As Bo Jian drifted back to consciousness, a lingering haze clouded his mind, fragments of what had just occurred flickering in and out of focus—the sword trembling, surging toward him, and an intense warmth flooding his body as if it had fused with him. Dizzy and disoriented, he slowly pushed himself upright, his hand rising instinctively to his forehead, where a faint, pulsing warmth seemed to radiate. As his fingers traced the spot, he blinked, his vision sharpening, and a realization dawned on him: something had been left behind.
He scrambled to find a reflective surface, glancing around until he spotted a small puddle at the cave's edge. Leaning over, he peered into the water's surface, and there, on his forehead, was a faint, intricate mark in the shape of the sword. It wasn't just any ordinary mark—it was a symbol of the Dragon's Spine Sword, a blend of ancient lines and symbols, delicate yet powerful, carved into his skin as if it were part of him.
"What… What is this?" he whispered, fingers hovering over the mark.
The symbol glowed softly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as if it held a living connection to the sword that now lay beside him. Jian could feel the energy resonating from the mark, a presence that was both mysterious and powerful. He was no longer merely a bystander in this strange destiny—this mark was proof that he had somehow become bound to the legendary weapon. As Bo Jian's fingers brushed against the faint, pulsing mark on his forehead, he felt a surge of energy flow through him. The symbol, warm and alive beneath his touch, seemed to respond, resonating with a hidden power deep within him. Suddenly, the air in the cave thickened, and with a burst of light, the Dragon's Spine Sword reappeared, hovering in front of him, suspended as if by invisible hands.
The sword floated in midair, its blade gleaming with an ethereal glow, vibrating with an intensity that made the very walls of the cave seem to pulse. Jian reached out, his hand trembling as he moved closer, mesmerized by the power emanating from it. But as his fingers neared the blade, it began to shake, releasing a low, rumbling sound that filled the space.
The glow intensified, and in an instant, the sword's form began to shift, its edges blurring and expanding. Before Jian's eyes, the weapon transformed, its shape dissolving into tendrils of energy that coiled and twisted. The light gathered, solidifying and taking form, until it revealed the mighty figure of an ancient dragon, its scales shimmering like molten silver, eyes blazing with wisdom and strength from ages past.
Jian gasped, stumbling back as the dragon's towering presence filled the cave. Its form was spectral, a soul born of the sword's essence, yet it radiated a presence that felt deeply real, its gaze piercing and powerful. The dragon's head lowered, its eyes meeting Jian's with an intensity that spoke of recognition and purpose.
Jian stood frozen, his heart pounding as he took in the awe-inspiring sight. He was no longer simply in the presence of a weapon; he was facing the very soul of the ancient dragon that had once wielded the sword's power. This was no ordinary bond. He could feel it in his bones, a link that connected him to the dragon's legacy, a responsibility and power he had yet to fully understand.
The Dragon's Human Form
As Bo Jian watched in awe, the mighty dragon soul began to shift once more, its spectral form contracting and reshaping, twisting with an ancient energy that filled the cave. Slowly, the colossal figure of the dragon dissolved, its massive scales and sinewy body transforming, until it reformed into the shape of a man, floating in the air with a dignified presence.
He appeared to be in his fifties, his spirit form ethereal yet clear, emanating a quiet strength. His face was partially covered in shimmering dragon scales, a blend of silver and deep black that hinted at his true nature. His piercing eyes held a thousand years of wisdom and an intensity that seemed to see directly into Jian's soul. He was dressed in dark, flowing robes of black and silver, each fold embroidered with dragon motifs that seemed to shift and shimmer, as if alive.
On his shoulder rested a small, spectral dragon, coiled with watchful eyes, its presence an extension of his power. The man's aura was calm but fierce, like a storm held in check. His gaze settled on Bo Jian, and a faint smile touched his lips, both knowing and formidable.
"So," he spoke, his voice resonant and deep, carrying the weight of ages, "you are the one my essence has bound itself to." He paused, studying Jian with a mixture of curiosity and pride. "I am Zhēnyè Lóng, once a dragon of the ancient world, now merely a spirit tethered to this blade."
Jian swallowed, his mind reeling as he took in the figure before him. This was no mere man, but a dragon soul in human form, radiating an aura so vast that Jian felt both dwarfed by its power and lifted by its presence, as if something deep within him was awakening to meet it.
"You bear my mark, young one," Zhēnyè Lóng intoned, his voice like distant thunder, resonating with timeless wisdom and strength. "With it comes the might of my legacy… and the weight of its duty. Stand ready, for you are now the vessel of an ancient power, and the guardian of all it stands to protect."
Hovering above, Zhēnyè Lóng's eyes gleamed, fierce and protective—a guardian from a forgotten age, now bound to this era and to the one he had chosen.Zhēnyè Lóng observed Bo Jian with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze, taking in every detail of the young man before him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked deeper, seeming to pierce through Jian's very being.
"Strange," he murmured, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "No qi flows within you… no cultivation, no power. You are as one untouched by the path of strength."Zhēnyè Lóng's gaze grew sharper as he looked at Bo Jian, his eyes narrowing as if peeling away invisible layers. He examined Jian with an intensity that felt almost palpable, scanning every part of him, searching deeper. After a long moment, his expression shifted, a glint of understanding flashing in his ancient eyes.
"Ah… I see it now," Zhēnyè Lóng said, a hint of intrigue coloring his voice. "There is a seal upon you, woven with an ancient technique—powerful, precise. It shields you, yet binds you, blocking the very flow of qi."He paused, his eyes reflecting both curiosity and recognition. This seal wasn't something lightly cast. Whoever had placed it had done so with purpose, guarding Jian as much as restraining him, preventing him from walking the path of cultivation. Zhēnyè Lóng's sharp gaze lingered on Jian, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he continued his examination. Bo Jian stood there, bewildered and uneasy, unsure what this old man—this dragon soul in human form—was trying to accomplish.
Zhēnyè Lóng crossed his arms, his tone carrying a hint of frustration. "You, bound by my mark, unable to harness qi… and obsessed with alchemy," he said with a sigh, shaking his head. "How unfortunate that someone with such interest and potential is held back by a seal."
Jian's eyes widened, shock rippling through him. How could this mysterious figure know about his passion for herbs and refining pills?
Zhēnyè Lóng let out a booming laugh that echoed through the cave. "Surprised, are you?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I can sense it, boy. Your scent is rich with herbs, steeped in the essence of countless concoctions. And, thanks to the soul mark on your forehead, I see glimpses of your past. You've endured much, haven't you?"
Jian's breath caught in his throat, memories flashing through his mind—years of mockery, the constant taunts and labels of "trash," the disappointment in his family's eyes despite their kindness. His hand instinctively rose to his face, as if to shield himself from the intensity of Zhēnyè Lóng's gaze.
The dragon soul's expression softened, just slightly. "There's more strength in you than they see," he said, voice lowering. "All those struggles have left their mark, but they've made you resilient. Now, tell me—are you content to live in the shadow of that seal, or would you dare to break free?". Bo Jian looked at the old man before him, the weight of his presence unmistakable. This wasn't just any cultivator; he was a figure of ancient power, an elder whose knowledge stretched far beyond what Jian could imagine. Though Jian didn't fully understand how the man had come to exist in this soul form, he instinctively knew he had to show the utmost respect.
He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, then bowed slightly. "Senior," he began, his tone reverent, "before I answer your question, may I first have the honor of knowing your name? It would be a privilege to address you properly."
Zhēnyè Lóng's eyes softened, and a faint, approving smile appeared on his face. "Ah… you have manners, boy," he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You may call me Zhēnyè Lóng."
The name hung in the air, carrying with it an ancient gravity. Jian's eyes widened slightly as he recognized the meaning: "True Night Dragon." He'd read legends of powerful dragons, but never did he imagine he'd encounter one—especially not a dragon of such stature in a human form.
"Zhēnyè Lóng…" Jian repeated softly, nodding with renewed respect. "It's an honor to meet you, Senior Zhēnyè Lóng."
Zhēnyè Lóng inclined his head in acknowledgment, his gaze steady. "Now that introductions are complete," he said, his voice carrying a note of amusement, "tell me, boy, are you ready to face the truth of your potential, and all that may come with it?"