under his arm.
Three scrolls.
Zhan Kai Tian stepped out into the afternoon sun, scrolls tucked under one arm, his sword resting quietly across his back. He made his way to his designated house and immediately started cultivating.
Sitting down, legs crossed, he took one of the Qi Gathering Pills and began channeling his qi through the path described in the manual.
He was able to reach the first rank of the Body Tempering Realm.
He knew it by the effects. The first rank granted a slight gain in strength and muscle mass, already noticeable on his previously skinny frame.
Reaching rank one was enough for one day.
He lay down to rest.