"Brother, what do you make of that kid's spear technique?... Hahaha, the Heartland has no lack of talent!" Dru…
"Brother, what do you make of that kid's spear technique?... Hahaha, the Heartland has no lack of talent!"
Drunk on a rooftop, Yi Dao slurred at the gray urn beside him. He had carried his brother's ashes with him since the man's death.
With that, he leaped down and stood before a jianghu warrior practicing martial arts.
"Hey! I'm sick of watching you drill with that spear. Let's fight. Beat me, and you live."
...
To hone his skills, he had come to the Central Plain alone, observing duels between warriors and secretly dissecting their techniques, memorizing and puzzling out ways to counter them. Once he mastered a sect's martial arts, Yi Dao would seek out its practitioners, picking fights regardless of the risk of injury or death.
Years passed, his skin crisscrossed with countless scars from blades and swords. At last, his martial arts reached perfection. Now, he lacked only one thing: a weapon that could match him in battle. A blade that would follow him through life and death, capable of murder and pillage, unbreakable after a hundred battles, as obedient as his arm.
Finally, using Tianchi meteoric iron, he sprinkled his brother's ashes into the furnace and forged the weapon he had long awaited: the Killerblade.
"We'll carve through the bloodshed together, brother."
The first drop of blood on the Killerblade was Yi Dao's own. With it, he honored his parents, his brother, and this world of endless slaughter.
The second drop, he vowed, would come from Bai Yuntian—to avenge his brother.