War God's Rebirth: A Thousand Blades of Destiny

A Ghost Walks Among Them

The Bai Clan was alive with whispers.

The outer disciples exchanged nervous glances, the servants scurried from the halls like frightened mice, and the elders sat in uneasy silence.

Bai Tian had returned.

Not as a broken, dying young master. Not as the cripple they had cast aside.

He had walked through the gates like he belonged.

And now, he stood before them, his sword resting lazily on his shoulder, his lips curled in an easy smirk—as if he had never been exiled.

Bai Long, the golden child of the Bai Clan, lounged on his ornate chair at the center of the grand hall. He was dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with golden dragons, his posture relaxed, his aura humming with Qi.

For a moment, his sharp features were unreadable. Then, he chuckled.

“Well, well… if it isn’t the former young master.”

Bai Tian tilted his head. “Former?” He let the word roll on his tongue as if tasting it. Then, he shook his head. “No. I think you’re mistaken.”

Bai Long’s smile thinned. “Oh?”

Bai Tian took another step forward, and the wooden floor beneath him creaked under the weight of his presence. He wasn’t using Qi, nor any cultivation technique, yet the air seemed to grow heavier around him.

“I was cast out unfairly,” Bai Tian said, his voice calm, but beneath it, something darker lurked. “So I came back to take what is mine.”

Gasps rippled through the disciples. Bai Wu, one of the clan elders, slammed his hand on the armrest of his chair, his eyes burning with contempt.

“Insolence!” he barked. “You were punished for your crimes! A cripple like you has no right to stand in this hall, let alone make demands!”

Bai Tian’s smirk widened. “Cripple?” He raised his sword, resting it against his shoulder again, his fingers tapping against the hilt. “Funny. I seem to recall killing six armed men just last night. And they were cultivators.”

The murmurs grew louder.

Six cultivators? Without Qi?

Impossible.

Bai Long narrowed his eyes. “You expect us to believe that?”

Bai Tian shrugged. “Believe what you want. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m standing here. And I will reclaim my place.”

Bai Wu scoffed. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Bai Tian met his gaze, and then, in one smooth motion, he raised his sword and pointed it directly at Bai Long.

“A duel.”

Silence.

Then, laughter.

Bai Long laughed so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye. “You… You want to duel me?” He gestured at Bai Tian’s blade. “With that? A mortal weapon?”

Bai Tian tilted his head. “A blade is a blade. It only matters whose hands it rests in.”

Bai Long’s amusement faded slightly. “And what do you think you can do against a true cultivator? You don’t even have a dantian anymore.”

Bai Tian took another step forward, his expression unreadable. “You seem confident. Are you afraid to accept?”

The words landed like a slap across Bai Long’s face.

His laughter vanished.

The entire hall held its breath.

Bai Long was a peak Qi Condensation cultivator. Even among the younger generation, he was considered a genius. No one in their right mind would challenge him—especially not a man without Qi.

But Bai Tian… Bai Tian didn’t seem concerned in the slightest.

That calm confidence. That smirk. That mocking look in his eyes.

It pissed Bai Long off.

“Fine,” Bai Long sneered. “I accept.”

Bai Tian exhaled slowly. Finally.

Bai Wu scowled. “Bai Long, you don’t need to dirty your hands with this farce. Let one of the outer disciples deal with him.”

“No,” Bai Long said, standing up. His gaze was locked on Bai Tian now, sharp and cold. “He wanted me. He gets me.”

The clan erupted in murmurs.

A duel between Bai Long and Bai Tian? It wasn’t just overkill—it was an execution.

But Bai Tian?

He simply smirked and lowered his blade to his side.

“Good,” he murmured. “I was starting to get bored.”

---

The Duel Begins

The Bai Clan’s training grounds were a vast courtyard surrounded by towering stone pillars, their surfaces scarred by past battles. Torches flickered in the night, casting long shadows across the sand-covered floor.

A crowd gathered—disciples, elders, servants. None of them wanted to miss this.

Xiao Yue stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands clenched into fists. Her heart pounded. She wanted to believe in Bai Tian. She did believe in him.

But against Bai Long? A true cultivator?

This wasn’t just dangerous. It was madness.

Bai Long stepped onto the field first, drawing his weapon—a gleaming longsword, its edge humming with Qi.

Bai Tian followed, his mortal blade resting easily in his grip. No Qi. No techniques.

Just a man with a sword.

Bai Wu stood between them, his expression stern. “This is a formal duel. The rules—”

“No rules,” Bai Tian cut in.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Bai Wu scowled. “You—”

Bai Long laughed. “No rules? You really are eager to die.”

Bai Tian’s lips curled. “We’ll see who dies.”

Bai Wu hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, he stepped back.

“Begin.”

Bai Long moved instantly.

He lunged forward, his Qi-infused blade cutting through the air like a lightning strike.

Bai Tian didn’t move.

The blade was inches from his throat when—

CLANG!

Sparks erupted. Bai Tian’s sword deflected the attack with terrifying precision, redirecting the force with nothing but a flick of his wrist.

Bai Long staggered.

The audience gasped.

“What—?!”

Before Bai Long could react, Bai Tian moved.

His steps were fluid, his movements effortless. In a single heartbeat, he closed the distance and slashed.

Bai Long barely raised his sword in time. Metal clashed. Bai Long gritted his teeth, but then—

CRACK!

Pain exploded in his wrist. The impact sent his sword flying, spinning through the air before landing in the sand with a dull thud.

Silence.

Bai Long blinked in shock. His fingers trembled. His entire arm felt numb.

What… just happened?

Bai Tian stood before him, completely calm. His blade was pointed at Bai Long’s throat, steady as stone.

“You lost,” Bai Tian said.

Bai Long opened his mouth—

And then Bai Tian moved.

A sharp crack echoed through the courtyard as the hilt of Bai Tian’s sword slammed into Bai Long’s stomach. The proud young master collapsed, coughing up blood.

The crowd froze.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Bai Tian turned away, sheathing his blade.

“This is the last time you’ll ever look down on me,” he said softly. “Next time, you won’t walk away.”

Then, without another word, he left.

Behind him, the Bai Clan trembled.