Rising high above the writhing serpent, Yun hovered in the crimson haze, his wings outstretched like burning banners. He inhaled deeply, centering his Qi until his core pulsed in rhythm with the heat building in his veins. Then, with a graceful motion, he invoked the Phoenix Tears Technique. A circle of radiant fire bloomed around him—flames so pure they shimmered white at the edges, dripping molten energy like falling tears. The air itself trembled, distorting the light as if the heavens were bending away from the heat. Yun knew he would need this inferno to pierce the serpent's scales, each one harder than tempered spirit steel.
As the serpent roared and coiled beneath him, Yun's mind sharpened. Timing was everything. When the fire reached its peak, he folded his wings and plunged, the Phoenix's tears trailing after him in a cascade of burning light. The flames struck first, softening the serpent's armor, searing its flesh with a hiss that shook the ravine. Then Yun spread his wings wide, channeling the Eagle Blade Wing Technique once more—this time driving the scythe forward with terrifying precision. The combined speed, pressure, and burning heat merged into a single devastating strike aimed straight for the serpent's crown.
The air rippled as Yun's strike landed. A flash of red and white fire tore through the mist, followed by a deafening crack that echoed for miles. The serpent's roar twisted into a low, shuddering hiss before its colossal body collapsed, the ground trembling beneath its weight. Smoke curled from the wound in its skull—an elegant, perfect cut that still burned with golden flame. For a long moment, silence ruled the ravine. Then, the serpent's light faded, its aura dissolving into nothingness.
The young cultivators below stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. To them, Yun looked almost divine—his wings flickering behind him like a fading sunset, his robes torn but his expression calm, unshaken. "He killed it…" Albi whispered, voice trembling. "Senior Yun actually killed it." Another recruit fell to his knees, overcome by a mix of fear and reverence. None of them dared to approach until Yun descended, the scythe still glowing faintly in his hand.
As Yun's boots touched the cracked earth, a strange pulse vibrated through the weapon. His grip tightened. Deep within the scythe's blade, he could sense something writhing—a lingering essence, fierce and unyielding. It was the serpent's soul, trapped and unable to fade. Yun's eyes narrowed as a chill ran through his arm. He didn't understand why, but the scythe had claimed it. The blade hummed softly, as if whispering to him, resonating with an unfamiliar power that tugged faintly at the edges of his own spirit.
By the time Yun returned to Eagle Mountain, the sun had long dipped behind the misty peaks. The mission hall buzzed with noise as cultivators reported their exploits and claimed rewards, yet the room seemed to hush when Yun stepped in, his presence drawing subtle attention. He handed in the serpent's crystal core and a strip of its armored hide as proof of completion. The elder overseeing missions examined the items, his eyes widening before he nodded approvingly. "Exceptional work, Outer Disciple Yun," he said, sliding a pouch across the desk. "Your reward—one thousand spirit stones. Consider this an impressive feat for a new recruit." Yun simply bowed and left without ceremony, though whispers followed him out the hall.
He made his way straight to the clan's Forge, where the air shimmered with heat and the scent of metal and Qi-infused fire filled every corner. At the heart of the forge stood the High Grade Smithing Table, an ancient artifact said to have been forged by an Ascendant Master more than four centuries ago. The veins of the table glowed faint gold, pulsing with restrained power. Yun set his scythe atop it, sliding three shining hundred-spirit-stone coins into the formation slot. Runes ignited along the artifact's edge, and a column of light enveloped the weapon. The scythe quivered faintly, its energy resisting the table's probing light. Even the old forge master paused his work to look over. "Strange," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Your weapon… it's alive."
As the light dimmed, intricate runes shimmered across the High Grade Smithing Table, forming words that scrolled slowly into view. The forge master leaned in close, his brow furrowing. "It's… a Spirit Tool," he said at last, voice hushed with awe. "It carries its own consciousness—sentient and aware." He adjusted a few formation nodes, attempting to probe deeper, but the scythe pulsed once, sending a wave of invisible energy through the forge. The table's light flickered, then steadied, but the readout lines blurred and refused to settle. "The table can't read its level," the master muttered. "It's as if the weapon rejects classification entirely."
Elder Rex, drawn by the disturbance, entered from the adjoining chamber. His sharp eyes studied the weapon resting on the table. "This handle…" he began, running his hand above it without touching, "is meteor steel, refined to a purity I've not seen in decades. Five feet, nine inches long—balanced perfectly for two-handed combat." His gaze shifted to the blade, and his composure faltered. "And this… Iron Nine," he whispered, almost reverently. "The densest metal known. No mortal forge can temper it. Even among Ascendants, few could sharpen Iron Nine—and none without destroying lesser metals in the process. Yet this blade—three feet long, seven inches wide—is flawless. Its edge could cut Qi itself." He looked to Yun, his tone turning grave. "Despite its impossible density, the entire weapon weighs only five pounds. That should be impossible… unless the weapon itself wills it so."
The room fell silent as the forge's flames flickered in unison with the scythe's faint hum. Elder Rex finally spoke, voice low. "Yun, whatever this weapon is… it chose you. And if I were you, I would not part with it. Not for any price."
Yun left the forge with quiet steps, his mind swirling with what Elder Rex had said. A weapon with its own consciousness, bound to him? The notion unsettled him as much as it intrigued him. He could still feel the faint pulse of the serpent's soul within the scythe, restless and wild like a caged beast. When he looked down at the darkened blade, he swore he could see the faint shimmer of serpentine eyes glaring back at him through the metal. No one else seemed able to perceive it—but to Yun, its presence was undeniable.
Drawn by curiosity and instinct, he made his way to one of the clan's secluded practice chambers. The moment the door sealed behind him, he planted the scythe upright in the ground and sat cross-legged before it. Channeling his qi, Yun focused on the soul trapped within. To his astonishment, the dark mist that formed the serpent's essence began to slither out from the weapon, coiling before him like a shadow reborn. Its glowing eyes locked onto him, and instead of attacking, it bowed its head. Yun blinked, realizing that it was waiting for his command. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he stood and whispered, "Interesting. This could be handy."