Hestia had little attachment to the divine sword or the legacy that Feng Jianxue spoke of. It wasn’t something she desperately needed. However, the regrets tied to her mother’s past deeply moved her, and she felt compelled to see them through.
This was not only because she was her mother’s daughter but also because she had inherited her mother’s perspective on many things. If certain customs and rules were no longer appropriate for the present, then they should be severed. People cannot live forever in the illusions of the past.
Humans are peculiar creatures. When it comes to themselves, they often choose to endure and retreat. But when it concerns someone dear to their hearts, they are sometimes willing to take immense risks and endure great pain to take action.
The matter with her sister had caused their mother such sorrow that it led to her early death. As Hestia gradually uncovered the truth, she couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of guilt. Perhaps the primary cause wasn’t her, but her sister. Still, this anguish was not easily dispelled.
If only she could do something to make amends—no matter the risk.
It’s impossible to remain calm and rational forever. Perhaps this was a rash and reckless impulse, but once the thought arose today, Hestia found it impossible to suppress.
Her training in the Decay Sequence still required time, but the transcendent core of the Nature Sequence already had a mature template. Slowly, the transcendent core of Sequence 3 dissolved within her, and the magic of the Nature Sequence began to gather and condense at an accelerated pace. This was, after all, the sequence she was most naturally gifted in, and with her innate ability, Voice of the Temporal Strings, restoring it was not difficult.
Nature Sequence 5: Azure Bird’s Branch—achieved.
Her black hair danced in the breeze, and a pale blue light flickered in her eyes. Lifting her fair fingers, she summoned a longsword of silver and crystal, its cyan glow shimmering before her.
“This… This is unbelievable…” The old man was overwhelmed as he gazed upon the pure magic emanating from the girl before him. Its lightness, rhythm, harmony, and vastness were precisely like the descriptions recorded in the ancient, dust-covered tomes. Tears welled in his eyes as he trembled with emotion.
Falling to his knees, he pressed his hands to the ground.
“We, the lineage of the Sword Guardians, pledge ourselves to you, Sovereign. We shall ascend the Seven Mountains, slay the demon dragon, and uphold the unsullied destiny of the Azure Lotus!”
With these words, he carefully produced a token from his robes. On it was an image of a sword piercing through a blue lotus, its tassel fluttering elegantly, proud yet refined. The Azure Lotus lineage, divided among five families, had once sworn allegiance to the illustrious Azure Lotus Sword Cleansing Palace, the foremost of the five great lineages.
The old man infused magic into the token using a unique secret technique. At the same time, those scattered across the Forbidden City who still possessed these tokens felt a cold sensation emanating from them. Information coursed through their hands as they held the tokens.
“Could this be real?”
Some sat silently at home, staring at the token’s glowing surface, speechless for a long time.
“Even Feng wouldn’t joke about something like this. If the second miss’s descendant has truly returned to claim her debt…”
“Then we have no choice but to rise and follow.”
Blades hidden away in dark recesses of homes were retrieved once more. White feathered robes, long unworn, were donned anew. The Forbidden City, which had been quiet and dormant during the ceasefire, stirred again with tension and clamor.
“What’s going on? It feels like chaos has suddenly broken out in the city,” Feng Jianxue muttered anxiously as he peered out from the attic near the ancestral hall.
“Could Hestia have gotten lost? I should’ve brought her along. It seems leaving now won’t be easy.”
Pacing back and forth, he finally decided to retreat for the moment.
Meanwhile, in a descending vertical elevator, a man in black robes and a mask listened coldly as someone reported beside him.
“Her daughter? What a joke.”
“She could barely protect herself, and now she’s dragging her descendants into this. I had thought she would live quietly outside and spend her remaining years in peace. But no—still as naive and foolish as ever.”
He knew his sister well. Though kind and gentle in nature, her ideals were far too unrealistic.
An individual might choose weakness and surrender, but a race cannot afford such choices. Weakness and surrender spell extinction and degradation.
“Pass down my orders: anyone who dares follow Gu Yongrong’s daughter—kill without mercy!”
“Understood!”
As the current ruler of Thousand Towers City, he would show no mercy. In moments like this, swift and ruthless measures were necessary to crush any dissent before it could take root.
Upon receiving the order, the city’s guards began patrolling and sealing off the residential areas. Meanwhile, in the core zone at the city’s lowest level, crimson-armored soldiers opened sealed armories. Electromagnetic rifles, preserved for years, were reassembled and deployed, their forces converging on the Forbidden City.
“Time is of the essence, Your Highness. We must seize control of the T2-grade AI ‘Spiral Fish’ within the Forbidden City before Gu Qianlou returns. Doing so will dismantle much of Thousand Towers City’s resistance and put us in a position of advantage,” explained Ge Lianfeng as he followed closely behind Thilan. Gradually, the elderly Sword Guardians began to gather around them.
“She’s exactly like the Second Miss, even her demeanor is identical,” some of the arriving Sword Guardians murmured, marveling at how similar Thilan was to her mother in both appearance and bearing.
“Has the divine will truly manifested? The vow we’ve upheld for five centuries…” Others gazed at the aura emanating from Thilan, their eyes brimming with tears as they stood in stunned silence.
“In this case, we shall serve unto death!”
“A true man born into this world cannot languish underground like rotting wood!” one declared as swords were drawn, their cold brilliance flashing sharply in the light.
Dozens…
Hundreds…
Nearly a thousand people…
Though the Sword Guardians had long fallen from their former glory, there were still descendants of their lineage alive today.
The city’s conflict reignited, but this time it wasn’t against outsiders—it was against old friends, acquaintances, and even close blood relatives.
“Old He, are you really going to defy the will of the current Sovereign and follow that young girl?”
At the entrance of an alleyway, seven Divine Generals clad in gold-bronze armor blocked a group of about ten Sword Guardians dressed in white-feathered robes. Compared to the brightly equipped Divine Generals, the Sword Guardians were at a disadvantage in both transcendent power and equipment. Their leader’s rank was only Sequence 3, at best.
“Qin Sheng, don’t stop me. Back then, it was your hesitation that nearly led to the Second Miss’s death amidst the chaos. Today, I will not let this opportunity for redemption slip by,” replied the leader of the Sword Guardians in a low voice, gripping his ancient octagonal sword tightly.
“Redemption? You think too highly of yourself. I just don’t want to see an old friend die in vain,” Qin Sheng said, hefting his long-handled saber and slicing it through the air, its sharp sound echoing ominously.
“Stop here! If you don’t leave this alley, you can still preserve your life. But if you press forward, I will show no mercy,” he warned, lowering his stance slightly. Wisps of smoke began to rise from his gold-bronze armor, his aura growing oppressive as he prepared to strike.
The leader of the Sword Guardians took a deep breath. Just as everyone thought he might retreat, he suddenly opened his eyes, and the blade in his hand glimmered with a cold, blue light.
“Form the formation!”
“Yes!”
Swords moved with a cold, sharp elegance, weaving through the air like birds darting through a forest. They evaded the fierce attacks of the Divine Generals and targeted their weak points—the gaps in their armor, underarms, and necks.
Blades pierced through the seams of the armor, drawing sprays of blood.
“Fancy tricks!”
The leader of the Divine Generals retaliated, his golden eyes flashing as he swung his massive saber horizontally. Sparks erupted as the blade shattered the incoming Sword Guardians’ weapons, sending shards crashing into the walls and scattering to the ground.
Against such opponents, the Sword Guardians in the alley found themselves in a bitter struggle, forced to retreat step by step.
On the main street, where the largest gathering of Divine Generals had converged, a similar scene played out.
The elite Divine Generals who had previously slain the black-clad priest stood firm, their bodies radiating immense magical power. Their weapons crackled with golden lightning, emitting a sharp, hissing sound.
“Anyone who dares take a single step forward will be killed without mercy!”
Their thunderous voices rolled through the streets like a storm, causing the Sword Guardians in front of them to falter, some even reeling from dizziness.
“You all…” Ge Lianfeng began, but Hestia stopped him with a gentle shake of her head.
She motioned for the Sword Guardians to remain behind her. Then, step by step, she advanced alone. Slowly, she drew the ancient silver sword from its sheath.
By now, Hestia had changed into the clothes her mother had left behind in the city. The outfit was primarily snow-white, with wide sleeves and a fitted design. The sash around her waist and the inner lining were dyed the vivid blue of larkspur flowers, mirroring the color of her eyes.
Blue and white, a deliberate distinction from her mother.
Closing her eyes, she recalled the figure of her mother performing the sword dance before the Crimson Tower two decades ago. Now, with all eyes on her, the young girl began to move. Her motions seemed identical to her mother’s, yet within the flowing sleeves and the glinting sword, a faint breeze seemed to stir, sweeping through the streets and alleys of the Forbidden City.
The dance of the ritual was once a means for priestesses to manipulate the earth’s dragon veins, influencing the climate and terrain of a region. However, in a world where dragon veins no longer existed, such techniques had become obsolete. Even so, Gu Yongrong’s ability to harness this forgotten sword art and command the air currents before the Red Pavilion to lift herself into the skies had been a feat of unparalleled brilliance.
Thilan, however, had surpassed her. Upon awakening her innate talent, she could glimpse fragments of the art’s lingering essence through the veil of time, grasping the true meaning hidden within the sword technique.
As her blue garments and sleeves fluttered, the light of her blade danced. Wisps of wind began to entwine her figure, and the Aijeka particles in the air calmed, as though imbued with her icy hue.
“She mustn’t continue the dance—attack her!”
Sensing their fiery strength cooling under the influence of the breeze, the leading Divine General scowled and roared. With a thunderous charge, the Divine Generals, resembling heavenly soldiers, lunged toward the delicate girl at the center of the street. Their blades crackled with electricity, striking without mercy.
In the chaos of intersecting movements, Hestia’s figure swayed like a swallow, deftly weaving through the arcs of their electrified blades. She narrowly evaded the strikes before abruptly reversing her grip and sliding her sword back into its sheath with her left hand.
In that instant, her azure eyes snapped open, and a magnificent, piercing arc of light cleaved through the air.
Azure Bird’s Legacy: Swallow Shears the Moon!
The luminous arc burst forth among the Divine Generals, cutting through halberds, sabers, and even armor, spilling blood in its wake. Had Hestia not shown restraint, several would have perished on the spot.
“Traitor!”
The leader of the Divine Generals showed no gratitude. Instead, his fury intensified, perceiving her mercy as condescension.
“For the heavens to punish evil, divine wrath spares none! Let the heavenly soldiers descend upon us!”
With a furious shout, the blue and red paint adorning their faces seemed to come alive, their eyes glowing with golden light as their magical power surged, burning hot.
White smoke enveloped the area as their gold-charged weapons lashed out. Their fiery gazes locked onto Hestia, the paint on their faces seeping as though branding her with molten iron.
Faced with the Divine Generals’ divine suppression technique, Hestia twisted in mid-air like a sparrow, her silver blade spinning in tandem with her movements. Countless fragments of sword light scattered like snowflakes.
Azure Bird’s Legacy: Snowfall Over the Boat!
The searing imprints aimed at her were shredded by the torrent of sword light, unable to pin down the girl who moved as swiftly as a bluebird.
Dodging the divine technique, Hestia plunged back into the ranks of the Divine Generals. Her sword moved like a fleeting shadow, unleashing arcs of silver light that severed weapons and spilled blood. Those struck by her blade lost feeling in their legs, collapsing to the ground.
The high-speed slashes of her blade hummed through the air like the cries of darting birds. Draped in her snowy white robe and azure skirt, her figure darted and spun, breaking through and dismantling her opponents one after another.
When Hestia finally came to a halt, nearly half of the Divine Generals lay incapacitated. The blade hanging from her sleeve was battered and scarred.
She gently ran her fingers along the worn blade, and as she did, sparkling particles of light drifted off its surface. The blade, marred with cracks, was restored to its pristine state, shining like a clear autumn stream. Behind it, her enchanting azure eyes emerged, dreamlike and mesmerizing.
As the scene before them defied belief, the girl standing alone in the street, dressed in snow-white and blue, radiated an otherworldly beauty that was almost supernatural.
“This… is impossible…”
The painted-face commander slowly fell to his knees, clutching his numb, bleeding arm. Raising his head, he gazed at the girl at the end of the street.
“This technique, refined through cutting-edge science over generations… how could it lose to such an archaic, outdated… sword art…” he murmured in disbelief, his eyes filled with despair.
“Cutting-edge? Perhaps it’s just a relic from centuries ago,” Hestia said softly.
She had once aspired to study medicine and was familiar with the concept of cybernetic implants. Three to four centuries ago, these enhancements had been popular, boosting human abilities and aiding labor.
But as AI technology advanced, people realized it was more practical to install these devices onto autonomous units instead of their own bodies. This eliminated the risks of rejection and maintenance issues while allowing for easier replacement and upgrading.
Moreover, influenced by the ideals of the first-generation Color-Grade Songstress, Isanisha, the Federation’s elite favored natural and unblemished forms. This preference trickled down through society, stigmatizing mechanical implants as relics for those who couldn’t keep up.
Thus, the popularity of cybernetics faded, replaced by autonomous units, exoskeletons, and large mechs. Today, it was rare to find a resident of the Federation using such outdated technology.
Though Thousand Towers City had once been prosperous, its people’s knowledge and beliefs remained frozen in that bygone era, oblivious to the world’s progress.
Those who stagnate are doomed to fall behind. Isolation and self-deception are but fleeting dreams.
One by one, the Sword Guardians stepped over the fallen Divine Generals and looked on in awe and reverence as the snow-white and blue-clad girl ascended the tall building housing the super AI Spiral Fish.
At the same time, an elevator descended into the Forbidden City, carrying a figure cloaked in solemn black. Wearing a mask, he stepped out slowly, his gaze falling on the familiar yet unfamiliar girl below.
“So, you’re her daughter…”
His voice carried a mixture of nostalgia and disdain, finally settling into cold indifference.