Chen Xin continued deeper into the Ridge, where silence ruled and the mist clung to his skin
like memory. The path twisted and narrowed, lined with rusted weapons driven into the
earth—relics of fallen warriors who had once walked this very path.
Each blade hummed faintly with lingering intent, some sorrowful, some proud. He paused
beside one—a long, slender saber cracked down its center.
"Another who could not endure," he murmured.
The Trial Realm preserved not just swords, but the final echoes of those who wielded them.
As Chen Xin moved forward, the mist thinned, revealing a lone stone platform. At its center
stood a sword — still intact, pristine, and untouched by time. Its hilt shimmered with a faint
golden glow, and the air around it buzzed like a plucked string.
He approached cautiously.
Words were carved into the platform's edge:
"Only those who walk alone may draw me."
It wasn't a trap, he could sense that. It was a test.
Chen Xin placed both hands on the hilt and closed his eyes.
He didn't try to command the sword. He listened — to his heart, to the silence, to the pain he
carried and the clarity it had given him.The blade shifted.
With a slow breath, he pulled — and the sword slid free, smooth as water.
Its name surfaced in his mind like a long-forgotten memory:
"Gu Jian — The Solitary Blade."
Chen Xin smiled faintly. He now wielded two blades — Merciless and Solitary.
And the ridge before him began to tremble.
The next trial had sensed his progress.