“Congratulations, young ones! You have suffered and prevailed. All candidates present are therefore granted access to our Hall of Swords!”

  The crowd erupted with an excited roar as every head snapped upward in unison.

  Some hundred feet above them, an old, wrinkled man with a long white beard hovered casually above the courtyard, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a loose red robe of the finest silk, adorned with the monastery's emblem—a pair of crossed swords, embroidered in golden thread. Though everyone wore collars that blocked spiritual fluctuations, it didn’t take an expert to recognize him as one of the Sword Saints. All cultivators present bowed as one, saluting him with reverence.

  “You are all brave and persistent,” the old man’s voice echoed through the courtyard, clear and resonant despite the distance. “Climbing Sword Mountain is no easy task. It’s tough, repetitive, unforgiving, and dangerous, relying less on talent and more on the determination to do what’s necessary. You are all free to take off your collars. Hand them over to the outer disciples. If you’re tired or wounded, rest and recover. If you’re ready, go ahead and face the Hall of Swords.”

  The old Saint’s gaze passed over the small crowd, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Who knows… you might be the next person to awaken one of the sword spirits! Just remember: whether you succeed or fail, the spirit will drain some of your soul qi, which will cause a minor soul wound. The choice is yours.” With that, he extended his hand toward a long, narrow building near the eastern wall.

  Even before the Saint finished speaking, nearly all the cultivators present rushed toward the Hall’s entrance like a swarm of starving locusts. Apparently, the idea of wounding their souls wasn’t enough to discourage anyone.

  Hearing the elder mention sword spirits, Cade’s mind drifted back to his time in the coffin. He replayed the memory of Master Lao Ren during one of his extended monologues.

  “Spirits are creatures of the Ghost Dao, their bodies combining spiritual qi, soul energy and heavenly laws,” Lao Ren had explained. “However, as opposed to ghosts, spirits are often artificially created and bound to an object. Many weapon spirits need to link up with a compatible master soul in order to live and cultivate, which is why those awaiting within the Sword Dao Monastery have been growing weaker over time.”

  The candidate must provide a tiny piece of his soul to awaken the spirit. The wound would heal eventually, but until then, it weakened them in both mind and body.

  “I think we’ve got a pretty good chance. After being forced to listen to King’s endless chatter, our souls must have toughened up a lot,” Cade quipped.

  Jade laughed softly, and Brickwall gave him a toothy grin. “You two only spent a few days in his company. I’ve been climbing next to him since day one. I should bring him with me. Any spirit would surrender in twenty minutes,” Reeve added, prompting a wave of chuckles.

  “Boss, I always talk too much when I’m nervous. Sorry,” the ex-bandit said, lowering his head.

  “It’s a joke. We’re all used to it already. Why don’t we have a look at this Hall of Swords?” The Asura patted him on the back. King instantly perked up, his face brightening. They walked over together, unhurried, since a few hundred candidates were already gathered around a tall silhouette of a monastery disciple who stood in front of the Hall’s entrance. As people shuffled about, Cade’s group caught occasional flickers of the young man’s white martial robe. The color marked him as a core disciple—the cream of the crop of Sword Dao Monastery.

  Once they got within a few hundred feet of the building, a calm, male voice reached them. “…Remember, only one attempt per person. A soul wound is not something that can be easily healed. If you overdo it, you risk struggling with your training. Are you here to gamble your soul on a sword, or to learn the Law Severing Art?” The young man’s tone carried authority, his steady gaze moving from person to person. “Questions?”

  “What do we actually have to do inside?” someone from the back asked. Several others laughed mockingly.

  “A very reasonable question,” the young man said in an encouraging tone, offering a small nod to the candidate who spoke—and a sharp look at those who had mocked him. “If your soul is compatible with one of the sword spirits, you’ll feel its pull as you walk down the Hall. Focus your mind on that weapon and open your realm of consciousness; the spirit will do the rest. Any other questions?”

  Seeing no one else speak, the white-robed man continued. “One person at a time, in an orderly fashion. There is no rush. It doesn’t matter if you’re first or last. There are 417 swords currently in the Hall. Being chosen by a sword happens rarely. Usually, no more than a few people from each disciple draft receive this honor. Good luck.” He turned, pushing open the Hall’s heavy gates, and stepped aside to let the first candidate in.

  Now they could see the core disciple clearly. He was very tall, only a little shorter than Cade, with a wiry build, blonde hair, a square jaw, and bright green eyes. His cultivation was in the late stage of the Foundation Establishment realm. The disciple’s gaze passed over the crowd, then stopped on Cade’s group as they approached. He offered them a nod and a light smile, cupping his fist.

  They returned the salute, but Cade’s brow creased. For some reason, he felt an instant dislike towards the man. The disciple cast a glance at Jade, his small smile warming as he did, drawing a faint blush from the princess. However, to the Asura, his perfectly polite expression was hollow, a mere shift of muscle lacking any emotion. His life sense confirmed very little emotional fluctuation. In that way, the disciple reminded him of Darkheart. But there was a lot more to it.

  The core disciple’s life signature behaved in a manner Cade had never seen before. It was strong and weak at the same time, as if life and death fought for dominion inside his body, like a disease that would flare up only to be instantly repressed. His aversion towards the man intensified. He involuntarily clenched his teeth, as scarlet flecks began to sparsely pop up at the edges of his vision. For some reason, the disciple stirred his Asura nature. He slowed his breathing to maintain composure.

  “Greetings, candidates. Are you here to test your fate?” the blonde-haired man asked.

  “We are,” Brickwall nodded, relaxing his shoulders but keeping his gaze steady.

  The tall man didn’t give Reeve so much as a glance. “Then I wish you the best of luck. If you need help with anything, you can always seek me out. My name is Castien. All the disciples know me and can direct you accordingly.” He gave the princess a small bow and another salute, then departed toward the citadel.

  Cade breathed out with relief, loosening his muscles. His gaze lingered briefly on Castien's silhouette. I'll have to keep an eye on him. He then followed after Brickwall, King, and Jade, who fell in at the end of the queue.

  “Anyone wants to go first? I’m in no rush,” the Asura asked, turning towards them.

  “Thanks, Boss!” King stepped forward with a beaming smile, not even pretending to argue.

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  “Are you sure? Honestly, I don’t think I have much of a chance,” Reeve asked Cade, throwing King a stern look. Naturally, the ex-bandit ignored it, whistling a false tune.

  “I honestly believe mine’s lower than yours. So yeah—when the time comes, just go ahead,” Cade said with a dispirited sigh. He was a life cultivator. These weapons weren’t meant for someone like him. His blood qi would only corrode the old artifacts, destroying their weakened spirits.

  It was well past the fifteenth hour when the person ahead of Jade entered the Hall. By then, nobody stood in a proper queue anymore; young experts sat in small groups, talking quietly, with an occasional burst of laughter. No one knew who claimed a sword inside except the elders. How they knew was a mystery, but Cade suspected it had something to do with the soul sense that fourth tier cultivators possessed.

  In the meantime, the temperature in the courtyard was steadily rising. The desert sun knew no mercy, and the black rock beneath them was beginning to radiate waves of intense heat. Not a single cloud touched the sky.

  “It’s a good thing we no longer have to wear those stupid collars. I can at least cool down the air under my qi barrier. Feels very nice. Quite refreshing,” Jade said, grinning smugly at Cade and Reeve, who had already started sweating.

  The Asura was forced to endure it. While his body could easily regulate its internal temperature, body refiners didn’t fully unlock that ability until Soul Body Integration—their equivalent of a qi cultivator’s Soul Avatar realm. It wasn't that Skeletal Reinforcement experts like Reeve lacked qi to project a barrier of their own, but rather their qi channels developed differently, making fine control over energy—necessary to maintain a qi barrier—troublesome and generally not worth the effort.

  “Jade’s right, it’s a simple, yet truly wonderful technique. And it helps keep away the insects,” King eagerly nodded.

  “Reeve, maybe we should discard our robes? After all, the weather is so nice today,” Cade said in a conversational tone, sending Brickwall a sneaky wink.

  “What?” Jade asked, her voice rising slightly, cheeks flushing pink.

  Reeve laughed heartily. “Indeed, my friend. Great idea! The sun is shining, not a single cloud in sight. We might as well work on our tan while we wait. Let all these maidens witness what real men look like,” Brickwall boomed, loud enough to earn a few chuckles from nearby cultivators.

  “No! I don’t allow this!” Jade protested, frantically waving her hands.

  Both men started to slowly undress, broad grins plastered across their faces. The princess yelped and turned away, her face blazing hot. Distracted, she failed to maintain her qi barrier. It popped like a bubble, and she was struck by unfolding ripples of intense heat.

  King stared at the scene with bafflement. “Jade, you know they’re not being serious, right?” he asked unsurely.

  She slowly turned around. Seeing two fully dressed men in the corner of her vision, the muscles in her jaw tensed. “Of course. Such jokers, these two,” she snarked, clenching her small fists and setting her thunderous gaze on Cade, who appeared completely unbothered.

  “I think it’s your turn,” he said with a sly smile, pointing towards the entrance with his chin.

  “What? Oh, you’re right!” Jade immediately beamed, leaping to her feet, her irritation vanishing without a trace. The trio sent her off, wishing her good luck. The truth was, nobody really expected to claim a spirit sword here, but deep down, each of them was holding onto a sliver of hope.

  During one of their campfire talks, the princess had mentioned she already had a spirit sword, a gift from her father. However, the spirit wasn’t really compatible with her soul, which limited the amount of qi she could channel into the weapon. Cade knew she was secretly hoping to find a perfectly matching blade here, and he believed if anyone could do it, it would be her.

  Only a few minutes later, Jade stepped out of the Hall of Swords. Her face was pale and carried a perfectly neutral expression, which might have appeared natural to anyone else, but not to him. Even though he could read her life signature, he refrained from doing so. He didn’t like spying on his friends’ emotions. In this case, however, her forced expression told him everything.

  “Don’t worry, we’re still young. I’m sure there will be other chances,” he said towards the approaching princess with a slightly raised voice, just enough for the people nearby to overhear. At the same time, he sent her a meaningful glance.

  “Ah… yes. Well, I didn’t count on it anyway,” she remarked nonchalantly, barely able to keep the delight from her voice. Neither Brickwall nor King seemed to have realized the truth.

  The ex-bandit was next. After wishing him luck, they all watched him strut toward the entrance like he owned the place. When he returned a few minutes later, his face was also pale, with an expression of moderate disappointment. Brickwall patted him on the back before departing for the Hall, and Jade consoled him with soft words.

  “Who cares about some old sword? The Law Severing Art is the reason we’re here,” Cade played it down. Despite King driving all of them crazy at times, the young noble was beginning to grow on him. While he did employ rather illegal methods of earning crystals in the past, his heart was in the right place.

  Another few minutes later, Reeve exited the Hall. His expression was mostly neutral, maybe even edging on subdued. Cade couldn’t help himself and took a peek at his emotional fluctuations: they were shockingly positive. No way! He actually got one as well?! Brickwall returned to their small circle, and this time it was King’s turn to cheer up his friend, with Jade patting the big man’s arm in consolation. Only the Asura stared at him from under narrowed eyelids, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Reeve looked away, pretending he didn’t notice, but was struggling to conceal his immense satisfaction. It was obvious subterfuge wasn’t his strong point.

  It was now Cade’s turn. “Good luck! Just don’t steal anything or they will know,” Reeve grinned, a flash of his good mood piercing through the downcast facade. He immediately assumed a sullen expression, realizing he gave himself away. Jade and King exchanged confused glances.

  Cade let out a laughing snort, rising from the ground and was surprised to see the princess joining him. “Let me walk with you,” she said, giving him a heartening smile. She then lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “Cade, the jian… it’s beautiful. It can be turned rigid or flexible at will. Once we’re settled, you need to see it. The spirit is still weak and can’t take up a lot of spiritual qi. I’ve fed it as much as I could, but I’ll have to take it out of the ring very soon,” she said, hints of concern in her tone.

  According to Master Lao Ren, beings made of soul qi could sustain themselves in ordinary storage spaces for a few days at the most, at the cost of expending large amounts of their core energy. Weakened spirits, such as those inside the Hall of Swords, could likely survive no more than a few hours.

  “Right. I’ll be in and out in no time, then we can return to the tents. I’m really glad you got one,” he whispered back.

  They stopped in front of the entrance to the Hall. “Thank you. I really hope you manage to claim one too.” He felt Jade’s hand squeeze his forearm encouragingly before she gave him a light push.

  “Keep your fingers crossed,” he smiled, stepping through the doorway and shutting the heavy door behind him, the wings slamming into their reinforced frame with a reverberating thud. The air inside was cool and still, a stark contrast to the scorching heat outside. It smelled of old metal and dust. It was a long, windowless corridor with hundreds of weapons positioned vertically on its walls. Other than the sunstones hanging below the ceiling, there was hardly anything else inside.

  Cade walked forward slowly, admiring the ancient weapons. They came in all shapes and sizes, with some blades larger than Gorgo’s broadsword, others hardly longer than a dagger. Since his rebirth, the young Asura didn't have a proper weapon, and in truth, it hadn’t bothered him too much. His powerful physicality allowed him to make up for it, but he was also very aware of how lucky he had been so far. Sooner or later, he’d encounter someone far above average, a true challenge. Maybe it would be a cultivation genius, a battle arts master with a technique for every occasion, or even someone with a powerful spirit sword. And what if that person had it all? He had to be able to at least ensure his own survival. Blood Wings were powerful, but his cultivation was way too low to use them offensively without paying a heavy price.

  Hopefully, I'll be able to ask one of the Sword Masters for advice. They’ll know best what kind of blade would suit me.

  Suddenly, he froze mid-step.

  He felt a weak tug at the core of his very being. There was a faint presence right outside his realm of consciousness, making itself known and passively awaiting his reaction. It felt very fragile, barely alive. He searched around, following the sensation to its source. It eventually led him to a far corner of the Hall, where a bunch of discarded weapons were thrown in a large pile, covered by a thick layer of dust. Nearly all of them appeared badly damaged.

  Unable to tell which of the weapons called to him, Cade took a deep breath and opened wide his realm of consciousness. Almost immediately, a weakened voice echoed through his mind.

  “Yin Tian…?”