The wind howled like grieving wolves across Ice-Fire Island. On the northern shore, eternal snow drifted in lazy spirals, blanketing black volcanic rock in deceptive softness. On the southern cliffs, rivers of molten lava crawled like living veins, casting an angry red glow that painted the low clouds crimson. Between these two extremes stretched a narrow strip of obsidian sand—neither fully frozen nor scorched—where the island's only inhabitants clung to life.
Ten-year-old Lin Wuji sat cross-legged on that black shore, palms resting upward on his knees, eyes closed in fierce concentration. He wore only thin linen robes despite the biting cold; sweat beaded on his forehead anyway, not from heat, but from the war raging inside his body.
*Breathe in. Draw the qi of heaven and earth. Let it flow through the meridians.*
Nothing answered.
Instead, a familiar chill spread from his dantian like frost creeping over glass. His small frame shuddered. Blue-black veins pulsed faintly beneath pale skin—the mark of the Nine Yin Meridians Poison that had entered his mother's womb during the battle that claimed her life the day he was born. The same poison that now blocked his pathways, turning every cultivation attempt into agony.
"Again," came the rough command from behind him.
Xie Yuan stood like a weathered statue carved from rage and grief. His long golden mane whipped in the wind, barely restrained by a frayed cord. Scars crisscrossed his bare arms and chest, old sword wounds that had healed crookedly. At his waist hung a long bundle wrapped in oilcloth and chained iron—the Dragon Slaying Saber, whose very presence seemed to drink in the light.
"Feel the flame in your dantian, boy. Burn the ice. Force it."
Lin Wuji clenched his teeth and tried once more. He visualized a tiny ember at his lower abdomen, willing it to grow. For a heartbeat, warmth flickered—then the cold surged back twice as vicious. Pain lanced through every meridian like frozen blades twisting. He doubled over, coughing violently. Black blood flecked the sand.
Xie Yuan dropped to one knee beside him, one massive hand steadying the child's shoulder. The gentleness in that gesture looked almost foreign on such a brutal man.
"Forgive me, little one," he muttered. "This damn saber… it has already taken too much."
From the high cliff overlooking the shore, another figure watched in silence. Zhang Cuishan—once the most promising disciple of Wudang's third generation—stood motionless, white robes fluttering. His face was gaunt, eyes hollow with years of guilt. Beside him lay a simple stone cairn covered in iridescent phoenix feathers that never decayed: the grave of Yin Susu, his wife, Lin Wuji's mother.
She had died shielding her newborn son from the Xuanming Elders' palm strike. The same strike that cursed the child and shattered the family's fragile peace.
That night, as the twin moons rose—one silver, one blood-red—Lin Wuji sat beside the cairn, hugging his knees. Xie Yuan sharpened a small wooden practice sword nearby, the rasp of whetstone against wood the only sound besides the wind and distant lava rumble.
"Why won't it work, Godfather?" the boy whispered. "Everyone else can feel the qi. Even the island monkeys circulate it naturally."
Xie Yuan paused. "Because your body is a battlefield, Wuji. The Nine Yin Poison isn't just blocking your meridians—it's fighting to claim them. But listen: every poison has its antidote. Every curse has its breaker. Your parents believed that. That's why they hid here… and why they left you the chance to find it."
Lin Wuji looked up. "The saber?"
Xie Yuan's hand drifted to the wrapped hilt. "This blade slays dragons. It carries the blood curse of an ancient true dragon. One day it may help you shatter the ice in your veins… or it may consume you instead. That's the price of power in our world."
A low horn sounded from the sea—distant, but unmistakable.
Xie Yuan's head snapped toward the horizon. His bloodshot eyes narrowed.
"They're coming."
Lin Wuji scrambled to his feet. Far out on the dark water, torches flickered like malevolent stars. Sails bore the emblems of the Six Great Orthodox Sects: Shaolin's golden wheel, Wudang's taiji circle, Emei's twin swords crossed over a lotus, and others. Warships. Dozens of them.
"They've found us," Zhang Cuishan said quietly, stepping down from the cliff. His voice carried no fear, only weary acceptance. "After all these years."
Xie Yuan rose, unwrapping the chains from the Dragon Slaying Saber with deliberate slowness. The blade emerged—broad, heavy, black as midnight, etched with faint crimson veins that pulsed like living arteries.
"They want the saber," he growled. "They'll burn this island to ash to take it. And they'll kill anyone who stands in their way."
Lin Wuji clutched his small wooden sword—little more than a carved branch. His hands trembled, but his voice did not.
"Then teach me now. Teach me to fight."
Xie Yuan looked down at the boy, something almost like pride warring with sorrow in his scarred face.
"Some destinies cannot be fought, child. Only carried."
The first warship's prow broke through the mist. Arrows whistled. The night exploded into chaos.
By dawn the snow was stained red. The cairn of phoenix feathers smoldered. Zhang Cuishan and the last defenders lay still.
Xie Yuan, bleeding from a dozen wounds, knelt before Lin Wuji amid the wreckage.
"Run, boy. Take the northern pass through the ice caves. Find the mainland. Find the Nine Yang… or whatever legacy your blood calls you to. Live. And one day—"
He pressed the wrapped Dragon Slaying Saber into the child's shaking arms. It felt impossibly heavy, as though it already knew the weight of futures yet unwritten.
"—remember who you are."
Lin Wuji stumbled into the freezing tunnel, tears freezing on his cheeks, the saber's curse already whispering in his blood.
Behind him, the orthodox sects scoured the ruins.
Somewhere far across the sea, in the sealed vault of Emei Peak, the Heavenly Sword trembled faintly in its scabbard—as though it sensed its fated counterpart had begun its journey.
And the jianghu, vast and merciless, opened its arms to receive a new storm.
(End of Chapter 1)