Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Crane!

The elder Crane’s deep, hoarse voice echoed throughout the great hall.
“I know, none of us have had it easy. To be honest, our Crane Sect’s legacy has endured to this day—not to mention the glory of our founding, even its mere continuation has been fraught with difficulty. The pressure on everyone is immense. If not for the unity within our ranks, the Sky Crane Seat would have changed hands long ago. We have a long history, and a glorious past, but now, in our decline, any talk of those days only invites ridicule. If things continue like this, how much longer can the Crane Sect last? No one knows.”
“But I see a glimmer of hope for the revival of our Crane Sect.” In the elder’s clouded eyes, a light flickered that could not be described.
“The Crane Body is the most vital link in the long-lost true transmission of our sect. Now, it has reappeared—a chance for us. It may be our last chance. If we fail to reclaim our true legacy, in a few decades, the Crane Sect may vanish altogether.”
The silence in the Crane Hall was absolute. The elder’s sigh-laden words struck at the heart of every listener.
“So, I need someone to retrieve the Crane Sect’s true legacy, which has been lost for nine hundred years.”
His expression grew solemn, his gaze suddenly sharp as it swept over the assembly below. His voice was steady and grave.
“My perception is vague, unable to define any boundaries. Amidst the vast sea of humanity, the odds are slim. It may take ten years; it may take a lifetime with nothing to show for it. Leaving the peaceful Sky Crane Seat to enter the perilous Sky Road, death may come at any moment. This task is dangerous, arduous, uncertain, and almost impossible. Who is willing to go?”
The crowd exchanged uneasy glances. They had expected the elder’s senses to at least provide a rough direction, but there was none.
Were they to search blindly across the world?
Many eyes betrayed fear deep within. The Sky Crane Seat was tranquil and peaceful, untouched by conflict, as idyllic as a paradise. There was little wealth, but equally little danger. Though many yearned for the glory of the past, they had long since grown accustomed to the comfort of the present.
The thought of searching the world for an unknown target—and then claiming the true legacy from another—seemed like a joke, an impossible one at that.
No one spoke. Some elders lowered their heads; others shrank into the crowd, lest the elder call their name.
A trace of disappointment flickered in the elder’s eyes.
Suddenly, a calm and steady voice sounded in the hall.
“Disciple Crane is willing to go.”
A tall, slender man stepped forward. His posture was as upright as a spear, strikingly conspicuous in the hall. His face was gentle as jade, his expression tranquil, and his dark, lustrous eyes were as deep as the night sky.
Clad in snowy white robes, spotless and pure, his silver hair cascaded like a waterfall over his shoulders.
A hint of relief appeared in the elder’s eyes.
“Is there anyone else willing?” He looked around.
No one answered.
The elder’s clouded eyes betrayed no emotion. He nodded. “So be it.”

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In the dimly lit room, a small oil lamp crackled softly.
The elder gazed at the youth before him, who sat upright and composed. Crane’s demeanor was calm beyond his years. The elder broke the silence with a gentle sigh. “Is everything settled with your mother?”

Crane bowed slightly and answered with composure, “My mother has given her consent.”
“That is well.” The elder nodded, looking at Crane’s face, which bore a striking resemblance to another, and an old figure appeared in his mind. “Seeing you, I am reminded of your father. I watched him grow up. You surpass him in excellence. Your father’s spirit will surely be comforted.”
“You flatter me.” Crane’s expression remained unchanged, sitting upright as before.
“When you were born, your father named you Crane, hoping you would revitalize the sect. Who would have thought that today, the great responsibility of the Crane Sect would truly fall upon your shoulders.” The elder’s voice was tinged with emotion.
Crane bowed again. “You may rest assured.”
“In my heart, you were always the best choice, but I never expected... Ah...” The elder sighed, his gaze returning to the youth. “Among the third generation, you are the most outstanding disciple. With your talent, frankly, staying in the Crane Sect is a waste. If you... your achievements would not be limited to this. The Crane Sect has held you back. Your mother is disappointed in the Crane Sect; truthfully, so am I.”
Crane’s face remained calm. “Mother loved Father deeply. She is glad I can fulfill his wish.”
“Yes, they struggled in those days. Your mother is worthy of respect.” The elder recalled the past, then quickly collected himself, smiling wryly. “Age brings memories. Your skills surpass all the elders; I have no concern there. But you are still young, with no experience beyond our seat—that is my only worry. I once wandered outside. The dangers of the Sky Road are everywhere. Remember, sometimes wisdom is more useful than strength.”
A slight bow signaled his assent.
“The future of the Crane Sect rests upon you. And so, this item is now yours.”
The elder’s expression grew solemn as he stood, walked to a corner, and lifted a dusty wooden box, returning to his seat.
“Many believe the Sky Crane Seat’s highest celestial treasure is the Silver-grade Crane Robe.” The elder’s eyes became deep and distant.
Crane was taken aback at these words—the first sign of surprise since entering the room.
The elder smiled slightly. Crane was perfect in every respect; the only discomfort for the elder was his excessive maturity. Crane’s composure was beyond his years; nothing seemed to surprise him.
“Haha! Even Crane is startled—how rare!” The elder laughed heartily.
Crane felt a bit embarrassed, but quickly regained his composure.
The elder ceased laughing, his expression again solemn. “The Silver-grade Crane Robe has always been regarded as the sect’s heirloom, nearly the highest treasure of the Sky Crane Seat. That the seat is seen as a minor constellation is largely because of this. Yet few know that the strongest celestial treasure of the Sky Crane Seat is not the Silver-grade Crane Robe, but the Gold-grade Crane Sword!”
Crane’s upright form trembled, disbelief flooding his face.
Pride suffused the elder’s expression, his tone ringing like iron.
“This sword was the first celestial treasure subdued by Master Crane upon entering the Sky Crane Seat, and his personal sword. Master Crane’s strength was legendary; this sword was drawn only three times in his life. Few knew of it, even among his closest disciples. Master Crane seemed to foresee the sect’s decline, and to avoid covetous eyes, the sword vanished after his death. In each generation, one disciple is chosen as the Keeper of the Sword. I am that disciple for this generation.”
Crane stared dumbfounded at the elder; he had never imagined such a secret within his sect.
A Gold-grade celestial treasure!
If word of this spread, it would bring a storm of bloodshed. The Silver-grade Crane Robe was beneath the notice of most masters, but a Gold-grade celestial treasure would unsettle even the legendary figures.
Each constellation had more than one celestial treasure, each forged over billions of years. Treasures from the same constellation formed a series, often sharing certain characteristics. But their power varied greatly. Thus, celestial treasures were ranked in tiers:
Black Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold, Sacred Treasure.

The highest Sacred Treasures were extremely rare: the Lion Heart Fire Sword of Leo, the Heavenly Bow of Sagittarius—these were Sacred Treasures. Only the grandest constellations could produce them.
Gold treasures, second only to Sacred Treasures, were coveted by all warriors. None could be found on the market. Only first-rate constellations could yield Gold treasures.
Tang Tian’s Water Bearer’s Martial Chest was merely a Black Iron treasure—an entry-level item.
In a sense, the highest tier of celestial treasures represented the constellation’s potential value.
If others knew that the Sky Crane Seat had yielded a Gold treasure...
Crane’s heart shuddered.
The Crane Sect ruled the Sky Crane Seat only because major powers found it unworthy—a barren backwater, in their eyes. If they learned it had produced a Gold treasure...
Crane needed no imagination to know it would bring catastrophe to the sect.
“This sword was meant for your father. He was the most passionate, hopeful young man I ever met. I always believed the sect’s future was in his hands. Fate, however, took him from us. You have inherited his wish—perhaps this is destiny.”
The elder gently placed the wooden box before Crane.
“From today, both this sword and the future of the Crane Sect are yours, Crane.”
The elder’s gaze lingered on Crane’s youthful face.
Crane opened the box in a daze. The elder’s revelations had struck him deeply. The sect’s earth-shattering secret left him reeling. He had grown up in the sect, never suspecting such a hidden truth.
And his father...
Inside the opened box lay an unadorned ancient sword.
The blade bore no patterns, dull and plain, and on the scabbard, a single archaic character—Crane.
No one could have linked this humble sword to a Gold-grade treasure.
Crane’s slender fingers traced the character on the scabbard.
His name was Crane; the sword was also named Crane. Were they destined to meet?
As if sensing his thoughts, suddenly, the character on the scabbard blazed with dazzling light. The word flowed like molten iron, and before Crane’s astonished eyes, it slowly floated up from the scabbard.
A stream of light entered Crane’s palm.
He swiftly opened his hand, and there in his palm was a mark in the shape of a crane.