The Sword She Set Her Heart On - Chapter 2

I was no longer laughing.

No one had told me the divine sword possessed a spirit.

Much less that the spirit was a moody lunatic.

One moment, he had been mocking Yun Xin with barbed remarks and laughing at the man’s helpless fury. The next, for some reason, my face offended him. His lovely expression clouded over, and he ordered me away as though I had stepped on his tail.

Only a fool would challenge the sword spirit under the present circumstances.

So despite everything I muttered inwardly, I obediently retreated ten steps.

That only seemed to make him unhappier.

He gave a cold snort, pursed his lips, and sat upright, tucking those dazzlingly long legs beneath his robe.

“Tch. Boring… Let’s get this over with. I want to go back to sleep.”

Yun Xin’s face grew even darker.

The sword spirit plainly liked none of us. He would rather return to sleep than form a bond with any one of the three candidates.

The other candidate, however, remained admirably optimistic.

“We’re already here. We may as well try. Name your test.”

For a cultivator to form a bond with a sentient spirit sword, they first had to pass the trial set by its spirit.

Only then would the spirit sword acknowledge a master. By the same rule, if the cultivator passed, the sword spirit had to honor the agreement.

In the past, sword spirits—born from the sovereign of all weapons—had tended to be proud or refined. Their trials were never deliberately impossible. They might ask the cultivator to cross blades with them or retrieve some rare spiritual material.

Naturally, I hoped for the former. I was so poor that combat skill was the only thing I had left.

My two wealthy rivals placed their hopes on the latter.

All three pairs of eyes turned toward the sword spirit.

He looked left, then right. When his gaze met mine, a wicked smile spread across his face.

I immediately had a bad feeling.

“I’m not the sort who enjoys making life difficult for people,” he said, lying without so much as blinking. “But I have lived alone in this Sword Tomb for centuries. It gets terribly dull.”

“So my trial is this—”

He tipped his head with a teasing smile.

“Whoever helps me experience a sweet, sweet romance will be the one I bond with.”

A romance. A sweet one, no less.

The trial sounded like a joke, but a moment’s thought made his intention obvious: he was making things impossible on purpose.

Who he wanted to romance and what qualified as sweet were entirely subjective. There was no objective standard.

He was exploiting a loophole in the rules.

Even knowing that, none of us wished to give up.

Before us stood the most powerful divine sword in history. Seven hundred years ago, even the Demon God had fallen beneath the Shaolang Sword. Becoming its wielder would send anyone soaring to the heavens in a single step.

With that thought, I stepped forward.

Before I could speak, the sword spirit shot me a sidelong look.

“Quiet. You go last.”

Why?

As if he could read my mind, he gave me a smile that contained no warmth.

“Because the sight of you makes me angry.”

What had I ever done to him?

He offered no explanation. Instead, he tilted his chin toward Yun Xin.

“You first, nursing infant.”

Yun Xin: “…”

Grinding his teeth, Yun Xin forced out a modest smile and stepped forward. With a shake of his storage pouch, he produced several dozen superior-grade spirit swords.

“Lord Sword Spirit, the Yun Clan controls more than half the resources in the cultivation world. Whatever sort of female sword you prefer, I can find her for you.”

Yun Xin brimmed with confidence, certain that his offer could not be refused.

The Yun Clan wielded the authority of petty emperors. Whatever kind of sword the spirit desired, Yun Xin could obtain it—unless…

“Is something wrong with your head? Who would fall in love with a cold, dead object?” The sword spirit looked utterly speechless.

“Failure. Get out.”

Without waiting for Yun Xin to argue, he flicked his sleeve.

Yun Xin flew through the air and straight out of the Sword Tomb.

“Next. You.” The sword spirit crooked a finger at the remaining candidate.

The man studied the spirit’s face, lowered his head, and considered the matter gravely.

After a long silence, he ventured, “Do you have a preferred species? If weapons are too cold, how do you feel about something furry?”

The sword spirit: “…”

The sword spirit, who was not a furry enthusiast, smiled. “You can leave too.”

The second candidate was likewise thrown out.

At last, in an extravagant display of mercy, the sword spirit reluctantly turned his gaze on me.

One cherry-blossom-pink fingertip pointed through the air. “What nonsense do you have to say?”

I opened my mouth.

He cut me off before I could make a sound, narrowing his eyes in a near threat.

“Think carefully before you speak. Do not make me angry.”