Poison God's Heritage

As the second cultivator caught the ore, another came along, drawn to the glistening sparkles of energy emanating from inside it. The two cultivators began to argue, then fight, then kill each other over the ore, drenching it in their blood. The commotion attracted more cultivators, who joined in the fray, all vying to possess the coveted rock. Before long, the space around the ore was littered with blood, viscera, and organs, and it eventually ended up in the hands of a man who was barely clinging to life. He hid the ore in his robes and escaped with all he could, only to die soon after on a nearby planet.

The ore continued to exist on this new planet, watching as the mountains rose and fell and the seas ebbed and flowed, gradually becoming covered in layers of dirt and dust. One day, a mortal fisherman caught the ore in the snare of his fishing hook, thinking he had caught a good fish for his family\'s dinner. He soon realized, however, that what he had reeled in was not a fish, but a rock. Just as he was about to toss it back into the water, the glistening of the ore inside it caught his attention.

The fisherman wrapped the ore in cloth and hurried to the nearest auction to sell it off. In his haste, he bumped into a cultivator, causing the ore to fall to the ground and reveal itself. The man was terrified and kowtowed to the cultivator, begging for his life. But to his surprise, the cultivator offered him gold in exchange for the rock. Overjoyed, the man accepted the gold and thought he had struck it rich. Little did he know that he had caught the attention of a group of bandits, and he would never make it home again.

As for the cultivator, he flew to his sect and presented the ore to his master, proud of his find. The beauty of the rock was unparalleled, and the sect master debated whether to make it into jewelry for his beloved or to craft a weapon to slay his enemies. After much consideration, the sect master decided that a weapon would be far more valuable and called upon the best blacksmith in the land. The blacksmith trudged great lengths to see the mystical ore, but when he finally laid eyes on it, he recoiled in terror and dropped the rock.

"I will not touch that! No man should ever do so!" the blacksmith cried out, running away in a frenzy, as if he had seen a monster manifested. The cultivators of the sect tried desperately to stop him, but to no avail. Only for the blacksmith to die at the doors of the sect, inexplicably so.

"Cursed Stone!" it was called. A terrifying piece of rock that brought misfortune and agony to whomever touched it. 

The sect master decided to seal the stone to never see the sunlight ever again. Since it would bring nothing but harm to his sect. The stone was sealed deep within the sect\'s treasury, and it became nothing but a myth as thousands of years had passed.

Yet the days would come where this sect would soon find its demise, as all things start, all things must end. And in this end, the sect fought an invader to extinction, only for the invading sect to ransack and steal all of its belonging, the stone included.

With the newfound fortune, the new sect decided to start imposing themselves into the new world, and they needed something to make them stand apart from the other sects in the region.

The rock was then proposed, the myth of the cursed stone, they said. The new sect never was a believer in myths and decided that they should work on this stone and make the most powerful weapon to ever grace the world of cultivation.

They then called upon dozens of blacksmiths of great renown and skill to work on this stone.

Unfortunately for them, they didn\'t have the same view of the old blacksmith that refused to work on this cursed stone. Since they were bought in with gold, they decided to work against their better judgement to not touch this cursed stone.

And work they did, blasting furnaces and heating the ore, creating a weapon, a slim sword, since all the ore was capable of making was that. It took them years of slowly heating, beating, curing and quenching the metal.

And in these years, one after another, the blacksmiths fell ill, died, had accidents and many more. The myth of the curse was once again brought up, but the sect, to stop the myth and rumors from spreading even more promised that the final blacksmiths to \'finish this crafting will receive the same reward as all the other blacksmiths combined.

Greed over gold and worldly obsessions quickly overshadowed the fear of one\'s life.

And so, the sword making session continued. An the result was a slim sword with only one edge and the head of an arrow.

A sword capable of creating death by a single swing. A sword capable of eradicating life itself if brought to its full potential.

This sword was given then to the sect master by the last remaining blacksmith, only for the smith to have their heart pierced with the same sword they made. 

The sect didn\'t want their treasure revealed for the outside world, and thus they slew and killed everyone that ever partook in the making of this sword. Along with their families and children down to the fifth generation.

A great massacre was committed, and the sword witnessed it all. It stood tall, gleaming in the blood of the innocent and the unjust alike. Its hilt was cold to the touch, but its blade was warm from the heat of battle.

This weapon was not just any ordinary sword, but a weapon that was created in blood, brought to blood, made with blood, and ended in blood. Its very existence was death and carnage, and it had seen more battles and wars than any mortal could count.

The sect master wielding this weapon invaded the nearby sects, eradicating them to the last one of them then took control over their properties and stole their land and possession. He was a ruthless conqueror who had never known mercy or compassion.

Despite his brutal reputation, the sect master was not invincible. One day, a cultivator arrived on this blood-soaked planet. This cultivator was a young man, yet his eyes could tell stories of a thousand year. His gaze was sharp and focused, as if he had seen the horrors of the world and emerged unscathed.

This cultivator had strange tattoos on his arms and had a green and a golden eye. He was easy to spot, and looked like an imposing character of a mighty background from a single look. His appearance was striking, with his chiseled features and muscular build.

This man was handsome to boot, enough to sway to most stubborn of beauties with a single smile. And it was rare when this man ever smiled. His demeanor was calm and collected, and he exuded an aura of power and authority.

He came down for a rest on this unknown planet for him and ended up meeting a woman who looked to be in distress. She was a stunning beauty with long flowing hair and piercing blue eyes. Her dress was torn and stained with blood, a testament to the violence that had occurred.

She proposed that he should help her and she will repay him however he wished, and upon agreeing, she told him of the secret of the sword. Intrigued, the man listened intently as she revealed the sword\'s true nature.

He learned that this woman was one of the current lord\'s concubines, and if he were to take the sword, he would rule this world. As all bow to the sword. The man took her up on the offer, and fought the sect master to a standstill.

The Sect Master was more than capable of ruling this planet, the young man confirmed, and since fighting \'fairly\' was not going to win him this treasure, he decided to use his newly designed art. The Poison God\'s Arts he called them