Dream of a Sword

“It's so heavily guarded... even more orderly and disciplined than I imagined.” An Jing had noticed hints of this before, but looking at it now, even a secret mountain training ground for some hidden sect could not account for defenses on this scale. This was clearly designed to withstand the assault of an entire army. Suspended Fate Manor was vast, laid out in the shape of three connected characters: *tian*—*shen*—*tian*. At the center of the middle section stood the Medicine Pavilion; the living quarters of the trainees took up less than a fourth of it. The two flanking sections lay halfway up the mountain slopes on either side of the manor, planted with numerous medicinal herbs. During training, An Jing had seen people tilling the fields there. Behind the manor lay the back mountain, home to a deep pool fed by a waterfall—one of the manor's water sources. Further back was a vast canyon. An Jing knew from Instructor Li and the others that it was called Suspended Fate Valley, from which Suspended Fate Manor took its name. It was said to be extraordinarily deep, though he had never seen it with his own eyes. An Jing moved noiselessly through the dark. Though the Instructors were all in the Inner Breath realm, their martial arts skills were not particularly outstanding. Through subtle inquiries over the past days, An Jing had learned that every single one of these Instructors had been a “failure” from past trials. As for what counted as failure, it most likely depended on whether one ultimately awakened a Destiny Pattern. Still, even without a Destiny Pattern, they had managed to cultivate to Inner Breath Like Tide. At the level of a county seat, that was formidable enough. *There might still be a few Instructors on patrol. I need to be careful.* An Jing was never overconfident. Circulating the Abyss-Facing Qi-Nourishing Stance, which he had already brought to perfection, he drew his aura inward until it was virtually undetectable. Moreover, his muscles pulled taut, maintaining a precise equilibrium with a tight, restrained force that held all the power in his body coiled and ready. Small wonder An Jing had guessed Suspended Fate Manor was a training ground for assassins and Deathsworn; this mental method was indeed tailored perfectly for stealth and infiltration. Not only that, but following the nourishment of qi with an explosive strike of Armor-Penetrating True Jin produced a terrifying burst of instantaneous power—a genuine method of staking everything on a single lethal blow. This combination of martial skill and cultivation method was of a very high order, far beyond anything an ordinary city martial arts school could teach. In An Jing's estimation, this life-staking explosive technique was potent enough to serve as the prized heirloom art of well-known martial halls. *If they can teach martial arts like this, they shouldn't be so short-sighted... They spent so much money buying children and training them in martial arts; no matter how you look at it, they wouldn't just slaughter them on a whim...* *And those Instructors, Riders, and servants—everything hints that they were trainees eliminated in the past... Those without a Destiny Pattern are eventually weeded out. The strange beast meat and medicinal decoctions were probably meant to stimulate a Destiny Pattern, or cultivate a person to the brink of awakening one?* *A Destiny Pattern... Can a Destiny Pattern really be artificially induced through external means? Something feels off...* He murmured to himself in thought. In truth, even now, An Jing was reluctant to suspect Suspended Fate Manor. After all, in these chaotic times, Suspended Fate Manor had saved many lives. He might not have needed their salvation, but the other children truly had been given a chance to survive because of the manor. Moving swiftly, An Jing surveyed several of the restricted areas from above, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Most of the pavilions stored medicinal herbs or ancient records and illustrated volumes. Some were empty rooms; people might have lived there once, but not a soul had set foot in them for at least seven or eight years. Of course, the fact that no one had visited them in seven or eight years was an anomaly in itself. Why were those rooms empty? Could Suspended Fate Manor have held far more trainees at some point in the past? *Seven or eight years ago... ten years ago... Wait, that period?* An Jing's pupils contracted slightly. *The Vast Sea Demonic Calamity?* *Of course! If it was during the Vast Sea Demonic Calamity, it would have been much like the Northern Frontier's Frost Calamity today—a massive number of Children of Calamity would have emerged. And the horrors of the Vast Sea Demonic Calamity far surpassed a mere cold disaster of snow and freezing temperatures. Suspended Fate Manor could surely have found far more Children of Calamity willing to sell themselves!* Once he understood that, An Jing found there was even less out of place. If there was any anomaly at all, it was simply that he couldn't find Zhang Ying. *Could he really have been sent down the mountain?* An Jing felt puzzled. If Zhang Ying hadn't been following him as his younger brother from their second day in the manor, An Jing wouldn't have bothered trying to find him. Yet now, he had searched the entire main manor without uncovering the slightest trace. Sighing softly in his heart, An Jing decided to head back. “Forget it. Better get back to sleep early. Training starts again tomorrow.” Yet just as An Jing turned to leave, he caught the faint trace of a strange sound. It sounded like the piercing cry of some bird, or perhaps a human scream. It lasted only an instant before vanishing into silence. “What was that?” An Jing spun around immediately, looking toward the source of the noise. It had come from the Medicine Pavilion. “What kind of sound was that...?” Curiosity piqued, An Jing crept toward the Medicine Pavilion. Right then, a bizarre voice rang out. 【Halt...】 The voice was clear and unfamiliar. It sounded female, bright and limpid, like the song of a bird or the murmur of a flowing spring. Yet... it also carried a sharper, more unyielding timbre. Like... the resonant hum of a vibrating sword! The voice spoke in a solemn, warning tone: 【Halt your steps.】 *Who is that?!* An Jing stopped dead in his tracks. Halting his advance toward the Medicine Pavilion, he glanced around in shock, but saw nothing. Stars and moon glittered; moonlight draped like gauze. Beneath the veil of night, everything remained dead silent. No one had been startled awake, and no lingering sound remained. It seemed entirely like an illusion, an auditory hallucination. Yet the command to halt still echoed in An Jing's mind. Like an echo rolling across layered mountain ranges, it remained crystal clear, its clarity unfazed by the reverberation, only gradually fading away. That admonishing telepathic voice instantly soothed An Jing's restless agitation. A sense of tranquility and clarity rippled outward, like a single drop of icy rain falling from the heavens into a lake of the mind, purifying everything as it struck and restoring the rippling waters to the stillness of a mirror. *Someone is helping me?* Calming down and drawing several deep breaths, An Jing stared at the Medicine Pavilion before him and realized his rashness. The Medicine Pavilion was different from the rest of the manor; it was brightly lit day and night. Hanging lanterns and numerous oil lamps illuminated its interior and exterior until it glowed like twilight. Under such circumstances, he would have been spotted the moment he drew close. *...I can't go near. But who was that voice? Why warn me to stop?* *Why give me this warning?* *And what are the superiors of Suspended Fate Manor actually doing? What are they plotting?* Slowly exhaling, An Jing suppressed the restlessness and lingering fear in his heart. Lost in thought, he turned and left. The current situation was clearly not suited for further reconnaissance. Having recognized his recklessness, he understood that he needed far more preparation. In the end, he returned to the dormitory and lay back down in bed. Amidst the silence and darkness, harboring his questions, An Jing drifted back to sleep. In his dream, he dreamt of hunger. He dreamt of beasts, of fangs whetted sharp, of grinding teeth and roars. He dreamt of dripping raw flesh, bones, and a beating heart. They were enduring. They were waiting. *It is not time yet,* they whispered. *Not now,* An Jing muttered in his dream. At the very end, An Jing dreamt of a cold light. He dreamt of a sword.