Heir of the Sacred Dragon Sword

1. Destruction of the Sacred Dragon Sect

“No! Please, spare me!”

“Kill them!”

Cries and screams rose above the chaos that engulfed the Sacred Dragon Sect. The sharp swish of blades, followed by the sickening sound of flesh being torn and the low groans of the dying, pierced the night air. The stench of blood hung heavy, choking every breath beneath the shroud of darkness.

“Do not let them escape!” a man’s command thundered, driving the dark sect warriors into an even greater frenzy. They pursued the fleeing villagers with ruthless ferocity.

“Hahaha! Where do you think you’re going?” A booming laugh echoed as a man, with his wife and child cornered, trembled in despair.

“Please, do not kill us! We will give you all of our wealth!” the man begged, his voice broken, as he fell to his knees at the feet of one of the dark sect swordsmen. His body was battered, bruised, and carved with wounds.

“Rest easy, I shall claim all of your wealth myself. You need not trouble yourself to hand it over. Now… die in peace!” sneered the swordsman, driving his blade mercilessly into the man’s back, piercing through to his belly.

“My husband!” screamed the woman in anguish, clutching her daughter tightly as tears streamed down her face. The little girl’s wailing soon joined her mother’s cries, filling the night with sorrow.

“Finish them all! I must return to Leader Huang,” the swordsman declared coldly, yanking his blade free from the lifeless body at his feet.

The man wearing a black headband, emblazoned with two downward-curving golden lines, burst forward with lightning speed toward the circle of swordsmen who were besieging a lone warrior of the Sacred Dragon Sect.

“Leader Huang, has the banquet come to an end?” he called out to a towering figure who stood a single pace from the chaos.

That figure was none other than Huang Fu, the formidable master of the Red Demon Sect, and the elected head of the Gongliao Alliance of the dark sects. A sinister smile played upon his lips, savoring the cruel spectacle of blades descending one after another upon the besieged warrior of the Sacred Dragon Sect.

“Almost. Hurry, before Xiu Jian breathes his last!” Huang Fu answered coldly, never once turning his gaze away. He would not allow himself to miss the final moments of Xiu Jian, the revered master of the Sacred Dragon Sect.

“With great pleasure, Leader Huang.” At once, the man leapt into the fray, joining the dark sect swordsmen as they struck at Xiu Jian without mercy.

“Argh…” The groans of Xiu Jian echoed again and again amidst the relentless slashes of blades raining down upon his body. Crimson stains spurted from the fresh gashes, smearing the swords that tore into him.

“Cut open his belly! I want to see how long that bastard can endure!” Huang Fu’s voice thundered, unsated by the brutal dance of blades performed by the dark sect leaders.

“Arghhh!” Xiu Jian roared louder this time, before collapsing to his knees. His right hand clutched the sword embedded in the ground for support, while his left pressed desperately against the wound carved across his abdomen. The stench of blood thickened as fresh streams poured from his torn flesh.

The corner of Huang Fu’s lips curled upward in cruel delight at the sight of his wish fulfilled. He clapped his hands slowly, walking closer to his sworn enemy. “Even with your belly ripped open, you still cling to life.”

Bending down, Huang Fu brought his face within a mere inch of Xiu Jian’s bowed head, close enough to hear the ragged, desperate gasps of his foe.

Huang Fu’s eyes gleamed as he watched Xiu Jian grimace in unbearable pain. Scarlet trickled from Xiu Jian’s temple, sliding down toward his eye. With a swift motion, Huang Fu reached for the sacred blade at Xiu Jian’s left hip—the legendary sword sheathed in a scabbard adorned with golden dragon carvings.

But before his hand could seize it, Xiu Jian’s bloodied left arm lashed out, striking Huang Fu’s hand aside with a sharp, defiant sound.

“Impudent wretch!” Huang Fu cursed, his eyes bulging with fury. He rose abruptly and drove his elbow down onto the back of Xiu Jian’s neck, forcing him to collapse face-first into the ground.

Seeing Xiu Jian lying prone and helpless, Huang Fu pressed his boot down upon his enemy’s head, pinning it against the earth. Xiu Jian’s eyes still flickered weakly, and that faint defiance only stoked Huang Fu’s desire to play the role of his executioner.

Grinding his teeth until his jaw turned rigid, Huang Fu drew his blade and raised it high. The flickering torchlight cast a sinister gleam upon the steel, turning it into a shard of moonlight in the darkness.

“Hyaaah!” With a savage cry, Huang Fu brought the sword down, cleaving straight through Xiu Jian’s neck. The once-pristine blade was instantly stained with crimson.

The warriors of the Gongliao Alliance, who had witnessed their leader’s merciless act, fell into a stunned silence. None dared move as they awaited Huang Fu’s next command.

Huang Fu then seized the sacred sword he had coveted from the start. Kneeling on one knee before Xiu Jian’s severed head, he stared intently at the lifeless face. Xiu Jian’s eyes remained half-open, the sclera tinged red, blood seeping from his temple and staining the soil beneath him. His lips, cracked and bloodied, were caked with dirt.

“You, and every last member of the Sacred Dragon Sect, are finished. With the Sacred Dragon Sword in my grasp, the land of Quzhou shall soon belong to the Gongliao Alliance,” Huang Fu whispered darkly.

With his left hand, Huang Fu gripped Xiu Jian’s hair and lifted the severed head high, raising it alongside the Sacred Dragon Sword in his right.

“Long live Leader Huang!” cried one follower, soon echoed by the entire horde. The valley erupted with triumphant shouts, celebrating the destruction of the Sacred Dragon Sect.

Huang Fu’s grin spread wide. “Enough! Now seize all their treasures and burn this village to ash. I want every trace of the Sacred Dragon Sect wiped from the face of this earth!”

***

Amidst the dense forest, where the canopy of trees kept the moonlight from seeping through, a boy ran with carefree joy. In his small hands he clutched a rabbit, lifeless with an arrow through its side. His smile never faded, and from time to time he stopped to tug the hand of a young man lagging behind.

“Come on, Brother! Can’t you walk any faster? I want to show Father my hunt!” the boy huffed in frustration, for the youth seemed to be slowing down on purpose.

The young man only answered with a crooked smile. Irritated, the boy stomped his feet and shoved away the hand he was holding, before darting up the hill with nimble steps.

Suddenly, the rabbit slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. The young man’s brow furrowed, and he hurried after the boy at once.

“What is it, Zhangjian? What—” His words died on his lips the moment his eyes caught sight of the scene before them.

Reflected in their pupils was a searing orange glow, the inferno that engulfed their village.

“Ah….” The boy gasped in confusion, then his voice cracked into a scream. “Ahhh!!” He dashed forward in blind panic.

Before he could run far, the young man seized him, his martial skill allowing him to detect the clash of steel and the cries of slaughter echoing in the night.

“Brother Li Min, let me go! I have to see Father and Mother! And my brothers and sisters!” Zhangjian cried, his round eyes brimming with tears.

“No, we cannot go back,” Li Min whispered, his voice heavy.

His heart ached, yet he knew all too well: an assault of this scale could mean only one thing, the annihilation of the Sacred Dragon Sect, their home. And such cruelty, only one faction in the world was capable of it. Li Min clenched his fists.

“The Gongliao Alliance!”

At last, the little boy collapsed to the ground, his shoulders trembling, his body too weak to remain upright. The young man who had once gripped his hand now placed both palms firmly upon his shoulders.

“Zhangjian.” Li Min murmured.

“Brother Li Min, Father… Mother…” the boy sobbed, his hands digging into the earth, his fragile frame weighed down by grief.

Li Min pulled Xiu Zhangjian into a fierce embrace. His teeth ground together as his gaze locked upon the burning ruins of Boushan.

In his heart, he swore, “You have made a grave mistake, leaving the true heir of the Sacred Dragon Sword alive. Mark my words, your time will come. We will rise, and we will have our vengeance.”