At the summit of a high mountain outside the Holy Tree Temple, a white‑haired man sat cross‑legged, his hair in wild disarray.0

In the yellow earth before him, a black sword and white sword were locked together, twin blades entwined. Faint arcs of lightning and wisps of baleful energy still crawled across the metal, flickering like aftershocks. No one had ever seen a spirit artifact come out of the forge looking like this before.0

Were this an event being recounted in a teahouse, the storyteller would slam the table and proclaim theatrically, “And so a great demonic blade was born! Heaven and Earth would not permit its existence! Why else would thunder fall from the sky? Why else would the earth’s baleful energy surge up? Surely Heaven meant to stop the smith and keep this demonic blade from entering the world!”0

That said, stories...0