NOVEL WEB Chapter 8: Chapter 8: The Weight of a Sword
Chapter 8: The Weight of a Sword
Morning dawned with golden light cascading over the cliffs of Dengwei City, reflecting off the marble towers like fire. Trumpets sounded from the temple halls, and white-robed servants swept the streets with petals before the arrival of honored guests.
At the foot of the Five Peaks Arena, Yu Zhen adjusted the collar of his simple robe. Unlike the others, he wore no embroidered crest, no house sigil, no treasured heirlooms. Just linen, light brown in color, and a single wooden sword strapped to his back.
Beside him stood Lan Yueran, dressed plainly, her expression unreadable. Around them gathered dozens of disciples from the capital sects—talking in low voices, pointing, some sneering.
"Is that him?"
"The village cultivator?"
"He doesn't even wear spirit armor."
"Probably a fake."
Yu Zhen ignored them.
A large gong rang out.
Then, the gates opened.
---
The Council of the East sat in a semi-circle high above the arena floor—seven old masters robed in cloudwhite, each with a silver phoenix crest. They overlooked the space like judges at a divine trial.
An announcer stepped forward.
"Yu Zhen of Jingyang Village. Step forward."
He walked calmly to the center of the stone arena.
The murmurs died down.
A senior elder leaned forward. "You were seen defeating three rogue cultivators with a single palm strike. Is this true?"
Yu Zhen nodded once. "Yes."
"You possess no recorded lineage. No known master. No family connection to any sect. Explain."
Yu Zhen tilted his head. "Is strength invalid without background?"
A few gasps sounded.
The elder's lips twitched into a slight smile. "You speak plainly."
"It's how we speak in the village."
Another elder, sharper-eyed, spoke. "Very well. We will now observe your strength. A simple demonstration."
Yu Zhen raised an eyebrow. "What kind of demonstration?"
The floor of the arena began to shift—stone grinding against stone—until a circular platform rose from beneath him. Carved into its surface were ancient runes glowing faintly.
"You will face a simulation," the elder said. "One we use to test potential sect leaders."
Lan Yueran's eyes widened.
They're using that test? On him?
---
The runes flared to life.
Around Yu Zhen, the world changed.
No longer the stone arena—he now stood in a forest of shadows, with jagged trees and ash-filled air. The sound of growling echoed through the dark.
A voice boomed: "You may use whatever weapon you carry. You may defend yourself. Survive for three minutes."
From the shadows, figures emerged.
Seven armored warriors, each wielding blades crackling with lightning and fire.
Yu Zhen let out a breath.
He reached for his back—then paused.
Instead of drawing the wooden sword, he knelt and picked up a small rock.
Let's try something simple first.
---
The first warrior lunged.
Yu Zhen ducked, slid beneath the strike, and flicked the rock upward—striking the warrior in the throat.
The figure collapsed into sparks.
The crowd gasped.
A second and third rushed him together.
Yu Zhen twisted left, kicked upward, and disarmed one, then used the falling sword to knock the other back. He didn't kill. He disarmed. Dodged. Evaded.
Two minutes passed.
Lan Yueran watched, tense, biting her lip.
He was still holding back. He hadn't even drawn the sword. But the simulation wasn't going to be merciful.
The fourth warrior was different.
Taller. Faster. A two-bladed glaive.
It moved with impossible speed—and it cut.
Yu Zhen's sleeve tore. Blood dripped from his shoulder.
The illusion wasn't just light.
It hurt.
Yu Zhen stepped back, expression unchanged.
Then finally—he reached for the sword.
---
Gasps echoed again as he drew the wooden blade.
The moment it left the sheath, the air shifted.
A faint ripple passed through the arena—like a heartbeat in the air. A deep pressure. Like the mountains themselves were holding their breath.
Even the Council elders sat straighter.
Yu Zhen gripped the sword casually, as if it weighed nothing.
But when he moved—he moved like thunder.
One step forward.
Crack.
The stone beneath him fractured.
The blade met the glaive—not with resistance, but with overwhelming precision. In one stroke, the illusion shattered. The shadow warriors dissolved into dust.
Silence fell.
The test ended in just under three minutes.
---
The arena reappeared.
Yu Zhen stood alone at the center, breathing evenly. Not proud. Not shaken. Just… calm.
The elders whispered among themselves.
Finally, the central master stood.
"You do not belong to any sect."
Yu Zhen nodded.
"You have no lineage we can trace."
Yu Zhen nodded again.
"But your skill speaks for itself."
A pause.
"We offer you one of two choices."
Yu Zhen tilted his head.
"One, join the Five Mountain Sect. We will give you resources, training, and a title."
"Or?"
"Or remain a wandering cultivator, unbound—but you will be watched."
Yu Zhen was quiet.
Lan Yueran's heart beat faster.
He looked up at the council.
"I choose… neither."
Gasps again.
The elder frowned. "Explain."
Yu Zhen's voice was firm.
"I came because I was summoned, not because I sought anything."
"I'm not here to climb a mountain."
"I'm here to protect my village. My family. And the peace I've found."
"And if that's unacceptable… I will leave."
Silence.
Then—
The central elder smiled.
"…Accepted."
---
That night, back at the guesthouse, Yu Zhen sat by the lantern light.
Lan Yueran placed fresh bandages on his shoulder, scolding him softly.
"You could've avoided that cut."
"I know."
"Then why didn't you?"
"To remind myself I'm still human."
She chuckled, tying the knot. "You're a terrible liar."
"I try."
She looked at him.
"I was scared," she said softly. "Scared they'd see the truth."
"Some did," he replied.
"And still let you go."
Yu Zhen nodded. "Because even truth needs permission."
A pause.
"Are you disappointed I didn't join them?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I fell in love with the man who swept petals in our yard. Not a sword saint."
Yu Zhen smiled.
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