I was a mineral prospector in Chengdu, who transmigrated into the body of a mortal sword immortal.

The passage was longer than he had imagined. The light from the tinderbox seemed so small in the absolute darkness, illuminating only a three-foot square beneath his feet. The rock walls were slippery and cold, covered with fine droplets of water that occasionally dripped down with a clear, soft "tap" in the silence. Li Bai dragged his sprained right ankle, each step accompanied by excruciating pain and heavy breathing. The wound on his left arm was still bleeding, the warm, wet liquid flowing down his forearm to his fingertips and dripping to the ground. But he didn't stop. The wooden plaque in his arms grew increasingly hot, like a burning heart, guiding his way. The air grew fresher, even carrying a faint, ancient scent, like sandalwood. Ahead, at the end of the darkness, a faint light seemed to flicker. It wasn't the reflection from the tinderbox, but a steady, deep blue light emanating from a deeper source. He gritted his teeth and quickened his pace, despite the tearing pain in his ankle with each step. The light was ahead.

The tinder suddenly went out with a "poof".

Darkness instantly swallowed everything, leaving only a faint, eerie blue light flickering in the distance. Li Bai's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly forced himself to calm down. Leaning against the slippery rock wall, he closed his eyes, adjusting to the sudden darkness. A few breaths later, he opened his eyes—his eyes began to pick up more details.

That deep blue light was not an illusion.

It comes from the rock face itself.

It wasn't an illusion caused by the extinguishing of a tinderbox; it was real light emanating from within the rock. The light was extremely faint, like the tail flame of a firefly on a summer night, scattered like stars on the rock walls on either side of the passage. Li Bai reached out and touched one of the spots of light; it felt cold and hard—undoubtedly stone. But inside the stone, there seemed to be some kind of luminescent mineral crystals, as fine as sand, that continuously emitted this cold, mysterious glow in the darkness. The light wasn't enough to illuminate the entire passage, but it was enough to outline its shape, preventing him from completely losing his way.

With the help of this faint light, Li Bai saw more clearly.

Indeed, there were traces of human carving on the rock walls of the passage. The chisel marks were rough and ancient, their edges worn smooth by time, but still clearly made by some kind of stone tool. The chisel marks followed a regular pattern, shaping the originally irregular natural cracks into a passage barely wide enough for one person to pass through, following the natural texture of the rock. What made Li Bai's heart race even faster were some symbols carved on the rock wall near those luminous mineral crystals.

He leaned closer to take a closer look.

The symbols are deeply engraved, but their edges are also blurred by time. They are neither seal script nor clerical script, nor even any writing system that Li Bai had ever seen. They are more like some kind of primitive pictographic writing—there are simple lines outlining mountain shapes, water ripples, and circles of the sun; there are more complex patterns, like some kind of ritual scene: a group of people kneeling around a central object in worship; and... the shape of a sword. Not just one. Some swords are intact, some are broken. The engravings vary in depth, but their arrangement seems to follow a certain pattern, as if extending along the direction of a passage, telling an ancient story.

Li Bai's fingers gently brushed over the engravings. Stone dust fell in a soft rustling, carrying a slightly astringent smell of dust and minerals. His fingertips could feel the roughness of the engravings, and the extremely faint temperature differences remaining deep within them—as if these symbols, when carved, carried some kind of fervent emotion or will, which had not completely cooled even after a thousand years.

He continued on his way.

The terrain sloped downwards. The passage began to incline, sometimes gentle, sometimes steep. Li Bai had to hold onto the rock face, supporting himself with his left foot, dragging his throbbing right leg as he slowly descended. Each step was accompanied by a dull ache from the friction of bones against each other and a burning sensation from the tearing of muscles. Sweat soaked through his tattered clothes, mingling with blood and clinging stickily to his skin. But he dared not stop. The wooden plaque in his arms grew increasingly hot, almost scalding his skin. The faint blue light seemed to intensify, and the passage grew brighter.

The changes in the air are more noticeable.

Upon entering the passage, the air still carried the earthy smell and dampness from the rock walls. But now, the air was unusually fresh, dry, and even slightly sweet, like some kind of pure, unpolluted underground air. A cool breeze swept from the depths of the passage, brushing against his cheeks and dispelling the burning pain of his wounds and the heat in his body. Li Bai took a deep breath, his lungs expanding, and his spirits lifted. This air... didn't seem like something one would expect in a dead end.

A fork in the road appeared ahead.

The path splits into two here. One continues downward, steeper, with more luminescent minerals on the rock face, and a brighter, ethereal blue light. The other is relatively gentle, extending to the left, and slightly dimmer. Li Bai stops at the fork in the road, observing carefully.

Both passages bear traces of human carving on their rock walls, and are also engraved with those ancient symbols. However, the density of the symbols differs. The downward passage has more and denser symbols, and the symbols of "swords" and "altars" appear significantly more frequently. The left passage, on the other hand, has relatively sparse symbols and simpler patterns, mostly depicting mountains and water ripples.

Li Bai crouched down—a movement that made him wince in pain—to carefully examine the ground. The floor of the downward passage was covered with a thin layer of dust, and on the surface of this dust…there were extremely faint, almost invisible traces of airflow disturbance. The dust hadn't been blown away, but the direction of the fine particles on the surface vaguely pointed towards the depths of the passage. On the left side of the passage, the dust was thicker and the surface was smooth, showing no signs of airflow disturbance.

He recalled his geological exploration course in college. Underground cave systems, especially ancient caves with obvious signs of human intervention, often follow basic aerodynamic principles. Air flows from high-pressure areas to low-pressure areas, seeking outlets. Channels with a continuous outflow of air are more likely to lead to larger spaces, or even to the outside world—or at least to an area with active air exchange.

Altars... places where ceremonies are held usually require good ventilation, otherwise the smoke and fire cannot rise, and the participants cannot stay for long.

Li Bai did not hesitate.

He chose the downward-facing passage where a faint airflow emanated.

The passage indeed grew steeper. He was practically crawling and sliding downhill. More and more luminescent minerals appeared on the rock walls, their eerie blue glow merging into a single expanse, illuminating the passage as if he were in an underwater cave. The light was bright enough that Li Bai could even see the lines on his palms and the beads of blood seeping from his wounds. The ancient symbols appeared even more mysterious in the blue light, their edges reflecting a faint glow, as if they might come to life at any moment.

I don't know how long it took.

Time lost its meaning underground. Only pain, sweat, the ever-scorching wooden sign, and the endless, downward-reaching, eerie blue tunnel ahead. Li Bai's consciousness began to blur; waves of excruciating pain and exhaustion assaulted his nerves. He could only be sustained by a single, unwavering thought: Yang Yuhuan's face, the sorrow in Yang Xiaohuan's eyes, and… the sword on the mural.

Suddenly, I lost my footing.

It wasn't a fall, but rather the slope suddenly became gentler. He stumbled, nearly falling, and quickly grabbed the rock face for support. Looking closely—the passage had ended.

Ahead lay a vast, indescribable underground space.

Li Bai stood at the exit of the passage, completely stunned.

It was a naturally formed, domed underground cave, but its scale far exceeded his imagination. The cave ceiling hung high, at least thirty feet high, adorned with countless stalactites of varying lengths and thicknesses. Illuminated by the deep blue mineral light, they resembled an inverted forest or the fangs of a giant beast. Some stalactites were still slowly dripping water from their tips, the "drip, drip" sound echoing in the vast cave, crisp and ethereal.

The cave's diameter was probably over a hundred zhang (approximately 33 meters). The ground was relatively flat, covered with a fine, silvery-white sand-like substance that made a soft "rustling" sound when stepped on. Scattered across the sandy surface grew some peculiar plants—or rather, things that resembled plants. They had no leaves, only slender, translucent stems, the tips of which emitted a soft, milky-white halo, like tiny lanterns adorning the silvery sand. The air was filled with a complex scent, a mixture of minerals, clear water, and a certain fragrance, so refreshing it was almost intoxicating.

And the source of the light...

The light in the cave does not come entirely from the luminescent minerals on the rock walls. In the center of the cave, there is a building.

It was a stone altar.

The altar's base is square, about three zhang (approximately 10 meters) on each side, constructed from massive, roughly cut but tightly joined bluish-gray stones. The surfaces of the stones are covered with ancient symbols, densely packed, more intricate and detailed than those in the passageway. The altar has three layers, each narrowing slightly, the highest point about one zhang (approximately 3.3 meters) above the ground. Along the edge of each layer, evenly spaced, are fist-sized crystals emitting a strong, eerie blue light—these crystals provide the primary light source for the entire cave. Light shines through the crystals, reflected and refracted by the layers of stone, enveloping the altar in a sacred and mysterious halo.

The altar was in ruins. Several stones from the top layer were missing, revealing their rough, broken surfaces. A distinct crack ran from one side to the other on the second layer, as if cleaved by immense force. A corner of the base had collapsed, scattering rubble across the silvery sand. Time had left its relentless marks here.

Even so, the altar still exudes an indescribable majesty and ancient aura. It stands there like a sleeping giant, like frozen time, like... a promise that has been waiting for a thousand years.

Li Bai's heart pounded wildly, almost shattering his chest.

He staggered forward, the silver sand crunching softly beneath his feet. The closer he got to the altar, the stronger the fragrance in the air became, like some ancient spice, or the natural scent of jade emanating over countless years. The wooden plaque in his arms was burning hot, like a branding iron, and he had to press it against his clothes to prevent it from scorching his skin.

Many things were scattered around the altar.

Pottery fragments. Most are black or gray pottery, with thick bodies and simple rope or incised lines on the surface, indicating primitive craftsmanship. Some fragments are quite large, revealing that they were originally containers such as jars or urns. Jade fragments. There are broken jade cong, jade bi only half intact, and jade pieces carved with simple animal face patterns. The jade is warm and lustrous, exuding a restrained sheen even under a pale blue light. There are also some bone and stone artifacts, with strange shapes and unknown uses.

All of these are covered with a thick layer of dust, some already half-buried in the silver sand. They are like burial objects on an altar, like remnants of an ancient ritual, silently telling of the prosperity and piety that once existed here.

Li Bai's gaze was fixed on the highest point of the altar.

There, a sword is stuck in the ground.

At the center of the top layer of the altar, there is a distinct, sword-shaped groove. Inserted in the groove is a sword—or rather, a broken sword.

Most of the blade remained in the groove, with only the hilt, about a foot long, and a small section of the blade visible. The hilt was made of some dark gold metal, wrapped with decayed leather, but the original fine patterns were still discernible. The guard was wide and had an archaic design, resembling two backward-curving bird wings, inlaid with several faded gemstones. The exposed section of the blade was rusted, covered with a thick layer of reddish-brown rust, making it almost impossible to discern its original material and color.

but.

Li Bai could sense it.

That sword... was "breathing".

It wasn't actual breathing, but rather an indescribable "sense of presence." It stood there, quiet, broken, and dusty, yet like a sleeping heart, it emitted a faint but clear "pulse" in the pale blue halo. The surrounding air seemed to form an extremely slow, almost imperceptible vortex centered on it. The glowing "plants" on the silver sand, the halos at the tips of their stems, also subtly tilted towards the altar.

The wooden plaque in my arms reached its peak temperature.

Hot. Blazing hot. Like holding a piece of charcoal just taken out of the fire.

Li Bai's breathing became rapid. His wound ached, his ankle ached, his whole body ached, but all these pains were suppressed by a stronger, almost instinctive impulse. He stared at the broken sword, and the images from the murals in the passageway flashed through his mind—an altar, a sword, a kneeling crowd, and light cracking in the sky.

Is this it?

This is... the "Immortal Sect"?

Is this the power to change one's destiny?

He walked step by step toward the altar.

His footsteps crunched on the silver sand, the sound ringing out clearly in the empty cave. He skirted the scattered pottery shards and jade fragments, arriving at the altar's base. The altar's stones were cold and rough to the touch, carrying the constant, low temperature unique to the depths of the earth. He looked up at the broken sword at the top, its eerie blue glow casting a pale light on his face, making his complexion appear deathly white, except for his eyes, which shone with a frightening intensity.

How do I get up there?

The altar was ten feet high, an almost insurmountable obstacle for him in his current state. His right foot could not bear any weight, and his left arm was torn open, making it difficult for him to even walk normally, let alone climb.

He walked around the altar once.

On the side of the altar facing away from the passage, the collapsed rubble of the base formed a gentle slope. The stones varied in size and had sharp edges, but the angle at which they were stacked was just wide enough to climb. Li Bai took a deep breath, bit his short sword, grabbed a protruding rock with both hands, and pushed off with his left foot—

A sharp pain exploded in his right ankle, and he groaned, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead. But he didn't let go. His fingers dug into the cracks in the stone, his nails splitting and bleeding. Inch by inch, using the strength of his left arm and core, he dragged himself up the first stone. Then the second, the third… Every movement aggravated his wounds, like dancing on a knife's edge. Sweat soaked his entire body, and blood seeped from the gauze on his arms and ankles, dripping onto the stone and leaving dark red spots.

After an unknown amount of time, he finally climbed to the second level of the altar.

He collapsed onto the cold stone surface, gasping for breath, his vision blurring. After resting for a dozen breaths, he struggled to his feet, leaned against the base of the third (top) level, and looked up.

The broken sword is right above my head.

So close, he could see every decaying line on the leather wrapped around the hilt, the tiny cracks inside the gem on the guard, and the dark, night-like metallic luster revealed where the rust had peeled off the blade.

The subtle fragrance in the air became richer here. It wasn't just a scent, but more like... an energy field. A pure, ancient "field" carrying the scent of metal and stone. Inhaling it actually eased the pain in my wound and cleared my drowsy mind somewhat.

The wooden plaque in his arms burned his chest skin, causing it to sting.

Li Bai stretched out his hand.

His right hand, trembling, slowly reached for the hilt of the broken sword.

The fingertips were still three inches from the dark gold metal.

Two inches.