The morning mist curled gently around the Falling Sword Sect, a lonely cluster of ancient halls resting on a crumbling mountain peak. The sect's once-grand sword monuments were cracked and moss-covered, its training fields silent except for the croaking of spirit frogs and the creak of an old broom.
That broom belonged to Shen Liang — the oldest laborer in the sect.
He hummed a lazy tune as he swept the cracked stone steps. His hair was messy, his sleeves rolled up, and his robe was patched so many times it looked like a quilt.
"Ahh… thirty years old and still sweeping floors. Truly, the heavens have a strange sense of humor," he muttered, flicking a pebble off the steps. "But at least the broom listens when I talk."
A young outer disciple strutted past, robes fluttering, a smug smirk on his face."Move aside, old broom slave! Don't get your filth on my robe."
Shen Liang bowed slightly, tone respectful but eyes gleaming with sarcasm."Yes, young master," Shen Liang replied, his tone respectful, his eyes gleaming with a cynical amusement."Heaven forbid my humble broom should taint your lofty, two-inch-deep cultivation of half a meridian"
The disciple paused, face twitching, unsure if he was being mocked. Before the disciple's brain could fully process the mockery, Shen Liang had already turned his back, whistling a jaunty tune as he resumed his work.
At the crumbling edge of the grounds, the massive, obsidian Sword Stele loomed like a severed finger, its ancient surface scored with the etchings of countless masters. It was said that the sect's founder once ascended here after piercing the heavens with a single strike. Now, it stood forgotten, like the sect itself.
Every night, Shen Liang ended his chores here. Not out of reverence, but habit.
He leaned his broom against the stone, stretched, and sighed."If only this sword stele could give me a raise, or at least some better food. Heaven, are you listening?"
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
He blinked. "...Eh? That was a joke."
The sky darkened abruptly. A storm gathered over the mountain — violent, unnatural, and thick with spiritual energy. The air trembled, and arcs of lightning danced across the clouds.
"Wait, wait, wait—heaven! I didn't mean it!" Shen Liang shouted, clutching his broom like a shield. "I was only sweeping! You can't smite a janitor!"
But fate had other plans.
A blinding, corrosive bolt of violet lightning tore a seam across the sky and plunged into the Sword Stele, passing clean through stone and straight into Shen Liang's chest.
When the light faded, the mountain was silent again.
Shen Liang lay flat on his back, smoke rising from his robes, eyes wide open.
For a long time, nothing happened. Then—
[Ding! Universal Level-Up System Activated.]Welcome, Host: Shen Liang.Current Level: 0.XP to next level: 10.Quest: Sweep the Fallen Sword Stele (Progress: 0/1). Reward: +10 XP.
Shen Liang blinked at the glowing blue window floating above him. "...What in the nine heavens?"
He rubbed his eyes. The text was still there.
Then he laughed. Loudly. "Hah! Finally! Heaven does care about janitors!"
Excited, he grabbed his broom again and began to sweep the Sword Stele with dramatic enthusiasm.
"Come on, old broom, let's level up!"
As he brushed away the last speck of dust, the system chimed again:
[Quest Completed.]+10 XP gained! Level Up!]Current Level: 1.Attribute Points +5.Skill Unlocked: Basic Sweep Technique (Can be used as weapon skill).
Shen Liang froze. "Wait… sweeping is a weapon now?"
He twirled the broom. A faint swirl of wind followed the motion, slicing cleanly through a nearby pile of leaves — and accidentally chopping a small rock in half.
His jaw dropped. "...This broom just became a spirit weapon."
He looked up at the stormy sky and grinned like a madman."Heaven… if this is your way of apologizing for thirty years of misery, apology accepted!"
Miles away, within the quiet sanctuary of the inner halls, a young Elder paused. He frowned as a faint, impossible pulse of energy emanated from the ancient Stele.
"Hm? The ancient stele reacted again…?"He turned toward the window, unaware that the rebirth of their sect's destiny had begun — all because of one man and his broom.