Shen woke up early and went out of the pagoda.

Sensing Shen’s presence, Zhu Gong stood up from the lakeside and gave him one of the two swords sitting with him.

Seeing the young man caressing the blade absentmindedly, his expression grew severe.

- Disciple, do you think of yourself as a good person? – He asked in a very serious tone.

- No - Shen whispered, confused.

- Wonderful. I raise cultivators, not graves... Now harden your grip!

Shen put more strength on his hands. He didn't understand what Zhu Gong was implying, but his voice was enough to get him on edge. That was an order, not a suggestion.

- I'll start training you with this one-handed longsword.

The old man slid his hands by the sword, he felt nostalgic since it had been centuries since he handled an obedient blade.

- First, why use a sword and not another weapon?

Shen thought on the issue for a few seconds, but he had no idea why. The closest thing to a weapon he had ever handled was an axe, as he was often subjected to chopping trees and harvesting lumber because of his natural disposition.

- Sorry, I don't know.

Zhu Gong made a cut towards Shen, slowly so he could catch up, and instinctively he held the sword up to defend against the blow. The swords connected and Zhu Gong's blade descended upon Shen's fingers until it hit the guard.

Something dawned on Shen at this exchange and he professed his newfound knowledge immediately.

- It holds a good balance between attack and defense.

Zhu Gong returned to his starting position. He wasn't expecting much from him, but at least he gave an answer. It would have been awkward if Shen couldn't understand such basic things, though as the mentor it was his duty to enlighten him.

- The sword as a weapon is made exclusively for combat against other men, at least in the mortal realm. Most are entirely metal, which is resistant and durable; the handle is comfortable and the weight veers towards you; the guard helps defend your fingers and hands, and it has good reach too. There are many different blades, but in general, those are the aspects of a sword.

Zhu Gong shifted his weight expertly between his legs and executed a series of fast penetrating blows. From a glance, that blade was best for slashing, but he tailored blows that made the evil qi vanish. All of these moves were aimed at the opponent’s vitals, and each small lunge was followed by circular or diagonal motions that left an afterimage.

If it were night, the cold glint of the edge would give the impression of painting the air, but beneath the sun there was only a sheen.

Imagining his master fighting a real opponent, Shen understood that those circular motions were not there just for show, although he couldn't picture how they fit into a duel. Regardless, the rhythm was oppressive enough to make him lose focus on what was a blow and what was a feint.

Zhu Gong finished the set of moves beautifully and returned to his usual laid-back posture.

- Practice these moves. When your body remembers them, proceed to this one.

Zhu Gong reverse-gripped the sword with one of his hands and kept the other as a support, then rooted himself in the ground. Unlike before, when he emitted a cold yet dignified air, now he was brimming with killing intent.

Without as much as batting an eye, Shen heard a loud chirp and Zhu Gong’s sword appeared a meter forwards. He didn't understand what happened, on his eyes it seemed like he was there in one second, and then he wasn't there anymore.

If not for the sounds, he would take time to notice he had moved at all.

Zhu Gong saw that Shen couldn’t see every move clearly and did it again, this time carefully building up strength as he drew Qi from the surroundings and bent it continuously, weaving them like threads around the sword.

After many barely noticeable strings of energy coated the blade, mixing into its cold glint, they elongated into a funnel or lance head.

The sword was propelled forwards as if it was being sucked, then it happened again, more perceivable to Shen's eyes, slower, but definitely the same move.

All the accumulated force was released in a single breath and the evil Qi dispersed at the tip of his blade.

Zhu Gong put down the sword.

- Did you see clearly?

- Yes…

Shen was mesmerized. It wasn't a beautiful move, compared to the swordsmanship he had shown him earlier, but it wasn't meant to be like that.

It was a simple move, the move that would end his opponent in one strike.

- This is your trump card. Use it only when you're in danger, and be careful. I mean it.

Zhu Gong passed one more hour explaining the particulars of the sword, a few key points on human anatomy that would help him in combat and how to use Qi to aid his movements and better control his weight.

***

Shen was trying to understand each of the moves on Zhu Gong's demonstration. At first, he was caught up in their beauty, but in practice realized they were more complicated than what he thought. He couldn't imagine the reason behind most of them, going as far as to question the practical use of some.

In the end, he gave up and simply integrated them on his daily routine. With luck, he would understand them someday.

When practicing sword techniques, meditating on them was not enough. Even if depiction was faithful and execution was perfect, constant repetition was responsible for conditioning the action.

Battles between cultivators were settled very quickly. Each time one surpassed a layer, his strength increased sporadically and it was difficult to cope with that if you were on the receiving end of that difference – a split second was enough for someone to lose his life, close quarter fighters had to go with their instincts and feel the flow of combat instead of relying solely on their quick thinking.

Every morning from then on, Shen would swing his sword nonstop in a daze, to the point where he didn’t need to consciously move his blad. When gripping the hilt, his sword would move naturally and separate from his thoughts.

He couldn’t refine Qi in that state, and he used his idle mind to think of different situations he would be up against, to the limit of his imagination. Since he knew next to nothing of battle, all he could do was think of a general characteristic that made the fight difficult.

It could be said that his initiative was good, so long as he didn't take those characteristics as fixed. If he truly believed in his ideas, at one point he would be surprised - and in a very bad way.

***

In four weeks, the moves were carved into Shen's body, and, though unreliable, he had thought of many outcomes under combat and that was helpful.

He learned quickly, but his master hadn't returned yet, so he spent a few more days testing the limits of his techniques and studying his own body.

In the end, his fencing didn’t improve from that, but he gained a lot of knowledge on his lower limits, the maximum exertion he could handle without damaging himself.

He hadn't spared much thought to the last technique he was taught - after all, he could barely control his own Qi. Rather, he started to put more time into Qi refining while keeping up with his drills, gradually decreasing the time for the later as he felt diminishing results.

During one of those days, on his rest time, he went for a dive into the lake. It had been a lot of time since he came to that place, but he never took his time to explore it. At best, he would get in and stay in a lone spot, relaxing in the cool water.

There was something inside him that told him not to go near that area, and the evil Qi did not exist near it. Often, it could be taken as a sign of safety, but not in Seven Swords. Anything the haze of bad energies did not touch was considered a source of danger, a very big one.

He ignored those feelings and advanced, the water was refreshing after a heavy training schedule, and he would like to be submerged in it without needing to lay down as he usually did. He ventured further away from the lakeshore, but something didn't allow him to go further, an eery feeling that crept inside him, warning him that he should no proceed.

Shen returned. He felt uncomfortable in that situation and took a step back.

He opened his eyes in full and swam back as fast as he could, his heart started to hurt all of a sudden and he could feel each and every beat as it pumped blood to his legs and arms so he could run.

He reached for land, he was more tired than when he entered the waters, and he couldn't be sure if he was sweating or not. His breath was uneven, his ankles were in pain and he touched them, he had felt something giving him a strong pull deeper down, but there was no mark. He thought that maybe the whole thing was inside his head, he hadn't been the same after coming to the sect, but he made a note not to go in too deep.

In the waters, there was a black form, writhing due to the undulations, but it was just a moment.

***

One morning, Shen didn't go outside to train. He wasn't the type to derail just from a day off, so he didn't worry about slacking off on the next day. He'd rather worry about Zhu Gong who hadn't come back yet - he knew that the old man was likely a big shot in the sect, but he couldn't help but worry since he had no idea where his master had gone off to. In reality, he didn't know if that worry was truly for Zhu Gong, or if it was his body that wanted to do something other than swinging a sword and refine Qi - something he was definitely not adamant about.

Both were time-consuming, both sapped his energies, and most important: they were becoming very tedious, so much that even Qi refining was yielding unsatisfactory results. He needed this day off to reassess his training schedule, and he finally glanced at the last move Zhu Gong had shown him, the ominous strike infused with Qi.

It was just a fleeting thought, but if he had demonstrated this technique, then he trusted that Shen would be capable of executing it. That was the first thing that passed through his head - it made perfect sense for him, and it fit so perfectly that he couldn't see any other possibility with an equal chance of being the truth.

Shen stood up and stretched, he wasn't hurried to try it out, but it was heading in that direction.

He went to the lake, he expected to be stunned for a moment by the weak rays of light, but nothing of it. There was only the mist, colored purple by the moon. It was an aspect he hadn't seen before, as he always returned to the pagoda half an hour into the night.

He couldn't see the surface of the lake, only his form covered in shadows. Shen remembered the dream from months before, it felt distant, but he had a feeling that something would happen soon, and he couldn't shake off the notion that something didn't belong - that he didn't belong to that reality.

He looked at it again, his shadow had no eyes, but he could see its face, the smile he was shown that day when the lights broke out and devoured the darkness of the depths.

It opened its red glowing eyes, assaulting Shen by surprise, but he shook off his head and when he noticed, there were none.

It was gone.

He breathed in slowly, matching his pattern to that of the calm breeze, adjusting to its flow to focus on what was really important.

The sword arched forwards and the particles of darkness motioned towards it, tangling into the blade like a spiral. They were sneaky and silent, not revealing their harmful nature. Shen thought of it like a snake, coiling unhurried, waiting for its prey to make a step towards it, commit a mistake.

And suddenly, there would be two poisonous fangs craved into soft flesh. Nothing else mattered.

Shen looked at the sword, the threads of Qi could barely hold still, they were escaping his control continuously, making his efforts futile. It was easier to contain them, difficult was to manipulate them according to his will.

He couldn't handle it for long.

When the Qi tides were at their strongest, the best he could've gotten with his feeble achievements, he let it all go, and it was much slower than Zhu Gong's. Being the one doing it, he could see it clearly, every moment of it in a slow motion.

The first pulse was gentle. It pulled him in, telling him to let go of the sword, to set it free.

His master's voice echoed in his mind, 'Now harden your grip!', and his body stiffened on the spark of a second before relaxing again. He was nervous, he didn't think he could do it, but he wanted to believe in it. It was his first try and it could be guaranteed to have miserable performance, but he wanted it to work.

After exhausting his body out of its energies, he wanted it to succeed.

He held it with confidence, his hands firm and steady.

Then came the second pulse.

He felt a bolt of pain run through his arms, and it wasn't the burning pain of exhaustion. It was a rupture, he felt as if something sharp had been stabbed into his hands, slowly making their way up, and all of his veins were bursting out from under his skin.

It was gruesome, but Shen could take it. It wasn't the first time he had experienced excruciating pain, and while he never got accustomed to it, he wouldn't fall in a matter of seconds. But the pain was getting worse at every second, Shen bit his lips, so hard that they bled - he needed something to escape it, to momentarily forget that feeling, and it didn't go away.

The final pulse.

He didn't feel anything, it was just an instant, and all the pain was gone and he felt nothing. The cold breeze cooling his skin, the blood boiling inside him, the wind blowing on his body. He was there, a few steps away.

He did it. It was a weak start, but he managed to do it.

His hands were bleeding. He didn't understand that they were bleeding, he just felt something warm and moist on his skin.

He couldn't feel them.

***

After two months, Zhu Gong returned.

While falling from the skies, he scanned the area and noticed Shen was immersed in the lake. That was puzzling, because it was past midday and he should be training.

- You better have those moves memorized already! - Zhu Gong yelled in the air, landing in front of Shen and splashing a wave in front of him. He felt annoyed at the possibility that Shen could have skipped on training.

- This disciple welcomes master...

Shen spoke in a stupor. There was no feeling, no attachment to the words. If he was asked about what he just said, he wouldn't recall - it was a conditioned response, and his conscious mind was unable to process it in that state.

Zhu Gong was surprised at his complete lack of enthusiasm. There was never a fire burning in his eyes, not the one he expected him to have, but seeing him like that showed Zhu Gong that Shen had worries. He couldn't have the fire and, at the same time, the waves inside of his eyes.

Now he had none of them.

Lifeless.

Zhu Gong looked at Shen's arms. He saw the veins pressing against his skin, they looked purple with tinges of black, and his hands saw no movement.

They were gone.

Zhu Gong was angry, both at Shen and at himself, and sad and disappointed. He couldn't pick one of the three, none would help him or his disciple in that situation, but in Shen's hands, he saw his own blood drying. He approached Shen and tried to infuse him with his own Qi, all futile attempts, they would never come back from that state.

They were gone forever.

Zhu Gong's hands laid on Shen's shoulders. They were growing cold, Shen had been on that lake for a lot of time. He couldn't feel his master's strength, and he couldn't sense Zhu Gong before him.

- I know what you want to say... I'm done for.

- No... We can take care of it.

- You don't believe that... Just tell me the truth.

Shen looked up and into Zhu Gong's eyes. His piercing gaze was something Zhu Gong deeply hurt over. There was only one time that he could remember, and he wished he could forget, that he saw this gaze from a person he cared about.

The look in the eyes of someone who had been robbed of his future.

It wasn't about cultivation, and he wasn't even thinking about how his life would be like from then on. It was about the unforeseen, losing something that had always been there his whole life, something he never considered for any matter, it was simply there. It didn't need any other reason to exist, it just belonged. And suddenly came the realization, at first dubious and filled with hope, but then dark and unforgiving, of what really happened. It tore open a hole, not only in his body but especially in his heart.

And now he had to live with it.

- We need to cut them...

Shen stared at the surface of the lake. He breathed in, out, slowly, thoughtfully, each breath carried with strong feelings. He wished he didn't have to face reality, but he had waited long enough, and that was the correct word: waiting. He had done nothing, only stalling for time, looking at the horizon, with a false hope that things would change, and that wasn't him - he was a realist - but at that time he just tried to forget about everything else and pretend that the world was frozen in time and that it didn't matter what path he would be walking on.

He didn't cry. He had never cried, not once in his life.

- How much?

- Below the shoulders...

***

In the next morning, Shen woke up and went outside, and he didn't know if it was bright or dark, cool or hot, whether the foliages were blue, white, black, he didn't care about anything. The world hadn't changed, however.

Things he loved, he couldn't feel them anymore.

He didn't know what was next. He couldn't possibly know, it was never in his plans - just like cultivating. Part of his joy laid on an established routine and all he wanted was a normal life. What waited for him beyond that, the final destination of the road he walked, he didn't wish to know - he was always in the present. Entering the world of cultivation introduced him to another time: the future, and he was afraid of it deep inside, but managed to push through.

Losing his arms pulled him to the past.

Nothing had changed since the last year. Objectively, he was still powerless to choose his own path. He felt that he had lost his will to live, his original purpose of getting stronger to live a peaceful life was crushed along with his arms.

He couldn't enjoy it anymore - why pursue it, then?

He looked at his shoulders, what was supposed to be there was now lost forever, but he had gained something valuable in return.

The opportunity to change.

Either Shen would overcome that hurdle and gain a stronger resolution on the path he had previously walked, or he would unveil a completely new road he would've never dreamed of taking. He had to, otherwise, he would be imprisoned in the past.

He didn't think of any of that, but if there was something that stuck to him once his training started, it was the habit of refining Qi. It required a great amount of concentration, and it kept him away from his own hollowness.

Zhu Gong noticed the state he was in, and he couldn't accept that Shen wouldn't be able to handle a weapon anymore.

The old man felt cheated. Shen was the perfect disciple for him, and he lost him because of a stupid mistake that was mostly his fault for not giving enough warnings. Ultimately, Shen had brought it on himself, but it could have been prevented with a few minutes of explanations.

Zhu Gong saw that Shen continued with his training schedule. There was no passion and no deep meaning behind his actions - they were just that, actions, purely mechanical and devoid of thought. Regardless, there was still hope, Shen hadn't given up, although he was very confused, and Zhu Gong couldn't give up either, not before trying everything.

Zhu Gong approached Shen, he wanted to tell him something, but whenever he felt it escaping his lips, he would stumble and stare at Shen, who didn't bother with his presence. Finally, he bit his lips and knocked him unconscious, he was never good with words.

He would find a way to help him, and he needed to do it fast before something else went wrong.

***

Shen woke up in a room, which he recognized as the one he had been assigned to in the outer sect. He felt something stuck to his face, and he tried shaking it off but it wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he pulled.

Shen stood up, he still hadn't gotten used to balancing his body like that, and looked at the mirror. What he saw was a wooden mask glued to his face. It perfectly delineated his visage and was comfortable enough that he could barely notice it's cold surface. The only openings were the two slits meant for his eyes to see, the wooden mouth didn’t move – it didn't matter, though, as he could already rely on Qi to maintain himself.

Shen looked at his arms, he hoped that he had gone back to the past, or that somehow it was all just a dream, he had woken up from a lot of them lately, why couldn't that be a long one? But this thought was crushed immediately after.

They were still gone.

Near the doorstep was an open letter, he crouched and read it.

“I'm looking for a way to bring your arms back. I don't know how long it will take, and First Island is not safe enough with me gone. Train there, I'll find a way to supply your medicine. As for your identity, you are a nameless slave, stolen from the mortals a year ago and turned into an outer disciple. No one will ask you more than that. I gifted you that mask, it's hard to take off and it's meant to protect you... Don't try anything too dangerous..”

Shen sighed. Internally, he had already given up on recovering anything, he felt that Zhu Gong's actions were useless. Still, he pushed on, and he didn't know for whose sake. He approached the issue by trying to feel normal, continuing to do what he always did, maybe that empty space that had opened in his heart would be filled.

Maybe he would forget it existed.

He continued to read.

“At the back of this letter, there’s a detailed map of Sword Cemetary so you won’t get lost.

For most of the time you’re free to do whatever you want, but once a week, disciples are required to go to the practice grounds where your group’s instructor will help you achieve the next stage and teach techniques to the strong. The best time to go out, if you want to, is seven days from now.

Every month there will be joint practices between different groups, you have to go then, but the mask will create the illusion that you are stronger than you appear to be. so don't buy into fights.

The vials are hidden in the mirror, burn this letter once you’re done reading”

Using his evil Qi to burn the small page, Shen frowned. He didn't like the fact that he had to deal with other people like that, but at the same time, there was a switch on his brain that had been turned off when he lost his arms. Things that he normally was afraid of, he didn't care anymore.

He closed his eyes and dropped in the bed again, but he made an effort to sit in a lotus position right after.

He didn't feel like relaxing.

Every moment he stopped to think, every breath he took, and every time he wasn't doing anything, he would feel that hollow getting bigger and wider, growing to devour his insides. He clenched his fists, they bled and hurt as if they were being stabbed, but they weren't there, only the pain was real.

He could only forget that pain when he was doing something else, so he sat there and continued with his Qi refining. Every time it looked like it was getting easier to accommodate Qi, he further increased the intake in a way that a single slip of concentration would cost him greatly, never going back, never stopping, only pressing forwards until he couldn't feel anything.

Death... It didn't look as bad anymore, it would be the end of his suffering, but although he embraced the idea, something kept him from doing so.

He'd rather not think, training until his mind was lost to exhaustion.

***

Shen found himself in a dark alley, and that time he was sure he had passed out. He looked at this arms again, out of reflex - he had done so for an entire month and it was already a habit - and shook his head.

Crawling on the floor, he pressed his shoulder against a wall to get up, and he managed it with such difficulty that even he found it laughable. Shen remembered how a worm moved, was that how they felt? Crawling on the cold earth until a predator came in and ate them? Or maybe like vermin, he would be the one eating their rotting carcasses.

Shen envisioned a little insect trying to get up when its legs had been crushed by a human, and he found a morbid fun in the idea.

He was that insect.

Shen stuck to the wall and walked, he didn't like that place, and it felt very familiar.

***

It had been half an hour since Shen first came and the passages narrowed down further at each step he took, becoming darker and darker. In the blink of an eye, he was surrounded by that darkness and couldn’t adapt to it, as if he was robbed of his vision rather than the lack of light in the surroundings.

He didn’t remember how much time had passed or which paths he took.

Silently dragging his body through the dead space, he started to feel frustrated over the situation, but it was better than staying still.

A few meters ahead, he saw a glint of two cold lights.

Shen stopped breathing, his heart ceased from beating for a fleeting moment, and although he felt his flesh failing him, he didn't think much of it. He squinted his eyes in a futile attempt to see further, but all that came to his vision was an enormous silhouette in place of the beams of light. It was similar to his encounter with the shadow, and in that mortifying silence, he could clearly hear his crooked heartbeat. Each time it pumped inside his chest, he would feel an indescribable pain, like a worm’s egg had been nestled inside it and the vermin finally matured, wanting to break free - devouring his heart from inside out.

In the middle of his daze, he couldn’t even bring himself to grab his chest. He truly thought he would die, and thinking about death and dying were completely different things.

He was scared, he thought that soon enough he would wake up and find himself in another room, just like before, and that the pain was fake - but it was real, very real. A few of his memories passed through him as his consciousness rapidly faded, he could see many moments, sad and joyful, and many important encounters that had happened to that day.

Everything froze, Shen's brain worked at a speed so fast that it overruled all that was known about the human body and the principles of time. All of his reasoning was focused on that last thought. 'So this is how I die...'. It repeated again and again, almost like a river of whispers crashing on his body, until all the whispers could be heard no more - overshadowed by a blurred thought.

'I don't want to die!'

***

Everything was gone. The darkness, the feelings, the thoughts. He didn't know if he had died, but that space felt exactly like him - empty.

Shen looked around, he couldn't tell what was real and what was reality anymore, and that was driving him insane.

- You...

It was the shadow again, the same as before, and Shen couldn't tolerate the fact that it still had its arms. He thought it was supposed to be his shadow, but now he was sure it was just his mind pranking him.

The shadow approached, speaking in that foreign tongue that Shen couldn't understand. He ignored it and looked the other way, walking into the endless white, but the shadow didn't let him. It hugged him from behind, its body felt cold and moist as if it had just come out of the water, and he saw its hands tugging on him. Shen tried to shook it off, but he found it difficult without his arms, and that infuriated him even more.

- Get off me!

He managed to unveil himself from the embrace, looking behind him to confirm that it was gone, but what he saw shocked him.

The shadow had its arms severed, just like him.

***

Shen woke up inside the room again. He took time to settle down, disturbed by the shadow's appearance. He didn't know why he felt sorrow looking at it, it was simply his shadow within a dream. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made, and he didn't understand the early part of that dream either.

He saw an ordinary book lying on his lap. He was way too spent to read or cultivate, but with all of the strange events happening in succession, he didn’t think that book had just casually appeared on his room, so he looked into it.

The book was old and smelt like clothes after being soaked in sweat and left for a month in waiting, the pages were yellow and brittle, some of them moist, so Shen avoided seeing farther than the first one as they would crumble one after the other if he kept inspecting - he’d rather save it for another day when he would be focused. There was no information on the cover or other parts, and the first page was composed of a barely readable sentence, not because of the age, but rather because of the awful writing.

He then realized that he had been passing through the pages normally, like he always did, and he didn't need to turn to his severed limbs to see if they were still there, he was looking at them. But he didn't feel relief or happiness, what he felt was dread - a primal fear he could not understand nor describe.

His arms were black and he didn't feel anything when moving them, as if they were ghosts that followed his will.

Shen was blown away by the surprise, falling on the bed and instinctively using his hands to stop himself from falling. As soon as they touched the mildly soft cushion, he felt a devastating pain and a cry escaped his mouth, it felt like several knives had stabbed into his palms. He cushioned the fall with his back and carefully got up, trying to exert the least amount of strength on his arms, as he had been doing on the past month.

He stared at his hands, nothing had happened, but with a single touch on the book's page, he felt another surge of pain, as if the page had turned sharp, cutting through his flesh.

In that page, written as if carved in wood, ‘to you, the loser’.