Midday had settled over the vast Southern Continent. Spring winds swept across the towering mountain peaks, carrying with them the scent of new life. Sunlight shimmered over the jagged ridges like molten gold, and high above, countless birds pierced through soft layers of clouds as they journeyed toward distant horizons.
Four rivers—each with its own distinct color and elemental aura—flowed through the continent like veins of living energy. These rivers divided the Southern Continent into five great regions, marking the boundaries between the Five Great Clans and their powerful sects.
Among these legendary clans stood the Tianjian Clan, its lands blessed by the serene flow of the Azure-Blue River. This river, like all others, eventually carried its waters beyond the Southern limits to merge into the Eastern Continent.
The Tianjian Clan was widely regarded as one of the most formidable lineages in the entire Southern Continent. Their name was synonymous with supremacy in the way of the sword. The very foundation of their clan was laid by the Greatest Swordmaster Immortal, a figure whose legend carved the first path of sword cultivation across the land.
From that immortal legacy, the clan's sword arts rose like an unbroken mountain range—towering, sharp, and eternal.
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In Azure sword hall of tianjian clan
The soft midday light fell across the blue stone of the Azure Sword Hall, bathing the sacred place in a serene glow. The ancient sword engravings carved into the high dome shimmered faintly, as if the sword intent sealed within them had awakened for the first time in centuries. A subtle vibration lingered in the air, growing stronger with every breath the young disciples took, making their hearts beat just a little faster.
At the grand entrance stood the five great families of the Tianjian Clan—Tian, Fang, Que, Lin, and Yan—each carrying their own legacy and presence.
The Tian family radiated a calm but profound sword aura that seemed to steady the entire hall.
From the Fang family came a fierce, tiger-like pressure that commanded attention.
The Que family watched in complete silence, their eyes sharp and calculating, as if they were analyzing an invisible battlefield.
The Lin family stood gracefully, their presence as soft and flowing as a peaceful river.
And the Yan family—heat lightly rippled around them, as if even the air bowed before the fiery sword energy coiled beneath their skin.
Behind these great families stood the many smaller families of the Tianjian Clan.
These were the clans that had supported the main lineage for generations—families who forged rare ores, cultivated spiritual herbs, crafted sword formations, and strengthened the clan in ways that were often unseen yet indispensable.
Though their names didn't shake the continent, their contributions were the foundation upon which the entire Tianjian Clan stood.
Today, the younger generation of all these families—great and small—had gathered on a single stage.
Every one of them had been sent here to awaken their sword dao, to reveal the potential sleeping within them, and to carve the first mark of their destiny.
Excitement, fear, ambition, and hope flickered together in their eyes.
Some tightened their grip around their sword sheaths, while others struggled to calm their racing hearts.
In the center of the hall, the large circular platform began to glow. The ancient sword-runes engraved beneath its surface pulsed like a dormant beast stirring after a long sleep.
A thin beam of blue light descended from the peak of the dome and settled gently onto the platform, illuminating the gathering with an ethereal aura.
The moment everyone had dreamed of for years…
had finally come.
The Awakening Ceremony had officially begun.
The moment the Awakening Ceremony began, the circular formation at the center of the hall trembled. The runes carved beneath the floor flared with sudden brilliance, and then—like something tearing its way through time and memory—a sword materialized in the very heart of the formation.
It wasn't an ordinary sword.
Its hilt was elegant and ancient, but just beneath it, where the blade emerged, the metal curved into the shape of a demonic mouth, its fangs sculpted in a deep, glowing crimson. The blade itself shimmered like a fusion of crystal rainbow light and diamond-white radiance, bright enough to blind the hall for a few heartbeats.
A wave of overwhelming sword intent erupted from it—sharp, vast, and indescribably ancient.
It was the sword intent of the very Immortal who had founded the Tianjian Clan.
The blade wasn't physical.
It was made entirely of spiritual energy—yet its presence felt heavier than a mountain range.
A terrifying pressure—one that felt like it could slice the soul itself—washed across the hall.
The young disciples stumbled back in shock.
Some gasped for air, some clutched their chests, and others fell to their knees as the sword's aura separated them from the platform, pushing them away as if refusing unworthy hands.
The entire hall vibrated, and for a moment, time itself seemed to freeze under the Immortal's lingering will.
Just then, an elder stepped forward
An elder stepped out from the front row, the echo of his footsteps steady even as the hall trembled. He wore a light black robe that flowed around him like a calm shadow. His long white beard brushed against his chest, and his equally white hair fell freely over his shoulders, giving him an appearance both ancient and dignified.
This was no ordinary elder.
He was one of the most experienced figures in the Tianjian Clan—
the man responsible for overseeing every important event, every ceremony, and every secret matter within the clan.
Nothing happened in the Tianjian Clan without his knowledge.his name was
"Elder Chu Baishan ".
The moment he appeared, the crushing sword intent seemed to acknowledge him.
The pressure eased just slightly, enough for the trembling youths to breathe again.
His eyes—sharp as a sword that had seen a thousand battles—narrowed as he gazed at the spiritual sword floating in the formation. For a brief moment, an emotion flickered in his gaze… awe, fear, and deep respect all at once.
He raised one hand, pressing his palm gently toward the air.
Instantly, the chaotic spiritual energy calmed like a storm forced into stillness.
Slowly, he spoke, his voice steady, old, and filled with authority:
The elder Baishan 's voice, calm yet commanding, spread across the hall like a steady wave pushing back the lingering pressure.
"Everyone, calm down," he said slowly, his tone carrying the weight of experience. "The Awakening Ceremony has now officially begun. I will call your names one by one. When your name is announced, you will step into the formation. Do not panic."
He paused, letting the silence sink into the trembling hearts of the youths.
Then he continued, his voice deeper, firmer—
"You may now proceed toward the center of the formation. Put your entire will, your absolute focus into the awakening. This is your one chance… the chance to become a true Sword Master."
A soft echo rolled through the hall as his words settled in.
"And remember," he added, eyes sharp as blades,
"the position where you stand… will determine your future rank and your elemental attribute. Where you stop is where your fate will be set."
The disciples swallowed hard.
Some clenched their fists, determination burning in their eyes.
Others trembled, struggling to steady their breath.
The spiritual sword floating above the runic platform hummed quietly, as if waiting—judging—preparing to test the worth of every soul present.
The elder took a step forward, lifting a scroll in his hand.
His voice rang out clearly—
"First name…"