Destiny in Cinders

"The great calamity of Void Embrace..."

An Jing had only found fleeting traces of these events in ancient texts. It dated back tens of thousands of years, and most records of it had been eroded by time. After the immortals cast out the heavenly fiends, they reconstructed numerous nations. The founder of Grand Chen was one such figure. Through an age of perpetual war, he forged a nation that eventually emerged as the largest in the Northblack Sacrifice Continent.

The murals became more elaborate as the story neared its end. Several sections had been painted or added by later hands. An Jing's expression hardened as he witnessed the return of the heavenly fiend the deeper he ventured.

Across the countless eons, the statues of the sword immortal faded and fell, yet fiend qi erupted from Direlife Canyon, vaguely taking the shape of the heavenly fiend. In an attempt to erode the seal and break free, the sealed fiend diverted the river's path, flooding Direlife Canyon, which wasn't yet a canyon then. However, the ancients used the mountains and rivers to construct a major terrestrial-vein formation to once more seal the heavenly fiend. That was how Direlife Canyon came to be.

"So the heavenly fiend rose again?" An Jing whispered, "Yvelbane, you weren't conscious back then, were you?"

"I'm not sure..." the sword soul said solemnly.

"Too much of my memory... is gone. When was it that I shattered? I recall that my shard was enshrined within this place after I defeated the heavenly fiend. Someone sought to sacrifice countless people and make use of the presence of the heavenly fiend to awaken me. That was the foundation for the grand ritual.

"Yes, the river didn't exist before. I remember countless shrine caves along the cliffs, but details of the second sealing following the heavenly fiend's resurrection elude me."

An Jing nodded. He, too, had sensed something was amiss. Yvelbane's hilt had been discovered in his own home of the northern frontier, only to end up in Direlife Canyon, tucked away in the demonic cult's hidden room. However, the hilt's power had escaped notice. Though the sword soul's consciousness was anchored within the hilt, the shards themselves were unconscious.

Direlife Canyon was so saturated with fiend qi that even the demonic cult was afraid to set foot within. Yet Yvelbane was able to suppress the fiend qi instantly, demonstrating its power to counter it. In contrast, the shard within the canyon remained indifferent to fiend qi, only exerting its influence through the ritual.

While the sword qi leaking from the terrestrial veins confirmed its presence, the shard's condition was likely dire. With Yvelbane's shards scattered across many locations, some even in another world, An Jing sensed a complex plot behind it all. The destruction of a sword immortal's weapon was shrouded in mystery.

By borrowing the sword soul's power, his fate became intricately linked with it. After a deep breath, he pressed on. The long tunnel finally opened into an enormous, hemispherical hall that appeared manmade. A V-shaped staircase led into the hall. It was surprisingly pristine, untouched by water, though a rotting praying mat was faintly visible in the center.

An Jing entered the hall. At the furthest reaches of the hall, he spotted the divine artifact resting atop a monumental jade altar.

"A shard of a sword blade."

It was a solid, diamond-shaped shard radiating a silvery-blue glow.

An Jing froze. For a moment, he was hit with a sense of familiarity so profound it felt as if he had stared at this very shard a million times before, but he quickly realized that Yvelbane was projecting this feeling into his mind. The rusted sword in his sea of consciousness trembled.

"This is the base of my blade... but something's wrong. Where's the formation that protects it?"

Scanning the hall, An Jing noted that every inch of the jade dome and walls was covered in intricate patterns of mountains, seas, and clouds as well as dragon and phoenix talismans, weaving together into a vast formation. However, it wasn't working, or more accurately, it had been destroyed.

Streaks of gray and black spiderwebbed across the pale-green jade. The stone appeared rough and weathered, stripped of its natural luster and warmth. Much like a corpse, the jade had lost all vitality and moisture, and had gradually decayed into its present state over the course of millennia.

"Fiend-qi erosion," An Jing whispered. "Only the center remains untouched."

"Fortunately, we've arrived just in time." Though Yvelbane was rather anxious, it quickly regained composure. "Take it, sword-wielder An Jing. Retrieve my shard. You are worthy of it."

An Jing nodded and stepped toward the altar. The stairs pulsed with a soft glow under his every step. Just as the sword soul had assured him, he met no resistance, reaching the top of the altar with ease.

Despite his usual calm demeanor, his heart began to race. He took a deep breath, quelling his excitement. As he slowly extended his hand toward the shard, a blinding silver light flooded his vision.

Suddenly, the soft, green hues that had muted the jade surfaces, the sword, and the altar flared to life, bathing the entire hall in brilliant light. The pale-green jade lining the hall shimmered in response as numerous halos merged to create an ethereal sanctuary adrift the clouds.

Standing at the heart of this "paradise," An Jing's expression faltered. The moment he touched the shard, the brilliance of the blade and altar condensed quickly. The piercing silver and vibrant green bled away, turning everything back into their lifeless, gray-black forms that resembled the jade walls.

All that vitality and spirit power converged into a shimmering shard in his hand, which then flew in a graceful arc and seamlessly sank into his forehead with Yvelbane's aid. An Jing didn't flinch; he simply straightened his body, pressing his fingers to his forehead. A heavy breath escaped him when he realized his skin was unbroken, only slick with cold sweat.

"You scared the life out of me, Yvelbane! No more 'thrilling' surprises, or at least warn me next time!"

In fact, An Jing cursed his own composure. If he hadn't trained himself so rigorously, he could have just collapsed onto his bottom and taken a well-deserved moment to sprawl out and gasp for air. Instead, his stance was as unyielding as steel. Even with his sweat-soaked clothes clinging to him, he remained ramrod straight, channeling every ounce of his strength and focus to force his racing mind into a state of calm.

Deep within his sea of consciousness, a stretch of blade formed above the shattered guard. The dreamlike, shimmering blade radiated a silvery breath that deepened An Jing's understanding of Sword of Tranquility.

He wasn't worried about Yvelbane snatching his body as the sword soul itself was far too stunned.

"How can this be? My vessel has completely withered away... There's nothing left but the soul! I should've achieved absolute immutability! Even my shards should be eternal. How did this happen?"

An Jing wasn't sure how powerful Yvelbane had once been, but there wasn't a hint of arrogance in its behavior. It had always been calm and courteous. Seeing it this out of control was a first.

Even so, An Jing felt a strong urge to poke fun at the situation.

So much for being indestructible... Isn't your physical form already a broken, rusty blade anyway? Why the shock over a little decay?

But it didn't stop there. An Jing felt the broken sword in his sea of consciousness tremble uncontrollably, followed by a voice so shocked it seemed to have lost all reason.

"How... How can this be?! My own blade doesn't carry any of my memories!"