Prologue
It was daytime, yet blackness had devoured all the light in the firmament, blanketing the sky in black fog. As if there was its prey on the ground, the black fog cascaded down to the ancient city walls that moss crawled on. Nobody had any explanation for why the black fog seemingly descended upon mankind, but their legs and mouths went into overdrive as if failing to escape in time would cost them their lives. Luo Ming, however, didn’t have a personal hurricane.
Luo Sword Manor’s patriarch, a swordsman lauded for his gifts with the sword, always remained in control of his emotions. As much as he wanted to get up and continue fighting, his injuries denied him. Siming Sword had snapped in his proud left hand. His true qi armour had been dismantled. The blood spilling out of his multiple wounds took with them his ability to move. Worse injuries had beset him before, but…
Prior to marching, Luo Ming gathered his sons and elite generals – the total force numbering over a thousand – to march on an enemy according to plans he dedicated months to drawing up. The plan was for him to use his supreme weapons to behead him. Alas, they were resoundingly defeated, losing almost all the brothers of Yi Clan they had spent together in the last few months. The vexation of being hurt so bad that he couldn’t continue to fight crushed his pride, confidence and extinguished the fire he had pre-war.
Black plumes of smoke emerged from the fog shrouding the sky, bringing with them the sound of movement and his rancid smell, almost knocking out the forces he encircled. Sound traces of his footsteps disappeared once his nightmarish smell closed off the paths on the street. Luo Ming knew about his hobby of hiding and frightening his prey once they were within reach.
Subsequent to a long period of stillness, a giant, turbid, yellow eyeball appeared between two buildings, killing hundreds of innocents with its putrid stench and through frightening them – literally. In reality, the flashing the eye of a violent, primordial beast was just a form of mockery.
Luo Ming’s determination was nowhere near as strong as his hands around his sword hilt. Born as a prodigy, he never found any reason to fear death. The thought of dying from a crushing defeat, nonetheless, shattered him mentally.
If only there was a sword that could break his sword.
Luo Ming was convinced their defeat was a consequence of lacking a sword that could break his opponent’s sword, not a question of skill. Either way, he had enough already; he was done trying. What he never accounted for when he closed his eyes was that his surrender would become the decision he regretted most.
Unless they were being sarcastic, nobody would ever claim Luo Clan had a shortage of talent. Luo Yan and Luo Ming’s three eldest sons weren’t the only ones called the future; fourteen year old Luo Siming singlehandedly raided a bandit den in Shanxi successfully.
Luo Ming’s second eldest son, Sinian, and third eldest son, Siju, two brothers close since birth due to them being close in age, charged forward. Even though one learnt Scorching Sun Spirit Scripture and the other Freezing Scripture, they were still in training. While they weren’t strong enough to even rustle his feathers, they did manage to incur his wrath. Watching him blow them to smithereens in his first strike while helplessly being splattered in his sons’ blood, Luo Ming almost dented his sword hilt.
“Father, run!” Luo Ming’s eldest son cried as he offered to buy his father time.
Luo Sijian, Luo Ming’s most beloved son, the only one to learn both Scorching Sun Spirit Scripture as well as Freezing Scripture, was called Luo Ming’s spitting image for he resembled his father in every way imaginable. A fact that not many knew about was that he also never took a day off from training or working on forging swords just as his father did as a young man. That was the reason Luo Ming didn’t want Luo Sijian’s blood, sweat and tears to go to waste.
Whenever Luo Sijian was exhausted, Luo Ming would cook up a bowl of dumpling soup to share with his son and then continue or move on to working in the smithing workshop. When Luo Sijian became the youngest swordsman in Luo Sword Manor’s history to grasp Repository Swordplay, the two celebrated with a drinking session.
For all those reasons, Luo Ming never imagined this outcome. Even in the face of an insurmountable foe, Luo Sijian got into position just as the first time he was taught. Whilst waiting for the finishing blow that he had no answer for, Luo Sijian looked over his shoulder to smile to his father.
“Dad, please avenge me.” That was the first and last time Luo Sijian would refer to Luo Ming as “dad”.
Luo Ming’s eyes greeted the early sun after reliving the nightmare again.
The peace of this world still sickens me.
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