Xuan Fan clutched the jade slip tightly in his hand as he hurried back down the mountain path. The night wind was cool, but his palms were slick with sweat. Every few steps, he glanced back, half-expecting the jade slip to vanish like a dream—or worse, for someone to appear and demand it from him.
Back in the blacksmith shop, he lit a small oil lamp and sat cross-legged on the wooden bed. The faint yellow light illuminated the jade slip's cracked surface. The runes seemed to shift subtly when he stared at them too long, as if alive.
He took a deep breath and pressed his thumb against the center of the slip again.
Buzz—
A surge of divine sense flooded his mind once more, clearer this time, like a voice speaking directly into his soul:
"The Star Holy Sword was forged in ancient times by the union of knightly oath and celestial origin. It once guarded the continent against the abyss, but it shattered during the great cataclysm. Now, the spiritual veins weaken, the holy light fades, and shadows creep from the depths."
"Only one who bears both the oath of the knight and the true essence of the East can reforge it. You, mortal of humble birth, carry the dormant star origin within your body. Accept the call, or perish in ignorance."
Visions flashed before Xuan Fan's eyes: a magnificent sword suspended in a starry void, its blade broken into fragments scattered across realms. One piece glowed faintly in his own chest—yes, that was the source of the heat flow he had felt for years.
The vision shifted to a collapsing kingdom: black flames devouring castle walls, fallen knights, civilians fleeing in terror. A dark figure stood atop a cursed fortress, laughing as shadows swallowed the stars.
Then the vision ended.
Xuan Fan gasped, collapsing backward onto the bed. His heart pounded wildly. "Reforge the sword… guard the continent? Me?"
He laughed bitterly at himself. "I can't even afford proper armor, and now I'm supposed to save the world?"
But the heat flow in his body refused to let him dismiss it. It surged stronger now, almost painfully, as if urging him to act.
He sat up again and examined the jade slip more carefully. At the bottom, new words had appeared:
"The first fragment lies within the Forbidden Abyss Star Realm. Open the gate with this talisman. Prove your resolve, or the origin will devour you from within."
A small jade talisman materialized from the slip, floating into Xuan Fan's palm. It was warm, etched with intertwined knightly runes and Eastern symbols—a perfect fusion.
He stared at it for a long time.
Outside, the stars seemed brighter, almost watchful.
The next morning, Xuan Fan rose before dawn as usual. He stoked the forge, hammered out another set of armor plates, and helped the old blacksmith load them onto a cart for delivery.
But his mind was elsewhere.
During a brief break, he slipped behind the shop and tried to circulate the heat flow according to the vague instructions from the jade slip. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and focused on the energy in his dantian.
Slowly—very slowly—the heat began to move in a small cycle through his meridians. It was clumsy and painful, like forcing water through a blocked pipe, but it worked. A faint glow appeared around his fingertips.
Xuan Fan opened his eyes in shock. "This… this is cultivation?"
He had heard stories from traveling merchants: far to the east, there were immortal cultivators who flew on swords and lived for centuries. In the west, knights drew power from oaths and holy light. But no one had ever combined the two.
Until now, apparently.
That afternoon, while the old blacksmith napped, Xuan Fan quietly slipped away to test the talisman.
He found a quiet spot in the woods behind Rong City. Holding the talisman, he whispered the words that had appeared in his mind:
"Gate of the realm, open for the chosen."
The air in front of him rippled like water. A shimmering portal appeared—about the size of a door—framed by faint starlight and golden holy flames.
Xuan Fan's heart raced. He could feel the portal pulling at him, promising power, danger, and answers.
But he hesitated.
What if this was a trap? What if he stepped through and never came back? The old blacksmith would be left alone. Rong City would lose its only young blacksmith apprentice.
He thought of the vision again—the burning kingdom, the laughing shadow.
And the sword. That broken, magnificent sword waiting to be whole.
Xuan Fan took a deep breath.
"I don't know if I'm chosen," he muttered to himself. "But I know I'm tired of being nothing."
He stepped forward.
The portal swallowed him whole.
In an instant, the world flipped.
When his vision cleared, Xuan Fan found himself standing on a floating island. Below him stretched an endless abyss, dotted with more islands—some crowned with gothic knightly castles, others with Eastern-style immortal pavilions. Star rivers flowed between them like waterfalls of light.
The air was thick with spiritual energy. His body felt lighter, the heat flow surging joyfully.
But danger came quickly.
From the shadows of a nearby ruined tower, three black-armored figures emerged—fallen dark knights, their armor corroded, eyes glowing red.
"Another intruder," one hissed. "The master will reward us for his soul."
They drew corrupted swords and charged.
Xuan Fan had no weapon—only the jade slip in his hand and the nascent power in his body.
Panic rose, but so did instinct.
He circulated the energy as he had practiced. The heat flow exploded outward, forming a faint barrier of starlight around him.
Clang!
The first knight's sword struck the barrier and rebounded.
Xuan Fan didn't think—he punched forward. His fist, wrapped in weak starlight, slammed into the knight's chest plate.
Crack!
The armor shattered. The knight flew backward, crashing into the ruins.
The other two hesitated.
Xuan Fan stared at his own fist in disbelief.
"I… just did that?"
But there was no time to marvel.
The remaining knights roared and attacked together.
Xuan Fan dodged clumsily, relying on raw reflexes honed from years of hammering iron. He grabbed a broken sword from the ground—ordinary steel, but when he infused it with the star origin energy, the blade glowed faintly.
He swung.
The sword cut through one knight's guard and sliced deep into his shoulder.
The knight screamed and dissolved into black smoke.
The last one fled into the shadows.
Xuan Fan stood panting, the broken sword trembling in his grip.
He looked up at the endless starry sky above the abyss.
This was only the beginning.
Somewhere in this realm, the first fragment of the Star Holy Sword waited.
And with it, the true path of a knight who cultivated the stars.
(End of Chapter 2)