Year 658 of the Stable Era,

  Twentieth day of the tenth month

  Even later in the afternoon

  Li Gho took a step back as Oma’s blood began to pool, unwilling to let any of it get on her shoes. Her spear lingered a moment, keeping her opponent impaled to the ground before collapsing to the side in a shower of coins.

  “Gao Oma is unable to continue,” Chang Hui declared, looking over to Baikun Feng with a smile that exuded only a smidge of the smugness she was feeling. “The Southern Peaks Gambling Hall has won the first round.”

  Baikun Feng replied with a short nod, as Li Zhan stepped into the ring to help Oma up. He picked up Willow’s Brach with a though, wiping blood and flecks of copper from the blade with one hand as he tried to push a small red pill into Oma’s mouth with the other. However, it was all she could do to cough up blood in response, so he reached for her sword instead. He tossed the pill into the air, Willow’s Branch blurring for a moment before it fell to his palm in a neat pile of fine powder.

  “Swallow this,” he said, as Oma forced herself up, arm shaking as she lifted her chest from the ground. He poured it down her throat in one motion, infusing it with a modicum of qi as he did.

  Oma coughed as the potent medicine hit her tongue, the bitter taste of the ingredients overwhelmed by the concentration of its energy. It was heat, sinew, and iron all at once. An intense sensation of blood, in taste, texture and emotion. The sharp shock of a deep cut shot through her, ripping her from neck to tailbone, the last sensation of the beast that had given its lifeblood to form the remedy.

  Her shoulder burned as she struggled to control the medicinal qi running through her body, forcing herself to absorb as much as she could. Other parts of her body ached from the process, but the searing pain of her exposed shoulder eclipsed it all.

  The first moments of a pill were the most crucial. By design they would heal the injuries they were created to treat, but allowing the qi to rampage through the body would mean that some of its potency would be wasted, absorbed by healthy parts that needed no aid. Not that that mattered with this one. There was more energy in the pill than she could possibly hope to absorb, and her tired body felt reinvigorated as it surged through her.

  The bone of her shoulder itched as it realigned itself, a pair of bloodied copper coins emerging as her flesh reconnected. As she watched, her skin began to regrow, pain like the quick glide of a naked blade sliding along her arm as it did. She coughed up blood again, but this time it was a thick lump, dark and congealed as the internal injuries it had emerged from closed themselves.

  Tentatively, she tried putting more weight on her right arm, evening out the lean that she’d been keeping on its uninjured pair. She waited for the twinge of pain, but none came. Oma rose, quickly, heady from the mix of qi and vitality flowing through her. She stumbled for a moment as she did, light from the sudden surge of recently replenished blood rushing to her head. Li Zhan caught her, steadying her by the shoulder before her body could react.

  “Thanks,” Oma mumbled, accepting Willow’s Branch from him with still-numb fingers. She’d lost, hadn’t she? She’d had her too, but she’d let her attention lapse at the last second, and it had cost her everything. The club was now down a round, and she’d even forced her Senior to waste a valuable pill on her.

  A valuable waste, her inner demon laughed. A pill that potent can’t have been cheap. How many spirit stones do you think—

  “It was a good match,” Li Zhan said, as he helped her down from the raised stones of the dueling field. “Your form is improving. Although you could have stopped that last move. A flying slash could have severed the threads of your opponent’s technique before the attack reached you.”

  “Senior, I don’t know how to do that,” Oma thought, before realizing that she’d accidentally spoken the words aloud.

  “Ah, I see,” Li Zhan replied, blinking at her. “I thought you did. It’s a technique that any sword cultivator worth their sword should know.”

  “Sorry to disappoi—” Oma began to mumble, before he cut her off.

  “We will need to correct that. I will teach you the technique myself. Now, the first thing you need to do is to conceptualize your—”

  Senior,” Oma began, but he only continued with his explanation.

  “—as cutting your target, both it and the air between. It is just the same as a normal strike, except that—”

  “Senior!”

  “—must place more focus on the act of cutting. Instead of letting your sword pass through the air, you must instead cut it all, as—”

  “SENIOR!” Oma practically shouted as she finally broke through to Senior Li Zhan, who stopped his explanation to look at her in confusion.

  “Yes?”

  “Your opponent is waiting for you,” she whispered, gesturing behind them. He turned and saw Guan Tie standing on the field, waving cheerily as Li Gho swept the last of the coins to the side with a broom.

  “Ah. We will have to continue this later,” he said, his palm tapping her shoulder three times as she took a seat on the bench. “Be sure to watch carefully. As Mei would say: you can learn much from watching.”

  “I will, Senior,” Oma said, setting Willow’s Branch on the bench as she took her gourd from her spatial pouch. She settled in as she uncorked it, watching her Senior with eager eyes as he stepped onto the raised stone of the dueling field.

  ***

  Guan Tie had to admit that his opponent had class.

  Not because he’d helped his junior up when she’d lost. No, that was the barest courtesy. It had been a close match, and she had fought well until the end. Even displayed a sliver of sword intent, which he had been pleasantly surprised to see.

  It was unusual to see the beginnings of it in a disciple that young, which meant that this dinky little club must be putting in some effort to live up to its name.

  No, what had stood out to him was the lack of hesitation he’d displayed offering her such valuable medicine so freely. As an Inner Disciple, Guan Tie had taken his fair share of high-grade pills. More than most, even, given his need to stay in peak tournament shape.

  He could recognize them better than some of the alchemists from the Pill Division, which is how he knew that his opponent had just given his junior a Twin Bloods Revitalization Pill.

  It was a prized medicine, capable of healing serious injuries in a cultivator of the third stage. He personally kept two in his ring as a last resort for a life or death struggle, so it was astonishing to see someone else simply give one away so easily.

  A true display of compassion. Or a display of dominance, to show that he could afford to use such a treasure so easily.

  Either way, it meant that there was more to his opponent than he’d first expected.

  Excitement ran through Guan Tie’s body as he twirled his spear in anticipation.

  He’d expected to spend the day idling around, listening to Hui’s boring negotiations with the old paper pushers. But a Club Challenge? And with such a promising opponent? Now that was a wonderful gift indeed. His purse had been getting a bit light lately too, and he got paid extra for fights.

  He sized his opponent up as he stepped into the arena.

  Taller side—a bit over six feet—and well-muscled, given the way his robe hung against his body. He wore his dark hair in a short ponytail, the practical hairstyle of a cultivator who kept it long for appearances sake, but too short to get in the way in a fight.

  His eyes were a common brown, but there was something to the way that they glinted in the light that closer resembled a blade than simple moisture. The first hint of the changes brought by the Body Moulding stage, likely metal in nature, something to do with his other path.

  Guan Tie could feel the forge on Li Zhan, from the way that the qi of fire and metal and smoke clung to his robes, rustling with the ringing of hammer and anvil. A possible sign that he practiced the Metal Striker Arts, but not a conclusive one.

  There were many overlapping arts on the myriad paths of cultivation, and it was an amateur mistake to assume that someone practiced something simply because it was the most common technique of its type in the sect.

  Still, he could tell that whatever his opponent practiced, his control of it was impeccable. While the forge clung to him, it was the aura of his environment. Not a trace of Li Zhan’s own qi escaped his body, his exhalations pure breaths unblemished by any mark of his nature.

  Rolling his shoulders, Guan Tie felt the placement of his armor one last time as he readied himself. He wasn’t in his full gear, as this wasn’t a duel to the death, but rather his competetive attire. Minus his newest additions, of course. There was still two weeks until the tournament, and he needed to keep those under wraps.

  A pair of long pauldrons rested on his shoulders, rough green leather from a crocodilian beast cut into a scaled pattern and rivetted together with bronze. They were held in place by a small chest plate of the same material, the characters of his name engraved into a gold plate above his left breast.

  A narrow armored skirt hung from his waist, covering just the sides of each thigh down to his knees. Light armor, meant to deflect glancing blows while allowing him full freedom of motion.

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  A trio of wide jade bangles tinkled on each of his wrists, covering most of his forearm with bright blue-green stone. Part armor, part a tool for channeling his more mystical techniques.

  Glancing at his opponent, he watched as Li Zhan removed his outer robe, carefully folding it into a narrow rectangle before placing it into his storage ring. He made no effort to produce anything from his spatial ring other than a pair of wrappings, which he used to tie the loose sleeves of his inner robe back.

  An odd decision. The loose folds of the Teal Mountain Sect’s uniform were ideal for concealing one’s physical tells, so he must be utilizing some technique that either required greater freedom of movement or one that would shred his own clothing. A few came to mind, and Guan Tie made a note of them as he twirled his spear, tapping its butt against the stone as he addressed his opponent.

  “Yah junior put up quite the fight,” he said, cracking his neck. “Here’s to hopin that you’ve got the same spark in’yah.”

  “You seem like a good foe to test my blades against,” Li Zhan said cooly, meeting his gaze as he took his place.

  “Ha-ha!” Guan Tie exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Bold! I like your guts!” He tossed his spear in the air as he made his martial salute, his fist ringing against his palm.

  “Inner Disciple Guan Tie, Body Moulding Cultivator of the Southern Peaks Gambling Hall!” He caught his spear as he completed his bow, watching his opponent’s face for his reaction.

  There was none.

  The junior, Gao Oma, gasped a bit from the bench at his name, but Li Zhan’s face remained blank. Not the stiffness of someone controlling their emotions, but the relaxed passivity of someone who had clearly never heard of him.

  Interesting, Guan Tie thought to himself. Either he was a master of self-control, or he genuinely hadn’t heard of him. Was he truly a martial cultivator? As he wondered this, Li Zhan bowed, calmly delivering his declaration in an even voice.

  “Li Zhan,” he said, pausing a moment as if lost in recollection before continuing. “Third stage Cultivator of the Sword Intent Club.”

  Now that was truly interesting. Most cultivators declared their identity by their strongest pillar. The only ones that didn’t were those attempting to hide their cultivation or those that had a complete mastery of all three. Whichever it was, he was about to find out as Li Zhan drew his sword.

  It matched its wielder well. A cloudsteel blade, forged in the form of a classic jian, its long, slender blade ending in a short triangular tip.

  Some thought of cloudsteel as a pauper’s material—barely worth of being considered an earthly treasure due to its lack of any incredible powers or properties—but Guan Tie knew better than to discount it so foolishly. It was the material preferred by many masters of the martial paths for a reason. Strong, flexible, and bereft of a nature’s taint, it was ideal for those who sought to pursue a purer path of the blade.

  He gave Li Zhan’s weapon a nod of approval as the two began to circle, his spear spinning as he waited for his opponent to make a move.

  Unlike the youngins, Guan Tie was more than willing to start slow. In his youth, he had been full of plenty of piss and vinegar, opening almost every match with a quick start that earned him the nickname The Charging Bowl.

  That had changed as his renown had grown. The more famous he became, the more his opponents were prepared for him. He’d become a more cautious fighter, his style growing more flexible as he trained both his techniques and his ability to combat whatever counters his opponents might have prepared. When Li Zhan remained continued to circle, clearly focused on evaluating his spear, Guan Tie made the first move, or else they’d end up spending all day pacing about.

  He advanced quickly, using one of his classic openers—the fourth art of the Rimrise Sparrow Spearsmanship techniques: Chasing Dragonflies. His spear tip dipped, cutting horizontally towards his opponent’s thigh before abruptly darting up towards the shoulder. Li Zhan responded by blocking the sweep, parrying the blade on its rise as he twisted around Guan Tie’s spear, his sword spinning as he transitioned into a counterattack.

  Guan Tie turned his spear in response, raising it vertical as he blocked Li Zhan’s sweep before it could catch him just below the ribs. The blade struggled against his spear for a moment as they clashed before his opponent broke off.

  “Not as easy as it looks, ey?” Guan Tie chuckled, watching as his opponent took a fresh stance. Wood might yield to metal, but his control over his weapon was peerless at his stage. Many had sought to shatter his weapon, with everything from axes to cleavers to secret techniques, but his spear had endured them all.

  Li Zhan said nothing in response, silently returning the favor with an attack of his own. Guan Tie’s spear rose as he met the first swing, only to have to intensify his focus as Li Zhan’s sword danced around the shaft. With two blows he redirected the spear, twisting it to the side with a keen deflection as his sword thrust towards Guan Tie’s chest. The technique was impeccable, each part of the sequence flowing cleanly into the next without betraying its role before it was played.

  There was nothing that he could do to parry this blow—his spear too far to reposition in time—but his technique was more than mere martial arts.

  With a twist of his qi, Guan Tie sent the first of his bracelets spinning into action. It caught the twelfth of the ribbons entwining his spear shaft, pulling the embroidered cloth around it as its stitched sigils glowed. A metal hand swept through the air, its purpose fulfilled in the first second of existence as its palm pushed the triangular tip of the jian aside. Li Zhan was quick to react, transitioning to a second attack as Guan Tie’s spear rose to meet it, his two left hands gripping the blade as his right fist made contact with his foe’s liver.

  Li Zhan took a step back, his sword rising for another blow as he did. Guan Tie leaned to the side to avoid the blow, his right wrist grazing the butt of his spear as he twirled it around his back. The sixty-third and forty-ninth ribbons wound around his bracelets as he did, power glowing as he activated them each in turn. A bolt of metal shot towards Li Zhan, splitting in five as it grew closer to its target, as a globe of water the size of his head rose by his feet.

  His foe’s cloudsteel blade blurred, ten split shards clinking against the ground as he lunged forwards to close the distance again. As he did, Guan Tie caught the floating water with his own blade, the twirl of his spear shaping it into a ring that he launched at Li Zhan before their blades met.

  Li Zhan was good. At least as good as an assistant instructor, if not better. His swordsmanship was clearly the focus of his cultivation. An extremism that eclipsed all else. But while he had likely forged his dao heart into a sword to cut all, it was a blade that cut both ways. He lacked balance in other areas.

  So Guan Tie pushed the limits of his skill, to break his opponent against his. His bracelets whirled as his qi surged, his talisman ribbons unleashing a flurry of techniques from all angles as blasts of water and steel shot forth, targeting weak points and cutting off escape. Their traded blows grew faster, increasing in speed and intensity until some of the audience began to find it hard to track more than their general morions.

  But despite it all, Li Zhan remained implacable.

  His sword met every blow, cleaving metal and water in twain with equal ease. The cloudsteel blade cut through all his techniques, and Guan Tie began to feel his opponent’s blows grow heavier as it took more and more focus for his spear to resist its edge with each clash.

  It wasn’t a difference in qi, or an attempt at a rope-a-dope—a technique Guan Tie was more than familiar with.

  No, it was the inevitable weight of his intent.

  Guan Tie had judged them to be approximate equals—what he had thought to be a generous assessment at the time—but he had gravely miscalculated. His style was to use his intent in bursts, as most cultivators of his stage did. The short surges worked best when woven into his other techniques, rather than in a prolonged bout.

  Li Zhan’s intent was relentless. As inescapable as the peak beneath their feet. His level of intent was unwavering, as sharp now as the moment they had started their bout. It was an astounding feat that he was still standing after maintaining it for so long. The work of a truly monstrous focus. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t ways of dealing with it.

  It was a bit of a cheeky move to use in a duel, but a common tournament technique. Most used the forceful variant, but Guan Tie had found he disarmed his foes better with a softer touch.

  “Your technique is extraordinary,” he said, alternating strikes from his spear between the five metal fists he was maintaining. “I didn’t think that ah’d be able to meet someone so adept at intent at our stage of cultivation. Much less in a place like this.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Li Zhan responded, casually blocking his blows, “it should hardly be surprising to find cultivators adept at sword intent in the Sword Intent Club. Your intent is merely passable.”

  “Your moves lack refinement on the transitions between strikes. You focus on an aspect of the spear as to the entirety of the weapon. Have you tried to cultivate your intent on the lesser aspects of your strikes? I find that drills work best for a comprehensive method in my own experience, but as you seem to be self-taught you must have taken a different approach to comprehension. Did you start cultivating your intent with a focus on the act of thrusting or on the act of piercing?”

  Guan Tie’s mouth opened and closed as he fought to keep his composure. He’d almost ended up disarming himself for a moment there! Li Zhan had had no difficulty conversing, much less any surprise at his sudden compliment.

  He was even offering advice to his opponent! As if this was a practice spar rather than a serious match. A truly cunning counter, to return his own words back to him twofold.

  He’d have to save that trick for his own use later!

  “My intent is indeed self-taught,” Guan Tie replied, tossing a pair of watery rings at his foe’s knees and shoulders. Li Zhan gracefully leapt between them, his sword flashing as it severed them both in half as they tried to constrict him. “Although, I’m beginning to feel a bit insulted. It’s like you ain’t taking this seriously.”

  “Ah,” Li Zhan said, pausing a beat as he landed. “I apologize.”

  “Ah well,” Guan Tie said, shaking his shoulders. “I hate to admit, I haven’t been either.” Three more bracelets clinked down around his wrists as he spoke, making a total of six on each wrist. “As a reignin’ champion, it’s the least I can do ta put on a good show worthy of my reputation.”

  “On,” Li Zhan said, cocking his head curiously. “What did you win?”

  Guan Tie’s brow furrowed a fraction, unsure if this was another attempt to disarm him or genuine confusion.

  “I am Guan Tie,” he declared, his spear forming a circle of steel and wood before him as his bracelets aligned. “Three Time Winner of the Azure Wing Unification Tournament, Champion of the Rock City Rumble, and Crab Catcher Supreme!”

  He’d been keeping this technique under wraps for the next tournament, but he’d lose too much face if he was defeated here. Even if his new technique leaked and ruined his odds, he had to deal with this fight right here and now. He could always swear Hui and her secretary to secrecy later.

  The strongest of his ribbons blazed like the sun off a quiet lake, a pair of spears with long blades of water and shafts of bronze materializing into the waiting metal hands at his sides. A three-spear technique—one that he’d been practicing in secret for years for a moment like this. It was just a shame it would debut before such a small audience.

  Li Zhan sighed a bit. “Ah. An increase in quantity. Hopefully the quality remains constant, so it might be interesting to fight.” His flat tone cut more deeply than a true insult, and Guan Tie felt his brow further furrow.

  “You’d do well not tah take me lightly,” he snarled, eyes narrowing in focus as his spear tips contracted, his qi hardening them into concentrated points as he visualized his intent. Ten thousand thrusts overlapped in his mind as his focused his will.

  Pierce it all.

  A strike worthy of the king of weapons.

  Faster.

  Swifter.

  Faster!

  A single thrust, with greater ferocity and greater intensity!

  So great that nothing could stand in its way!

  That none could escape its speed!

  His head ached as he echoed his intent in triplicate, his weapons growing ever sharper as they embodied his ideal, the vision of perfection made real through will and qi.

  “Very well,” Li Zhan said. “It would be wrong to refuse such a challenge. This will be a good test for my blade.”

  Guan Tie roared, his true spear drawing back as its sisters sprang forwards. A pair of attacks, carrying his intent, split in twain in a single slash as Li Zhan’s sword cut through them like wax. His foe’s sword danced back and forth again and again, each blow dispersing a hand attempting to strike at him with a length of the severed spears.

  A pair of fists struck next, each from disparate angles, forcing Li Zhan to react with a further two moves. It didn’t matter that they broke, just that they forced his foe to react.

  Shreds of ribbons flew from Guan Tie’s wrists as his techniques shattered, each lessening the strain on his mind as his focus grew more and more precise.

  His spear thrust forwards, a blur faster than any of his conjured weapons.

  Impossibly fast, its tip tracing a comet’s path towards his foe. But with almost contemptuous ease, the cloudsteel sword rose again. His thrust, for all its power and speed, twisted to the side, deflected a fraction of an inch as Li Zhan moved into the blow.

  Li Zhan spun around the shaft as he closed the gap, his sword missing Guan Tie’s chest by a hair as it cut through his armor and robe with equal ease. Guan Tie caught the next blow on his guard, attempting to twist his armor as he forced his qi to strengthen the metal as it continued forwards in a third strike that cut his spear in half. As he desperately tried to focus his intent to resist it, the sword rose again in a fourth, final blow.