"If a thread can bind fate, then a blade can sever it."
The wind howled through the early morning hills.
Rael trudged along a half-flooded causeway, his cloak caked with dried marsh mud, the rusted saber slung across his back in a crude wrap of cloth and reed-fiber.
He hadn't spoken in hours.
But his mind burned with clarity.
[Martial Root: Unyielding Scythe – Active]
[Qi: 46 / 100]
[Breathing Technique: Crimson Thread – Basic Tier (15% Efficiency)]
[Objective: Seek Weapon Technique | Region: Qinghe Prefecture]
---
He crossed a moss-covered milestone:
"Qinghe City – 4 li (approx. 2km)"
Beyond the rise, the terrain changed. Trees gave way to fields of scarlet-thread flowers and irrigation trenches. Migrant workers bent under the sun, their carts stacked with raw silk, river-washed dyes, and spiritworm cocoons.
The city loomed ahead — tall gray walls, red banners fluttering from curved watchtowers, and narrow gates buzzing with life.
Rael entered as a nobody.
Yet something shifted the moment he passed beneath the arch.
[New Zone Entered: Qinghe – City of Threads]
[Ambient Qi Level: Moderate]
[Warning: Surveillance arrays active – Avoid system exposure]
[Current Equipment Grade: Below average]
[Reputation: None]
[Currency: 0]
---
Market District – Silkrow Quarter
Noise.
Smell.
Crowds.
Everything collided here — hawkers shouted over drums, women bargained over thread bolts and dried beast meat, cultivators in clan robes strode past like kings.
Rael moved like a ghost.
Unnoticed.
Observing.
Watching.
He stopped beside a stall selling talismans and paper-bound manuals.
The vendor, a skinny elder with clouded eyes, glanced at him.
"Looking for secrets, boy?"
"Looking for use," Rael replied.
The man smirked. "Most come seeking power. You ask for utility. You're not from here."
Rael said nothing.
The vendor tapped a locked case. "Most of these are garbage. Empty techniques. Dead names. But this—"
He lifted a worn scroll.
[Detected: Weapon Art – "Threadless Severance"]
[Grade: Human-Tier | One-strike Execution Style]
[Qi Demand: Medium | Mastery Rate: 3.4% predicted]
[Compatibility with Unyielding Scythe Root: 79%]
Rael leaned forward.
"How much?"
"Thirty spirit coins."
"I have none."
"Then it's not for you."
Rael turned to leave.
The old man narrowed his eyes. "Wait."
He reached under the counter and pulled out a second scroll — smaller, stained.
"Prove you're not just a street scavenger. Duel one of my guardians. If you last ten breaths, I'll give you this scroll."
"What's the catch?"
"It's a fragment. Half-finished. But the footwork is real."
Rael met his eyes.
"Fine."
---
Combat Circle – Merchant Guild Courtyard
A small crowd gathered.
The guardian stepped out — a tall woman with broad shoulders, wielding a wooden glaive. Her eyes gleamed with mocking disinterest.
Rael bowed slightly, rusty blade in hand.
[Duel Initiated – Nonlethal Terms]
[Opponent: Lin Guhua – Qi Stage 1 | Weapon: Twin Branch Glaive]
No more words.
She lunged.
Rael sidestepped. The wind from her blade tore into the dirt.
She spun — horizontally, then vertically — a disciplined fury of polished strikes. He evaded narrowly, footwork weaving like threads in a loom.
Two strikes grazed his ribs. One cracked his saber's guard.
But he didn't fall.
He didn't flinch.
On the ninth breath, Rael countered.
A low slash.
Not toward her weapon. Not toward her center.
But toward her footing.
She staggered.
Paused.
The merchant raised a hand.
"Enough."
[Duel Result: Survived | Damage: Moderate | Reaction Speed +3% (temporary adaptation)]
[Trait Available: Situational Improviser — (Pending Integration Cost)]
[Warning: Trait unstable – will degrade within 3 hours.]
Rael exhaled.
The crowd murmured.
The elder handed over the stained scroll. "You're rough. But not blind."
[Scroll Acquired: "Severing Steps" | Incomplete Weapon Art]
[Linked to: Crimson Thread Style]
[Footwork Integration: Partial]
[Effect: +6% Evasion | +12% Strike Redirection | Duration dependent on Qi control]
Rael tucked it away.
Then limped off.
No cheers.
No fanfare.
Just another shadow returning to the alleys.
---
That Night – Slums of Lower Thread Alley
Rael found shelter in a collapsed kiln house, warmed only by dying coals and the heat from his own cultivation. His ribs throbbed. His saber was nearly broken.
But his mind was sharper than ever.
He replayed every movement from the duel in his head.
Every breath.
Every angle.
[Qi: 58 / 100]
[Martial Root: Stable]
[Weapon Technique Integration: 22%]
[Mental State: Focused / Detached]
---
The city whispered.
Factions.
Hidden sects.
A martial tournament looming in the Lotus Courtyard.
All required an entrance fee.
Or a sponsor.
He had neither.
But he had something else.
Intent.
A scythe doesn't ask permission.
It simply reaps.