Su TangHan

Su FengQiu

The laughter faded into quiet relief as the rest of the team gathered, breathless but still standing. For a moment, no one spoke. We just were—alive, exhausted, and together.

I looked down at my blade—silent now, its Dao symbols dim like sleeping stars.

Then suddenly, one symbol lit up.

Dao of Creation.

A ripple in the air. A pulse like a heartbeat.

And then he appeared.

Not a beast. Not a cultivator.

A man.

Mostly transparent, his form shimmered like heat waves. Long white hair fell past his shoulders, and his golden eyes looked like they could cut through time itself.

Everyone froze.

"The hell?!" HaoYu half-shouted, instinctively reaching for his blade.

Yanyun stiffened, eyes narrowing. "Who—?"

"Relax," I muttered, though my heart was sprinting. "I think I know who that is."

The man raised a hand, calm and almost bored. "Tut tut tut… laying on the ground like that doesn't suit your image, FengQiu. You looked way cooler mid-air."

That voice. It was the sword. The spirit.

"Oh, and before I forget—" He snapped his fingers. "I've formed a concealment array using the Dao of Creation. No one's sensing your Qi unless I want them to."

HaoYu blinked. "Wait—he's with you?!"

"Apparently," I replied, still watching the glowing figure. "Is that what you really look like?"

The man tilted his head, smirking. "Technically? I'm a sword. Right now, I'm using the image of your grandfather."

Everyone went silent.

Yanyun's eyes widened just slightly, her lips parting. "Your grandfather…? As in, the Su TangHan?"

I nodded, voice low. "He was the blade's last wielder."

The spirit grinned. "You wanted a name. Now you've got a name and a face. Feel honored."

Even HaoYu didn't have a snarky comeback.

Yanyun just muttered, "What kind of sword has a personality like that?"

The spirit raised a brow, golden eyes gleaming. "The kind that slayed a Demonic Master. And now serves the one meant to surpass him."

The illusion of my grandfather—the sword spirit—sat cross-legged on a patch of moss like it was a throne made just for him. No glowing aura. No pressure. And yet somehow… he owned the whole space.

The rest of the team didn't speak. They barely moved. Eyes locked, breaths held. That same weird tension hummed through the air—somewhere between reverence and straight-up what the hell is going on.

The spirit looked around at us like we were nothing more than curious puppies. "You kids look like you got questions."

"You think?" HaoYu blurted out before immediately clamming up when Yanyun gave him that look.

The sword spirit grinned. "I like that one," he said, gesturing at HaoYu. "Loud mouth, but honest. Good combo."

"You're using my grandfather's face," I said, narrowing my eyes a bit. "You better not go saying anything he wouldn't say."

He chuckled, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve. "Relax, kid. I've got all his memories. I am his blade. What's mine was his. What was his… well, most of it's yours now."

That line hit me in the chest like a hammer wrapped in silk. Deep. Heavy. But warm.

No one said anything for a beat. Only the crackle of Wen Tao's campfire and the faint forest noise filled the space.

Then Yanyun broke the silence. "What was he like? Su TangHan."

The spirit leaned back slightly, golden eyes losing focus like he was scrolling through some ancient mental archive.

"Hmm… Stubborn as a brick wall. Smart enough to win arguments with people three realms above him. Seven pounds of courage, three pounds of strength. Way too serious when he wasn't swinging me around like he was painting the sky with blood. Hated killing, but did what needed doing."

He paused. His voice dropped lower, quieter.

"You know why he fought in the Great War? Everyone said it was for peace. For justice. For balance. All those big, shiny words people love to slap into history books."

He looked at us—really looked. Like he was peeling us open without touching us.

"But the truth?" He smirked, bitter and knowing. "Bruh. In the end, it came down to the opposite."

I blinked. "…What?"

"They said it was to stop chaos," he said. "But to win… he became chaos. Peace didn't win that war. Power did."

Yanyun's expression darkened. "Then why fight at all?"

The spirit shrugged like it was obvious. "Because the world doesn't stop spinning just because you're tired of the fight. And sometimes… someone's gotta be the blade. Even when it cuts them too."

The fire cracked.

Silence.

Then HaoYu whispered, "Damn. That's… actually kinda metal."

The spirit chuckled. "Your friend gets it."

I let out a slow breath, fingers brushing the hilt of the sword that now held two legacies—his and mine.

"You know," the spirit said suddenly, "outside this world, there are many others. In one of them, there's a place called Earth. No Qi, no cultivation. They fought with things called guns and bombs and machines. They've had many, many wars."

He tilted his head. "One of the biggest? They called it 'The War to End All Wars.' Spoiler alert—it didn't."

"How do you know all this?" HaoYu asked, eyes narrowing. I was just as curious. Maybe more.

"Someone left before," the spirit replied.

"Who?" we all asked.

"God."

HaoYu snorted. "Bruh. Very funny."

"I'm not joking."

"Yeah, right. Of course God can leave, he created this entire universe. Makes total sense," HaoYu muttered, sarcasm thick.

The spirit opened his mouth to respond—but Yanyun cut in first.

"He means the 'God,' doesn't he?"

The sixteen lights pulsed in confirmation.

"Wait," Wen Tao said calmly, "you mean the God? The one the Orders say is a myth?"

"I can assure you," the spirit said, "he's very real. The Orders just suppress that truth. Too dangerous for the narrative, ya know?"

Silence.

The kind that wraps around your bones.

Then the spirit's gaze dimmed.

"I'm running low on Qi. When I disappear, the array goes with me. Be ready to move."

We nodded—no hesitation. No questions.

His eyes found mine one last time.

"Oh yeah, FengQiu?"

"Yeah?"

His golden gaze flared—just a little.

"…Never mind."

He sighed, then dissolved into thin streams of light, flowing back into the sword.

The array flickered—once, twice—then faded out completely.

Silence.

"What do you think he was going to say?" HaoYu asked, breaking the quiet.

I shook my head. "How am I supposed to know?"

"I mean… he's your sword. Don't they obey their owners?"

"Not this one, that's for sure."

And just like that, the silence returned.

Too quiet….

I pulled out my sword once again, my Qi reserve wasn't good but it wasn't bad either.

Yanyun and others did so too, something's up.

Then an arrow flew at Yanyun's back from a tree, and I immediately sliced it in half.

The arrow snapped in two midair, my blade humming with the effort. Sparks flared as the pieces hit the ground.

Yanyun spun around, her eyes narrowing. "That wasn't a beast."

"Yup," HaoYu muttered, drawing his weapon. "That was a 'hey, we want what you have' kind of shot."

"I got no money, but one thing for sure I want them dead." Liu Sheng growled

The forest groaned—branches shifting. Then came the footsteps. Dozens.

One by one, they stepped out from the trees.

Twenty-five. Maybe more.

Disciples. Same uniforms. Same crest. But their eyes were sharp, cold, and greedy. Weapons already drawn.

"You've got some nerve," Yanyun said, voice calm but lethal.

The one at the front—broad shoulders, crooked grin—raised a hand. "We've got some math. You're nine. We're twenty-five. The math says you give us your bags, and maybe we don't cave your skulls in."

"Tch. And here I thought we were done with the warm-up," Wen Tao muttered, cracking his neck.

I felt my grip tighten on the sword. My Qi reserve wasn't great, but I had enough to fight.

Barely.

I stepped forward, blade low but ready. "So this is what we're doing now? Ambushing our own?"

The guy laughed. "Survival Trial, bro. Fewer people, more loot. No rules say we can't thin the herd a bit early."

"Okay then, let's see who's robbing who…" Liu Sheng muttered darkly

Lei Yanyun didn't wait for the rest of his speech. She pointed her blade straight at his chest.

"You want our stuff?" she said. "Come and take it."

The forest exploded into movement.

The moment the first blade clashed, the forest became noise—metal ringing, Qi crackling, bodies moving too fast for the eye.

But I didn't hear it. Not really.

I stepped left as a sword arced for my side—too slow. My blade flicked up and deflected it like an afterthought, my body already twisting with momentum. My elbow slammed into the guy's ribs before he could react, and he folded with a choked grunt.

One down.

I didn't stop moving. Couldn't.

Two more came at me from different angles, trying to box me in—rookie mistake. I ducked low, then surged forward, sliding past their formation. My sword flashed once, twice. A shallow cut across one's thigh. A deeper one across the other's shoulder.

Neither would kill, but both would make them hesitate.

That was all I needed.

I could feel the rhythm now—the invisible tempo of battle. My body remembered every drill, every spar, every time I trained until I collapsed. The blade moved with me like it was born in my hand.

Clang.

I turned the next strike aside and moved in close, too close for a sword. The guy tried to backpedal—too late. I drove my fist into his gut and brought my knee up into his chin as he bent forward. He crumpled.

Behind me, someone yelled. I spun and raised my sword just in time to parry a desperate swing. Sparks danced at the impact, but I didn't retreat—I leaned in.

"You picked the wrong team to rob," I said, low.

His eyes widened, and then my pommel cracked into his temple.

Down.

My breath was fast now, my Qi lower than I liked. I felt the sword in my hand tug—not physically, but spiritually.

"Again?" the voice whispered in my mind. "Or do you want to do this the hard way?"

"Not now," I muttered.

"You sure? Because I could end this in—"

"Not now."

I could feel its pout through the handle. Damn thing really had a personality.

Two more enemies rushed me. One had twin daggers, fast hands, good footwork. The other was larger, slower, but covered in a layer of armor that shimmered with Qi.

I didn't back away—I stepped forward.

The dagger girl struck first, feinting high and spinning low. I jumped, twisting midair, and landed behind her. Before she could react, I reversed my grip and sliced across her back—not deep, but enough to put her down.

The armored guy roared and slammed his blade down, trying to split me in half.

Too slow.

I sidestepped, my blade sliding along the edge of his to redirect it. His momentum carried him forward, and I slashed at the back of his knee where the armor was thin. He grunted, stumbling.

"Sleep it off," I muttered, then kicked him hard enough to knock him out cold.

Five. I'd dropped five.

The rest were still fighting my team, but I was starting to draw eyes. I saw a couple of them hesitate when they looked at me. Good. Let them.

Let them know.

Let them remember.

I stood tall, bloodied but unbent, my blade dripping faintly with borrowed light.

And then I smiled.

"You wanted to rob us," I called out, voice ringing over the clashing of steel. "Now you get to pay for the attempt."

The chaos didn't stop. Blades clashed. Trees splintered. Screams echoed through the woods as the crew that once marched with us turned on us like wolves.

I was breathing hard. Not tired—buzzing. There's a difference. My muscles burned with tension, my heart hammering in rhythm with my footsteps, but my mind? Clear. Focused.

Then I felt it.

The shift.

Someone strong was coming.

Not one of the stragglers or those low-level opportunists from earlier. No—this was different. Their Qi approached like a boulder rolling downhill. Heavy. Ruthless.

He stepped into the clearing—broad shoulders, gauntleted arms, a hammer nearly the size of my torso resting on one shoulder. His eyes locked on me.

"You're the sword kid?" he asked, voice like gravel.

"I'm Su FengQiu," I replied, raising my blade. "Remember it."

He didn't laugh. Just charged.

I met him head-on. Steel clanged once—then again. He was stronger. Way stronger. His hammer swung with such force it shook my arms even when I blocked it perfectly. I was holding him back, but only barely.

As expected of someone who passes the third trial using pure strength, his skills are lacking but his strength makes up for it.

He pushed me into the dirt with a blow I couldn't fully deflect. My boots skidded back, carving lines into the soil.

Not enough.

Not fast enough.

Not strong enough.

The sword pulsed and I immediately knew what to do.

I activated the Dao of Strength.

Like the spark of a storm, igniting deep in my core.

The world expanded.

One second I was standing there, breathing hard. The next? My Qi erupted. Not just flowing through my meridians—flooding them. My skin tightened. My veins lit up with light. Every bone in my body felt like it had been reforged in lightning.

My cultivation—Body Tempering Stage 2—was no longer Stage 2.

I had jumped. No—launched.

Straight to peak

The hammer guy didn't see it coming.

He swung. Big mistake.

I caught it. Barehanded.

The impact would've shattered a average Body Tempering stage cultivator's arm. I just looked at him.

"My turn."

I stepped in and punched him.

Just once.

His body lifted off the ground like a ragdoll, crashing through a tree before skidding across the forest floor. Unconscious. Probably dreaming of his ancestors.

I looked down at my hand—my fist. It still trembled with power.

One of the others—a sword user, clearly smarter than his buddy—hesitated.

Too late.

I vanished from view. Speed and strength blending. Before his brain caught up, I was behind him, the hilt of my sword slamming into the back of his neck.

Lights out.

"Body Tempering Peak," I murmured. "Feels great."

The others saw it. They felt it. My Qi flared around me like a firestorm, wild and untamed but somehow controlled.

The air buzzed.

I stood there, golden eyes reflecting the Dao that now burned in his blood.

And the attackers?

Yeah—they started backing up.

"Leave now," I said, voice calm but echoing like thunder. "Or leave broken."

No one spoke. No one hesitated.

They just ran.

The Dao faded slowly, the strength draining away like a tide pulling back into the ocean. My knees buckled slightly. I caught myself. Still upright. Still burning.

My cultivation start decreasing—Body Tempering Stage 10– Stage 9– Stage 8

All the way back to Body Tempering Stage 2

"Can't use that again, it has no side effects but there's a cooldown." Sixteen Light's voice ring in my head.

"How long?" I ask, mentally.

"A week."

"Well…. Honestly that's not bad."

"Say that again when you need it."

Behind me, Yanyun let out a low whistle.

"Remind me not to piss you off."

I sheathed my sword, chest still rising and falling. My arms trembled from the aftershock, but I forced the tension down.

"Well," I said, shooting her a tired grin, "if you ever tried, it seems you've failed."

She blinked—then laughed softly.

"Lucky you," she muttered. "Because if I was… I'd probably be halfway through a tree right now."

"Now's your chance, make your move on her."

Sixteen Light's voice echoed in my head, smug and unhelpful.

I nearly choked on my own breath. Again.

"What—shut up," I snapped back. "We just got ambushed."

"Exactly. Emotions are high, hearts are open. Prime confession timing—"

"No. We're in the middle of a survival trial."

"You say that like romance has rules."

I sighed. Out loud, unfortunately.

Yanyun shot me a look out of the corner of her eye. "Sword giving you grief again?"

I blinked. "Something like that."

She snorted but let it go, for now.

"You gotta trust me, man! I've read every romance novel in this world."

Sixteen Light sounded way too confident for a glowing consciousness that lives in a sword.

"How many have you read?" I asked, already regretting it.

"Um… a lot."

"That's not a number."

"Okay fine, twelve—but they were long, alright? One of them had, like, two weddings!"

I resisted the urge to facepalm so hard my soul would eject from my body.

"You're telling me to confess based on a dozen trashy romance scrolls?"

"One of them was a classic! Petals Beneath the Moonlight. There were metaphors, man."

"You don't even have eyes!"

"I have taste."

I groaned under my breath.

Yanyun raised an eyebrow, glancing at my sword, then back at me.

"Still fighting those internal struggles?"

I straightened up fast, trying to act like I hadn't just argued over fictional wedding counts.

"Nah. Just… something dumb."

She smirked knowingly.

"Thought so. I think I've got an idea of what's going on."

"Oof. She knows," Sixteen Light whispered dramatically. "Soulmate energy. I'm just saying."

"Of course she knows. You're being so obvious." I mentally slapped my forehead.

"I say it's fate."

"I say you need to stop reading love stories. That's my advice."

"Pfft. You just don't appreciate the slow burn. This is a classic setup—battle bond, near-death experience, subtle emotional tension. I give it three chapters before she's thinking about holding your hand."

"Please shut up."

"You want me to shut up or you want her to hold your hand? Gotta pick one, bro."

I sighed, and this time it came out like a dying spirit escaping my chest.

Yanyun narrowed her eyes. "You sure you're okay? You look like you're arguing with a ghost."

I gave her a weak smile. "More like… getting mental advice from someone very, very unqualified."

"RUDE."