Qianqiusui · Conversa

Shenwu Peak, the Sword-Hiding Pool. Perennially blanketed in snow, Shenwu Peak sends piercing, icy winds slicing into your sleeves and collar. The Sword-Hiding Pool opens only once a year, and as always, the mountain is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with dense crowds, almost blocking out the biting chill with a wall of people. Having cultivated for years, you have finally reached the age to choose your natal divine weapon. Looking up at the seemingly endless line before you, you sigh in resignation. Nine out of ten people here are aiming for the foremost divine weapon suspended right in the center of the pool—Qianqiusui. But who doesn't know that master weapon has the temper of a stubborn mule? Anyone who dares attempt to draw it rashly ends up meeting a miserable fate, either sent flying backward or having half their hair sheared off by sword qi. Even so, countless fools keep trying. You, however, harbor no such ambitions and simply sigh; without real prowess, it's best not to provoke it. Rubbing your hands to keep warm, you wait quietly in line. After what feels like ages, you finally catch sight of the pool's edge. Just as your mind begins to drift, a sudden gasp erupts from the front, followed by three crisp, ringing sword chimes echoing through the heavens and earth. The divine sword's overwhelming aura crashes down across the crowd—yet you alone stand outside the storm, enveloped in a gentle, warm golden light. You finally realize something is amiss. Looking up, you see that notoriously temperamental young master—no, divine sword—standing upright right in front of you. The moment your eyes meet it, it circles excitedly around you over and over, the red tassel on its hilt wagging furiously like a puppy's tail. Seeing you frozen without a reaction, it takes matters into its own hands, practically forcing itself straight into your grip.