Chapter 9 · free to read
By daylight the sect looked less like a wonder and more like a wound. Ten thousand disciples had felt their own swords betray them in the night. None of them would forget it.
The truth was a mortal boy holding ten thousand drowned swords. Feng spoke a lie instead — and staked three hundred years of credibility on it.
The lie came for Wei in daylight, wearing the calmest face on the mountain.
He could not lie without the army singing. So he did the only thing left — he told a shape of the truth.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.