Jun Wuwei had never once known regret in his life. Wrong was wrong, right was right.
He was born into a distinguished family and took as his master a great cultivator of the ruthless Dao. On the day his master achieved consummation of the Dao and ascended to the heavens, he spoke three sentences to him.
“You and I are no longer bound as master and disciple. Do not seek me again.”
“All things are cause and effect.”
“You are a manifestation of the Sword Dao. In this life, there is one sword you have yet to wield.”
Jun Wuwei remembered those three sentences, and personally severed the bond between himself and his master without the slightest reluctance.
The world was mired in delusion, unable to see through the snares of emotion, yet to him such things were exceedingly simple.
He cultivated day and night upon Liuyun Peak, comprehending the Dao and giving rise to the Twelve Heavenly Sword Forms. What others found arduous and obscure in the way of the sword was to him no more than a manual waiting to be opened. One sword gave rise to ten thousand methods, one strike shattered all things.
Thus, he became the youngest Supreme Elder of Tianyi Sect at the age of fifteen. Ten years after his master’s ascension, he returned by his own strength to stand once more where he had begun.
That year, he broke through into the Spiritual Domain Realm and, at the invitation of Wendao Palace, travelled to the South Sea to attend the Qionghua Assembly.
Held once every hundred years, the Qionghua Assembly gathered the finest talents from every sect.
Young sword cultivators from the eastern and southern continents emerged from seclusion, travelling from famed mountains and rivers. At the height of the gathering, clustered immortal clouds rose so thickly they obscured the sea itself.
The elders droned on at length. Finding it tedious, Jun Wuwei went to the shore to fish. Just as his interest deepened, a quarrel broke out nearby. The disturbance rippled across the water, and the fish that ought to have been caught flicked its tail and vanished, leaving his hook empty.
“Xue Xiaoya! You are merely a girl, how can you be so… so… I find you coarse and insufferable, like an old ox ploughing the village fields, like a great tiger gnashing its teeth in the mountains!”
A sharp-featured youth stamped his feet in anger, while a delicately carved girl, like a beauty from a painting, descended from the sky in pursuit, coaxing gently, “Wuyue-gege was only teasing. Xiaoya, do not be angry. Give up the sword and come practise Rouling silk arts with me instead.”
A derisive laugh cut in from the side, followed by a blazing sword strike.
A young woman, bare-armed, her hair braided with reed flowers, strode out carrying a broad sword. Without a word, she waded straight into the fray.
Her face was bright with spirit, her eyes gleaming. Cold, disdainful, brimming with pride.
The youth took several blows before flinging up a hand to block, conjuring a sword as he snapped, “You unreasonable, ugly girl. Do not force me. Do you think I cannot defeat you?”
Her temper flared. She slammed her sword to the ground with a heavy thud and glared at him. “Who are you calling ugly?”
“If you cannot win, what use is all your bluster?”
“Then show your skill in the Dao, if you have any.”
The two fought fiercely. The girl who had tried to mediate spoke fair words while secretly tripping her up. Gradually, the girl fell behind and was struck down by a single blow.
The youth sneered, teeth clenched. “If diligence alone were enough, what need would there be for talent?”
“Forget it. People like you barely live a hundred years. Why should I waste my time on you?”
With a cold flick of his sword, he snapped her broad blade in two and swept his sleeve as he departed, leaving her sitting in the shallows, frowning in thought.
She clenched her fists, muttering to herself, gesturing as she replayed the fight, slapping the water in frustration. “No, just now I should have done this, then that…”
She gathered the broken sword and mended it, then swung it a few times. Her gloom lifted almost at once. Scooping up seawater, she washed her hands and face.
The water lay clear as glass, reflecting blue sky and white clouds, her flushed cheeks, and behind her, a white-robed youth in a bamboo hat, his features like a painting.
“Watch the sword!”
Jun Wuwei had barely leaned out from behind the reef when water splashed across him. He narrowly avoided it and lifted his head, meeting a pair of hostile black eyes.
“Who are you?” The voice was cold.
Jun Wuwei cupped his hands politely, unwilling to engage further. “A passer-by. Forgive the disturbance, miss.”
She gave a brief sound of acknowledgement, sheathed her sword, and bent to search the shallows. After a moment, a pebble dropped into the water before her, splashing her again.
“Hey, who was that?”
Looking up, she saw the white-robed youth standing upon the reef. One hand behind his back, he gestured ahead. “Are you perhaps looking for that?”
An embroidered shoe had been washed ashore, lying alone upon the sand.
She gave a small cry and hurried over barefoot, but before she had taken more than a few steps, he called out, “Wait a moment.”
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a pebble skimming forward, nudging the shoe neatly to her feet.
“Thank you, thank you. My name is Xue Zhenzhen.”
“My surname is Jun, given name Wuwei.”
Xue Zhenzhen looked him up and down. Noting the sword at his waist, she asked, “You practise the sword as well?”
“I do.”
She slipped on her shoe and came closer. “Then spar with me.”
Jun Wuwei hesitated briefly, then inclined his head. “Very well. I shall stop at the proper point.”
Her eyes shone. She struck with all her strength, yet still lost within a single exchange. Shock and disappointment flashed across her face, but she quickly rallied herself. “No, that was not right. I should have done it differently. I was close to defeating you. Your swordsmanship is not bad.”
Jun Wuwei remained composed. After a moment, he sat beside her. “Your path in the sword is one seen perhaps once in a thousand years. You will become a formidable swordswoman.”
She looked up sharply. “Truly?”
“I do not lie.”
She was moved for a moment, then wrinkled her nose, hugging her sword. “But you do not understand the sword.”
“I have come to attend the Qionghua Assembly. I understand a little.”
She accepted this reluctantly, then assessed him with seriousness. “With your current skill, taking first place should be easy.”
“That is unlikely.”
“Why? Do you lack confidence?”
“Not at all. Elders are not permitted to compete. I may only watch.”
Xue Zhenzhen fell silent.
That year, Jun Wuwei was fifteen, and Xue Zhenzhen fourteen. Though she did not take the title at the Qionghua Assembly, meeting a genius of the sword was no small gain.
From then on, the two grew familiar.
Jun Wuwei came to understand that for most, the path of the sword was not attained in a single step, but forged through relentless practice and perilous breakthroughs.
He belonged to Tianyi Sect, simple in structure. Xue Zhenzhen, however, came from Taiyi Sect, where the Dao was complex and tangled. Her father treated her as though she were nothing, and she, unruly and unrestrained, would often slip into Tianyi Sect to drag Jun Wuwei off to roam.
They passed nearly a century in carefree companionship. Her cultivation rose steadily, and so too did her courage.
Naturally lively and spirited, she could not bear injustice. When a dragon soul ran rampant in the cultivation world, she charged in without hesitation, fighting until she was drenched in blood before finally subduing it and gaining the allegiance of a divine sword.
Because of that sword, she and her kin were drawn into factional strife. She witnessed loved ones slain by those of their own path, and she herself suffered grievously, her very foundation nearly destroyed.
Taiyi Sect laid countless charges against her, seeking to seize the divine sword. Just as they were on the verge of success, a white-robed youth cleaved through the heavens with a single strike, breaking into Taiyi Sect and rescuing her from the water prison.
From that moment, Xue Zhenzhen changed utterly. She devoted herself wholly to cultivation, breaking through three successive barriers and personally slaying her enemies in vengeance. That same night, drunk beyond reason, she dragged Jun Wuwei into a wild fight, and between them, the bond of husband and wife was formed.
The girl who had once bared her arms and carried a great sword became the Dragon Might Swordmaster, clad in plain robes, cold and distant.
Afterwards, she sat through the night and asked him what he intended. Jun Wuwei did not take issue with her bluntness or distance. After some thought, he chose not to evade their shared karma. If it were with her, perhaps they could walk this path to the end.
With a faint smile, he said, “The Great Dao is solitary. Now, Swordmaster, walk it with me.”
Her expression shifted at last. After a long moment, she placed her hand in his.
At that time, neither knew what fate awaited them. Those centuries together could indeed be called a time of deep affection.
Yet their Daos diverged, their Dao hearts utterly different. Two of the most misguided people in the world came together without ever speaking of such things, bound only by a shared pursuit of the sword, and nothing more.
To Jun Wuwei, the Sword Dao stood above all else, with Xue Zhenzhen second. As his cultivation neared its peak, he could clearly sense the shifting of heaven and earth. Both of them understood that a great calamity was approaching.
Jun Wuwei had long prepared for it. Three times he cut down his own realm, refusing immortality, all to await a single reckoning of cause and effect.
He had one sword yet to strike.
Born of the Sword Dao, he had a debt of karma yet to repay.
Yet fate is ever capricious. In the end, he was abandoned by the Sword Dao, his wife parted from him, his child lost, left with nothing, cast down into the dust.
When Xue Cuo was born, both he and Xue Zhenzhen sensed it. Yet while she could divine only the hardships that lay ahead, she could not see through to his true destiny.
Before the great calamity descended, that one which had slipped from the Heavenly Dao was reborn into the mortal world, though for reasons unknown, he became Xue Zhenzhen’s child.
The Dao gives rise to all things, yet when the calamity passes and the Great Dao returns to balance, that which once escaped must inevitably return to its rightful place.
He and Xue Zhenzhen shared deep affection, yet their destined bond was shallow, insufficient to last a lifetime.
A doomed child. A doomed bond.
For this, Jun Wuwei made many preparations. He wished to preserve Xue Zhenzhen through the coming calamity, but his strength alone would not suffice.
He entrusted his sword and his swordsmanship to a disciple.
When the disciple learned of his intentions, he remained silent for a long while, before finally saying he would go through fire and water for his shifu.
That was enough. It was enough. The great calamity was approaching, and he too had his duty to fulfil.
Jun Wuwei had not expected her to die. Nor had he expected his Dao to fail. He did not understand why Xue Zhenzhen came to hate him, nor why the Dao of the world abandoned him. He had destroyed the heavenly tribulation and saved the living continent, so why did the Dao, high above the nine heavens, weep?
The deity who defeated him said, “The fate of all living beings has never been ours to decide.”
Is that so?
Those insignificant mortals, those ordinary lives that had never once entered his notice, were their fates not his to determine? Then whose were they?
Jun Wuwei felt lost.
He fell into the mortal world, his cultivation scattered, left with nothing but an immortal frame.
He travelled far and wide, died many times, encountered countless dangers, and met innumerable beings. Abandoned by the Dao, there was no place for him in the world.
His Dao heart did not shatter, his will did not fade. Yet no matter how he searched, how far he journeyed, he could not find the Dao he had lost.
Perhaps it would take a very long time, so long that he forgot even his own name, before he might remember.
