His gaze returned to the sword.
The scabbard was undeniably plain, utterly without ornamentation, inscription, or any kind of embellishment – a perfect reflection of the complete absence of decoration throughout the room. The material itself was unfamiliar, something he couldn't identify from his distance across the room.
It was neither the standard alloys and lacquers of Lower Domain weaponry, nor anything with an obvious, recognizable name. It was simply old, profoundly old, a substance that seemed to belong to an earlier epoch.
As he sat in the chair, a quiet awareness settled over him: the sword had been placed here by someone who had anticipated its discovery. Not by him specifically, Lin Yi, but by *a* cultivator, any cultivator, who managed to reach this particular point on the mountain.
