Threads of Eternity

The clang of steel against steel echoed through the moonlit courtyard of the Azure Sky Sect.

Sweat stung Lin Xuan's eyes as he struggled to keep his trembling hands steady. His wooden practice sword felt like lead, each swing more desperate than the last. Across from him, Zhao Jing, a senior disciple with a smug grin, twirled his blade effortlessly.

"Pathetic, Lin Xuan." Zhao Jing's voice dripped with disdain. "You'll never be more than a lowly outer disciple. Give up now and save yourself the embarrassment."

Lin Xuan clenched his jaw. His breath came in ragged gasps. His body screamed for rest, but he couldn't afford to give up. Not today.

He lunged forward, his strike wild and unbalanced.

Thud!

Zhao Jing sidestepped with ease and struck Lin Xuan in the side with the flat of his sword. The impact sent Lin Xuan sprawling onto the cold, hard ground. A chorus of laughter erupted from the gathered disciples. Humiliation burned hotter than the pain in his ribs.

"Enough!" The sharp voice of Elder Yu, the training master, cut through the laughter. "Zhao Jing, return to your duties. Lin Xuan, clean the courtyard and reflect on your incompetence."

Zhao Jing snorted, tossing his practice sword aside. "Try not to trip over your own feet while sweeping, Lin Xuan."

Lin Xuan's fingers dug into the dirt as he pushed himself up. He refused to meet anyone's gaze. He felt their eyes on him, each glance a dagger to his pride. He had been in the Azure Sky Sect for three years, and he was no closer to advancing than the day he arrived.

As the courtyard emptied, silence pressed down on him. He picked up a broom, each sweep of the courtyard a bitter reminder of his failure.

Hours later, under a blanket of stars, Lin Xuan finally set the broom aside. He leaned against the ancient Sky-Reaching Oak at the edge of the courtyard. The gnarled branches stretched toward the heavens, as if mocking his inability to rise. The wind whispered through the leaves, a faint, mournful sound.

He looked up at the sky, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why am I so useless?"

The world didn't answer.

His fingers grazed the scar on his palm — a scar left by the vow he made when he first joined the sect. A vow to rise above his humble beginnings, to protect those he loved, to become someone who mattered. But the gap between his ambition and reality seemed insurmountable.

Maybe they're right... Maybe I'll always be a failure.

A glint of light caught his eye.

At the base of the oak tree, half-buried in the earth, something shimmered. He crouched down, brushing away the dirt. A small, metallic object revealed itself — a silver spindle, intricate and delicate, etched with strange symbols that glowed faintly in the moonlight.

His brow furrowed. "What is this?"

The moment his fingers closed around the spindle—

Zzzzt!

A jolt of energy surged through his body. His vision blurred. The world around him twisted and folded in on itself. His heart thundered in his chest.

A voice, cold and mechanical, resonated in his mind.

"Eternal Loom System activating... Welcome, Host."

Lin Xuan gasped. Images flooded his mind — endless threads stretching out before him, each one shimmering with possibility. He saw versions of himself succeeding, failing, fighting, and dying.

Futures... These are all possible futures!

The voice continued.

"Threads of Fate detected. Analyze or Weave?"

His mind spun. Fear clawed at him, but beneath it, a spark of hope ignited. This was no ordinary discovery. This was a chance — a chance to change everything.

He swallowed hard, his voice shaking. "Analyze."

The threads shifted, and glimpses of futures unraveled before his eyes. He saw Zhao Jing, days from now, planning an ambush. He saw Elder Yu, discovering a hidden treasure in the mountains. He saw himself — triumphant, defeated, dead.

The possibilities were endless.

A slow smile spread across his face, determination hardening his features.

Maybe... I'm not so useless after all.