Chapter 1: Fiery Forge
"Yan Yi!" A deep voice bellowed, its echoes piercing the dark night. "Tonight shall be your demise." Every word dripped with a bloodthirsty passion, sending a shiver down the spine.
"Did you truly believe you could escape?" A high-pitched voice pierced the air, cutting through the darkness. "I will tear you apart, ensuring you won't even enter the cycles of reincarnation."
"An insignificant scum like you, with an origin shrouded in mystery, dares to aspire to the celestial heights." A voice taunted, filled with mockery, curses, and disdain.
The clash of swords reverberated through the dark, starless night. A chilling wind swept across the battlefield, carrying with it a sense of foreboding. The air was filled with a haunting chorus of moans, blending both anguish and sorrow, as the sound of metal meeting flesh echoed through the night. Hard fists pounded against flesh, each strike fueled by determination or desire for extermination.
Yan Yi found herself trapped, devoid of any hope of seeing the light of day. Gods who harbored an unyielding desire for her demise had ensnared her in their clutches.
While she was confident in her abilities against a single adversary, with so many gathered against her, the odds were perfect stacked against her. A mere few individuals did not typically possess the strength to match her own. But, on this fateful night, betrayed and tricked, she was surrounded by a horde of self-righteous scoundrels.
Her chances of survival were grim, as bleak as the moonless sky above. Unless another deity of the high order descended from the heavens, her demise was certain, leaving no trace or burial ground for her fallen form.
"The council shall be made aware of your actions. Don't you fear the repercussions?" In a desperate bid for survival, Yan Yi clung to the slim hope of invoking a sense of fear or consequence within her assailants.
She was on the brink of death, her attempts with swords and fists having proven futile. Now, she made one final, feeble attempt at diplomacy, though deep down, she knew it was an act of futility.
The gods surrounding her were no ordinary beings; they held positions within the esteemed council of gods. While most were of lower divine status, there was one among them who held the esteemed rank of a high god.
Aichen Bai, a dear friend to Yan Yi, possessed the power to alter the course of her fate. Yet, Aichen Bai was notably absent from the scene, deliberately kept away on this night of assassination.
The council had meticulously orchestrated this plan, knowing that the presence of another high god together with Yan Yi, would potentially shift the delicate balance of power and ideologies. Their objective was clear: the elimination of Yan Yi.
With a weary frame and faltering steps, a figure dragged herself up the hills. Each movement was a struggle, her lungs gasping for precious air. Despite her stumbling gait, she willed her failing strength to carry her forward.
Escaping from those hypocrites had only bought her a fleeting respite. The severity of her wounds told her she wouldn't survive the night. The golden blood of a god dripped and stained the ground beneath her weary feet.
She harbored no hopes of rescue; that was an impossible dream. All she desired was to reach her humble smithy, for within her dwindling reserves of strength and the final breath of a god, she yearned to employ her ultimate forging martial skill: The Ten Thousand Sword Tempering Skill. This would be her last act of creation - to forge one last sword.
Casting her blood-soaked sword into the forge, she unleashed a fierce fire that raged and consumed the surroundings. The intense heat merged with the iron sword, as a muscular figure, heavily wounded and bearing the scars of the night's battle, rose with determination.
The hammer met the molten metal, causing the anvil to quiver under the god's might. Sweat cascaded and sizzled upon the scalding tools, her body adorned with the glimmer of expiration, sweat, and injury.
As the hammer descended, lightning surged through her arm, and a shockwave reverberated through the entire mountain. In those moments of impact, it felt as if the heavens themselves were rent asunder, while clouds churned and twisted in response to her forging power.
"Yan Yi!" the familiar deep voice bellowed once more, its resonance echoing through the night. "I warned you that your life would end tonight."
Yan Yi's grip tightened around the hammer, channeling every ounce of her remaining power to her core. She swung with all her might, unleashing a surge of aura that crackled like lightning, filling the air around her.
Simultaneously, the other gods had formed their attack, propelling a golden sword through the air with unparalleled speed.
As the hammer descended, the sky itself seemed to reach its breaking point, tearing open to reveal a torrent of lightning that possessed the destructive force to annihilate entire worlds. The power surged towards the smithy, drawn by the clash of forces about to unfold.
The hammer collided with the sword being forged, a cataclysmic collision that reverberated through the air. In that same moment, the lightning tore into the very essence of the sword.
At the precise instant of impact, the golden sword also found its mark, piercing through Yan Yi's chest. Her golden blood splattered across the forge, the anvil, and the unfinished sword, an offering to the culmination of her life's work.
Yan Yi's soul shattered under the impact of the golden sword, leaving no possibility of reincarnation.
"Tian Wei." As her life force waned, she bestowed upon the sword its final name, pouring her last breath into the solemn act. With her final breath, she also whispered a fervent prayer melded with her resolve, "May this sword be the instrument of my assailants' downfall."
As if in response to Yan Yi's dying prayer, the sword shimmered with a blinding brilliance, casting its radiant light across the decimated mountain. Hovering in the air, two golden engravings materialized on its blade, spelling out the name "Tian Wei."
It was a weapon of the highest caliber. Perhaps there wasn't another above it. The sheer power emanating from it was unparalleled, leaving the gods in a state of stupefaction.
Witnessing the skill and might displayed by Yan Yi, even in her wounded and dying state, the gods couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and regret. They lamented the fact that such exceptional talent resided within an individual of humble origins. However, they remained resolute in their conviction that eradicating her from existence was necessary and for their greater good. For Yan Yi had already surpassed their abilities, and if allowed to grow stronger, she would pose an even greater threat to their reign.
Thus, with a sense of grim determination, the gods reaffirmed their resolve to have wiped her out, aware that it had been a preemptive strike to safeguard their own positions of power.
Perhaps no soul besides these scoundrels will ever know their debauchery. No one to moan the hero than Yan Yi was. No one to demand her justice. She had died with no chance of dedication in the hands of the people she had once called her kin, her friends. Her death would be a silent tragedy, known only to the cold winds and forgotten by those who had turned against her. Or so it appeared.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
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