Yuze had been born in the Calia, but his parents had been terribly poor, servants in the laundry room that didn’t have a copper between them. They’d sold him to his master when he was six and his master, a travelling cultivator, had taken him away from the Calia the next days.
They hadn’t returned until Yuze was ten and he hadn’t rembered the place at all when he’d first seen the walls on their return.
His master was a kind man, who’d grown up in a cultivation sect in the Land of Song and Snow before striking out for himself. He’d had a bit of a reputation, and it had only grown when he’d crossed the borderland during a heated war a decade before Yuze had t him.
Their ti together had more peaceful than the rest of his master’s life. His master had always refused to join any military force or group after he left his sect, but he never hesitated to help those who needed it. He had permission to traverse the Calia’s lands after he’d saved a mid-ranked commander’s children from a fire.
He taken Yuze around the Land of Sorrow as he learned about it too, improvising lessons to teach a child eager to be useful and prove himself. Thankfully, he had a lifeti of experience to share and the patience to put up with Yuze’s endless questions.
The adults in the Calia had always complained that Yuze was quiet when he’d returned and began joining Chenzhou’s lessons, but Yuze figured he’d just talked himself out when he’d been travelling and the urge just never co back.
His master had only lived a few more years after their return to the Calia, but his reputation had finally caught up with him and he was sowhat famous by the ti he died in the small temple-house he’d owned on the edge of the Calia’s lands. He’d taught Yuze the basics of his martial arts and the philosophy that had guided his continued growth and he’d passed quietly in his sleep when Yuze was thirteen, leaving him the temple and a decent reputation.
A young teen with no need for a temple, Yuze had sold it all and returned to the Calia full ti. His parents had co begging the day after his return, but he’d turned them away.
In truth, he’d barely rembered them and by that point all his ti was dedicated to training and helping Chenzhou. He had no ti for petty people who’d sold their only child for a few pieces of bread and only ca back to ask for money.
The most valuable thing Yuze had inherited from his master was his sword and Yuze would never sell it. He didn’t even like other people touching it and kept it on his person at all tis and within arm’s reach when he was sleeping.
He hadn’t understood what it was when he’d first asked his master about it, but back then it had just been a sword. Beautiful and elegant, inscribed with leaves from a kind of tree that Yuze had still never seen, the blade was long and slim, and it hadn’t started talking to Yuze until his second-year campaigning alongside Chenzhou.
He still rembered the terror he’d felt in the midst of a pitched battle between the Crimson Army and the Allied Tribes when Qiang Ye had first whispered in his ear to duck.
Yuze had thought it was Chenzhou until he’d turned and realized he was too far away for Yuze to have heard him and then he’d nearly lost his head because he’d been distracted.
He’d managed to ignore the whispering, but he was so shaken by the end of the battle, Chenzhou had confined him to the dical tent for the following day. Yuze had been convinced he was losing his mind as the whispers continued and it had driven him to do sothing stupid when one night, in the heavy darkness it had whispered, “Flee. Flee. FLEE!”
Over and over until Yuze had stumbled to his feet and tried to flee sothing he didn’t even know.
He’d run straight into a sneak attack by the tribes that would have destroyed most of the Crimson Army if Yuze hadn’t sounded the alarm in ti.
After that Yuze’s nerves had settled and he’d been able to attribute it to so instinct honed in battle.
It had taken another six months before he’d finally broken down and confided in Chenzhou about the whispers.
Interestingly enough, Chenzhou had confided a similar experience, and they’d stumbled through figuring out their blades were coming alive together. Chenzhou’s finished first, as after that campaign Yuze had shifted to intelligence and spent significantly less ti hacking through people on the battlefield.
Yuze had never really considered a Blooding Blade before it had started happening, his master had never ntioned them, and Yuze had co to the conclusion that he hadn’t been trying to create one. To him the sword had simply been an heirloom, passed from master to student for hundreds of years and was the only remnant of a long-forgotten kingdom far in the East and the princess cultivator who had saved it.
It was nothing but legend now, but Yuze’s master had always insisted the sword was proof that they’d existed, and the story was true.
The Legend of the White Princess Yī Nuò and the Black General Haoyu was one of the most popular love stories still told in the Land of Song and Snow and its neighboring lands. Considered one of the seven great love stories on the rock, although there would be thirteen by the ti the end ca, there were still so that hadn’t happened yet. Including two that would be considered by most the greatest of all that would happen for hundreds of years yet, they would have their own connection to Eirian, but that was for the future.
It told the story of a princess who chose to beco a wandering cultivator and left her ho when she was young. While she travelled, her father had gone to war and lost against a neighboring kingdom and part of the reparations had been her marriage to the victorious general. No one had been able to find the princess to tell her though, so she’d continued with her journeys, becoming famous as a wandering cultivator of imnse power.
~ tbc
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