Rivers of the Night

The unknown cultivator had never been so furious in his life. He had left his things here for someone worthy to come across them, but what he didn't expect was to come across someone who was so ungrateful.

Even if Theron wasn't going to show his corpse any sort of respect, he should at least have had the decency not to kick his skeleton across the room and snatch his things without a thought. Just as bad was the fact that he threw his broken sword by the wayside of what was effectively the unknown cultivator's grave, as though it was a garbage dump.

Who wouldn't be infuriated by such a thing?

Yet, instead of showing remorse, Theron actually acted like it was just a matter of course. He didn't even hesitate to tell the man to piss off.

As though all of that wasn't bad enough, Theron was a mere Silver Mancer and yet he managed to dodge and deal with the latent intent left by his Blade Law as though it was nothing at all.

It was clear that Theron was a great genius—the sort he would have wanted to leave his legacy behind to.

And yet the sheer ungratefulness made the man's soul dissipate with endless resentment and fury.

"You won't have a good ending."

These were the words the man left behind as his soul finally dissipated, unable to hold on any longer with his Core having been taken away.

Theron had already forgotten about the man when he entered the tunnel, his entire focus on dodging and parrying the blade aura coming at him continuously. They seemed to stack and borrow power from the world around them, increasing their output and strength as he moved forward.

His pupils darted around, the darkness of the tunnel trying and failing to hide the swamp of oncoming blades from him.

He moved like a lethal killing mission, and every blade seemed to become a new enemy.

Some came from the bottom and curled up. Others curved down as though ready to cleave him and the earth. Some chopped at his bladder and others at his kidneys.

The tsunami of blades was constant and only seemed to grow faster, but as Theron moved, his Water Resonance subtly being pulled on and strengthened, he didn't take even a single scratch against his skin… not after the first time.

Sharp, lethal, and fluid, he imagined one enemy after another.

'Predictable. Predictable. Predictable.'

BANG.

Theron's dagger sliced across a final wall, splitting it into countless shards and shattering it to pieces.

It blasted outward with Theron as the center, the latter's hair dancing in the violent winds.

The dagger in Theron's hand howled as though it had acknowledged something, and suddenly its heft almost vanished entirely.

Theron's steps became lighter and his eyes flashed. Was the blade only so heavy because it hadn't accepted him?

He felt a nick against his palm, and blood poured out. The blade greedily swallowed it whole and suddenly Theron could see through the fog.

It was a beautiful blade, polished well. Hexagonal holes dotted its dull edge, while its blade edge was half-serrated and half-smooth and sharp.

It was precisely eight inches long, and it seemed to hum along with Theron's heartbeat, its roaring filling Theron's mind.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Theron's gaze turned red for a short while, and the blade began to heat up—not due to its own abilities, but instead due to the heated path within Theron's body.

And then it suddenly became frighteningly chilly.

Theron regained control of his emotions so easily, and the blade only seemed to become more excited as a result.

Chi.

Theron sheathed the blade, and the howling in his mind vanished.

It seemed that only he could see the true length of the blade. Though he couldn't extend and shorten it like he could with his short sword, this would be useful nonetheless.

Theron looked up and saw an altar. The world hummed and a recorded voice echoed.

Ironically enough, it was a voice that Theron recognized because he had only just heard it.

"Welcome, my inheritor. You can simply refer to me as Howling Shadow Blade. When I was young, I found the path of Blade Law and used it to hone my Dark Mancy. By the end of my life, my blade stood uncontested. A single blade, a single strike, for a single life.

"However, what my enemies never knew was that I was untalented, only able to touch onto a faint edge of the great opportunity I was given as a youth. Today, I've set up a challenge far more difficult than any I faced in hopes of finding someone that can accomplish what I haven't.

"Since you have made it so far, I trust that you will be the one. But I am not unkind. It is unfair that you have gone through much more than I did, so I've left behind a reward.

"If you made it through the tertiary entrance, you can gain a fruit that will increase your lifespan by a multiple of ten. This is a rare Centennial Blooming Lotus.

"If you can do this, you are about equal to my talent back then, and I have a soft spot for my former weakness, so I give you the gift of time. Use this time and make another attempt when you are more confident.

"If you made it through the secondary entrance, you are superior to me in every way. You may have the Centennial Blooming Lotus if it is still here, and you can also have the one cultivation method I managed to unearth from this inheritance. It is known as the Entangling Blood Vein Pupils. This is a rare Body Resonance Method that will morph and change your eyes, allowing you to accomplish what I have in my life.

"If, though, you have made it through the primary entrance, you will gain my everything. My Howling Shadow Blade, my spatial ring and all of my wealth, my Blood Vein Pupils, and my Core…

"The culmination of all of my cultivation up to the Treading Cloud Realm."

Theron's eyes slowly narrowed.

He looked up and saw that there were two altars here, one of which was empty.

The Centennial Blooming Lotus wasn't here.