The Sword Has Come

Towering Sword Furnace, the wooden platform’s solitary staircase spiraled upward, layer upon layer. Overhead hung a blood-red mystical moon, behind her raged the roaring flames. Zhi Jiang was clad in a vibrant crimson bridal dress, adorned with a phoenix crown and ceremonial robes. The wind surged, billowing her garments, animating the golden phoenix embroidered upon her dress.

She possessed not only an enviable figure but also flawless features. Her femininity eclipsed that of men, and her mind was steeped in poetry and books. With dignified bearing and the air of a general, the phoenix crown and robes lent her the utmost grace and classic beauty befitting a princess. The cinnabar phoenix mark between her brows added a lively and alluring charm.

Yet at this moment, Zhi Jiang’s expression was mournful, heart-wrenching.

Below the Sword Furnace, the gathered masses knelt, unable to rise.

Adults and children alike wore mourning veils, their cries echoing endlessly.

A few meters above the furnace, Ou Lian, Ji Bu, Qu Chenzi, and others knelt, longing to approach but not daring, pleading with tears for the princess to reconsider. Only Chen Longshi stood, gazing at the blood moon overhead like a steadfast pine, silent and inscrutable.

Ou Lian wept most bitterly, his voice hoarse as he cried, “Princess, you must not! You must not! Swords are forged, tempered—they are not completed through sacrifice!”

Zhi Jiang stood on the edge of the furnace; one step forward would plunge her into the molten depths. She shook her head. “Do not persuade me further. I have read the Sword Canon and the inscriptions left by Master Ou Yezi: ‘The transformation of a treasured weapon awaits the vitality of a person. Only then can one gain the aid of spirits and achieve perfection.’”

Qu Chenzi, aged and sorrowful, felt a century older as tears streamed down his face. “The Sword Canon is dead words, people are living beings. How can one trust lifeless writings?”

“Master Ou Yezi shed blood for every sword he forged, becoming a legendary swordsmith. Was he mistaken?”

Zhi Jiang’s face was sorrowful, yet her voice was resolute. “The wind rises, the moon ascends. Heaven descends, gods gather. Flesh and blood forge the sword, people and metal fuse. This is the only way to create a divine blade…”

She turned for the last time to Chen Longshi. “Brother Long.”

Chen Longshi seemed to awaken suddenly, stepping forward. “I am here.”

Zhi Jiang’s smile was exquisitely beautiful. “This is the bridal dress my mother left when she married. I thought I’d never have the chance to wear it in this life, yet today, I fulfill that wish.”

“Brother Long… am I beautiful today?” Her head bowed, gentle as water, delicate as a lotus swayed by the cool breeze.

Standing alone atop the Sword Furnace, the firelight illuminated her, making her radiant as jade, as a new moon haloed, as snow piled upon flowering trees. Her bearing was graceful, her demeanor serene, her tenderness captivating, her beauty beyond words.

Chen Longshi reminded himself, time and again, that he was merely a passerby and must not succumb, yet his voice grew hoarse without him realizing, nodding sincerely. “Beautiful. So beautiful. Like a celestial goddess, like the moon reflected in water, radiant as peach and plum. I am utterly amazed!”

Zhi Jiang blushed slightly. “I wish to dance… solely for you. I hope Brother Long will appreciate it.”

Chen Longshi replied, “It is my honor.”

Zhi Jiang nodded, glanced at the stage—only the top of the furnace offered space to stand. Imperfect, yet sufficient. Before the eyes of all, Zhi Jiang moved lightly, her red skirt fluttering, dancing with grace.

Silk crimson robes embraced, stepping atop flames with lotus-like poise, lips touched with alluring charm, heart praying to the heavens for blessing!

Her dance “shrouded the moon with clouds, floated like soft snow, bright as colored clouds, fiery as water lotus.” It was stunning, but something felt missing.

Suddenly, the sound of strings resonated.

Chen Longshi, from somewhere, produced an ancient zither, sitting cross-legged and playing rapidly.

In this life, he had no musical training, yet in his previous incarnation, he’d been a celebrity, even released albums. He was not a master of traditional instruments, but neither was he unfamiliar. In this moment, he performed “Eighteen Songs of the Nomad Reed” with remarkable skill.

The notes flowed plaintively, like desert sands, like ruthless waters. Wildfires and warfare interlaced, the mood both sorrowful and stirring. “Lady Cai once created the sound of the Reed, played eighteen beats, nomads weeping upon the grass, Han messengers heartbroken as they returned.” The song told of Cai Wenji’s tragic fate and longing for home. Though not perfectly fitting the scene, Chen Longshi captured the sense of yearning and farewell.

The music, ethereal and exquisite, created an atmosphere of parting, as though all creation melted into this surreal mood. The masses below the furnace gazed, entranced, their sadness deepening.

Yet the song must end, and the dance could not continue forever.

Zhi Jiang, satisfied, gathered her skirts. “Thank you, Brother Long, for the music. I have no regrets.”

“Today, I become the sword, wishing to accompany you for life, to comfort the spirit of the blade.”

“Zhi Jiang…”

Chen Longshi was deeply moved, hesitating. “Perhaps to forge the sword, your sacrifice is not necessary. There may be another way.”

“Thank you, Brother Long~” Zhi Jiang smiled. “This night is enough for me. May we meet again in another life.” With that, amid cries of anguish and pleas for her to stay, she turned resolutely and leaped into the Sword Furnace.

Chen Longshi reached out, then abruptly withdrew his hand.

Looking again, the furnace held no trace of her graceful figure. Unable to bear the sight, he turned away. Outside, Ou Lian and the others nearly fainted from grief, their feelings torn apart by her final, peerless leap.

…

“Kill—”

Outside the city, the cries of battle shook the heavens.

Undying knights and Sword Guards advanced in orderly squads, surging like waves across the broad plaza.

Several enormous breaches in the city walls had yet to be repaired; now, they were impossible to defend.

From the battlements, one could see endless undead monsters, more terrifying beneath the blood-red moon. The banner of the Tomb of King Chu billowed, magnificently. The undead army was flaunting its power.

Skeleton, Red Fiend, and Black Desolation—three generals—sat tall upon their steeds, scanning the horizon, giving orders with sweeping gestures. “At all costs, storm the city. Leave none alive, human or beast.”

The undead monsters attacked with unprecedented ferocity. Yet the soldiers atop the walls stood together, unflinching. “Avenge the Princess!”

Who first cried out, no one knew, but it touched the most sensitive chords, igniting a chorus, “Avenge the Princess!”

One shout after another, until the thunderous chanting shook the air.

Morale soared, but the disparity in strength was insurmountable.

Humans retreated step by step; it seemed inevitable that the city would fall.

At the most perilous moment, a crimson nine-headed phoenix soared from the furnace, its cry resounding through heaven and earth.

The cry stunned everyone, who then prostrated themselves. In their hearts, this was the princess—the girl who sacrificed herself to protect the city.

Even the undead monsters outside, fighting fiercely, trembled at the phoenix’s call. Far off, the Tomb of King Chu erupted, shaking the earth, splitting the land, black smoke billowing skyward—as if something monstrous was about to break free.

Chen Longshi struck Ou Lian’s shoulder fiercely, voice hoarse. “Open the furnace, forge the sword!”

Ou Lian, perhaps the most grief-stricken in the city, still knew his duty. “Open the furnace—!”

“Forge the sword—!”

Hundreds shouted, stoking the furnace’s flames.

The green stone, impossible to melt before, finally liquefied, flowing as iron tinged with blue and red into the mold, swiftly forming a sword blank over three feet long.

Upon forming, the sword blank unleashed a surge of sword energy, splitting the furnace with countless cracks.

“The furnace is collapsing!”

People scattered, scalding flames raining down, chaos everywhere. Yet it did not affect Ou Lian and Chen Longshi.

The sword blank’s heat melted crucibles and tongs; there was no way to forge it by ordinary means.

At that moment, a cloud formed above the sword blank, within it the nine-headed phoenix lazily flying.

Sensing danger, Chen Longshi pulled Ou Lian away. “Quick, move!”

Boom—

A great wind arose, thunder crackled in the sky, bolts striking the sword nine times before subsiding.

The blood-red moon seemed to cast a baleful beam, shining directly upon the furnace.

Solar essence, lunar radiance, thunder forging, Heaven and Earth become the sword.

Now, the crude sword blank was gone, replaced by a sword of iridescent blue, jade-like lustre, and chilling brilliance, its blade engraved with a nine-headed phoenix.

Moonlight descended like sweet rain, bathing the fiery blade, which cooled on its own.

The sequence left Chen Longshi and the others stunned.

Qu Chenzi, both sorrowful and delighted, cried out to the heavens, “This sword is a masterpiece forged by gods and mortals together. To forge it, we slew the sword demon in the heart of the mine for the rare stone. During forging, a celestial maiden sacrificed herself, the Thunder God struck, moonlight quenched, nine phoenixes guarded. When finished, sword energy arose. Heaven, earth, and man united—thus the sword was born!”

“…Poor young Zhi Jiang.”

Ou Lian tried to grasp the sword; as he approached, its energy slashed his hand, spilling blood. Unwilling, he tried again, only to worsen his wounds.

Others, generals alike, attempted to claim the sword, but all failed.

“What now?”

Qu Chenzi sighed. “The divine sword is forged, but none can wield it?”

“No!”

Ou Lian interrupted, unwilling, turning to Chen Longshi. “Please, sir, accept the sword. The princess entrusted it to you before her death. We ordinary folk are unworthy to wield it. Please, sir, accept the sword!”

Qu Chenzi realized their excitement had made them forget Chen Longshi. He turned and bowed deeply. “Please, sir, accept the sword.”

“Today, I become the sword, wishing to accompany you for life, to comfort the spirit of the blade.”

Zhi Jiang’s words echoed. Chen Longshi paused, then stepped forward. People parted, watching as he approached. He did not grasp the hilt by hand, but as if seeing his own hand extended, he called softly, “Come, sword!”

The sword soared, tracing an arc in the air.

No energy erupted; it settled calmly into his hand.

All present felt a pang of loss—never expecting the princess would entrust everything to this outsider. Chen Longshi held the sword, feeling scales and feathers beneath his grip, warmth like a maiden’s skin. With the sword in hand, no ritual was needed; it obeyed him at once.

He unleashed a move—Sword Ultimate: Stone Shattering the Heavens—a hundred meters of crimson sword energy exploded, shattering the ruined furnace into fragments.

Chen Longshi sheathed the sword, his gaze sweeping the stunned crowd. Those who met his eyes all lowered their heads.

If they’d hoped for luck before, now they were utterly convinced.

Dong dong dong—

Suddenly, the city’s alarm bells rang again, startling everyone.

“Monsters on the wall?!”

“Hurry, everyone, to battle!”

There was no time to protect the people or offer comfort; the armies were mismatched, the city beset by many troubles. The monsters had breached the walls so quickly—if the gates fell, only death awaited. The situation was dire.

If they did not fight with all their might now, dawn would never come; the city would be lost, buried with its defenders.