Chapter 53: The Sword Pavilion’s Gambit

Ye Xiu's breath came raggedly as he stood frozen, sword trembling in his grip, the night air thick with smoke and the heavy scent of scorched earth. Ling Shuang's cold gaze pinned him in place, a calculated triumph flickering behind her serene mask.

"Mother…" Ye Xiu whispered, voice raw and desperate.

She struggled weakly in the grasp of two Pavilion disciples, eyes wide with terror and pain, pleading silently. Ling Shuang stepped forward calmly, sword gently tracing patterns in the smoky air, a playful predator toying with wounded prey.

"You must forgive the theatrics," Ling Shuang purred softly. "But your lineage requires special handling."

"My lineage?" Ye Xiu snarled, fury overriding caution. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

She smiled, elegant yet sinister. "Your father betrayed us, stole our greatest secret, and fled—believing foolishly that your mortal mother could shield him. Now you, his heir, bear the cost."

Ye Xiu's thoughts churned chaotically. He tightened his grip on the wooden blade, feeling its heat and hunger coursing through him, each heartbeat resonating with a dark, tempting power.

"You're lying," Ye Xiu accused, voice shaking.

Ling Shuang laughed softly, chillingly calm amidst chaos. "Am I? Look at your sword—do you not feel its craving for blood? The blade you wield is the Pavilion's most dangerous relic, Calamity's Edge. It chooses its host, seduces them with power, and consumes them piece by piece."

Ye Xiu felt the truth of her words seeping into his bones. The sword throbbed gently, almost lovingly in his grasp, whispering silently in dark encouragement. Still, he steeled himself, meeting Ling Shuang's gaze defiantly.

"I won't surrender it to you," Ye Xiu declared bitterly. "And I won't let you harm her."

Ling Shuang sighed gently, disappointment feigned yet chillingly sincere. "Pity. You have your father's stubbornness, and unfortunately, his ignorance. But it matters little. We'll simply break you."

She flicked her hand, signaling sharply. Instantly, disciples surged forward, swords drawn, eyes blank with grim obedience.

Ye Xiu surged forward desperately, Calamity's Edge blazing with crimson energy. Each strike filled him with fierce exhilaration, mingled equally with dread as blood burned hot beneath his skin. With each fallen opponent, his strength swelled frighteningly, whispers in his mind growing louder, hungrier.

Yet, for every enemy defeated, two replaced them. Soon exhaustion seeped deep into his bones, vision blurring with sweat and blood. Ling Shuang observed dispassionately from afar, calm, cold, unwavering.

Ye Xiu fell to one knee, gasping for breath, sword quivering unsteadily. Suddenly, his mother's voice pierced the battlefield clearly, bravely: "Ye Xiu! The sword is your blood—your curse and your hope! Don't trust their words!"

Ling Shuang scowled sharply. "Silence her!"

The momentary distraction gave Ye Xiu strength. Rising with defiance, he unleashed the sword's pent-up energy in a desperate blast, scattering disciples like leaves in a violent storm. Yet as the dust settled, Ling Shuang remained unscathed, a shimmering barrier dissipating softly around her.

"You have spirit," she remarked coldly, "but not enough strength."

She raised her blade, a violet glow coalescing into lethal force.

Then, without warning, a massive explosion erupted from the city's outskirts. Flames illuminated the horizon, and panicked communications crackled urgently through Pavilion disciples' communicators.

Ling Shuang paused, irritated yet cautious. Her eyes narrowed in calculation.

"It appears your little diversion succeeded," she conceded begrudgingly, glancing coldly at Ye Xiu. "Consider yourself fortunate tonight. But you cannot evade us forever."

With a fluid motion, she signaled retreat. Pavilion disciples vanished swiftly into the night, leaving Ye Xiu kneeling amidst ruin, clutching Calamity's Edge tightly, body trembling with rage and relief.

He staggered to his mother, gently lifting her weakened form. Her eyes fluttered open, expression both relieved and haunted.

"Mother," Ye Xiu whispered urgently, voice breaking, "What aren't you telling me?"

Her fingers brushed his face tenderly, tears shining weakly in her eyes. "Your father hid many truths, Ye Xiu. But the sword… is yours now. It's your only path to survive."

She paused, gathering strength. "The Pavilion seeks our blood. You must find your father's legacy…before they do."

"Legacy?" Ye Xiu questioned, desperation lacing his tone. "What legacy?"

"Beneath the Crimson Tower," she murmured faintly. "Find it… It's our last hope."

Exhausted, she fell unconscious again. Ye Xiu held her close, resolve hardening like tempered steel. Whatever truth awaited beneath that tower, he would uncover it—and finally end this nightmare.

Two days later, Ye Xiu stood alone at the edge of the ruined Crimson Tower, once a proud symbol of humanity's technological prowess, now a shattered, forsaken relic. Its broken spires loomed darkly, whispering of forgotten terrors beneath.

Securing his mother in Lin Hao's trusted care, Ye Xiu had come prepared. His sword pulsed softly, guiding him forward with unspoken certainty.

Descending carefully into shadowed depths, he moved quietly through twisting tunnels illuminated faintly by his sword's crimson glow. Each step echoed softly, anxiety and hope warring within.

Finally, a sealed chamber barred his path, covered in intricate, ancient symbols. As he approached, the sword hummed fiercely, resonating with the runes.

With a determined swing, Ye Xiu released a controlled burst of sword energy, shattering seals effortlessly. The doors swung open, revealing an astonishing sight:

Inside lay an ancient sanctuary, untouched by time. Walls carved with murals depicting battles of sword cultivators against monstrous horrors; at its heart rested a stone dais, atop which sat a slender, elegantly carved jade sword shimmering faintly with power.

Approaching reverently, Ye Xiu's breath caught. Beside the blade lay a final message, etched painstakingly into the stone:

"My son—if you read this, I have failed to protect you. The Sword Pavilion seeks to harness your bloodline, using the Calamity's Edge to breach the barriers between our worlds. Only by mastering the jade sword—my legacy—can you halt their ambitions and protect what you cherish most. Forgive me."

Ye Xiu's throat tightened painfully, emotion surging through him: grief, longing, and newfound determination intertwined.

As his fingers touched the jade sword's hilt, an immense wave of pure cultivation knowledge surged instantly into his consciousness—techniques surpassing any previously imagined, elegant yet devastatingly powerful.

He felt suddenly connected to a lineage stretching far into the past, tasked with guarding the mortal realm from invasion by immortal tyrants.

Yet even as he grasped this hope, he felt the dark stirrings of Calamity's Edge resisting violently, furious at the presence of another sword's influence.

Ye Xiu clenched his jaw, balancing carefully the precarious conflict within himself. He knew the choice ahead would be brutal and unavoidable: embrace the pure path of the jade sword, or yield to Calamity's seductive darkness. Both offered power, both demanded sacrifice.

Resolutely, Ye Xiu grasped both blades, their conflicting energies searing through him. He would not succumb—he would conquer both powers, whatever the cost.

The Crimson Tower rumbled softly around him, responding to his choice. Above, unseen eyes from the Pavilion noted the shift, preparing their counterattack.

Ye Xiu emerged, now certain of his mission: confront the Sword Pavilion directly, unlock his father's secrets, and end their reign of terror.

His war had begun.