The Lost Sword

In the emptiness of space, the dragon sighed, closing his eyes. He was the 13th of 7000 brothers and sisters, dragons like him, born from Chaos and war. He was the only one remaining. So much time had passed, but he didn't forget that last battle when he lost everything. He didn't forget that it was his fault.

"I'm so tired...I've lived for far too long. I just want to rest...brothers, sisters I'm coming".

An enormous corpse, covered in marvellous scales as black as the void, was the only thing that remained of the once feared creature who threatened the annihilation of the Three Realms.

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On the battlefield, there were only corpses, dying flames, and men.

Suddenly the clatter of a horse's hooves echoed in the silence. A young soldier advanced while he was looking around with a horrified expression. The two mountains and the near forest, that existed for who knows how many millions of years, were nowhere to be seen, in their place only rubble and a charred ground.

It was like the enemy army didn't fight against only one man, but against a natural disaster that swept them like weeds. He made the horse stop at a giant rock; leaning against it there was an old man wearing a green armour with silver decorations. Everyone knew who that armour belonged to and which clan those colours represented: Fang Xiu the head of the Fang clan, an outlaw, a killer, a mercenary, a thief, someone despised in the whole continent, and, unfortunately, the only hope the Empire had to win this war. He, surprisingly, opened his eyes and spoke "Boy, I did everything I was told...now, is the Emperor's turn to uphold his part of the deal" he said as he coughed out blood, "a marriage, my son and his daughter, he promised. Take my sword and this flask of wine, they're my gift to them. I can go in peace now...I've got a full and long life, I have no regrets."

The young soldier watched this madman, who had injuries all over his old body, missing both his legs, almost crossing the gates of Hell, and asked with a trembling voice "Did you fight them alone? All one million?! How...you are monster...They were all Immortals from the Court!"

"Hehe...Fuck them all! Fuck the Immortals! Fuck the Heavens and Fuck the Jade Emperor! They are nothing in front of I, the great Fang Xiu! Do not trust the legends boy, write your own, for no one is truly almighty and eternal HAHAHAHAAHAHA-" said the elder, his cackling laugh even louder than the thunders of the furious Heavens. He died like this, still laughing, the shine of an unbroken warrior in his eyes, which finally faded, leaving just a mocking expression on his face.

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A big crowd had gathered in front of the Execution Grounds this time, even the Emperor of the Celestial Court himself was present. The one who was going to be executed wasn't just a nobody: he was Bai, the number one assassin, the traitor who murdered His Majesty's son!

At this moment everyone fell silent. Slowly came a young looking man in a grey robe, escorted by two guards. His cultivation had already been crushed but, despite being now only a mortal, his aura was still as strong as ever, dominating the place, making everyone feel the coldness of death like they were being watched by an entity made of pure hate and the blood of his countless victims.

His hair was dark red and his eyes were light brown, he wasn't very tall and he was smiling kindly at the men and women who had come to witness his fall.

"Bai, today you will be executed for the crime of high treason and for killing Tang Song a member of the Celestial Royal Family, my son! This has been proved beyond doubt, nonetheless, you pleaded innocent. This is your last chance to confess your crimes and face King Yama's judgement with a lighter conscience." said The Jade Emperor with a dark face.

"I committed numerous crimes and sins during my life, I admit it. But I didn't kill your son, nor I ever betrayed you. I have a clear conscience and I accept my fate, albeit wronged and insulted by friends and companions. Still, if I have to die, I prefer doing it myself then suffering at the trembling hands of this executioner." said Bai disdainful and calm, seemingly indifferent, as if even his own death was beneath him. After he finished speaking, with an abnormal speed he took the sword from the executioner's hands, and he drove it into his heart with one powerful thrust.

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The cold winds, coming from the tears in the fabric of space-time, were howling and crushing against him, threatening to fling him off the peak. The middle-aged man didn't even budge from his spot, and with a firm hand, he kept pouring himself a cup of wine.

He knew he was about to die, the only reason he was still alive was that his cultivation was protecting him. Ankai looked down at the stars, which seemed sunk deep into a black sea. It was a little strange to admire the Three Realms from above, but it was indeed satisfying enough for him to gamble his life for this moment. A gamble that he had lost. His flame became weaker and weaker. He thought about his life, about his work, and smirked proudly: who could claim to have seen more than him? Who had travelled more than him? Was someone even worthy enough to be spoken in the same sentence as him, when talking about poets or explorers? Some people used to say that his pen was even more dangerous than his blade!

Ankai finished his wine and took his sword. He stood up and reached the highest point of the Ancient Mountain. With his last whiff of power, he planted himself in the rock. Soon his dead body was covered in ice, becoming a statue. If someone will ever manage to come here again, he shall know that he was not the first! This was his last shout to the world, the arrogance of a man who had gone where no other man had ever been.

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Emperor Qing Zheng was lying in bed surrounded by family, friends and important officials. His illness was getting worse day by day and no cure could be found.

"Everyone...please get out." whispered the Emperor.

They cried and tried to convince him to let them stay, but to no avail. The Emperor wanted to be alone in his final moments. They said their goodbyes and gloomily exited the chambers. Qing Zheng was about to die and the only thing he was feeling was disappointment. In his life, he had only one goal: to unify the worlds in the Mortal Realm under his rule and stand on the same level as King Yama and the Jade Emperor. The Human Emperor sighed deeply and thought about his unfinished work.

He was so close to fulfilling his dream, but he fell ill and had to withdraw his troops to reorganize the Empire, making preparations for his demise, knowing well that he likely wouldn't survive.

He splurted a mouthful of blood. Death was approaching swiftly, indifferent to his unwillingness.

He exhaled his last breath and left this life, with a mortified expression on his face.

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The war lasted for years but this was the final battle: Phoenix City was the most important strategic point right now, who won the city won the conflict. Conquering it after the Cloud King's death, meant having the resources of one of the top sects of the 6th Heaven, the Flowing Cloud Sect. The two enemy armies were one in front of the other but they weren't fighting. They were cheering.

Between them, there was a big space, like an arena, and in the middle two people duelling. They were General Wen Rong and General Kong Ming. Two legendary characters of the military and cultivation world. Instead of wasting the lives of the common soldiery, they decided to solve this with a single combat duel.

"Old Wen! You've become more skilled!" Kong Ming's lofty figure appeared as his shout resounded. He appeared right in front of Wen Rong, and a golden sword flashed towards his throat without any warning.

The sword hadn't touched his throat yet. However, Wen Rong had already started to feel cold shivers down his spine because of the sharp aura that enveloped him.

He was shocked by this. This heaven-conquering slash left him the taste of death in his mouth.

Wen Rong didn't waver at this critical juncture. His body moved quickly, and he changed direction at a lightning-fast speed. A long string of after-images snaked his trail as he soared into the air.

Kong Ming seemed quite pleased. His opponent was indeed worthy of his reputation!

General Wen's snorted coldly. A severely hot wind arose from his blade as he rushed towards Kong Ming.

Wen Rong's state of mind had returned calm after the initial shock. 'Kong Ming is a heaven-shaking talent, but he's still too young. I will behead this arrogant brat, Then, I will take this city for myself!'

Kong Ming's moves were wonderful. He was flying in the sky at a very fast speed. He would move in all directions before disappearing and attacking. However, Wen Rong stood calmly avoiding every hit and countering artfully. His breathing was steady, and his expression was nonchalant. Suddenly he seemed like a ghost, ethereal and so swift that nobody could see him anymore. In the blink of an eye, he was standing on the ground again. His sword was dripping blood, but a deep cut could be seen on his shoulder.

Kong Ming wasn't in good shape either: a bad gash in his abdomen was copiously bleeding.

The sky above them was a mess. The battle left rips in which nothing could be seen.

The two generals knew that the battle ended in a draw...but a draw wasn't possible this time.

"It seems like it would be up to luck...our fight will end with the next move." said Kong Ming.

"Aye! It wasn't a bad fight Young General."

The both of them looked at each other and adjusted the grip on their weapons.

The ground shook and cracked when they kicked the ground to gain speed. Gales of wind spread all around. The keen of the swords froze the blood of the soldiers, who were watching holding their breaths.

A few seconds later blood rained from the two swordsmen.

Kong Ming was almost headless, horribly injured all over his body and disfigured, his left arm cleanly cut. However, he was miraculously still alive.

Wen Rong was clutching his chest. A golden sword was still stuck in it, nearly piercing through his heart. He clutched his chest, trying to extract the sword, managing only to cut two of his fingers. Wen Rong vomited blood and looked at it confused. His blood was as black as ink. He started laughing until he chocked.

"Poison, I didn't expect him to use poison...damned brat, I underestimated him...fucking bastard...*coff*!" he muttered to himself.

With these last words, the mighty General departed this world, in the mid of the chaos of war.

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"So, you're telling me that you conned the US government into buying your inexistent weapons for 50 billion USD...and that it was just an accident?" asked the FBI agent looking at the Chinese man in front of him dead in the eyes.

"No, no, no! Not an accident, but a misunderstanding. You see, I wanted to set the price at 50 million USD. It was Florin's fault, who was Romanian and didn't speak English very well." answered him the man, smiling. It didn't seem like he cared very much about the American's questions. He couldn't be blamed: they were on a flying plane directed in Belize, a country without extradition, and they both knew the agent didn't have enough ability to stop him from escaping.

The criminal was Shi Chen, a former Literature professor at Beijing's Peking University who quit the academic life and became one of the best con artists in the world.

The aeroplane was flying through a storm and Shi Chen was feeling a bit tired, so he decided to ignore the detective babbling beside him and get some sleep instead.

When he woke up he didn't know how much time had passed.

He didn't even know where he was.

The place was desolate and barren. Now and then there was a piercing, petrifying, eldritch screech. The leaden grey sky gave him an ominous and oppressing feeling, like divine judgement was going to fall upon him soon.

He kept walking worried up the hill hoping to see something, to understand the situation. What happened? Did the plane crash? Where was he and...was he still alive?

He stopped his train of thought immediately.

In the distance, he could finally see something, a bonfire.

Around it stood six figures – what looked like a giant creature and five human beings.

He still couldn't make out the details, but suddenly in his heart burned an inexplicable feeling: he was feeling at home.