I sat cross-legged in the dimly lit chamber, fragments of ancient weapons scattered around me. My resources had dwindled to nothing—no pills, no elixirs, nothing to sustain my cultivation. The Immortal Bane Sect had be my prison, and I needed to find a way out.


    Running my fingers over a jagged piece of metal, I felt a faint resonance of power. These weren''t ordinary fragments. Each one contained traces of energy that had survived centuries, perhaps millennia.


    "There has to be a way," I muttered, examining the bronze sword at my side.


    It was a decent weapon, but ordinary. Nothing that could breach the massive gates keeping me trapped here. But these fragments...they gave me an idea.


    I gathered the pieces, feeling their weight in my hands. Some were norger than my thumbnail, others the length of my finger. Materials I couldn''t even identify—metals that shouldn''t exist in the mortal realm.


    The Artifact Refining Cauldron sat in the corner, dusty and unused. I''d discovered it days ago but hadn''t found a purpose for it until now.


    "Worth a shot," I said to myself, approaching the ancient device.


    I ced my bronze sword inside the cauldron, then arranged the fragments around it. The knowledge from my jade pendant flowed through me—techniques of weapon forging that hadn''t been practiced in eons.


    Hours passed as I collected more fragments from throughout the abandoned sect halls. Each one had to be evaluated, cleaned, and prepared. Some contained opposing energies that would destroy each other if ced incorrectly.


    By the third day, dark circles had formed under my eyes. I hadn''t slept, driven by desperate hope that this might be my ticket out.


    "Almost ready," I whispered, organizing the final arrangement.


    The true challenge would be the refinement process itself. I''d need to use my Purple Spirit Fire—a technique that drained tremendous energy from my core. In my weakened state, this was risky.


    But I had no choice.


    I sat before the cauldron and closed my eyes, focusing on my dantian. The familiar warmth of my Purple Spirit Fire ignited, and I directed it toward the cauldron.


    The metal turned red, then white-hot. Sweat poured down my face as I maintained the me. The fragments began to melt, their essences mingling with the bronze of my sword.


    Pain shot through my meridians. Without cultivation resources, this process was tearing at my very foundation. But I couldn''t stop now.


    I pushed harder, my divine sense extending into the molten metal, guiding the fusion of materials. Ancient powers resisted, wanting to remain separate, but I forced them to bend to my will.


    "Obey me," I growled through gritted teeth.


    A sudden surge of energy knocked me backward. The cauldron glowed with blinding intensity, forcing me to shield my eyes. When I looked again, the metal was bubbling violently, threatening to overflow.


    I scrambled forward, using my divine sense to stabilize the reaction. The opposing energies fought like wild beasts, each trying to consume the others. If they exploded now, it would likely kill me.


    Hours blended together as I battled for control. My consciousness flickered at the edges, exhaustion threatening to ovee me. But finally, gradually, the chaotic energies began to harmonize.


    By the sixth day, I was barely conscious, surviving on pure determination. The refining process had entered its final stage—the cooling and tempering of the new weapon.


    "Just a little longer," I whispered, though there was no one to hear. <small ss="frag-a9e542">Reader<i ss="node-sep"></i>support<i ss="node-sep"></i>at<i ss="node-sep"></i>*<i ss="node-sep"></i>made<i ss="node-sep"></i>this<i ss="node-sep"></i>trantion<i ss="node-sep"></i>possible.</small>


    When the seventh day dawned, I opened the cauldron with trembling hands. Steam hissed out, carrying the scent of metal and something else—something ancient and powerful.


    The sword that emerged was nothing like the bronze de I''d ced inside. This weapon glowed with a deep crimson light, its edge impossibly sharp. Runes I didn''t recognize ran along the fuller, pulsing with contained energy.


    I reached for the hilt, hesitating for just a moment before wrapping my fingers around it. Instantly, I felt a connection—the sword resonated with my own energy as if it had been forged for me alone.


    "Hello, beautiful," I murmured, lifting the de.


    It was perfectly bnced, lighter than it should be given its size. As I moved it through the air, it left faint traces of red light, like blood trails in the dim chamber.


    The weapon seemed almost alive, vibrating gently in my grip. I could feel it drawing on my energy, but unlike the draining effect of the forging process, this was more like a conversation—an exchange.


    I tested the edge with my thumb and hissed as it cut me without resistance. A drop of blood ran down the de, and to my amazement, the sword seemed to absorb it, the crimson glow intensifying momentarily.


    "Blood-hungry, are you?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.


    But the sword pulsed once in my hand, as if in response.


    I stood and began moving through basic sword forms. The de moved as if it were an extension of my arm, anticipating each turn and thrust. Power flowed through it—through me—with each movement.


    Despite my exhaustion, I felt stronger with this weapon in my hand. The weakness from days without proper cultivation seemed distant now, pushed aside by the sword''s energy.


    I approached a stone pir in the chamber and, with a single strike, cleaved through it. The cut was so clean that the top half didn''t fall until I pushed it with my finger.


    "Not bad," I said, impressed despite myself.


    But the real test would be the gate—the massive, ancient barrier that had kept me prisoner all this time. I needed to know if this sword could break what nothing else had managed to scratch.


    I made my way through the winding corridors of the sect, sword in hand. Dust swirled around my feet, undisturbed for centuries until my arrival. The few beasts that inhabited these ruins sensed the power of my new weapon and fled before me.


    Finally, I stood before the gate. Towering bs of stone etched with protective formations—magic meant tost for eternity.


    I''d tried everything to breach this barrier. Physical attacks, energy techniques, even attempting to tunnel beneath it. Nothing had worked.


    I raised the crimson sword, its glow casting eerie shadows across the ancient stone. The runes along the de brightened in response to the formations on the gate, as if recognizing a worthy opponent.


    "Let''s see what you can do," I said, gripping the hilt with both hands.


    I gathered my remaining energy, channeling it into the sword. The crimson glow intensified until it bathed the entire chamber in blood-red light. The de began to hum, vibrating with eagerness.


    With a deep breath, I assumed my stance, the sword held high above my head. Everything I had left—every ounce of strength, every scrap of technique—would go into this strike.


    "For Isabelle," I whispered, thinking of her face, wondering if she still waited for me in the world outside. "For freedom."


    The sword trembled in my hands, its power building to a crescendo. I could feel it calling for release, demanding to be tested against the unyielding gate.


    "Now or never."


    I brought the crimson de down with all my might, aiming for the center of the ancient barrier, where the protective formations were weakest. The sword left a trail of light through the air as it descended toward its target.


    The moment of impact was seconds away, and I couldn''t help but wonder—would this be my liberation, or just another failed attempt in an endless series of disappointments?


    The crimson sword vibrated with ancient power in my hands as I faced the massive gate, ready to test if it could finally break me free.