The pond twisted and swirled as Ming An Xian sank, pulling him deeper and deeper until he felt nothing but darkness and water closing in. Yu Long, who’d tried to save him, was dragged into the same relentless current, spinning them both toward the depths. They finally hit the bottom, only to be swept away by a fierce underground river.
For minutes, the two boys were carried through twisting tunnels until they were met with the roar of an unseen waterfall. Ming An Xian, unconscious, plunged into the abyss below, falling with the force of the water. But something strange happened to Yu Long. Just as he reached the edge, an invisible force threw him free from the river.
Across the water, a haunting structure stood against the night: an ancient pagoda, round and weathered, with a hollow pyramid top that looked as if it had been sliced clean off by a giant sword. Yu Long, as if guided by some strange hand, was hurled through the pagoda’s open roof, landing in the center of a raised platform. His body hit hard, facedown, above seven small, circular holes etched into the floor.
The pagoda was eerie, its walls lined with old runes that seemed to pulse faintly in the moonlight. Against one wall was the image of a blood-red cat, its eyes somehow seeming to follow every movement, though it remained still. Directly opposite, on a five-stepped platform, sat a large wooden throne flanked by carved cats. The throne was draped in dust and shadows, and in its seat was the skeleton of an animal—a massive cat, as ancient and intimidating as the pagoda itself.
With Yu Long’s weight pressing onto the platform, a mechanism stirred. Seven red crystals sprang from the holes, piercing his body. They lodged deep, drawing blood from his still form and spilling it across the runes on the floor, as if awakening the dormant magic within the temple walls.
Far below, the river carried Ming An Xian’s unconscious form deeper, his body becoming lifeless with every passing second. Yet, just as he was about to sink to the bottom, a strange light appeared from beneath the riverbed. A bubble, cradling a golden object no bigger than an egg, floated upward, moving as if it had a will of its own. It drifted toward Ming An Xian’s face, then passed through his lips, settling in his chest. His body glowed with a golden light, a shimmer that faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Back in the pagoda, Yu Long’s blood soaked the runes, igniting them in a blaze of red light that shot into the sky, staining the moon an ominous crimson. The runes, once faint, pulsed in full force, covering the walls in vivid, moving patterns. Then, with an eerie silence, the light receded, flowing back into Yu Long’s body. His form absorbed the power, healing the gaping wounds left by the crystals. His body lay still, yet somehow filled with a strange, pulsing energy, the only sign of his ordeal the holes torn through his clothes.
Moon Continent
Qin Liu Feng prepared himself for an inevitable fight. He took a finely crafted sword and covered its sharp edges with a layer of soft metal, disguising it as a mere child’s toy. Aware of spies among his own household, he knew someone must have seen Qin Yao with those swords earlier yet he prays that he was just overthinking things. He left his guards with instructions to protect their families and not to interfere unless he commanded.
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That night, the manor was quiet, almost too quiet, as Qin Liu Feng felt a presence drawing closer. The reality of his fears hit him as he hurried to his son Qin Yao’s room, rousing the sleepy boy.
“Shhh,” he whispered, guiding Qin Yao to the blacksmith shop through a hidden passage. His face was solemn, focused. Quickly, he wrapped the disguised sword in blue linen and pressed it into Qin Yao’s hands, along with a pouch.
“Listen closely, my son,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “This sword is not whole. Someday, you’ll understand what it lacks, and when you do, you must complete it.”
Qin Yao, half-asleep, could barely understand the urgency in his father’s voice, but he nodded.
“If things go wrong tonight,” Qin Liu Feng continued, his voice low and urgent, “take a boat and leave. Go far, and do not return.”
They both froze at the sound of footsteps outside the shop. With no time left, Qin Liu Feng lifted the lid of an empty barrel and eased Qin Yao inside, closing it gently. Through a small crack, Qin Yao watched his father straighten himself and step outside, leaving the door slightly ajar.
In the moonlight, Qin Yao could see his father’s face as he stood against the night, his silhouette confronting a group of masked men armed with sabers. A handful of loyal guards, outnumbered and exhausted, held their ground against the intruders. Qin Yao’s heart raced as he took in the scene, feeling the weight of helplessness and fear. His father faced the danger with quiet resolve, knowing this night might change everything.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” Qin Liu Feng asked, his voice steady. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inside, his heart raced.
“You know why we’re here. Hand over the sword, and we’ll leave,” replied the leader of the intruders, his voice cold.
Qin Liu Feng raised an eyebrow. “Whoever sent you should have simply asked. I might have given it willingly. Killing my guards was unnecessary.”
“Don’t play games with us, Qin Liu Feng. You think we’d believe you’d give up the sword without a fight? Your brother died over this. The Qin family isn’t weak—or are they?”
Qin Liu Feng’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he turned and stepped into his shop, returning moments later with a mold containing the sword. He held it out to the leader.
“This is what you came for.”
The leader opened the mold, revealing a beautiful, translucent blue blade inside—unfinished, but unmistakably the sword. He looked at Qin Liu Feng in surprise, hardly believing he’d surrendered it so easily.
“My brother had nothing to lose. But I do,” Qin Liu Feng said quietly, glancing around the compound. “All these people, their families… they depend on me. Why would I risk their lives over a sword?”
The leader gave a brief nod. “We have what we came for. Let’s go.”
As the assassins sheathed their blades and prepared to leave, a booming voice rang out.
“Halt!”
The compound was suddenly surrounded by soldiers. General Bong Su rode forward on a horse, his gaze fixed on Qin Liu Feng. The intruders exchanged tense glances, startled by the ambush.
“Qin Liu Feng,” General Bong Su declared, his voice thundering through the night, “conspiring with criminals to create a chaos blade—a weapon powerful enough to threaten the king’s reign. This is treason. Today, you will answer for your crimes.” He turned to his soldiers. “Arrest them all. If they resist, kill them where they stand, in the king’s name.”