After Elder Pine left, Cliff Jensen returned to his quarters within the quiet monastery of Dragonspire Mountain.
"Sword Tomb," Cliff whispered to himself as he sat on the wooden floor.
The Sword Tomb was a sacred site within the mountain—a resting place for the swords of past generations of Dragonspire Palace. Among them lay the legendary weapon once wielded by their enshrined deity: the True Martial Sword.
And if Cliff's hunch was right, the tomb was also one of the places radiating an aura beyond the Celestial Phenomenon Realm.
He felt a flutter of anticipation.
"I'll find out soon. Two more weeks."
He closed his eyes and began to cultivate, calmly.
---
Meanwhile, in the True Martial Hall…
Master Elder Caden, head of Dragonspire Palace, stood solemnly before a towering bronze statue of the True Martial Emperor. Hands clasped behind his back, he stared upward in silence.
"In two weeks, we descend into the Sword Tomb once again…" he muttered. "Will this finally be the time the True Martial Sword chooses a new successor?"
The tomb housed relics from generations past: swords of warriors, scholars, priests—and more importantly, the blades of all thirty-six Heavenly Masters.
But the most revered among them was the True Martial Sword—said to be wielded by the first Heavenly Master, a man directly blessed by the god they served.
For five centuries, the sword had remained still. Unmoving. Unchosen.
The position of Heavenly Master had remained vacant all that time.
"Without a Heavenly Master… our power wanes." Elder Caden whispered.
Behind him, a rotund man in plain robes—the third Celestial Phenomenon expert of the sect—stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Master, don't be disheartened. Perhaps this is the year."
---
Two weeks later.
Early morning sunlight spilled across Dragonspire Mountain.
Cliff had barely stepped outside his chamber when an official in a white robe arrived, shouting with inner force:
"All disciples under the age of twenty, assemble at once!"
Cliff, along with the others, quickly formed ranks.
Over a hundred boys from his dormitory alone gathered, all excited and unsure of what was to come.
By noon, under guidance from several Fourth Grade instructors, they arrived at a secluded valley behind the main palace.
There, nearly a thousand disciples from the mountain's eight divisions had already gathered.
"So many people." whispered Ethan, a lanky disciple and one of Cliff's few trusted companions.
"Brother Cliff, why did they bring us all here?"
Cliff gave a faint smile. "You'll see."
Soon, instructors handed each boy a small manual titled: "Sword Intent Sensing Technique."
"Study this well, and prepare to enter the Sword Tomb. Choose the blade that calls to you."
The instructions were repeated three times.
The boys quickly sat and began practicing the method.
"It's so hard to understand…" Ethan mumbled.
Others around him nodded, frustrated.
But for Cliff…
> [Your comprehension is incredible. Upon reading the Sword Intent Sensing Technique, you have created the Supreme Sword Sense Manual.]
In less than half an hour, Cliff had internalized and enhanced the entire technique.
Immediately, he could sense hundreds of sword auras radiating from the tomb below.
---
High atop the mountain, three figures watched.
At the center sat Elder Caden, flanked by Elder Pine on his left, and the plump Elder Wendell on his right.
Together, they represented the entire Celestial Phenomenon authority of the Dragonspire sect.
"One day, someone must be chosen by the True Martial Sword," Elder Pine murmured.
"May today be that day."
Elder Wendell nodded. "Even if they don't, the sensing test filters talent. Only those who can grasp Sword Intent will be worthy."
---
Inside the Sword Tomb…
Disciples entered in groups, each allowed time to sense and select a blade.
Swords resonated faintly. When a disciple found a matching sword, it would tremble, and they would draw it from the earth.
In total:
Four boys had chosen swords once wielded by former Heavenly Masters.
Thirty-one others had drawn swords once held by Palace Elders or First Grade warriors.
Elder Caden's eyes lit up.
"This is the most promising group in decades."
Even if no one reached the True Martial Sword, these boys would grow into powerful defenders of their sect.
---
Meanwhile, Cliff wandered deeper into the tomb.
"Too weak…" he murmured.
Despite the overwhelming calls from hundreds of blades, none resonated with him.
He moved past them all, drawn by a faint presence in the deepest reaches of the tomb.
Back atop the mountain, the elders stirred.
"Who is that boy? Why is he moving deeper?" Elder Wendell frowned.
Elder Pine narrowed his eyes. "That's Cliff Jensen. I asked him to do well, not run headfirst into danger."
Even Elder Caden looked puzzled.
"Shall I bring him back?" Wendell asked.
But at that very moment…
Cliff reached out. His hand touched the hilt of a plain, ancient sword buried beneath dust and stone.
A single word was carved into the hilt:
TRUE MARTIAL.
Cliff pulled.
The blade sang.
Thousands of swords across the tomb began to tremble.
A deep, earth-shaking rumble tore through the mountain.
The entire Sword Tomb quaked.
On the far side of the continent, in the frozen Northern Reaches, a man with golden eyes jolted upright.
In a quiet street, a wandering sage nearly dropped his compass.
A hermit buried in the earth climbed free in shock.
The entire world felt it.
Back in Dragonspire—
The blade rose from the ground, shining with divine radiance.
Cliff held it, unmoving, calm.
All swords in the tomb knelt before him.
Every disciple dropped to their knees instinctively.
Even the thirty-nine First Grade masters standing in attendance bowed.
Tears welled in Elder Caden's eyes.
"It has been five hundred years…"
"Today, the True Martial Sword has chosen again."
"The Heavenly Master has returned."
---
(End of Chapter)
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