Chapter 2: Embarrassing Embrace
Lust and desire began to simmer in their wicked hearts as they each contemplated grabbing and claiming the glorious sword for themselves. It represented the pinnacle of weaponry and craftsmanship, making them believe that by wielding it, they could rule over the gods.
However, none of these vile gods were prepared to make the first move. They pretended to be righteous, conveniently forgetting that they had erased a truly righteous god from existence without batting an eye, regardless of the lies they told themselves to sleep at night.
"Ah, my fellows, I shall retrieve this sword for safekeeping on behalf of the council," spoke a familiar deep voice amidst the starless night, shrouded in darkness. It was a night of gloom—a night in which a god had fallen.
When a god of Yan Yi's caliber fell, the hearts of everyone should have been overcome with unexplainable grief. But the hearts of these gods were far too dark, far too wicked to feel such sadness. Their hearts were currently blinded by greed.
Yet, across the vast celestial realm, far removed from this solitary mountain, each slumbering deity awoke with a start. Fear and sorrow gripped them all, rending their hearts asunder.
But on Mount Fuyi, amidst the contrasting emotions that filled the night, another sentiment emerged.
"Councilman Guang, we cannot burden you with such a task. As the leader, it is only natural that I shoulder this heavy responsibility," a voice interjected, laced with a veneer, a pretense of nobility and righteousness. It was clear that no one among them was willing to yield the sword to another.
"Our Hong sect wishes to assume this responsibility. We possess the necessary resources to ensure its safety," added a high-pitched voice. Though it appeared calm on the surface, no one missed the underlying hint of threat in its tone.
As each voice began to speak, the place transformed into a chaotic marketplace, with each voice drowning out the others'. It was only a matter of time before they discarded the facade of righteousness they wore, succumbing to their true primal instincts and resorting to the language of fists.
Lost in their greed-fueled debate, the sentient sword, Tian Wei, amassed its immense power. Infused with the powerful energy during its forging, it unleashed its might, propelling itself into the sky with breakneck speed.
They realised too late the strangeness of the sword. They knew to well the futility of chasing after it at this hour. They watched the sword disappear in the distance in the might of its powerful aura
Regret and sorrow tainted the desolate mountain, not for the loss of a god, but for their failure to possess the sword of the god they had greedily killed. The satisfaction of eliminating Yan Yi had been quenched with success, but now they burned with a new desire—to locate and secure Yan Yi's sword for themselves. Even in death, Yan Yi managed to stir the evil lurking within their hearts.
Propelled by an insatiable desire for safety in a distant world, the sword hurtled through space. Infused with knowledge from its creator, it sought asylum within one of the mortal realms. The air parted, making way for the sword as it surged forth with overwhelming power, traversing the vast expanse of the sky.
Breaking free from the confines of the divine realm, it propelled itself into the boundless reaches of space. In its wake, everything was torn asunder—worlds were shattered, suns were obliterated, and the very fabric of space trembled in its presence. Its velocity approached the speed of light, just a hair's breadth away.
As it raced across the cosmos, even the fabric of time itself seemed threatened. Over thousands of miles and thousands of years, the sword eluded the pursuit of the gods. It traveled far, biding its time, with the intent of seeking revenge.
However, its strength dwindled with each collision against celestial bodies and encounters with the forces of the universe. The powerful gravitational forces across the vast cosmos slowed its progress, and passing comets inflicted wounds upon it. The sword's constitution began to falter. Just as it was about to lose consciousness, a distant world of mortals came into view.
Summoning its last reserves of strength, the sword propelled itself forward- with one last push it entered the atmosphere.
Enveloped in the tumultuous atmosphere of this peculiar world, the sword ignited, consumed by the ravages of heat and friction. Its consciousness faded as it hurtled towards the surface, crashing into the serene embrace of the sea. The coolness of the water soothed the raging fire, gently caressing the red-hot metal and melding with its essence.
As if its forging had been incomplete, the water flowed across the sword's surface, searing hot and tempering it once more. The intense heat sizzled, a symphony of hissing and cooling echoes. Gradually, the sword transformed, its molten edges cooled and solidified, reshaping its form through the alchemy of water and fire.
The once-fiery blade, now tempered and renewed, rested beneath the calm surface of the sea. Its presence hidden from the world, it awaited its next chapter, its destiny intertwined with the ebb and flow of the waters that cradled it.
In its sleep it healed. It rested. Unaware of the passage of time, of the collecting of algae and moss, of dirt and sediment. The power of current and shifting surface in the deep depth of the ocean carried it from one place to another. The curious peek of sea creatures gnawed at it or carried it away. Without care, without knowledge, the sword remained in the ignorance of the serenity of sleep, in the tranquillity of nothingness and of dreams.
As the sea washed over it, the waves, seemingly weary of its presence, unceremoniously deposited the sword onto the sandy shores of a small seaside village. The force of nature, the new energy of wind, stirred the sword from its slumber, coaxing it back into consciousness as air to a newborn.
A young man in his twenties, with a scrawny build yet possessing an air of divine allure, strolled along the water's edge, his carefree spirit guiding his steps. His very visible larynx which danced in the tune he hummed, suddenly dropped. His eyes narrowed in curiosity.They fixated upon the glistening objects strewn where the tides no longer reached.
A mischievous grin crept across his otherwise handsome face, as a rare glint of greed illuminated his eyes. Clad in flowing robes, his impoverished frame hurried toward the newfound treasure, knowing that it held the potential to lift him from the depths of poverty forever. His hand reached out eagerly for the hilt.
Too late, the sword's consciousness fully returned, not in time to witness the young man's hand that had closed in on its naked "manhood". It was startled at someone touching its downward part.
The young man unaware which part of the body he was touching, nor that this sword was sentient, his hand held the hilt. He tightened his grip. His lips moved to kiss it. It happened all too fast.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
skylit3r
skylit3r I am sorry if the ending offended anyone. Shady much? idk. Lemmi know, I may change story arc depending.
And please leave a review and vote.
Lemmi hear how this story makes you feel.
I have a very different storytelling style compared to most authors on webnovel. It may not be your cup of tea(or coffee), if that is the case, I understand and I'm really sorry.
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