A month passed since the Tribunal.
Though the embers of scandal still lingered, the Jiang Clan had regained its dignity under Jiang Son's firm rule. Huang, now openly acknowledged by the patriarch yet still independent of the family name, spent his days quietly polishing his foundation. Every sword form. Every defensive technique. Every hidden move passed through blood and steel.
And he mastered them all.
There was nothing more he could learn from the clan halls.
One early morning, with mist curling through the stones of the Jiang courtyard, Huang stood before the northern gate. His robe was plain, his expression calm, his sword—housing the soul of Jiang Fei—strapped to his back.
Jiang Son awaited him in silence, arms folded across his chest. For a moment, neither spoke.
"You walk without banner or sect," Jiang Son finally said. "Many won't see your strength until it's drawn."
"I don't need them to see it," Huang said. "I only need to grow."
The patriarch studied him. "The path of a wanderer is perilous. It offers no guarantees."
"I'm not walking it for safety."
That earned him a brief, quiet nod. "Very well. Know this: if the Jiang Clan ever faces ruin, should even my sword fail…"
"I will return," Huang said, voice steady. "No matter where I stand, I'll answer the call."
With a deep bow, he turned and walked through the gate, never once looking back. Behind him, the gate shut with a low, thunderous finality.
The path of the lone sword had begun.
—
Huang's travels took him through the Eastern Verdant Prefectures, a land of jagged peaks, deep spiritual veins, and scattered sects locked in quiet war. He kept his head low, his name silent.
He avoided major cities. Instead, he sought out forgotten ruins, dangerous beast hunting grounds, and border villages where cultivators rarely tread.
In taverns he won duels with one stroke. In backwater villages, he helped slay beast threats that local guards couldn't contain. In one remote shrine buried in vines, he faced a remnant formation spirit and dispersed it with a precise slash powered by both Jiang and tomb-taught sword techniques.
Each battle left witnesses. And from their awe, rumors began to stir.
A strange young swordsman who could copy any style he saw. Who seemed invisible until the moment of his strike. Who could never be sensed until it was too late.
Some said he was a rogue Jiang heir.
Others claimed he bore an ancient curse that erased his presence.
A few even wondered if he was a sword spirit in human form.
No one guessed the truth.
Because the truth had no place in this world.
The Void Vessel—a spiritual constitution unknown even in the oldest cultivation records—was still only a name given by the Immortal Master before his death. No one else in history had possessed it, and Huang himself barely understood it. He only knew that it made his presence nearly undetectable when he wasn't actively cultivating or using force, and that it drank in techniques like dry earth absorbing rain.
But its power came at a cost.
While others could train with speed and strength, Huang had to rebuild his cultivation base from the ground up, with no roadmaps. His dantian was too vast, too silent. And though it accepted sword arts with ease, it resisted spiritual tools until deeply bonded.
Still, every day, he grew stronger.
And every night, in meditation, Jiang Fei's voice echoed faintly from within the sword, sometimes sharing thoughts, other times simply watching with a wistful silence.
Together, they pressed forward.
—
In the Shattered Moon Mountains, Huang rescued a dying spirit beast cub from a rogue cultivator's trap.
In the Ruins of White Ember Hall, he uncovered and purified a corrupted jade array that had been feeding on villagers for decades.
Every act added fuel to the rumors of a mysterious lone cultivator whose sword burned with sorrow—and precision.
But he gave no names. Left no markings.
Because none of it was about reputation.
It was about power.
Enough power to one day perform the Body-Soul Reunification Technique.
Enough power to restore Jiang Fei to life—not as a whisper in a blade, but as the leader of his clan.
And that was only the beginning.