Soul Reforged: The Rise of Sword God Chen Xin

Wind whispered through the pine forest as Chen Xin descended the stone steps of the forge, Gu Jian strapped across his back, its reborn weight balanced and alive. The sword no longer felt like an extension of his hand—it was something more now. A voice. A will. A reflection.

The path before him was not yet clear, but one thing had changed irrevocably: he was no longer simply walking forward.

He was being called.

At the base of the mountain, Mira awaited him beside a narrow trail leading east—where mountains gave way to broken valleys and ruins lost to time. Her arms were folded, eyes trained not on him, but on the horizon.

"You look different," she said without turning.

Chen Xin adjusted the hilt at his back. "I feel it."

"Then it worked?"

He nodded. "It did more than that. The sword… it remembers things I never did. Memories of wielders long gone. Paths walked. Choices made."

Mira finally looked at him. "And does it speak to you now?"

"Yes. Not in words. But in… intentions."

"Good," she said, her voice low. "Because the next step won't wait. The Council sent word. A gathering has been called in the ruins of Zonglan Keep."

Chen Xin raised an eyebrow. "The sealed battleground?"

Mira nodded. "The last stronghold before the fall of the Swordbearers. You'll find answers there—or more questions. But it's a test. One only you can face."

He looked eastward. The sun crested the broken ridge, its light casting long shadows across the trail.

Without hesitation, Chen Xin stepped forward.

The path was narrow, carved by footfall and forgotten time. As they walked, Mira briefed him in pieces—about the fractured remnants of sword sects, the stirrings of conflict among spirit clans, and whispers of divine fragments awakening in mortal hands.

Each word was a whetstone to Chen Xin's resolve.

He was no longer the Sword Douluo of legend.

He was a blade reforged—not by fire, but by choice.

And the world was changing once more.