HEAVENLYDEM0N

Jiang Yun was born in a world where talent is everything—and he had none.

Rejected by the heavens, bullied by fellow disciples, and abandoned by fate, he should have remained a nameless mortal. Yet, when he stumbles upon a broken sword buried in the Forsaken Blood Valley, his destiny takes an irreversible turn.

This sword, a relic of an ancient war, holds secrets that even the gods fear. It whispers of a forgotten sect, of a warrior who once stood at the pinnacle, and of a blade that once wounded the Primordial Lord of Chaos himself.

But wielding this power comes at a price. The heavens hunt him. The sects fear him. The emperors scheme against him.

With nothing but his unyielding will, Jiang Yun will carve his own path—one battle at a time.

From a nameless mortal to a legend that defies destiny.
This is the tale of the Eternal Sword Ascension.

Eternal Sword Ascension

Flickering Flame Against the Tempest

The wind howls through the valley, dragging with it the scent of blood. Cold, biting, it snakes through the tattered fabric of Jiang Yun's robes, scraping against his skin like a dull blade.

His grip tightens around his rusted sword.

The battle has barely begun, but his body is already reaching its limit.

His limbs ache, heavy as stone. Every breath is sharp, burning against his ribs, the wound along his shoulder pulsing like a second heartbeat. He is running out of time.

Across from him, the Azure Mist disciple stands at ease, his posture relaxed, as if this is nothing more than a passing distraction. His blade gleams, pristine, untouched by rust or wear. A stark contrast to Jiang Yun's own—dull, chipped, barely a weapon.

The gap between them is undeniable.

A trained cultivator. A mere mortal.

And yet—Jiang Yun still stands.

The disciple tilts his head slightly, as if studying him for the first time. "You're still holding your weapon?"

The disciple chuckles, spinning his sword idly. "Interesting."

The blade cuts forward, slicing through space itself, too quick for Jiang Yun's eyes to follow. A blur of silver, sharp and merciless.

His instincts scream. Move!

His body obeys before his mind can catch up. He twists sharply, his breath hitching, but—

Pain erupts along his ribs, hot and searing, carving its way through flesh and fabric alike.

His vision trembles. His steps falter.

A shallow wound. Not fatal. But enough to remind him of the difference between them.

The Azure Mist disciple exhales in disappointment, tapping his blade lightly against his palm. "Too slow."

Jiang Yun staggers back, his fingers tightening around his rusted sword. His breathing steadies.

Survival is more than just endurance—it is defiance. Jiang Yun, battered and outmatched, faces a cultivator who sees their fight as mere amusement.

His body is failing, his strength dwindling, but he does not yield.

Every breath, every step, every drop of blood spilled is proof that he still stands. In a world where power reigns supreme, sometimes the greatest victory is refusing to fall.