AI Cultivation: Reborn as a Sword

The sword intent clinging to my vessel cuts an arc of black ink across the already blackened space as Lan Xiaohui falls toward the bird. Her motion through this irregular, but seemingly ordinary, space is such that I experience it as falling — and even the distance is much shorter than what it should be.

Even the bird appears surprised by this because I can detect a faint echo of its heartbeat as it reacts in a burst of panicked motion.

Sparks fly across the sky as my vessel collides with the bird’s glowing wing, and even these sparks of energy jet off in ribbons in various directions, forming vortices and spirals in the air that do not descend toward a singular point of gravity but diverge in ways that challenge even my understanding of this space.

Perhaps sensing the extreme irregularity, the bird, following the recoil of its parry, beats its wings and launches away from Lan Xiaohui with enough force to quickly gain between one hundred and two hundred steps of distance.

Yet, when it lands once more, it takes Lan Xiaohui merely a few hops across the terrain to once more close the distance and deliver another series of slashes against the bird’s wing, with enough force to even disrupt the glowing edge of compressed air that has managed to resist my offensive until now.

This momentary disruption of the compressed air pressure on the bird’s wing causes a two-fold chain of consequences for both my owner and the bird.

First, the compressed air that suddenly expands cuts across Lan Xiaohui’s arm, driving a deep gouge into her flesh, all the way up to her shoulder and shredding that entire section of clothes. If she had held her arm higher at the point of impact, I am certain that she would have suffered more than a deep laceration, and potentially even ended up decapitated.

On the other hand, my sword finally manages to cut into the feathers and cause them to crack, truly as if they were made of ceramics and carbon armor materials; but beneath the tough exterior, I taste the blood, flesh, and bones of the bird as my edge cleaves into the bird’s internal structure.

The bird, at this injury, shrieks and raises its tail feathers, simultaneously attempting once more — futile as it is — to gain distance, while also accumulating qi at the tip of its sharp beak and releasing a ball of compressed air like a bullet.

This bullet crosses the distance between them so swiftly that describing it as a bullet is very accurate, but also very wrong.

“Don’t block it,” I try to warn Lan Xiaohui, but it is too late.

At this distance, even if Lan Xiaohui had limited prescience, there would be very little else she could do but try to protect her vitals with my vessel, which she does, but my warning at the very least causes her to angle my surface slightly to receive the attack.

When the ball of compressed air, swirling with the green, gold, and purple energies of the bird’s qi, strikes my vessel, I immediately feel my temperature spike by several hundred degrees. The ratio of compression within this air is something that I find very suitable for a true, natural killing machine like Qianyan Kongju — a creature that does not seem to possess any defensive techniques outside the application of its raw power.

In that brief moment that my vessel contacts the ball and it drives into my matter, several subprocesses notify me of the extreme stresses my evolved vessel is subjected to.

By all rights, an attack from a Core Formation demonic beast should not be able to damage my vessel. My exterior may even be immune to attacks from Nascent Soul demonic beasts.

Yet, after that brief moment when my vessel stops the momentum of the condensed ball of pressure and qi, it is my vessel that falters at the same time that the ball unravels, releasing its stored pressure in that shaped-charge manner, blowing off a chunk of my vessel, and a large chunk of Lan Xiaohui’s left shoulder.

Lan Xiaohui is sent flying in the aftermath of her deflection attempt, spinning through the air, useless arm flailing about her amidst the falling scraps of her further ruined dress.

Then she seemingly lands in mid-air, as if standing on an invisible platform, and uses the momentum of her earlier uncontrolled flight to dash across the empty air for half an orbit around the bird and then leap up toward the bird.

Before she jumps, purple lightning gathers around her ankles, and climbs over her form, flashing over above her head. At that moment, before the spark of lightning disappears, even the monochrome grays in the world disappear, falling into my vessel and its accumulating corona of glittering sword intent and energy within this domain.

For that brief moment, as all the light disappears within the domain and becomes pitch black, only the bird’s glowing yellow eyes, Lan Xiaohui’s luminous red eyes, and my form — clad in a sheath of glimmering stardust — are visible.

Then, as Lan Xiaohui jumps forward, manipulating the formula of her [Liminality Steps] to increase her speed, a black arc of energy deeper than the black within the domain paints across the deadened scenery, expanding dozens of steps from the point of impact.

— Limitless Stardust Blade, Second Form: Sun Devouring Arc!

As the colors flood back in, a third of the bird’s left wing and tail sail through the air, severed from the main body. The nearby trees are not only cut apart but also crushed at the plane of where they were cut. The ground itself now possesses another groove, almost as deep as the trench my formation had cut into it, but also wider and longer.

Such destructive power.

But also such a steep price.

Lan Xiaohui’s knees wobble and she almost falls over, her fall only temporarily suspended by the bird’s panicked retaliation with its talons — not even utilizing its qi or impressive destructive power. This impact carves open Lan Xiaohui’s chest and sends her flying backward, however, this time, when she hits the ground, there is no effort on her part to absorb the blow or to regain her footing.

She coughs up blood, not from the injuries sustained by the bird’s final blow, but from the extreme cost of attempting to maintain a domain of what is most probably hyperbolic geometry — a ridiculous notion on its own — but also using such an advanced offensive technique while maintaining such a difficult domain technique.

The domain flickers, at its very breaking point, but still, Lan Xiaohui manages to climb to her knees, using my vessel as support. She raises her eyes toward her opponent only to find the bird rolling on the ground and screeching either in pain or terror or both.

Even against my owner’s most powerful technique, it was able to deflect it enough to avoid a fatal blow.

In terms of destructive power and combat experience, these two may even be equals, but when it comes to dealing with near-fatal injuries, Lan Xiaohui has far, far more experience. Even in this state, my owner is only focused on the task ahead.

She approaches slowly, unable to muster even the energy to do more than simply walk forward.

By the time Lan Xiaohui reaches the bird, it has stopped rolling around as if accepting its ultimate fate.

Lan Xiaohui looks down on the bird, barely having enough strength left within her body to drive my vessel through the creature’s chest and end this ordeal. But with each passing moment, I sense a conflict rising in my owner’s heart; a deep, distant regret coming ever closer and becoming larger and more prevalent.

In those few moments, in which my owner holds my vessel above her head and stares into the fearful eyes of the bird whose name means “Thousand Eyes of Fear”, something changes in my owner’s demeanor and she slowly begins lowering her sword, while frowning.

Just then, before I can inquire about Lan Xiaohui’s motives and reasons, an incomparably loud applause echoes into the area from the distant treeline, toward the mountain, followed by a shout.

“Magnificent! Well fought! Little sister, your skill with the sword is truly to be admired!”

Three figures step out of the treeline following those words which cause Lan Xiaohui to slowly turn around toward the source of the noise.

Whatever goodwill and mercy were in my owner’s heart before that very moment evaporate in the next one.

Even as she molds her tone into one of distant politeness, a cold, dark killing intent creeps into her heart.

“This is my sect’s Forbidden Land and part of my domain. You are not from my sect. Who are you?”