Chapter 38: Echoes of the Past

The ruined temple stood as a silent witness to the passage of time. Its cracked pillars reached toward the heavens like the hands of fallen warriors, grasping for something long lost. The carvings on the stone walls were worn and faded, yet their presence carried the weight of an untold history.

Jiang Cheng exhaled, his breath visible in the cold night air. He had encountered countless ruins in his journey, but this one felt different. There was something beneath the surface, something ancient waiting to be uncovered.

He took a step forward, his boots crunching against broken tiles. As his hand brushed against the inscriptions, an inexplicable sensation rushed through him. A whisper, faint yet unmistakable, echoed in his mind.

"Only those who bear the will of the sword may claim the forgotten path."

Jiang Cheng's eyes sharpened. He had spent years honing his swordsmanship, mastering the techniques passed down through generations, but this was something beyond his understanding.

His grip tightened on his sword. He activated Cloudstep, his footwork technique, maneuvering effortlessly through the temple's ruined corridors. Every step was light, his movements a dance of precision and control. The air grew heavy with an unknown force, pressing against him like an invisible hand.

A gust of wind howled through the open ceiling, carrying with it the scent of damp stone and ancient dust. The temple walls shimmered, and for a brief moment, it was as if he had stepped into the past.

The sound of clashing swords filled the air. Shadows of warriors flickered across the stone, locked in a battle that had taken place centuries ago. Their movements were swift, deadly, a language of violence spoken through steel.

Jiang Cheng stood still, his heart pounding. This was no ordinary ruin. It was a remnant of something greater—a battlefield where swordmasters had once fought for supremacy.

Then, a deep voice rang out.

"The Void Severing Edge… a blade that cuts through existence itself. Only one who understands the balance of destruction and creation can wield it without being consumed."

Jiang Cheng's eyes widened. The Void Severing Edge—a forbidden sword art he had obtained from the ruins of the lost sect. But this was different. The knowledge was unfolding before him as if the temple itself sought to teach him.

A golden glow pulsed from the walls, intricate patterns forming a vast array beneath his feet. The air trembled with power.

"You have been chosen."

Jiang Cheng turned sharply, his instincts flaring. A figure materialized before him—a phantom of a long-dead swordsman. His aura was vast, oppressive, yet refined. His eyes burned like twin stars, gazing at Jiang Cheng as if measuring his worth.

"You who have set foot here," the phantom spoke, his voice neither welcoming nor hostile, "prove yourself worthy of the inheritance."

A powerful surge of energy erupted from the ground. An ethereal sword materialized, floating before Jiang Cheng, its blade humming with an unfamiliar power. The weight of an unspoken challenge filled the air.

Jiang Cheng smirked, his battle spirit igniting. He had faced countless adversaries, endured impossible trials. If this was a test, then he would not hold back.

Drawing his own sword, he stepped forward. "Then let's see if I am worthy."

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