Behind the Great Wilderness Azure Cloud Sect lies a forgotten corner, a place called "Return to the Ruins Sword Tomb."
The wind here seems to carry the scent of rust. Thousands of broken swords lie scattered like a forest of steles, some jutting into cold rock crevices, others half-hidden among withered yellow grass. As the last rays of winter sun sink into the valley, Lin Bugui sits atop the highest sword mound, a rough whetstone in his hand, meticulously polishing the black armor on his shoulder.
The armor is astonishingly heavy, oppressively so.
The plates are thick and rough, a dull black, like wreckage retrieved from the deepest nightmare. The sect disciples laugh at him, saying he cultivates the "Sheep-Head Sword" and practices "Turtle Kung Fu"—otherwise, who would carry hundreds of pounds of scrap iron every day?
Lin Bugui pays no heed. His features were exceptionally handsome, his expression as aloof as a solitary pine tree under the moon, yet a thin mist perpetually veiled his eyes, obscuring their true emotions.
"Clang—clang—" The sound of whetstone scraping against black armor pierced the silent sword mound with a jarring hue.
Suddenly, a series of light footsteps broke the deathly stillness, accompanied by the sweet breath of a young girl.
"Strange, that scroll of the *Hundred Herbs Classic* clearly says that the 'Moonlit Beauty' only blooms in the crevices of rocks where deathly energy is strongest and moonlight is most intense, why can't I find it?"
Su Manman, carrying a glass lantern gleaming with a faint green light, trudged into this forbidden area. She was a junior apothecary at the medicine shop, possessing a round and lovely face, her almond-shaped eyes now filled with anxiety.
The glass lantern in her hand swayed past the broken swords, finally illuminating a dark silhouette.
Su Manman was startled. In the flickering lamplight, she saw a heavily armored youth sitting like a statue in the moonlight.
"You...you're the senior brother who guards the tomb?" Su Manman tentatively approached, smelling a strange odor—not the decay of the sword tomb, but a deep, heavy scent like earth after rain, or an ancient wasteland.
Lin Bugui didn't turn around, his hands continuing their work: "This isn't a place for disciples of the Medicine Pavilion. Get out."
His voice was cold, like icicles falling to the ground.
Su Manman, however, was stubborn. Instead of leaving, she moved even closer. The halo of the glass lamp shone precisely on Lin Bugui's shoulder armor. For a moment, Su Manman held her breath.
To others, it was just a piece of scrap metal, but to her, a pharmacist with an innate, extremely keen sensitivity to the spirit of plants, beneath that black armor seemed to be thousands of slumbering creatures writhing in agony.
"Your armor…it's crying." Su Manman instinctively reached out her slender fingers, wanting to touch the cold armor plate.
Lin Bugui's sword intent exploded instantly.
What kind of sword strike was that? There was no earth-shattering roar, only an extreme silence. Su Manman only felt the wind stop in her ears, a withered leaf being sliced open by an invisible sword aura, the cut as smooth as a mirror, yet not a single strand of her hair was harmed.
"Don't touch it." Lin Bugui stood up, the black armor emitting a heavy scraping sound, in the silent night, a faint echo like a dragon's roar could be heard.
Su Manman stood there, stunned, the chilling sword aura still lingering on her fingertips. She watched that lonely figure disappear into the depths of the broken sword, and for some reason, the seed of coldness that had accompanied her since childhood trembled slightly in her heart.