The Sword Tomb Opens

After skimming the materials, Su Qing neatly stacked them at the lost and found.

She jotted down key details to share back at the dorm. As fellow sword cultivators, talking swords should be safe ground.

Chen Yu had placed them together without explicitly urging her to bond with her roommates. Still, living in close quarters, Su Qing didn’t want things to get too tense.

But back at the dorm, she realized she’d overthought it. Three unfamiliar girls were there, flipping through materials and chatting warmly with the fox-like red-clad girl, Tang Yueling.

Su Qing’s meager notes were useless against their thorough preparations. Instead, she gleaned new secrets from their talk.

She finally learned her roommates’ names: the red-clad girl was Tang Yueling, the black-clad one Qi Tianning.

The three Tang girls—Tang Xueshan, Tang Qimei, Tang Shitao—were from the Tang Clan of the Western Continent.

Tang Yueling was from the main branch, the others from side branches, more like a lady and her reluctant entourage than cousins or friends.

Qi Tianning, indeed a Qi Clan member, was the Daozi’s sister but rejected her family, claiming only the name Tianning and loathing her heritage.

The three Tang girls formed a clique, dominating two-thirds of the dorm, their chatter lively. Thankfully, Tianning was absent, or the awkwardness would’ve been unbearable.

Tang Yueling lounged on a chaise, chin propped. “The strongest is the Free Sword, I know. But which is the prettiest?”

Tang Qimei answered, “The Qilan Sword, inspired by an orchid in a secluded valley. It’s serene, with a gentleman’s grace.”

“Where’s it rank?”

“It… didn’t make the list.”

Tang Yueling fell silent. Tang Shitao jumped in, “Qilan’s nothing. The prettiest is the Xuejin Sword. Three feet six, thin as a cicada’s wing, cuts iron like mud. Ranked thirty-eighth in the Sword Pavilion.”

“Thirty-eighth?” Not low. Tang Yueling’s eyes lit up. “Interesting.”

Tang Xueshan smiled. “The Xuejin Sword’s body is forged from South Mountain Black Iron, pure white, with a Northern Snow Crystal hilt, translucent and radiant. When wielded, snowflakes fall. Beautiful and strong—perfect for Yueling.”

Tang Yueling raised a brow. “Nice. It’s settled.”

But fate loves to defy plans.

When the Sword Tomb opened, Su Qing was in the dorm washing clothes, scrubbing oil stains off a collar with soap beans, trying to distract her restless mind.

Then, a metallic clang roared from afar.

Like a jet flying low, its shadow trailing a booming echo.

Mixed with the screech of blades slicing air, it sent shivers through her.

Hands wet, Su Qing rushed to the window, flung it open, and leaned out.

At the horizon, a dark mass surged—countless swords, unstoppable as locusts, darkening the sky like spreading clouds.

Thousands of swords stormed toward them.

Her mind reeled. The Sword Tomb opened? When? How? It wasn’t noon yet—why the early stir?

What now? Run downstairs to intercept them?

She feared they’d shred her to bits.

No joke—she saw their ferocity. They flew blindly, guided by instinct. Trees in their path were sliced, walls pierced, rooftops torn off.

They cut, cut, cut!

Public buildings like the teaching halls, cafeteria, and library were shielded by golden light, forcing even legendary swords to veer off after stumbling.

But student dorms had no such protection. Swords carved through them like tofu.

Sword light flared, sword qi soared. Sand, stones, and broken branches swirled like a tornado.

It felt like the swords were hunting them.

When in doubt, back to the dorm.

Su Qing sprinted from the washroom, her path aligning with the swords’ charge.

Their clamor confirmed it: they were catching up.

She ran, hearing buildings—windows, walls, railings—sliced like vegetables, mixed with students’ cries.

“Damn, where’d these swords come from?”

“My wardrobe! My robes, books, collection!”

“Sword mantra! What’s it again? ‘Swift as law’? Someone control these swords!”

Why, in the vast Sword Sect, did they target her dorm?

Skidding to a stop, nearly overshooting, she yanked open the door and froze.

Was her dorm bombed?

Tables, chairs, cabinets, beds—her pitiful belongings—gone, shredded to splinters, sawdust, and rags.

Not bombed, but filled with swords clashing.

Her roommates were there. Tang Yueling stood before her jewelry, glaring furiously at Tianning, who was… surrounded by swords.

The scene was bizarre. Dozens of vibrant, extraordinary swords buzzed around Tianning, like an overpowered game character picking from legendary weapons.

Among them was a snow-white sword with a crystal hilt, shedding delicate snow-like flakes.

“Xuejin Sword!”

Tang Yueling fixated on it. The Xuejin Sword fixated on Tianning—if it had eyes. Su Qing sensed its stubbornness.

It wasn’t just watching Tianning; it guarded against rival swords, ready to ambush and knock them back to the Tomb.

More swords coveted Tianning but, wary of the fierce ones, lingered miles away, eyeing her.

Even Su Qing, slow as she was, realized Tianning must be a natural Sword Body.

Not all swords targeted her, though. A pitted, blood-red rusty sword dogged Tang Yueling. When it noticed her staring at the Xuejin Sword, its tattered tassel bristled, lunging to hack it.

The Xuejin Sword dodged, and the rusty sword spotted another, sparking a three-way melee.

What a mess…

Su Qing shut her mouth, eyeing the room’s treasures, hoping a kind sword might glance her way.

Tianning and Tang Yueling could only pick one sword each, leaving others rejected.

Su Qing was eager to adopt a heartbroken, homeless divine sword.

Sadly, none noticed her. Tianning, too, scorned them. Stepping back warily, she declared, “I want the strongest—the Free Sword.”

The swords pressed closer, some forcefully vying for her bond. Tianning leapt to the window, pushed off, and jumped out—to find the Free Sword in the Tomb’s depths.

They were on the seventh floor!

Su Qing gasped.

The swords chased relentlessly, the Xuejin Sword a silver streak.

“Wait!” Tang Yueling, unwilling to lose, grabbed artifacts and jumped out.

The rusty sword blocked her, infuriating her. “Ugly sword, get lost!”

Wounded in pride, it spun, tassel smacking her face, then soared, crashing through the roof.

Beams snapped, stones flew, dust billowed, burying Tang Yueling’s treasures in debris.

What a temper.

Tang Yueling, clutching her reddened cheek, paused, gritted her teeth, and leapt out, chasing the Xuejin Sword.

“Careful—” Su Qing reached the window, seeing her red figure drop like a flower. “It’s the seventh floor!”

Tang Yueling landed lightly, summoned a golden phoenix artifact, and flew off.

Su Qing belatedly realized: in this cultivation world, Newton didn’t apply.

With the key players gone, the swords scattered, leaving a wrecked dorm and a stunned Su Qing.

Damn it, why didn’t any sword choose her?

Was it her stunted roots and lack of talent?

Probably. If she were a sword, she wouldn’t pick a talentless nobody either.

Swords had more to consider than people awaiting selection.

Gazing where Tianning and Tang Yueling went, Su Qing wondered: if she went to the Sword Tomb, with more swords, would her odds improve?

Accepting her mediocre talent, she bolted down seven flights of stairs.

If the mountain won’t come to me, I’ll go to it.

If the sword won’t come to me, I’ll go to the sword.

Same logic.