Soul Reforged: The Rise of Sword God Chen Xin

The journey to the Mirror Pool took them through the northern stretch of the Duskwind Range, a region long abandoned and now reclaimed by silence. Snow dusted the jagged cliffs, and clouds clung low over the narrow paths. Chen Xin walked ahead without a word, fragments of Gu Jian wrapped carefully in cloth and tied to his back.

The Mirror Pool was a relic of the ancient Sword Tribes, a place where soul-forged blades were once brought to reflect their wielder's spirit. It was said that under its surface, one could see not their face, but their truth.

Rongrong and Mira followed behind, the air between them heavy with concern. Mira had said little since the broken resonance, but her eyes never left Chen Xin for long. Rongrong, meanwhile, had quietly taken on the role of caretaker—setting camp, preparing silent meals, and doing her best not to let her worry show.

At dusk, the cliffs opened to a hidden valley veiled in mist. In its center was a perfectly still lake, bordered by moss-covered stone. The surface reflected the sky flawlessly, not a ripple in sight.

Chen Xin stood at the edge of the water, unwrapped the fragments of Gu Jian, and laid them gently before him. His fingers brushed the hilt once more, but no warmth responded.

"This place," he said softly, "was where my master once brought me to understand the blade. Back when I still feared drawing it."

He stepped forward, knee-deep into the icy water. The reflection shifted—not just of his face, but of his former self: younger, more uncertain, haunted by a thousand unspoken questions. The water didn't lie.

Suddenly, a vibration pulsed from the broken blade at the water's edge. The shards began to hum—softly, hesitantly. Mira gasped.

"It's resonating," she whispered. "Not with your spirit… but your memory."

Visions flickered across the water: his childhood, the loss of his parents, the first time he drew the sword with true killing intent.

Chen Xin clenched his fists as the truth revealed itself—not the weakness of the sword, but the fracture within himself.

"I must reforge more than the blade," he said. "I must reforge who I am."