The Valley of Blades was a place of legend, hidden deep within the mountains. Ling Feng had heard stories of it from the old man—a place where the greatest swordsmen in the land honed their skills. As he entered the valley, he was struck by its stark beauty. Towering cliffs surrounded a lush meadow, and a crystal-clear river cut through the center. At the far end stood a small hut, smoke curling from its chimney.

An elderly man emerged from the hut, his eyes sharp and piercing. “You’ve come a long way, young one,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of years. “What do you seek?”

“I seek strength,” Ling Feng replied, holding up the Frostmoon Blade. “And the truth about this blade.”

The master nodded. “The Frostmoon Blade is no ordinary weapon. It is one of the legendary Blade Souls, forged to protect, not to destroy. If you wish to wield it, you must first understand its purpose.”

Under the master’s guidance, Ling Feng trained relentlessly. Each day began at dawn with meditation, followed by hours of sword drills. The master’s teachings were grueling, but Ling Feng’s determination never wavered. One day, the master led him to a towering waterfall. “Stand beneath it,” he instructed. “Feel the power of the water, and let it guide your blade.”

Ling Feng stepped into the icy cascade, the force nearly knocking him off his feet. He closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the water. Slowly, he raised the Frostmoon Blade, its cold light blending with the spray. With a single, powerful strike, he split the waterfall in two, the water parting like a curtain.

The master smiled. “You’ve begun to understand. But remember, the blade’s true power comes from within you.”