The Sword Beneath Dust
The late morning sun filtered through a thin veil of fog that drifted lazily over Azure Cloud City.
The streets pulsed with life — merchants shouting prices, cultivators arguing over herbs, and the smell of roasted spirit meat curling through the air.
Lin Xian walked quietly through the crowd, white hair glinting like silver silk in the light.
On his shoulder perched a small golden kitten, tail flicking like a little banner of pride.
"Mew!" Xiao Jin chirped, chest puffed up as if announcing his master's grand arrival.
Lin Xian sighed. "You've gotten far too comfortable among mortals."
The kitten tilted its head, gave a smug little "mew," and flicked his ear with its tail.
He chuckled softly — rare warmth in his voice.
> "And far too confident for someone who still drools in his sleep."
---
I — A Sword Too Weak
At his waist hung a cracked, rusted blade.
Its edge was dull, its handle wrapped in torn cloth — a weapon fit for a beggar, not the man who had once been the Monarch Assassin of Nirvana.
During cultivation the night before, the sword had almost snapped under his qi.
He remembered the sound — a strained whine, like metal begging for mercy.
> "My strength grows, but my blade stays broken," he muttered. "A hunter with blunt fangs is just prey waiting to die."
Xiao Jin pawed the sword, giving an unimpressed squeak.
Lin Xian smirked. "Even you think it's useless, huh? Fine. Let's find something worthy."
---
II — The Old Armory
The eastern district of Azure Cloud City was quieter, narrow alleys carrying the scent of dust and oil.
He stopped before a worn sign:
Ye's Armory — Old Weapons, Older Regrets.
The bell above the door gave a weak chime as he entered.
Inside, the place looked more like a graveyard than a shop — piles of old blades and armor stacked like the bones of fallen warriors.
Behind the counter sat a wiry old man with messy hair and a pipe hanging from his lips.
He squinted at the golden kitten on Lin Xian's shoulder.
> "No beasts allowed. Last one that came in peed on my best furnace."
Xiao Jin froze, then glared at him with the offended dignity of a tiny emperor.
Lin Xian's mouth twitched. "He's well-behaved. Most of the time."
"Mew!" Xiao Jin yowled, tail lashing — 'All the time!'
The old man snorted. "Hmph. If it bites, I'm selling it to the tavern."
---
III — The Sword Beneath Dust
Lin Xian ignored him and wandered deeper into the shop.
Something stirred inside him — that quiet assassin's instinct that had saved him more times than he could count.
His Golden Eye shimmered faintly, Insight awakening.
The world slowed — even the dust in the air seemed to pause.
Then he saw it.
A plain, black-sheathed sword half-buried under broken scabbards.
Worthless at first glance, yet beneath the grime he felt it — a faint pulse, steady and alive.
He brushed away the dust and drew it halfway.
The light didn't reflect — it vanished, devoured by the blade.
A low hum filled the room.
> "Ah, that thing," the shopkeeper grumbled. "Been sitting there twenty years. They say it's cursed — drains qi till you drop dead. I'll let it go for five thousand gold, but no one's been stupid enough to try."
Lin Xian's gaze sharpened. "A sword that absorbs qi… or one that rejects the unworthy?"
He could feel it — the faint echo of resonance, like a heartbeat answering his own.
The old man squinted. "You've got that look. Fine, two thousand gold. Take it or leave it."
Lin Xian reached into his sleeve — and pulled out a few dull silver coins. Xiao Jin looked at him, then at the sword, then back at him like a disappointed accountant.
He sighed. "...Seems fate has a sense of humor."
---
IV — The Broke Assassin
> "You broke?" the old man asked, amused.
"Temporarily underfunded," Lin Xian replied with a straight face.
The old man burst out laughing. "Underfunded, huh? You sound like every scholar who comes in here trying to pay with philosophy."
Xiao Jin jumped onto the counter, pawing toward the sword with clear determination.
The old man pointed. "He's got better sense than you do."
Lin Xian lifted the kitten. "He also eats spirit bugs and chews my robe. I wouldn't call that sense."
"Mew!" Xiao Jin swatted his chin in protest.
Lin Xian smiled slightly, then looked back at the sword. The air around it rippled faintly, as if the weapon exhaled.
> "Patience," he murmured. "We'll meet again."
---
V — The Path Forward
Outside, sunlight poured down the streets, turning everything gold.
In the distance, a jade-and-brass tower rose toward the sky — the Azure Cloud Pill Academy.
> "If I can't buy what I need…" Lin Xian said quietly, "I'll refine the means myself."
He thought of Grandmaster Yan Zhen — the mad alchemist of his past life. The man who refined poisons that could kill gods, and medicines that could revive them.
It was Yan Zhen who had left him the Heart of Silent Flame Codex — a legacy that could rebuild his path from ashes.
> "Old man Yan," he muttered, almost smiling, "looks like your lessons are still paying off."
Xiao Jin gave a dramatic mew, patting his stomach as if starved.
Lin Xian sighed. "You just ate."
"Mew." Hungry again.
He gave a helpless smile. "Fine. Food first, furnaces later. Priorities, right?"
The kitten purred proudly — and for a brief moment, the morning felt lighter.
---
VI — The Sword's Whisper
Back inside the dusty shop, the old man puffed his pipe and glanced at the corner where the black sword rested.
The sheath quivered faintly — a pulse of darkness spreading along its length. The lantern flame flickered once, then steadied.
> "Heh," the old man muttered. "Twenty years asleep, and now you wake up… because of him?"
He looked toward the door where Lin Xian had gone.
A dark smile crept across his face.