After Wang Tian’s departure, Feng Mei also slipped away, cheeks still tinted red. Once the room grew quiet, Wang Jian sat cross-legged beneath the soft glow of lamplight. He calmed his breath, gathered qi, and determined to stride into the Foundation Establishment Realm in a single breakthrough. His body buzzed with power as spiritual energy surged, his mind focused as never before.

  Yet just as he neared the edge of a breakthrough, a cold, teasing voice echoed through the silence:

  “Hey kid, are you that eager to end up a cripple again?”

  Wang Jian’s eyes snapped open. He leaped to his feet, scanning every corner of the room, heart hammering with shock. But no one was there.

  Steeling his nerves, he called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself if you have the courage!”

  A laugh answered, proud and unhurried. “Hahaha, you’ve got spirit, kid.”

  From Wang Jian’s wrist, where his plain old bracelet glimmered faintly, arose a translucent figure. He seemed in his forties, sword brows sharp, eyes as keen as autumn frost. He wore white robes, his form both ethereal and imperious—like a sword deity descended from a cloud.

  Wang Jian stared—the bracelet he’d bought years ago, drawn by instinct, had always felt special, but he had never guessed its secret.

  He bowed in respect, caution in his voice. “Senior, who are you? How did you come to be here?”

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  The apparition’s gaze softened. “Smart boy. With a mind like that, your future is bright. Remember the name: Jian Feng, Sword Sovereign.” His words rang with pride and hidden depths.

  Wang Jian blinked. “Sword Sovereign Jian Feng? I haven’t heard stories of such a hero. With a name so grand, surely there would be legends told about you?”

  The Sword Sovereign smiled, a trace of loneliness in his eyes. “I'm not from this Lower Realm, boy. I come from the Immortal Realm , my name is known throughout the heavens. Here, I am a whisper, a memory drifting with the wind.” His spirit seemed to measure Wang Jian, probing for character and destiny both.

  Wang Jian’s mind reeled at the words “Immortal Realm.” Tales of higher worlds were seldom believed—yet this man’s presence felt real and overwhelming. Before he could speak, the Sword Sovereign fixed him with a powerful stare.

  “Kid, will you take me as your master?” Jian Feng asked, his tone now solemn as a mountain oath.

  Wang Jian’s jaw dropped as the proposal hung in the air. Confusion fought with longing in his heart—this was fortune beyond dreams, yet he could not believe it without question.

  Sensing his struggle, Jian Feng reassured, “Do not fear. I’m no fiend or spirit dwelling here for evil. The path of sword cultivation suits you perfectly. If you accept, I’ll guide you past every danger. If not, I’ll let fate decide your path.”

  Wang Jian hesitated, but his instincts whispered that truth cloaked this mysterious guest. With newfound courage, he made a request, voice steady but serious:

  “Senior, may I ask a question? If my cultivation is so low, why would you choose me as your disciple? And if you are as mighty as you say, why are you sealed in this bracelet?”

  Jian Feng’s lips curled in appreciation. “Smart and cautious—a promising student. Ask whatever you wish, I’ll answer with truth. Only then should you decide.”

  The fragrant air was heavy with destiny. In that quiet, lamp-lit room, Wang Jian’s world had shifted—one question at a time, the secret of his future began to unfold.