Naked Sword Art

Darkness.

Yet even in unconsciousness, Xiao Fang's mind did not rest.

He found himself floating—weightless—in a vast void of endless black. No sky. No ground. Only silence… until a whisper stirred the stillness.

"I knew you were special, but for you to survive even this—"

The voice didn't sound outside him—it was within, echoing from marrow to soul. A familiar voice. The Curse.

"Your body is weak, flawed… mortal."

"And yet..."

Cracks of violet lightning arced across the darkness. A pulse of power rippled through the void, and Xiao Fang's form—an outline of himself—flickered like a dying flame caught in a storm.

He groaned.

His bones were breaking and reforging. His dantian unraveling and being rewoven in foreign patterns. Bigger, stronger, deeper. His dantian quaked, unstable, bloated with far more Curse Qi than he thought he could ever contain.

Each second felt like eternity, or maybe it was. Xiao Fang couldn't grasp the concept of time in this space, he was not in the right mind to.

Every breath in this void was agony—but he couldn't scream. He couldn't even move. He was being rebuilt.

"I expected you to burn out after the first wave," the Curse said, almost amused. "But you're still here. Curious."

For a moment, the darkness split—and Xiao Fang saw himself.

Not just his body, but his soul.

It was fraying at the edges, threads of his being unraveling, but something was holding it together. Will. Rage. Desire. No. It was something else entirely, something foreign, yet familiar.

Even in unconsciousness, something in Xiao Fang refused to break.

"Tch. So stubborn," the Curse whispered.

Strangely, Xiao Fang felt as if the Curse was conversing with something else inside of him. Something deeper, as if it didn't want to be discovered.

"Fine," the Curse said reluctantly.

Suddenly, the void trembled. And Xiao Fang felt it—like an ancient seal cracking open. Something old. Something locked away.

Power surged through him. Not just Curse Qi—but something deeper. Primordial. Boundless. Alive.

It flooded into his soul.

But it wasn't a gift. It was a test.

His spine arched in the void, mouth open in a silent scream. The power felt like molten fire and frozen steel coursing through his veins. Pain beyond words. His essence fractured.

Then, as if tossed by an unseen hand, he slammed into something solid.

His feet hit ground—a pale stone platform in the middle of the void. Before him stood a shadowed figure, cloaked in flickering smoke. The Curse's true form.

The figure took a step forward, and when it spoke, it was no longer mocking.

"You've inherited my strength. But strength is not a blessing."

"It is a burden."

"If you can carry it, you may transcend beyond the Heavenly realm. If you cannot…"

The stone beneath Xiao Fang's feet cracked.

"You will die like the rest."

The figure raised a hand, and all the energy swirling within Xiao Fang suddenly collapsed inward—imploding into his core.

There was no time to think.

He shouted.

Not with fear—but with defiance.

Then—everything snapped.

.

.

.

Xiao Fang woke up.

Eyes flying open. Gasping.

His body was trembling, drenched in cold sweat. His clothes clung to his skin, ripped and scorched. The arena around him was still.

The crowd gone. The sun lower in the sky. But the stage seemed aged, as if he had been laying there for days.

He was alone.

He could feel something inside him now. A new presence. Slumbering, yes—but pulsing faintly. Waiting.

His limbs felt foreign. His heartbeat deeper. His perception sharper. His soul... heavier.

He sat up slowly, looking down at his hands. They looked the same—but felt utterly different.

He had changed.

Peering inward, Xiao Fang examined his dantian—and what he saw left him breathless.

His Spirit Cultivation had advanced, not by a single minor stage, but by an entire major realm.

His aura now had five distinct layers.

'5th stage… Divine Realm..."

He was too stunned to speak.

Yet that wasn't all.

Faintly superimposed over his dantian, like a shadow lurking beneath calm waters, was a second core—foreign yet familiar. A dark spiral of overwhelming power. It pulsed with the essence of death, its presence ancient and suffocating, as if it held the capacity to annihilate him the moment he touched it.

A Death Dantian—Incomprehensibly powerful, but dormant.

Curiosity flickered in Xiao Fang's heart. He wanted to touch it, just to see what this Curse had truly given him.

But as if plucking the thought from his mind, a voice spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Smooth. Calm. And echoing from all directions at once.

Xiao Fang jolted upright, scanning his surroundings—but saw no one.

Then, without warning, a gentle hand reached toward his face and removed his blindfold.

Xiao Fang hadn't even sensed the person's presence—not until their fingers were already at his eyes.

As the blindfold slipped away, he raised a hand to shield himself from the light.

The glare of the sun forced him to squint, but when his vision adjusted, he froze.

'Violet?' Xiao Fang thought in shock.

The man standing before him had violet eyes—the same unnatural shade as his own.

Xiao Fang's heart skipped a beat.

His squint turned to a wide-eyed stare, and in that instant, the Death Dantian stirred.

A low rumble echoed in his soul as its seal began to crack open.

Curse Qi exploded through his body, flooding his meridians like a dam had shattered. His aura darkened, becoming monstrous and vast—an echo of death itself. Black mists wreathed his body as the ground beneath him trembled. His cultivation surged—from mid-Divine Realm to peak, and even beyond.

The Curse's power wasn't content to stop. It kept rising, forcing his body toward the threshold of the Heavenly Realm, dragging him into a transformation his body couldn't withstand.

Xiao Fang felt like he was about to explode.

But just in time, he clenched his eyes shut then the feeling disappeared.

The Curse receded, leaving his body trembling, covered in sweat.

His breathing slowed.