Playing with His Sword - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I hid in a dim corner.

My whole body was weak, my skin burning hot, my mind hazy.

Only the sword in my arms felt like warm jade, carrying the faintest trace of coolness.

I had heard that sword cultivators, as a rule, cut off all emotion and desire. The only thing they cherished was their personal sword.

They washed it constantly with the Dust-clearing Art, nourished it daily with spirit stones, and spent piles of silver every year on repairs and maintenance.

They treasured it like their own life. It was practically a sword cultivator’s lifeline.

My fingertips slid over Qingheng’s lifeline. My feverish skin pressed against the cool blade. I lightly stroked the sharp edge and accidentally cut my hand, drawing a little blood.

I paid it no mind and continued to caress and fondle the warm hilt.

Qingheng was noble and pure, untouched by love or desire, devoted wholeheartedly to upholding justice.

Every day, he gripped this very place to slay demons, defend the Dao, and save the common people.

If he knew that his Frostbreaker Sword would one day save someone like this…

Just as I could no longer endure it and bit down on the hilt, the Frostbreaker Sword suddenly began to tremble. The vibrations grew stronger and stronger, nearly knocking me to the ground.

A furious voice rang out:

“You demoness! How dare you defile me!”

Damn it. How was this sword alive?!

The Frostbreaker Sword slashed at me without mercy. Against that strike, the odds were three to seven-within three seconds, it could chop me into seven pieces.

I immediately collapsed weakly onto the ground.

It was useless, of course, but if I died in a tragically beautiful pose, I could leave people with more regret and longing.

Commonly known in the Harmony Sect as the Path of “After I Die, They All Go Mad.”

The biting sword energy howled past, lifting the stray hair on my forehead and revealing a complex blood-red pattern.

The blood pattern heated up. A red light flashed.

The Frostbreaker Sword came to a strange halt, unable to advance even half an inch.

“A Blood Pact?

“The one who awakened me… was you?”

Still holding my tragically beautiful pose, I looked up at the finger that had been cut by the blade and was still bleeding. I sank into thought.

“Senior Sister said only blood brimming with vast spiritual energy can awaken a divine sword.

“Could it be that I’m a genius born to become a sword cultivator?”

Harmony Sect, you may not be worthy of me after all.

Sword Sect, here I come!

“No.”

The Frostbreaker Sword denied it flatly, its tone somewhat strange.

“You put something fierce in your blood.”

The moment it finished speaking, its blade gradually flushed red and grew hot, trembling slightly in midair.

I was stunned.

Harmony Sect aphrodisiacs could communicate across species? How authoritative.

Sword Sect, goodbye.

The one destined to rule the world was still our Harmony Sect.

Enduring the drug’s effects, I curled my fingers around Frostbreaker’s hilt.

The Frostbreaker Sword jolted and abruptly retreated several meters, wary.

“Demoness, what are you trying to do?”

I laughed.

“Sacrificing myself to purge your poison, of course.

“Divine sword, you wouldn’t want to be damaged by passion poison the moment you emerge into the world, would you?

“If word got out, tsk, tsk. It would shake the world and go down in history.”

The Frostbreaker Sword was enraged, releasing waves of humming vibrations.

Swirling sword energy swept me up. My vision went white, and when I opened my eyes again, I seemed to be floating in a sea of mist.

The white fog stretched endlessly. A man with ink-black hair and dark robes stood before me, his face handsome with an uncanny, bewitching edge. He gritted his teeth at me.

“You awakened me just to lure me into doing this?

“You have a lot of nerve. Name?”

“Liuyue.”

He repeated it in a low voice, then seized my chin.

“You asked for this.”

Warmth pressed against my lips.

Spiritual bodies entwined, souls reeling.

The Frostbreaker Sword was like a blade sent back into the forge-scalding, burning, crimson-hot.

And like one tempered in fire, it was hard, wear-resistant, and fatigue-proof.

Truly an unparalleled divine sword.

Just a little too easy to fool.

Did he really believe he’d die if the passion poison wasn’t cured?