Here’s the rewritten passage in a fantasy style:

“By the shimmering stars!” stammered Xu Liguo, his gaze darting about like a trapped sparrow. “What manner of sorcery is this… ‘Ancient Sword Intent,’ Master?”

Zhou Yi offered a smile, as radiant as dawn on a mountain peak. “A taste is worth a thousand tales.” With a swift gesture, he seized Xu Liguo in a spectral grip. Twin beams of incandescent energy blazed from Zhou Yi’s eyes, piercing the very soul of the hapless disciple.

Xu Liguo shuddered, his eyes clouding with confusion. He felt a deluge of chaotic memories, a torrent of forgotten ages, flooding his consciousness. It was akin to the severance of his spirit from his mortal coil, a sensation not felt since his days as a nascent demon.

Lost in the labyrinthine echoes of the past, Xu Liguo faltered.

Zhou Yi released his hold, the light fading from his eyes, leaving him visibly weakened. To bestow such a potent legacy was a wound upon his very essence, yet he cared not. Wang Lin had risked all to save him, and Zhou Yi would gladly surrender his inheritance to forge Wang Lin’s sword spirit.

“Wang Lin,” Zhou Yi rasped, “your creation possesses a rebellious heart. You must tread carefully in its binding. Yet, fear not overmuch. I wove a subtle enchantment into the transfer, a mark of betrayal. Should he ever turn against you, the inheritance itself will become his doom!”

Wang Lin gazed upon Zhou Yi’s weary face, a sigh escaping his lips. He clasped his hands in respect. “Honored one, I am forever in your debt.” Zhou Yi’s actions were decisive and unyielding, as evidenced by his earlier, forceful bestowal of Sun Tai as a servant to Wang Lin.

Zhou Yi shook his head. “If only Ting’er might awaken, this inheritance would be worthless to me. Wang Lin, I ask but one thing: find Ting’er’s father for me.”

Wang Lin pondered, his brow furrowed in thought, before finally nodding.

A wan smile touched Zhou Yi’s lips. He summoned the enchanted blade that housed Xu Liguo’s spirit, the very essence of a dream. With a deep breath, he struck the blade a mighty blow!

The blade resonated with a fierce hum, an aura of otherworldly power radiating outwards. Zhou Yi, his face ashen, swayed upon his feet.

“Zhou Yi, honorable ancestor!” Wang Lin cried, aghast at the sacrifice he witnessed.

“Henceforth,” Zhou Yi declared, his voice faint but resolute, “there shall only be three Rain-Forged Blades! This one is yours. Neither its former nor future spirits shall command it!”

With that, he flung the sword to Wang Lin.

Wang Lin caught it, his heart swelling with gratitude. Zhou Yi’s gift was immeasurable. Though all four Rain-Forged Blades could be taken, any thief would only have temporary control, eventually succumbing to Zhou Yi’s will, turning against their wielder. Even if Zhou Yi were gone, should the White-Clad Corpse awaken, a new sword spirit could be crafted, inheriting the Ancient Sword Intent to command the blades.

For eons, the Rain-Forged Blades were bound to the lineage of the spirits, to the White-Clad Corpse.

But now, all was changed. With that shattering blow, Zhou Yi, as the current sword spirit, and wielder of the Ancient Sword Intent, shattered the cyclical bonds upon the blade.

As a sword spirit, akin to a mortal emperor, he ceded a portion of his domain permanently to Wang Lin.

Even if the White-Clad Corpse were to awaken, or a new Rain-Forged Sword Spirit arose, they could never wield the blade. It was decreed by Zhou Yi, like a king handing over his lands forever!

Furthermore, by initiating Xu Liguo into the Ancient Sword Intent, Zhou Yi opened a gateway for him, a path towards becoming an ultimate sword spirit.

These two gifts combined afforded Wang Lin a priceless opportunity!

A chance to possess a blade as eternally bound to him as the White-Clad Corpse’s was to her!

From that day forward, the blade was Wang Lin’s alone, even if Xu Liguo was merely its first sword spirit.

Such an honor was reserved only for those who had attained the rank of Immortal Sovereign!

Zhou Yi sighed, his form dissolving into nothingness, merging into the very essence of the blade.

“In the depths below, I sense the aura of the first Rain-Forged Sword Spirit. This, too, I grant you. Go now!” The blade, now bearing Zhou Yi’s essence, flashed, plunging into the abyss.

Wang Lin quickly seized the dazed Xu Liguo into the sword and followed Zhou Yi downward.

“…The aura of the previous Rain-Forged Sword Spirit? Could it be the Rich?” Wang Lin wondered.

Zhou Yi led the way, his blade cutting a path. They eventually arrived at a vast cavern, with a deep chasm in the center. It was so dark that not even the power of Wang Lin’s thoughts could pierce its depths.

A small pulling sensation came from the pit, too subtle to be noticed, yet constantly present.

Standing on the ledge of the pit, grains of dirt were sucked towards the darkness, as if drawn in by an unseen force.

Wang Lin took in a deep breath, realizing what he was seeing. The tides came from the pit, an explosion every few millennia. Each one would generate unimaginable strength, traveling through unknown channels, pulling in all that it could reach from the outside world.

Feeling the strength of the pit made Wang Lin realize how small he truly was.

“Even Tian Yunzi could not stop it,” Wang Lin said in his thoughts. “I wonder if the third stepper that he speaks of would be able to, though.”

What was at the bottom of the pit? Wang Lin did not know, but he knew that he could never leave it if he fell in.

“Do not stare into the pit for too long,” Zhou Yi warned.

Wang Lin broke eye contact, but as he did, he heard a voice in his ear.

“Go down…” It came from… Wang Lin’s pouch!

It was not Yao Xixue!