The fourth day on the road had burned the last warmth from the sky, leaving only the pale light of twin moons above the cracked wasteland. The group finally reached the edge of the Ghosting Wastes — and there, half-swallowed by obsidian hills, the tomb emerged like a wound in the land.
Twin sword pillars, chipped by time, stood like sentries. Their points buried in stone, their hilts twisted skyward. Carved into the blackened arch was a name worn by wind and sand:
To the Sword Without Master, Whose Blade Cuts Fate.
Jiang Wei raised a hand, and the spirit oxen pulling the noble carriages came to a reluctant stop, snorting in protest.
"End of the road," he said, hopping down with casual grace. "We go on foot from here."
Huang, Xiaoyi, and Luo Sen, backs sore from carrying gear through wind and dust, climbed down silently from the last cart. No one helped them.
The other young nobles gathered around, nine in total. Fei emerged last from his carriage, dressed not in silk but in travel-worn robes — modest, yet immaculately maintained.
Ren, ever the first to speak venom behind smiles, leaned toward Tao and muttered, "He looks like a disciple from a sect instead of a noble heir. Thinks the dust makes him look enlightened."
Tao chuckled, then spat. "Think it makes him look like he belongs in the Empire's Sword Trials. Just because the Elders favor him."
They turned away before Fei could hear, but their eyes burned with something too long simmered.
As the group moved toward the tomb's gate, Fei approached the trio of slaves. "This place is older than most maps can trace," he said quietly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else listened. "I've studied what I could. The tomb's master was not just a swordsman — but someone who defied sects, even the heavens. That energy still lingers."
Mu Xiaoyi nodded respectfully. "We'll tread with care."
Fei smiled faintly and pressed something into Huang's hand — a small jade token carved with runes. "This has a single-use ward. It won't save you, but it might slow something down."
"Why give this to me?" Huang asked, blinking.
"You pay more attention than half the cousins. That's worth something," Fei replied.
Then he was gone, walking toward the gate as the nobles lit their spirit torches and passed into shadow.
Behind the group, Jiang Wei, Ren, and Tao hung back briefly, the torchlight casting long, fractured silhouettes.
Wei's tone was flat. "Fei is the one chosen for the internal trial. Uncle's preparing to nominate him for the Azure Steel Sect. Our future Sword Lord."
Ren grimaced. "He doesn't deserve the title. He won't even kill in duels — says swords should guide, not sever."
Tao tapped his sheathed blade. "That idealism will get him killed someday."
Wei's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Then let's make sure 'someday' is today."
He pulled out a folded charm — a red slip sealed with a formation glyph, soaked in beast blood. "This is bound to the third chamber of the tomb. Once activated, it will destabilize the formation and collapse the route. With Fei and those slaves inside."
Ren nodded. "No bodies, no questions. Just a failed expedition."
"And when we return with relics, it'll be us who inherit the right to stand before the Sect Elders," Tao finished.
None of them noticed that a thin crack above the sword-carved arch had begun to glow — faintly. As if the tomb itself were listening.
---
Inside, the group passed into a narrow corridor chiseled with reliefs of swordsmen mid-duel, their expressions solemn, almost mournful. The walls seemed to sigh beneath their feet.
Fei led near the front. Huang and his companions trailed at the rear, hauling supplies.
Then, after the first chamber, Fei slowed — and to everyone's surprise, fell back to walk beside the slaves.
"You noticed it too, didn't you?" he asked Huang.
Huang glanced up. "The stone changes. The air's thinner. The murals… shift slightly."
Fei smiled faintly. "They shift only when no one is watching."
Mu Xiaoyi narrowed her eyes. "Illusion technique?"
"Maybe," Fei said. "Or maybe something older. The tomb was made to test swordsmen. But who said it was only meant to test nobles?"
Huang's gaze lingered on the next archway. Carved above it, faded almost to nothing, was a single word:
Judgment.
Behind them, Jiang Wei glanced back, expression unreadable as he subtly reached into his inner sleeve and brushed his thumb across the talisman.
The seal flared faintly with killing intent.
Fei, still beside Huang, paused for a moment. His hand twitched — fingers brushing the hilt of his sheathed sword as if sensing a warning in the wind.
Huang didn't speak — but something inside him stirred. Not instinct. Not memory. Something… older.
The torchlight ahead flickered.
And somewhere, behind the stones, the tomb began to breathe.