Sword Descendant

On the day Liu Mengyao fled the wedding, Lin Feng knelt in the snow, his knees shattered and blood frozen into ice. She was a once-in-a-century genius of the True Martial Sect, at the Great Perfection of the Foundation Establishment stage. He was a waste with a shattered dantian, unable to even touch the threshold of the Body Tempering stage. Everyone said that her marrying him was like a flower stuck in cow dung. She thought so too. So she ran, wearing her red wedding dress, into the arms of Zhao Wuji. At the engagement ceremony, Zhao Wuji held Liu Mengyao's hand and looked down at Lin Feng kneeling in the snow: 'The chores department needs a woodcutter. I've already spoken to the elder for you.' The whole place burst into laughter. No one noticed that the black bracelet Lin Feng had worn for three years had cracked open. A dark red light seeped through the crack, like coagulated blood flowing. A low voice sounded in his mind, hoarse and weary, like an iron coffin sunk at the bottom of the sea for ten thousand years being pried open—'Kneel? Who told you to kneel? A disciple of the Dark Lineage kneels to heaven and earth, but not to men.' Lin Feng didn't know what the 'Dark Lineage' was. The being trapped in the bracelet, who had even forgotten its own name, only remembered one thing: it was of the Dark Lineage. Its sword techniques were etched into its remnant soul, into its flesh and blood. Anyone could forget, but its sword would not. From that day on, the waste of the True Martial Sect began to change.