Immortal Foundations (Xanxia, Original setting)

Part 2. Prologue
Rain fell in a soft drizzle on the highest peak of the Azure Rain Sword sect. Sitting in a lotus position, so high up that a belt of wispy clouds blocked all view of the rest of the sect save for the tallest secondary peaks of the inner region, Lin Qiu let out a long breath. All around him transparent sword phantoms seemed to expand from the small raindrops that fell, dissipating shortly after.

As this happened the darkness of the rainclouds lessened while the rain itself seemed to grow lighter, as if something had been removed from the water itself. This was Lin Qiu's daily routine, subtly raising and lowering the strength of his expanded domain to practice control. Each day he would raise the concentration of Azure Sword Qi in each raindrop to be enough to split an entire mountain range.

The control came into play at this point as that terrible destructive force was allowed to flow into the surroundings and back to Lin Qiu's dantian without harming a single living thing within or around the sect. If he had a mind to the destructive force in each drop could reach the level to split an entire lesser region in half however, that presented problems of its own. For one thing, his control was simply lacking for that level of energy to be dissipated safely.

That wasn't even mentioning how quickly such a technique would drain his Qi reserves. Satisfied with the exercise for now Lin Qiu let his mind wander to less practical matters. Instantly, his thoughts turned to his newest and most promising disciple.

Thinking of the youth caused both pride and irritation in equal measure. Xing Zheng was simply brilliant, a genius of the sword that was only seen once in a thousand years. This by itself wouldn't have caught his interest however, what truly shined about the boy was his perseverance. That is what made Xing Zheng so compatible with the Azure Rain Sword style, his ability to endure and subsume himself within the endless seclusion and repetition that Lin Qiu's techniques required.

Not many people had the ability to let themselves become one with the rain and storm, most chose to be stubborn like the mountains, and either their sanity eroded away or they gave up, choosing a different path. All of this was to say that, although Xing Zheng wasn't truly remarkable in any one area, when you combined his temperament, persistence, natural talent, and sheer willpower there was simply no one better suited to learning Lin Qiu's techniques.

However, this had also made him stubborn and when the youth became adamant about something, trying to steer him from that course was like running your sword through a river. That is to say, it was a fruitless and useless endeavor that simply resulted in exasperation and heartache. Memories came unbidden to him of a recent time, merely some five centuries ago, a time that seemed like yesterday to Lin Qiu.

The Xing empire Patriarch had made a request of him, to save the life of his most promising general. At the time that general had stormed his way into the neighboring mortal empires' armies during a military campaign that had lasted for a century. In a moment of pure martial might, the Xing war machine had driven into the heart of the enemy's greatest stronghold within the contested lesser regions the conflict was taking place in.

With one fell swoop, the enemy had been defeated scoring a great victory for the mortal Xing Empire. However, the leader of that enemy army was a promising mortal prospect from a cultivation family. Many families whose ancestors had ascended to larger spirit tier empires, those empires where Qi Condensation and above cultivators warred with one another, had their mortal descends serve as the primary nobles within mortal empires.

This way their clan's ancestral territory was never in the line of fire of the big shots in the spirit empires and their descendants had an ample stage to show their talent as mortals. The leader of that enemy army had been one such descendant, a promising female general named Zhan Lan from the Zhan clan who was one of the main powers within the powerful spirit tier sect known as the 'Ice Phoenix Sorcerer's Abode'. During the battle, Zhan Lan engaged in a duel with the Xing general and she was slain by him, even after she attempted to surrender and invoke her family name to allow her to flee the battlefield!

At that point, the Zhan clan ancestors had become furious and their Nascent Soul Matriarch personally descended to demand the Xing general's head. Although the backing of the Beast Tamer Sect, a high-level spirit sect that controlled these lands, was enough to stop the Zhan from outright destroying the Xing empire it didn't stop them from demanding the life of a single mortal general. The Xing Patriarch had been at a loss and had asked Lin Qiu to negotiate on his behalf.

Since Lin Qiu's sect existed within the empire and he had good relations with the Xing Patriarch he agreed. Negotiations went smoothly until the Zhan finally gave their terms, Lin Qiu's Sect would engage in a duel of disciples with them. Their youngest generation of direct spirit realm disciples would engage and whichever younger generation proved to be most promising would win the day.

If the Azure Rain Sword Sect won then the Zhan clan would consider Zhan Lan's death the will of the heavens and drop the matter. Conversely, if the Ice Phoenix Sorcerer's Abode won then the Xing empire would hand over the general in question. This would have been fine however, the identity of the general was what had made the duel problematic.

It turned out that Xing Hai was the man who had slain Zhan Lan! Lin Qiu knew that Xing Zheng would represent him during the duel and he wracked his head over the event. His youngest disciples' cultivation had been greatly slowed by his propensity to travel the world and indulge in emotions that tied him to the mortal world. Xing Zheng's largest remaining connection to the mortal world was his brother Xing Hai and if the youth had discovered his brother was in danger not only would he fight in the duel, he would immediately leave the sect afterward to check on him.

At that time Lin Qiu had been subtly requesting that all cultivators, wandering or otherwise, avoid speaking of Xing Hai's exploits to his disciple so that his path stayed clear and unfettered. For that reason, he had made Xing Zheng enter seclusion prior to the duel so that he could not find out the purpose of it. Afterward, Xing Zheng fought magnificently and defeated the opposing cultivator in a harrowing battle.

For a while, afterward, Lin Qiu had thought that his suppression had allowed his disciple to truly embrace the neutral faction path and cut his ties to the mortal world. That illusion had been shattered just over a decade ago when Xing Zheng had been invited by a personal royal decree to return to the Xing royal palace. Knowing that he could no longer keep the boy from his brother and the mortal affairs Lin Qiu had resolved to let Xing zheng walk the path the heavens had set for him.

It had been foolish to think that he could've changed the course of the Dao in any case, perhaps that too was his lesson of attachments. In his own affection for his disciple, it seemed that he had forgotten that part of the neutral faction's philosophy was to let Fellow Daoists walk the road they wished to, even if that meant their paths would separate. For the first time in thousands of years, a drop fell to the ground beside Lin Qiu's feet that his mental technique hadn't counted. An oddity that every warrior in history had observed at one point or another, it seemed that it was a good day for rain.






Xing Zheng waited patiently as the light of the teleportation array faded from his eyes. As it did so the familiar sight of the Twisted Territories capital, the Throne of Searing Plumes, came into view. It was an enormous city, far larger than the eye could see.

All around him towering builds adorned with lavish gold, jade and jewels stretched endlessly. Even that was only the surrounding travel district and compound for this large teleportation array. Below his feet for 100 km2 stretched a circular smooth stone platform that rested at the top of an ascending pyramid of circular rings that slowly descended to the street level 300m below.

Surrounding the array structure was tall and imposing walls that housed the buildings and various functionary facilities that processed arrivals as well as provided services to those visiting the Twisted Territories Lesser Region. Seeing the sight brought back memories of the first time he had met the ruler of this lavish city, well soon-to-be ruler. Around 15 years after he became a disciple of the sect patriarch a grand tournament had been held by the sect for surrounding martial artists for those at or below the master realm.

At the time the soon-to-be Baroness of the Lu clan, Lu Li, had been traveling throughout the lesser region as part of her training to become a proper noble leader. Being the only disciple of the sect patriarch at the master realm or below, Xing Zheng had been the primary representative of the Azure Rain Sword Sect. The finals had been a grand affair with hundreds of thousands of wandering martial artists and cultivators gathering inside an arena within the inner sect basin.

There Lin Qiu had used his sword to carve a bowl-like area that stretched for 3 km2 in all directions, a fitting amount of space for master realm cultivators to fight. Xing Zheng had been stunned by the fiery-red hair and aloof looks of Lu Li as she carried a large rust-red spear that was twice her height. With ruby red eyes and a well-built and athletic figure, the soon-to-be baroness would have cut an imposing sight had she not been slightly shorter than him.

A small smile crept on his face as he remembered remarking as such to the young noblewoman, sending her into a furious tirade that ended with a hundred phantom spear points thrusting at him from all directions with fire trailing all around. The fight had been hard fought however, they were both holding back since it was a tournament. In the end, Xing Zheng's superior control and skill won the bout and in the process formed a friendship that had lasted to this day.

As his mind thought of that the light of the activating array finally finished fading, reminding him of the purpose for his visit which brought a grimace to his face. Five bitter years had passed since Xing Zheng had last been home to the sect. At that time he had been making a routine visit to see his master and had decided to wander the northern part of the lesser region before making his way west where the Azure Rain Sword Sect was located.

That was when the incident with Li Cheng occurred, prompting his wandering to be cut short. When he had arrived home his master had been fairly insistent that he stay for a few decades and teach the new generation of disciples. Lin Qiu had even offered to postpone any of his more intense periods of seclusion to personally give him pointers each day, a generous offer. At the time though, Xing Zheng's heart had still been burning with the passion to find out what had happened with his brother. Little did he know that the clan patriarch would be so closeted about the topic, simply releasing his nephew Xing Lei into his care before becoming tight-lipped about the matter.

After that Xing Zheng had spent the last five years as little more than an errand boy for the man while checking in on his nephew and Xing Hai's widowed wife, Pan An. Both of them had been in good health and he had even helped Pan An to ascend her tribulation to Qi Condensation so that she could extend her life to keep watch over Xing Lei. For the most part, his nephew had been none the wiser of what had happened, viewing the whole ordeal as a few years spent with the clan patriarch as a reward for his father's heroism.

Xing Zheng hadn't had the heart to ask the boy any further questions as his nephew truly viewed the patriarch as a kindly old grandfather. In truth he also had no idea how to feel about the patriarch, even staying close to the man for the last few years had left him still an enigma. As Xing Zheng walked down the steps his mind drifted to an event that had happened centuries ago, something he had almost forgotten about.

Swirling clouds and mountain air seemed to fill his gaze as the potent divine sense in his body allowed him to almost relive the event. Beside him stood a mountain that dwarfed any Xing Zheng had seen before or since, a monolith of stone that seemed to take up heaven and earth known simply as the 'Needle of Heaven'. They were within a desolate lesser region and the mountain was the only notable thing for hundreds of millions of kilometers.

Perhaps too large a stage for this level of duel however, one could never be too safe. Below him floated his Azure Water Sword sitting upon translucent clouds of Azure Sword Qi to act as his flying sword since Xing hadn't bothered to learn a flying movement technique at the time. Around him cultivators from both the Azure Rain Sword Sect and another prominent sect hovered, watching from a few thousand kilometers away.

Of course, they were not physically watching from that distance, more so extending their divine sense to observe the battle from afar. Narrowing his eyes, Xing Zheng's gaze focused on the man opposite him, only one kilometer away. There stood a man that seemed much the same age as himself.

Although he seemed to have no flying treasure, Xing Zheng's divine sense could see the potent Ice Qi that was forming transparent platforms that allowed the man to stay aloft. Examining him further revealed his piercing white eyes and sky-blue hair. With his thin frame and shimmering ice blue robes that seemed to flicker in and out of sight the young man initially gave off the feeling of weakness and brittle ice.

However, the energy that flowed around him spoke of raging blizzards and piercing cold.

"Junior Brother Xing Zheng, my master, speaks highly of your Azure Rain Sword sect. Is it true that your techniques can cool one's back during a hot summer's day? Truly remarkable." The youth's voice sounded high and grinding, like wind whistling against sharp ice, a sly smile on his face.

"Senior Yin Jie, my master has also spoken much of your Ice Phoenix Sorcerer's Abode. Is it true that your ice cubes can keep wine chilled even under heavenly lightning? If so, I'll need to trouble senior for some of them after this friendly duel." Xing Zheng's expression twisted into a sickly sweet smile as he bowed in an over-exaggerated motion.

Yin Jie's face twisted into a grimace and without speaking another word his hands moved to form a seal in front of his chest. As his arms moved into position phantom qi arms split off from his physical ones, while still remaining attached to his body. Each of these extra sets of arms formed different seals and by the time his hands were raised six extra pairs of hands had also formed seals.

Energy started to gather as four spell circles formed in the air which began gathering the ambient energies of heaven and earth. Wasting no time Xing Zheng had already formed sword fingers with his dominant hand while slashing out 100 times. Each of these sword phantoms lashed out, some slashing while others thrust and others still twirled into defensive forms. Instantly one of the spell circles was destroyed by ten sword phantoms while three more minor spell circles formed around each of Yin Jie's remaining original spell circles.

The power gathered spread out to these new spells and formed spears of ethereal ice that seemed to sing as they shot out. Suddenly nine spears of ice shot toward Xing Zheng which crushed most of his remaining attacks. Maneuvering his flying sword to dodge two of them he briefly jumped upward while sending out sword phantoms to both sides.

As the remaining ice spears approached Xing Zheng, the attacks he had sent out to the sides curved inward at Yin Jie. Energy exploded all around and the attacks that had already collided collapsed a large chunk from the side of the mountain causing an avalanche of rock to cascade to the ground. Using the delay in attacks Yin Jie formed a formation of new spell circles that fueled a powerful movement technique, moving 10 km2 to the right.

As this happened Xing Zheng grabbed his Azure water sword and swung the physical weapon, layering a dozen Qi phantom strikes into the sword with each swing. The ice spears shattered as he struck them, utterly crushed under the force of the attack. As they did so, hidden spell runes that lay within the spears spread out in all directions, creating an expanding field of Ice Qi that entered everything it touched.

The field started to slow the energy moving within Xing Zheng's body and he had to spend precious moments expelling the deadly energy. More attacks created shockwaves in the air as they countered Xing Zheng's sword phantoms and moved toward him at unimaginable speeds. Taking a deep breath Xing Zheng focused himself and then let loose.

Qi exploded outward from him as each phantom that appeared from his attacks created more and more phantom swords. Soon an expanding globe of swords moved away from Xing Zheng, surgically destroying the scattered spell runes to dissipate the ice field before all turning and converging on Yun Jie. This continued for hours, each of them countering and throwing attacks that slowly lowered the other's energy reserves.

Finally, in the dead of night with the full moon overhead, Yun Jie had surrounded Xing Zheng with concentrated fields of ice. All around him rotated ever-forming shards of ice and he was forced to stay in the field by constant attacks while Yun Jie was kneeling and panting on the ground below at the base of the mountain. All hope seemed lost however, Xing Zheng had one last ace up his sleeve.

His meridian inscription formation was never meant to be used without it being finished as the power amplification and energy cost reduction were theoretically what made the technique possible. However, Xing Zheng had six meridians inscribed at the time and knew the technique well, he had to if it were to be inscribed while breaking through. With a solemn expression, he had given up all pretense of attack and raised his sword in a martial salute to his opponent.

Then Xing Zheng pushed forth all of the Qi that resided in his body and executed 'An instant births 10,000 Epochs of Rain' forming formation cores from the very sword phantoms that he had been using to defend himself. Hails of tiny ice spears and shards collided with his body, strikes that would destroy small mountains drawing deep furrows of bloody frozen wounds on him. Suddenly, all of the ice had disintegrated, overwhelmed by an unstoppable power.

At that moment, millions upon millions of phantom Qi swords had blotted out the sky like a thunderstorm with more forming each perceptible moment. With the last bit of his strength, Xing Zheng swung his sword down as he fell with the rain of swords. His memories of what followed were hazy as he remembered his master caught him and the sight of Yun Jie, staring up in abject horror as a panting elder of his sect held a defensive treasure above the two.

Around them lay devastation, a circular depression carved into the side of that mountain spanning 2,000,000 km2. Of course, the exact figures came later, however, his master had been quite pleased with the results. As the memory ended Xing Zheng seemed to seamlessly be brought back to the world and noticed that he was nearing the bottom of the teleportation array platform.

Upon doing so he saw that there was a well-dressed contingent of martial artists in full ceremonial armor waiting for him.

"My lord, apologies for the humble reception. Our garrison only heard of your arrival recently and-" The leader of the unit started to speak but was quickly cut off by Xing Zheng.

"No need, Captain. This reception will do quite nicely. Can you let ancestor Lu Li know that I'm visiting? I would like to speak with her and Little Lin if they are available." Xing Zheng sighed slightly, trying to keep his irritation down at the reception.

It wasn't that he wanted to shirk protocol or cause trouble for the guards; however, it had simply become tiresome being dragged into opulent reception parades every time he visited home. This had become doubly true when it became widespread knowledge that Xing Hai was his brother and as such the common people that loved him so much had transferred that goodwill to Xing Zheng. As someone who was used to the quiet of the mountains and the seclusion of cultivation, the attention was overwhelming, to say the least.

Looking around he realized that all of the surrounding guards had frozen with stricken expressions and even some of the passersby were staring at him in abject horror. Thinking for a moment, Xing Zheng mentally slapped himself before speaking.

"Apologies, I meant Baronnes Lu Lin. You'll have to forgive me, it has been a tiring journey." Xing Zheng smiled sheepishly and thankfully everyone involved was happy to move the proceedings along.

With haste, the guard captain ushered him along and the unit swiftly made their way out of the walls that housed the travel district. Soon enough, Xing Zheng found himself growing slightly impatient with the foot traffic, and looking higher up he could see lines of movement rising well into the sky as martial artists in the Master realms used their Qi to power windsail vehicles. These varied in size widely from personal transportation to large barge-like platforms that were little more than pieces of flat material with a sail and formations inscribed on them to keep the vessels aloft.

They all had one thing in common however, they were moving faster than those navigating the crowded streets of the ground level. Looking at the guard captain, he realized that they probably didn't have a vehicle on hand for his reception, as short notice as it was, and were too embarrassed to stop and retrieve one. Thinking for a moment, a good solution came to mind, and turned to face the men.

"Good soldiers of the Yu clan, today you've done a fine service and have performed admirably even in the face of questionable odds. It seems you have some fate with this old man. I leave you with some wisdom and a gift in return for a favor. Ask the Baroness to send for me at my normal guest quarters when she has time, I shall be in the city for a month so make sure to relay that. Now, that wisdom, remember, the Dao is eternal, do not spend time thinking of what could be, only what is! I bid you good day now." Xing Zheng nodded and threw a spirit stone at each of them before handing a jade slip to the captain.

Before the slip left his hand he imparted the same message he had told them so they could either speak to the Baroness or simply deliver the slip. Feeling that he had been sufficiently vague and cryptic to live up to the reputation of an immortal Xing Zheng sent out his divine sense and used it to guide his Qi through the air while activating his movement technique. In a moment he was blurring through the sky, leaving the bewildered guards behind.

Being a frequent guest of the Lu family had its perks and with Xing Zheng having spent over a century in their service he had a special guest compound that was situated near the palace grounds and kept in good maintenance year-round. Soon, he was sitting inside a comfortable cultivation chamber located within that same humble two-story residence. For someone like him who had lived hundreds of years a month was nothing and so Xing Zheng entered a semi-conscious state to cycle his Qi while spreading out his divine sense to alert him of anyone who approached.

Three days later the divine sense of Lu Li arrived at his residence carrying a summons.

"Brother Zheng, it has been too long. I have matters to attend to currently so our meeting will have to wait. However, please make time to go see Little Lin. She was very upset that you missed her coronation and has been looking forward to seeing you." Lu Li's soft voice carried the same kindness that it had the last time they had spoken and it brought a smile to his face.

The woman had truly mellowed out after becoming a mother and Xing Zheng had to admit he preferred her current temperament to the fiery passion-filled person Lu Li had been in her youth. Gathering his sword and securing the traveling pouch that was resting in a pocket on the inside of his robe, Xing Zheng calmly made his way to the main palace of the Lu clan compound. All around motifs of billowing pillars of flame lined the walkways as the crest of a blazing phoenix adorned the flowing banners.

Within just a few minutes his speed, augmented by his cultivation, carried Xing Zheng across the enormous compound and up the main stairway that led to the main hall. There a long and wide carpet spanned the walkway leading to a giant throne. Lining the hall to either side were tall tapestries that chronicled the history of the Lu clan while small balls of flame hung in the air shifting into different shapes that depicted the scenes on the walls.

Arriving in a blur only 10 meters from the throne Xing Zheng's figure seemed to appear from nowhere startling the various guards and nobles that were gathered around and seated in less grand chairs. The various seats formed an expanding semi-circle around the main throne with each one careful to depict the glory of that clan's particular heritage while not outshining the Lu clan's displays. Slowly Xing Zheng knelt while facing the throne.

"You summoned me, Baroness?" The slight outline of a smile played on his lips.

On that throne sat a bored-looking young woman about the same height as Xing Zheng himself. She had raven black hair and dark rust-colored eyes that seemed to smolder like coals. Beside her, resting over her shoulder with the butt on the ground was a spear crafted wholly from a translucent red gemstone material. Majestic robes adorned with the crest of the Lu family combined with various depictions of flames covered her body, fitted just loosely enough to sway slightly in the wind Xing Zheng's movements had generated.

"Indeed, what do you have to say for yourself?" Lu Lin's eyes grew brighter as she stood and leveled an imperious gaze at his figure.

"Well, I-" Xing Zheng's words was cut off by the surprising sound of a girlish giggle as the charging form of the Baroness collided with him, wrapping him in an embrace.

Of course, the movements had seemed quite slow to Xing Zheng however, he played the part and acted sufficiently surprised.

"Uncle Zheng, it's been far too long!" Lu Lin said in an impetuous voice as she slowly broke away from him, her expression turning to a pout "Mother said the invitation for my coronation reached you! What kept you from the ceremony? Was it some criminal scoundrel? Tell me who it was so that my spear can show him a thing or two!"

Saying this she held her hand out, mortal mental energy pulsing outward in Xing Zheng's perception as a hairline trail of fire connected the young woman to the weapon. In an instant, the spear was in her hand and she brandished it towards the heavens menacingly. All around the gathered nobles were speechless, many of them as horrified as those at the teleportation array had been.

"My apologies Baroness Lin. The clan ancestors had need for me and personal business kept me further from attending. Accept this gift as a token of my apology" Xing Zheng's tone was overly formal, causing a frown to start creasing on Lu Lin's brow.

That expression disappeared entirely when a glowing multi-sided object appeared from within the folds of Xing Zheng's robe before being tossed to the newly crowned Baroness. Glee filled the eyes of Lu Lin as she looked at the object, it appeared to be an eighteen-sided stone with panels that shifted between different glowing colors each moment. On each of the panels appeared a different spell run and the object hummed with a small amount of Qi.

It was a formation puzzle stone, one of the more interesting oddities some cultivators used for entertainment. The stone required a great understanding of shifting formations and Qi manipulation to solve which would open the device and allow one to see the spirit stone within. At that point, it could be reassembled and the puzzle reset.

Normal formation puzzle stones had a single solution and didn't shift like the one in Lu Lin's hand. This particular puzzle stone was made by a master artisan in the Xing Royal Palace and constantly randomized the solution, simultaneously making the challenge much harder and providing an almost endless amount of combinations. For someone like Lu Lin, who had loved the things since the first time she had been able to manipulate Qi, that particular stone was like an infinite source of entertainment and wonder.

Of course, the puzzles used incredibly small amounts of Qi to allow them to run almost indefinitely. This also meant that almost anyone in the master realm or higher could simply break through the formations with brute force. Those who enjoyed such things would say that was simply missing the point.

Xing Zheng found the puzzles only mildly amusing himself however, knowing that he was going to see Lu Lin had prompted him to get in touch with an artisan who specialized in them. The project had cost a whopping 10,000 spirit stones, a decent amount when coming from Xing Zheng's personal funds, however, the smile on the young Baroness's face was worth every last one. Noticing that the court was still staring at her, Lu Lin's face reddened momentarily before her expression changed entirely as if a mask had fallen over the young woman.

"Hmph, I see. This is acceptable. Thank you, Senior Zheng." Lu Lin's voice took on an imperious tone, all hints of warmth and emotion burned away by a fiery resolve. "Now, onto official business. Recently there have been reports that an ancient demonic martial arts technique was discovered on the northern border, alongside the banks of the Flowing Grass River. In the past, you've acted as the Lu clans Judgment Executioner. As such I wish to ask that you investigate this on my behalf, temporarily reinstating your position as Judgment Executioner of the Twisted Territories of course."

Xing Zheng's attention became focused at the mention of demonic techniques, his eyes narrowing.

"Indeed, my sword is at your service Baroness, as always." Xing Zheng gave a formal bow, his tone carrying the piercing might of a heavenly sword.

"Good, then travel to the Flowing Grass Valley and see what you can uncover." Lu Lin nodded, slight hints of relief entering her voice as she spoke.

That revelation caused him to almost stumble. Memories of a sobbing boy gripping Li Cheng's robe flashed through his mind as Xing Zheng rapidly considered those words. Quickly, before the mortal's in the court could notice his reaction, he composed himself.

"It will be done. Can I leave immediately? That is at least a few months' journey even for me." Xing Zheng inquired, his eyebrow quirking upward ever so slightly in question.

"Of course." Lu Lin replied, nodding in acknowledgment before looking upward as if in thought, as Xing Zheng started to turn she spoke one last time " Oh, and Uncle Zheng? Please try to behave. Mother says that last time you visited the northern border there was a large crater left there."

Turning around to face the young Baroness a final time, Xing Zheng had a sly smile on his face.

"Don't worry Little Lin, this uncle has learned a few tricks in his time. Tell your mother I said hello, updates will come through the usual channels." With that he turned around and blurred into motion, leaving a shockwave of air behind in the hall.

Conflicting emotions ran through his mind as he considered the trip. This would have to be a delicate operation as his master had already investigated that region and found little. It didn't help that the destroyed formation had released a diffuse amount of demonic Qi all around that valley, effectively cloaking low-level demonic cultivators. Unless the culprit was in one of the spirit realms and actively released their energy it would be difficult to find them.

Thinking about it, Xing Zheng mentally made a list of items to buy in preparation for the trip. It had been a long time since he had gone undercover as a mortal, almost 700 years ago when he posed as a member of his outer sect, this would be interesting.
 
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Quick note, originally I had planned to release the first chapter of book 2 today along with the prologue however, that left me feeling like I was rushing myself to write instead of taking time to focus on each chapter. As compensation have an extra chunky prologue chapter, seems like this is a running theme for this story in any case!
 
Part 2. Ch. 1 Meeting of Heaven and Earth
Putrid air pervaded the dark street as Fan Zhong strolled down it. All around him hastily constructed buildings sat atop one another, lining the sides of the muddy road. Doorways shut as he passed as curious eyes took a single glance before hurriedly looking away, the sight of him seeming to cause panic in confusion in those that had braved that brief interaction.

All along this occurred all along the plain street as he slowly walked along until finally arriving at his destination, an obscure doorway set into an alcove with some hastily retrieved blankets thrown over the entryway in a vain attempt to obfuscate the door. Sighing he reached out his hand and gently knocked.

"Junior brother Fu, you know why I'm here. Open the door and let's talk about this like civilized men. Don't blame me for being ruthless if you continue this stupidity" Fan Zhong's voice started in a calm and composed manner, menace slowly creeping in as he finished with the threat.

"Hmph, who's your junior brother? Leeches, every last one of you! Go away and tell the Hu clan that Feng Fu doesn't pay debts to liars and cheats!" The sound of a youth came from inside the home, putting on an arrogant tone as trepidation seemed to lurk under the surface.

Fan Zhong's face twisted into a snarl as he pulled his hand back and fell into a 'Voidgate' stance. In a blur, his palm thrust forward and the door exploded into splinters. Mental energy slowed down the falling fragments in his mind as he sped forward, each movement of muscle accelerating the last as 'Momentum of shifting earth' worked to accelerate him into a blur.

Brushing past a few of the splinters that hung in the air to his perception, Fan Zhong entered the building to find a narrow hallway with a staircase to his left. Forward, beside the staircase was a hallway that had two doorways leading to rooms on the right-hand side. Standing halfway down this hallway was a scruffy-looking young man with a slightly round frame.

With shoulder-length hair and light brown eyes, the young man didn't pose much of an impressive figure standing there with his shabby grey robe. This was Feng Fu and his face was still moving into the expression of startled surprise as Fan Zhong approached him, gently striking his head from both sides while driving a knee into his gut.

The 'Earth Receiving Palm' strike rang true and Feng Fu crumpled to his knees gasping for air as he did so. Releasing his focus Fan Zhong felt the world start to move again and his 'opponent' went from slowly falling to the floor to colliding with it in a mere moment. He had made sure to hold back with that technique to make sure the man hadn't died; however, his brow still furrowed as he looked at the prone man wondering if that had been enough.

Finally, after a few moments, Feng Fu seemed to draw a desperate breath, clutching at his chest as he looked up at Fan Zhong with horror in his eyes. Crouching low over the youth, Fan Zhong leveled an imperious gaze upon him.

"Junior Brother Fu, as my elder brother once taught me, experiencing something you're not prepared for is a rather unpleasant moment. Just now, you felt the consequences of being unprepared to meet my expectations. Such a thing happening again is indeed possible, I assure you." He let a small smile creep onto his face while flexing his hand into a fist to emphasize the point. " Now, we're going to spend some quality time together. When you feel like my company has become a little too smothering, just hand over the spirit stones to pay your debt."

Saying this a grim look crossed his face and anger that Fan Zhong had kept smothered for over five years was allowed to peak out ever so slightly. Inwardly the red light of a bleeding sun started to creep into his vision as an invisible pressure seemed to cover the hallway. As he grabbed Feng Fu by the shoulder and held him high, preparing to deliver a few more blows to 'convince' the man, a hand landed upon his shoulder.

"Senior Fan Zhong, that is enough, please." The voice of a young man spoke out from behind him.

Snarling Fan Zhong turned and leveled a gaze-filled killing intent at the newcomer. There stood a man in black and red robes flanked by guards in similarly colored armor who wielded spears with sabers at their hips. Instantly, the two guards became alert, spears coming to bear as fearful eyes landed on Fan Zhong, looking at him like more of a beast than a man.

Behind the guards a sound that caused all those in the room to shudder for just a moment. Everyone except for Fan Zhong seemed paralyzed by a primal growl, one that awakened fear of being devoured in the darkness of night. From the doorway an enormous wolf seemed to appear from nowhere, becoming visible as it loomed over the mortal martial artists.

The beast stood just as tall as Fan Zhong and its body stretched out for four meters, a primordial predator straight out of legend. Slowly the killing intent faded from Fan Zhong's eyes and he let Feng Fu slump to the floor, raising a hand to the wolf.

"Calm down Little Brother, there's no danger here" His eyes fell upon the two guards at the remark, dismissing the two in the same breath as he had noticed them.

"Of course, we are all allies after all." The young man in the lead of the newcomer group spoke, trying to inject some jovialness into his voice. "Brother Feng Fu, I am Hu Tai, Junior Manager of the gambling hall where your debt was incurred. We have some matters to discuss which Senior Fan Zhong was so gracious to preempt for us! Now, these lovely clansmen of mine will keep you company for just a moment while I speak with Senior. Please let them know if there's anything you need."

Saying this Hu Tai's smile became sickly sweet before fading to a neutral expression as he motioned for Fan Zhong to follow him back out into the street. As he did so the guards moved further into the building, seeming happy to be further away from Little white. Shortly, both Fan Zhong and Hu Tai were standing a few meters away from the door, next to the wall of the building they had just been inside.

Looking at the youth, Fan Zhong examined him. Hu Tai bore the sharp facial features that most of the Hu clan did as well as soft misty white eyes. His hair was dark with slight hints of green throughout.

Upon the youth's hip was a saber with a large clear red gemstone set into the guard, writhing runes seemed to settle into the gem under Fan Zhong's eyes marking it as some sort of magical treasure. Finally, the nicely made black robes with highlights of blood red completed Hu Tai's attire, the crest of a black saber upon a stylized red container marking the merchant nature of his clan along with their history of martial arts with the weapon.

All of this finished within just a moment as Hu Tai composed himself.

"Senior Fan Zhong, the clan appreciates your work as an enforcer as always. While it's true that Feng Fu hasn't paid his debt back, was that necessary? You must understand that while we may be running gambling halls, the clan attempts to cultivate an image of fairness and there are many debates among the elders where ideas to make more profit are discarded to ensure that fairness is real. Collecting debts is all well and good, however, Wh-" Hu Tai's words were cut off as he met the smoldering anger in Fan Zhong's eyes.

"JUNIOR Brother Hu Tai, what gives you the right to lecture me?" Fan Zhong's gaze darkened and he moved to the side so that to face him, Hu Tai's back had to face the wall.

"Senior, you mis-" Hu Tai started to sweat, panic entering his tone as he started to remember that he was talking to someone two realms above him.

"No, you misunderstand, Junior Manager. I'm in the service of the Hu clan because they asked me for assistance." Fan Zhong's face grew closer to the young man as his killing intent started to radiate once more "How that assistance is rendered is up to me."

Little White had gotten up from his resting position by the door and slowly curled himself in a semi-circle around Fan Zhong, his large vicious maw poised directly over his shoulder. Hu Tai flinched in fear as he tensed, waiting to be struck. Air rushed out as a cracking sound filled the street.

Raising his head, Hu Tai was surprised to feel no pain as he felt small impacts on his shoulder. Opening his eyes he saw Fan Zhong's outstretched arm next to his head, his palm within a small crater that a strike had furrowed into the wall barely a few centimeters from hitting Hu Tai. Small fragments of the wall fell upon the young man's shoulder as he attempted to speak a few times, no words able to reach through his bewilderment and fear.

"Today, I'll be magnanimous and give your ancestor's face. The next time you ask me to enforce a debt, make sure you understand what that means. I'm not here to wax poetic with your clients nor is that what I was hired to do." Fan Zhong sneered as he turned and started walking back up the street to the outskirts of town.






Not enough, it had never been enough. Hitting that poor sod, enforcing for the Hu clan. None of this had been enough to smother the smallest ember of pain or anger within his heart. It had been five long years of this, of living on the outskirts of Butont.

At first Fan Zhong had simply been numb to the world, unable to feel anything. Fan Yong and Fan Shun had taken care of him then, forcing him to eat and sleep, even making sure his body had not withered away, cajoling him into running. After two years of living within the new Fan clan compound on the western edge of Butont, it felt like an avalanche had crushed his soul.

Every night memories of the fateful battle at Little Green Bamboo Village played through his mind. How he had begged that immortal for Fan Cheng's life. Discovering the remains of the village, the crater where not even bodies remained.

Endless nights filled with words left unspoken, things that he would never get to experience. Then the hardest part had come, remembering how Fan Cheng had fought so hard to save him. Deep in his heart Fan Zhong knew, he blamed himself for Fan Cheng's death, something that had haunted him from the moment the thought entered his mind.

Perhaps that was why the sight of Fan Yong and the remaining clan members hurt him so much. They were living reminders of all that he had lost, all that he had known. Looking down at his bowl of wine within the Shady Parasol Pleasure Hall he could only sigh.

At least here he could forget and stop the memories. Filling the bowl he realized that it was late at night with the sun going down. All around lavish statues and paintings filled the open hall as small sitting tables were organized in neat rows. Stairs led up to the upper level that had thin sliding doors leading to private rooms.

The building was only two stories high and housed only a few dozen private rooms, one of the smaller and more rundown establishments on the edge of the village. Upon those statues, Fan Zhong could see dust and signs of wear throughout the decorations. All around the tables were full of small marks and blemishes and even the doors to the private rooms had some amount of yellowing.

For Fan Zhong, this place had been a comfort during his time alone. A place that never asked questions about where he came from or his story, somewhere he could drink in peace. Looking around he noticed that there seemed to be no other customers about, only the employees slowly moving about and cleaning tables.

They were also slowly removing the spirit stones from holders that powered the lighting arrays within the hall, a clear sign that closing time was coming. As he thought this, a young woman in a white robe covered in purple lotuses approached him. She had a quaint beauty to her, sporting long dirty blonde hair with a toned and athletic figure.

Obviously, the young woman also practiced some form of martial art, evident by her body as well as the practiced and graceful way she moved. Thinking this, he tentatively focused his awareness to see if she had a wisp of mental energy however, just like every time he had checked before it seemed she was still in the Third-grade realm. Smiling, Fan Zhong recognized her as the nighttime manager who he had become acquainted with, Cui Shi.

"Senior Zhong, the hall is preparing to close in just half an hour. Is there anything I can get you? Perhaps senior would like a private room to spend the night?" Cui Shi's tone was respectful and carried some measure of concern, as she spoke her eyes drifted to the small mountain of empty wine jugs next to Fan Zhong's table.

"No need, Junior Sister Shi. This old man should retire in any case, thank you for the hospitality as always." Standing in a slightly shaky fashion Fan Zhong swept his hand over the table, depositing a pile of spirit stones.

Although the bill came out to 300 spirit stones he left a total of 320 knowing that Cui Shi would spread the extras to the workers of the hall.

"Hmph, senior only comes here to drink, ignoring the excellent services of my Shady Parasol Hall! Is it that this young mistress isn't pretty in your eyes?" Cui Shi pouted and her tone gained mock indignation, flashing alluring eyes Fan Zhong's way.

Laughing, Fan Zhong simply shook his head and started to head towards the exit.

"Try again Young Mistress Cui. This old man only has so many spirit stones to spend, you can't swindle them that easily" Fan Zhong's voice was jovial, a rare tone to hear in him these days.

"What old man? I bet you only started to grow hair down there just last year!" Cui Shi laughed along with him, picking up one of the sitting pillows and lightly chucking it at Fan Zhong.

With the ease that one would walk in a straight line, he turned on a single foot, caught the pillow, and gently threw it back to the ground where it had started before turning once again towards the exit. As he did so, the world seemed to spin and Fan Zhong found himself down on one knee. Soon the staff was rushing to his aid and although his mental energy would've allowed him to get up instantly he allowed them to help him up.

Thanking the young man and women that had helped, he continued walking towards the exit! Soon Fan Zhong found himself tipping forward outside of the hall's doorway, about to meet the ground of the muddy road. Instead, soft fur met his body as Little White appeared from thin air, gently sliding under his falling form and allowing Fan Zhong onto his back.

Whining slightly the large wolf twisted to look up and him, worry plainly in its eyes.

"It's fine…" Fan Zhong said as he struggled to keep his eyes open "In the morning, I'll be all… Good to go!"

Barking in assent Little White assumed a semi-transparent form, enough so that he could be seen as a see-through mass, however, unable to be clearly seen. Darkness descended ever more thickly upon the pair as the spirit beast navigated his way through the quiet and empty late-night streets of Butont, only the softly glowing street lights to illuminate the way. Soon enough they approached a small single-story building with a slanted root.

Around the street, similar structures were separated by only a few meters, each one covering around 150m2 of floor space. Drab exteriors lined these outskirt streets as little decoration or adornment colored could be seen. On some of the doors hung worn-out banners or draped clothes set within small cloves that contained the doorways to the quaint homes.

Seeing that he was near home, Fan Zhong took a deep breath to center himself and rolled off Little White's back. As he did so his mental energy focused, a feeling of tension prickling at his senses. Beside him, the wolf was staring at a man who was leaning near Fan Zhong's wide door that had been modified to allow Little White easy movement in and out of the building.

Standing a head shorter than Fan Zhong himself and sporting golden robes that were worn with years of use, Fan Yong looked much like he remembered him the last time he had seen his best friend. Narrowing his eyes Fan Zhong put a calming hand on Little White's neck and simply walked past Fan Yong, arriving inside his home. Here there was a large open space, more of a single room than a home.

At the center of the room was a large mound of blankets and pillows with a kitchen in the corner to his left while much of the rest was empty. Behind him, Little White followed and the exasperated sigh of Fan Yong could be heard as the two simply ignored him. Soon he joined Fan Zhong and his companion inside.

For his part Fan Zhong simply sat down on the pile of blankets, pulling a sealed wine jug over to him and taking a large pull from it. Before he could finish, the jug was pulled from his grasp and quickly set to the ground.

"Brother Zhong! Has it come to this? Do you ignore even your closest friends these days?" Fan Yong's eyes contained hurt and indignation.

Sighing Fan Zhong wiped the spilled wine from his face before leveling a contemptuous gaze at his friend.

"What is there to say? What more do you want from me? Go, leave me and continue to pretend the clan still exists. I have no interest in such games." His words contained equal parts sorrow and bitterness as he only held Fan Yong's gaze for a moment before looking away to stare at the wall.

"I know that you are hurting Brother Zhong, however, the clansmen need you! Senior Shun and many others are trying to hold together but we need you to lead them! Who else can carry the mantle, who else has the right?" Fan Yong's words were calm and understanding, worry covered his expression as he spoke "Will you simply spend your days wilting away here, in the service of gamblers and merchants, while the remains of the clan desperately await your return? I know you, Brother Zhong, the heart of a true hero beats in your chest! Don't let the last days of the Fan clan be those of desperate struggles, come home and we will rebuild everything with our own power!"

"You… know me?!" Fan Zhong's expression turned sour as his sight turned red, killing intent radiating off him in waves "What do you know? Of the pain that beats in my chest! Of the guilt that gnaws at my mind! WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF THAT DAY?!"

His tone started low but soon turned into a roar, violent emotions surging within his eyes as all the emotions that were locked away in the abyss of his heart were unleashed threatening to scour his sanity away. Fan Yong looked at him not with fear, but pity and sadness. A single tear fell from his eyes as he slowly turned and walked towards the door.

"That day… you weren't the only person who lost everything Brother Zhong. Inside the pain is… unbearable. It must weigh on you greater than any mountain ever could. However, know this, mountains can be lifted and the heaven and earth upturned but not alone. I hope… that one day your heart heals enough to understand that." Without turning around Fan Yong left, leaving Fan Zhong alone with his anger.

Little White looked on at the whole situation, unsure of what to do. Finally, as the minutes dragged on he simply walked up to Fan Zhong and started licking his face, barking happily. Soon his anger subsided and a sad smile tugged at his lips.

With a small sob, he embraced the large wolf who had once been so small, clinging to him like a drowning man in an ocean.






Faint sounds of shouting woke Fan Zhong from his sleep as he looked around his home. Little White had curled into a ring around him and both of them lay on the disorganized pile of blankets and pillows. Outside the darkness of night was thick covering everything under the missing presence of the lighting arrays.

It must have been very late indeed for he knew that the Butont council had been extending the period that the village lights were on until shortly after midnight. Normally they would begin shutting down the street lights around 10 PM to save on the spirit stones that ran the arrays. However, with the war happening in the west, bandits had multiplied as those who were affected by the fighting had also done the same.

Technically the war had ended the day Little Green Bamboo Village had been destroyed with the Wei clan retreating from open engagements and the northern valley alliance simply holding their territories. With the Fan clan gone, however, the southern valley forces had been greatly weakened. Although the Wei hadn't continued their assault the resulting power vacuum had allowed many powerful bandit groups to form, harassing the local villages.

Only the shores where the Wang clan held true and the base of the Green Mists mountain, held by the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect, were relative safe zones. As one advanced further east, the forces of the Butont council were more present and held higher order however, the spread of chaos had even reached far enough to affect the outer edges of the village. Rumors had been going about talking of bandits kidnapping people within the outer streets or robbing businesses.

This was why the council had extended the lighting period to 1 AM and increased the level of patrols. Increased inside of the heart of the village that was, the outer edges were still rather lax from guard patrols. As he thought this Fan Zhong finished standing up and went to the door, pushing it open slowly.

Even with the low lighting, his mental energy enhanced what light his eyes could take in allowing him to see decently well. Along the street, no signs of activity could be seen with most of the doors and windows shut tightly closed. Suddenly another shout could be heard and although it was faint, to a First-Grade martial artist like Fan Zhong the sound came through as clear as day.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" the shrill voice of a woman could be heard.

He was surprised to realize that the voice was familiar, it was Cui Shi! Conflicting emotions ran through his mind. Fan Zhong hadn't taken action to help any of those who had been attacked, mind, no one had been attacked in front of him like this. Turning to go back inside he heard the voice of Fan Yong echo in his mind.

"The heart of a true hero beats in your chest!" The other man's words struck him like a hammer, forcing him out of the doorway and into the street a step.

Struggling, he tried to forget those words, trying desperately to just go back to sleep and forget he heard anything. Then another voice came to him, one he hadn't heard in five years.

"Live a… goo.." Fan Cheng's last unfinished words resonated through him, striking him so hard he rocketed backward.

It was as if the older man had personally come back from the dead to deliver his signature palm strike directly to Fan Zhong's mind, to shatter the shell of sulking and push him forward. There in the middle of the muddy street tears streamed from his eyes, staining the shabby gray robes he wore. Looking up he saw a wispy figure made up of faintly golden light.

"Live a good life, Little Brother" The words seemed to come from the world itself as a gentle wind blew the golden light away, dispersing it into the sky.

Words tried to come to Fan Zhong but he could only look at the spot the figure had stood in, deep sadness filling his eyes. Slowly, he stood as a familiar air of stoic solemnity surrounded him. Taking a final deep breath, Fan Zhong bowed low to the spot.

"This one understands and receives the order, elder brother." He spoke through clenched cheeks, tears flowing freely from his eyes as the world itself seemed to hold its breath "Thank you… for everything."

Saying this he turned and faced the direction of the Shady Parasol, whistling a signal to Little White. In a blur of transparent mass, the spirit beast appeared in front of Fan Zhong, eyes alert and tail wagging in excitement at seeing such energy in his master.

"Little White, I have kept you waiting for a long time. Forgive this stupid Young Master for having eyes that could not see Mt. Tai. Will you come with me once more, down that eternal path, the one that leads so high into the sky?" Fan Zhong looked into the wolf's eyes, expressing his resolution.

Without a moment's hesitation, Little White gathered energy and howled into the sky with all the might and pride of a Beast King, a shimmering transparent crown of watery energy appearing over his head as he did so. This howl covered all of Butont, startling many as it instilled fear in them as well. Smiling Fan Zhong nodded and jumped upon Little White's back, motioning for him to run towards the pleasure hall.

Although he was fast with his movement technique it was no match for the water wolf and soon Fan Zhong found himself gripping his companion's fur tightly to hold on. For his part, Little White ran forward with excitement and glee on his face, happy to be able to truly stretch his legs for once. In seemingly no time at all Fan Zhong had arrived at the Shady Parasol, a walk that normally took him 10 minutes of strolling had taken the shaggy wolf only 10 seconds!

"Little Brother, go forward and make sure the workers are safe. I'll draw their attention so make quick work." Fan Zhong said as he slid off Little White's back, starting to walk inside.
A small growl and an expression of question greeted him from Little White as he hesitated momentarily.

"Hmph, you don't trust this Young Noble's skill? Come now, I know you're stronger, so you have the more important task! What kind of rescue would this be if we let the workers be injured during the battle? Just come assist me after you've helped them" Fan Zhong shouted behind him, not turning to acknowledge the inquiring expression of his companion.

Seemingly content with that, Little White quickly disappeared and Fan Zhong felt the briefest passage of wind as the spirit beast moved past him and onto the roof with incredible speed. It amazed him how the water wolf could move so slightly when he wished to. Nodding to himself Fan Zhong activated his movement technique, blurring forward and entering the hall.

As he did so he noticed that Cui Shi was in the center of the ground level, with a group of menacing figures facing her and a group of the hall workers. They were dressed in an assortment of leather armor and martial arts robes with a few sporting partial metal armor. Varying weapons were brandished from their hands from spears to swords to wicked-looking crossbows.

In front of the group was a man with a simple martial robe who had a spear at his side. The man was fairly tall, almost Fan Zhong's height, and had short-cut hair that barely left his head. His robes were shabby and black with no crests or identifying marks while the spear he carried looked well crafted if plain.

"Young Lady Cui Shi, I'm not an unreasonable man. Give me the security array key and after a little time with me…" The man leered at her while saying this indicating what 'time' with him would entail "We'll take what we came for and leave. Don't blame me for being ruthless if you continue to be stubborn. It's already hard enough to hold the men back from your workers, who know how long I can ensure their safety"

Hearing these words some of those in the group laughed menacingly, leering at the cowering pleasure hall workers. Sighing Fan Zhong took a close look at the group, focusing his mental energy to examine them. Although they appeared threatening on the surface he could tell that about half the 50-person bandit group were merely untrained fighters holding weapons.

Of the remaining fighters, about 15 of them carried themselves well enough to be Third-Grade martial artists of varying skill. The remaining ten had some wisp of mental energy and were each within the Second-Grade realm with the leader of the group being solidly on his way to First-Grade. Given a few pointers and some years to train them into a disciplined force he thought they could have posed a threat to him however, at present, only the leader would last for a few moments.

Feeling confident that the enemy posed no major threat to him Fan Zhong started sprinting forward, carrying his momentum with each step. Within two steps his figure would've been a blur to the untrained warriors and by the time he was close enough for them to hear him over the ambient noise his speed had reached a level only the elites in the group could handle. Maneuvering himself between the members he came to a stop between the leader and Cui Shi.

"Hmph, looks like we got a hero here boys." The leader said, arrogance in his voice.

Meanwhile, his eyes carried a sign of trepidation. It was obvious that he understood the implications of someone being able to casually stroll past his awareness. However, it seemed that didn't put enough fear into the man as he put on a brave front for his men, perhaps unsure just how strong the opponent was. Fan Zhong went to respond but before he could a newcomer in plain brown robes descended from above, seemingly having jumped from the second floor.

The man had shoulder-length hair and was slightly shorter than Fan Zhong, although not by much, and wore a wide-rimmed bamboo hat that covered his face. As he landed the man drew a sword that was sheathed at his side with the grace and practice of a master. Feeling the energy coming off him, Fan Zhong was fairly certain that the man was strong however, he couldn't tell how strong.

"Lay down your arms and surrender to the local guards. If you do so, no harm will come to you. Refuse and only misery will follow." The man's voice was calm and smooth like a tranquil undisturbed sea.

"Arrogant! Both of you are too arrogant!" Indignation and anger filled the leader's face as he raised his weapon and charged.

Behind him, the bandits hesitated for a brief moment before one of them let out a warcry and charged as well. Soon a cascading effect started and all of the bandits were barrelling forward. The swordsman blurred into motion and disappeared from Fan Zhong's sight as he sighed before pulling a brick from the inner folds of his robe.

Turning to face the enemy he let the slightest part of his anger flow, tempered by the songs he had written so long ago. Momentum flowed through Fan Zhong as he dodged a spear while catching it in a receiving palm form, using the brick as a weapon by placing it on his palm as he struck. His leg kicked outward as his technique pulled the bandit into him, crushing the man's rib cage and inner organs leaving him dead and tumbling to the ground while Fan Zhong found another opponent.

In rapid motion, he struck out with five 'Shifting Palm Strikes' using the brick to add weight and power to each strike. Two of these blows shattered knees while the last three snapped necks to the side as his momentum built. Moving quickly the brick moved in patterns that Fan Zhong had spent years practicing, contact juggling coming to him now as naturally as breathing no matter the weapon.

Two swords, one coming for either side, thrust at him, each one met with a 'Shifting palm' that broke the attacker's arm. Normally Shifting palms weren't so effective however, Su Fen had shown Fan Zhong that was not always the case. Taking his painful memories of the senior warrior he had painstakingly applied them to his style during his years of training right before that fateful day.

Now all this showed true as he downed another three opponents in the blink of an eye. In total, nine bandits hit the ground simultaneously, each of them struck and defeated before any of them had time to finish falling. At last, the leader of the group approached him, spear poised to strike Fan Zhong's back.

Exhaling slowly Fan Zhong let his anger and pain gather to a point, in his right hand. With a single clean motion, he slid into a 'Voidgate' stance just as Fan Cheng had taught him so many years ago. Pivoting on his back foot he turned to face the attack, deflecting the spear with his off-hand while his other hand drove a palm strike into the man with the brick.

The air seemed to vibrate and a low hum echoed throughout the chamber. As the leader of the bandits dropped to the floor a large gaping hole could be seen in his chest as Fan Zhong pulled back the brick he'd placed end-wise on his palm. Slowly the solid natural treasure stone stopped spinning, ending the 'Origin Piercing Palm' technique.

Looking up from the man, Fan Zhong found the swordsman standing amid a mound of corpses made from the remaining bandits. As the man looked up and removed his hat, Fan Zhong saw a scar running down the left side of his face and into the man's robe. Recognition flared in his eyes as he remembered the last time he had seen this man, he was one of the immortals that had been there that day!
 
Part 2. Ch. 2 New Beginnings
"YOU!" Heat entered Fan Zhong's voice as he snarled at the swordsman, vivid memories of that day entered his mind as if Fan Cheng's blood was still wet on his clothes.

Without thinking, he struck forward, aiming an 'Origin Piercing Palm' at the man's head with the brick. A sigh with a touch of sadness escaped the swordsman's lips as he seemed to flow around the strike like water. Madness overtook Fan Zhong for a moment and he kept building momentum with his movement technique, pivoting to lash a leg at his opponent.

Half a dozen exchanges occurred in a single breath with Fan Zhong executing a blurring combination of Fan clan palm techniques, each one unable to even graze the swordsman. Every time he attacked, eyes filled with patience and sadness would look back at him, as if the opponent were observing him from the other side of the room. Finally, his speed reached a tipping point and as he pivoted to deliver a final 'Earth Origin Palm' his leg slipped under the force of the turn sending Fan Zhong toppling to the ground.

Before his fall could finish his mental energy rapidly worked, giving him the reaction speed to turn the fall into a backward somersault. He landed five steps away, still facing his opponent.

"That is quite the greeting. Are you quite finished, or do you need more time? If so don't hold back for my regard, we can do this as long as you wish." The swordsman spoke with patience and calm that even Elder Wuying would have respected, with no sign of mockery or disrespect in his voice as he gave a low bow.

"Hmph, what's the point, venerable immortal? Aren't we like ants to you who soar high into the heavens? Do our lives even have any value to you, Most Honorable Xing Zheng?" As Fan Zhong spoke the venom and spite in his words reached a peak, practically spitting the other man's name out.

Now that the fervor of battle was wearing off his mental energy reminded him, in excruciating detail, every last thing that had happened that day. From the words of Li Cheng to Xing Zheng introducing himself to the other immortal, not a single moment was forgotten. The memories burned into his mind, like a hot iron being pressed upon his soul.

Desperately he tried to force the memories from his mind however, his thoughts moved too fast and remembered too well. In that moment the mental energy that he had craved for so long, the very thing that he trained for years to attain betrayed him. Every moment from that day onward was a crystal clear image in his mind, preserved like the finest paintings by his increased mental capacity.

"Your reaction, junior, is understandable. However, what happened that day was not done by my hand. More than anyone else, you should know that." Xing Zheng's eyes revealed sadness as he looked at Fan Zhong, the image of a broken young man clinging to Li Cheng's robe reflected in his gaze.

As the older man spoke, voices could be heard from the balcony on the second floor that overlooked the hall. Wind rushed down from above as a large transparent blur arrived between the two. Little White's growl carried the might and pride of his heritage, causing the hair on the necks of all in the room to rise.

Before the sound finished Xing Zheng appeared in front of Little White, a single finger pressed between the massive wolf's brow. The fearsome growl that carried all of the mighty spirit beast's might and will to protect Fan Zhong was stifled instantly as if a sword had simply cut the sound from the air. As this happened the once fierce beast slowly bled into visibility, his head lowered toward the ground as he whimpered, blood coating the white fur around his maw.

"Hmmm, good spirit beast. It seems he was busy as well." Xing Zheng said, a slight smile on his face as he looked at the whimpering Little White "Don't make that noise. I wasn't the aggressor here and you know full well that the boy was in no danger from me."

At these words, Little White raised his head, intelligence gleaming in his eyes as he looked at the swordsman. After a long moment, he let out a single bark of assent before beginning his traditional greeting of licking Xing Zheng's face in an excited fashion. Staring at all of this Fan Zhong was startled, one had to know that Little White was immensely strong to the point where even he had long lost track of how powerful the water wolf would be in an open fight.

Even though the legends about immortals spoke of them sundering mountains and splitting the seas it was one thing to hear of such things and another to witness it. Although Fan Zhong was fairly certain that either his elder brother or father could've subdued Little White, to do it in such a fashion that released no shockwave or energy was awe-inspiring. The brief thought of his family caused another pang of sadness to tear through Fan Zhong's heart; however, he used the semblance of peace that had come to him that day to push it down.

Inside him, the feelings still raged but for the first time in five years, it felt as if the smallest part of them had been extinguished. Taking a deep breath he gritted his teeth and bowed to Xing Zheng.

"Thank you for the compliment, senior. Little White has been my close companion for many years, it is an honor to hear him praised like this." Fan Zhong did his best to change his tone to be respectful, succeeding in so much as he sounded slightly less likely to punch the other man in the face now.

"Indeed, Little White eh? You must have met him when the name fit. Now about this 'Xing Zheng' business..." Xing Zheng's voice was level and a small smile started to form on his face as he spoke.

"Did I remember incorrectly? That day, you introduced yourself to Senior Li Cheng as such. Thinking about it, Xing…" Suddenly Fan Zhong's mind almost went blank as the other man's name finally finished processing in his mind, quickly he went to kneel while speaking. "Your highness, please forgive this lowly one, I had eyes but even when it was right in front of me Mt. Tai remained out of sight."

Realizing the implications sent a shiver of horror through his mind. This man was part of the Xing royal family, as in the Xing Empire! On top of that, he was one of their immortal ancestors, making his mistake that much worse!

Although Fan Zhong cared little about giving face to the empire on a personal level as the remaining heir to the Fan Clan he could put the survivors in jeopardy by angering someone so important. Even a member of the Lu Clan could casually order the extermination of the entire valley let alone a member of the Xing clan asking for his lowly clan to be erased! He may have been avoiding the survivors of the Fan clan the past few years however, there was still a line he couldn't cross in his heart.

Something that would exterminate the rest of the clan definitely crossed that line!

"Relax, I already told you it was fine." Xing Zheng spoke while waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "The bigger problem is that I'm supposed to be here for… private matters. Although I'd hoped to track you down it's truly blind dumb luck that we met today. That being said, I'll need you to refer to me as something other than my actual name. Clan name aside the Baroness asked that my presence here be low-key. How about… Zhang Zheng! It's brilliant don't you think?"

"I see…" Fan Zhong said with a shaky voice as he rose, his eyebrows raising in suspicion. "Well, if that is what you wish to go by then Senior Zhang Zheng it is. I'll be sure to refer to you as such if anyone asks me about you."

"Good, good, in any case, it seems that you're well. In the sense that you're physically well that is. You know it's never sat right with me what Li Cheng did that day! He had his reasons and they are his own however, his path isn't the only one! Now that you've had a few years to think about it, has your mind changed? I'll have you know that my Azure Rain Sword Sect is well renowned throughout the whole lesser region and even well regarded throughout the whole empire! Joining it would bring no shame to your clan." Xing Zheng's eyes sparkled with the light of a salesman who had given the same pitch many times.

"Senior, I'm sure your sect is wonderful and that the offer is sincere; however, there are still things here that I need to attend to. If my heart ever yearns to leave the mortal world, Senior's sect will be foremost in my thoughts!" Fan Zhong replied with trepidation, emotions warring in his heart as a great unwillingness to leave the valley settled upon him.

"Is that so?" Xing Zheng's expression became neutral once again, slight hints of disappointment and sadness returning to his eyes before they once again lit up with renewed energy. "Understood young man. If it's not too much trouble, could I have your name?"

"Oh… apologies, Junior Fan Zhong greets senior!" he hastily replied, mentally berating himself for forgetting that Xing Zheng had never been formally introduced to him. "Senior Xing Zheng, If there's nothing else then perhaps we should see to the hall staff's safety and injuries?"

"A good name… yes good indeed. No need to worry, junior. While we've been speaking I inspected them with my divine sense. Nothing hurt, save for some pride and egos. Your spirit beast saw to it that the dozen or so assailants on the second floor were dealt with and no harm came to anyone there either. Now, since you plan on staying I can't force you to go to the sect. However, it feels shameful that you'll receive no compensation from me. It just so happens that I'll need to be in this valley for the foreseeable future and need someone who knows the area." Xing Zheng spoke with a casual air as he stroked his chin with a few fingers as if he had a beard, of which he did not. "Would you be willing to show me around the local places? While we journey I'll give you a few pointers on your martial arts."

"That… Senior, there are still surviving members of my clan. I had planned to return to them sometime soon. My negligence has been a disservice to their loyalty." Fan Zhong's expression took on a great sense of guilt and regret as he spoke the words, his mind remembering the faith that Fan Yong had in him.

"Understandable, however, don't clan leaders in this area normally have to be in the Master realm? If you go now, will you be strong enough to face the other leaders of the valley as a peer and equal?" Xing Zheng replied in a questioning manner, his brows quirking upward to accent the tone.

"Indeed, it seems that even after all this time, I'm still too weak." Fan Zhong's expression turned to one of dejection as a sigh escaped his lips.

"Simply inexperienced junior, not weak." Xing Zheng's expression softened as his voice took on the tone of a consoling mentor, one that fit him well. "It seems that your clansmen have been surviving thus far. This tells me that they have strong enough leadership to continue weathering the current storm. How about this, I pledge on my sword that until you reach the master realm, this old man will accompany you as your protector and mentor. Since you're adamant about not joining the sect I can't be your master formally, however, as we travel the valley you can learn from the various clans and I'll be there to provide advice."

As he said this the older man drew an opulent-looking sword that resided in an azure sheath, seemingly from thin air. Drawing the sword, he pierced it into the ground in front of Fan Zhong and knelt beside the blade. Power surged through the room as the Qi of Heaven and Earth seemed to concentrate and strengthen in the presence of the sword, infusing Xing Zheng's oath with a heavy pressure.

"This is… too much. Senior Xing Zheng, surely you don't have the time to-" Fan Zhong's words were cut off as the older man met his gaze, piercing azure light glowing in his eyes.

"None of that! When a son of Xing makes an oath, he intends to keep it. Do you accept?" Xing Zheng's tone became serious, a blade cutting through all of Fan Zhong's apprehension.

"Yes… Thank you, Senior." Fan Zhong's voice shook as he struggled to take hold of his emotions, fighting the tears that threatened to overtake him.

"Good, now let us not keep the hall mistress waiting any longer." The pressure in the air seemed to disperse as the older man rose and his voice took on a more casual tone.

As he did this Xing Zheng threw his sword into the air after which it seemed to blur and disappear from sight. Afterward, he retrieved the sword that he had been fighting the bandits, safely depositing the more mundane natural treasure blade into the sheath at his side while redonning his wide-brimmed bamboo hat before snapping his fingers. With that snap sound from the hall seemed to return to Fan Zhong as a faint hazy barrier around them vanished into thin air.

"Senior Zhong!" The voice of Cui Shi rang through the air as the woman barreled into Fan Zhong. "Thank goodness you came, I was going to fight them if it came to it, however…"

As the young woman spoke she turned a worried look towards her workers. He understood although Cui Shi would most likely be able to deal with a few bandits she couldn't have handled them all. If she was ok wounding a few of them and trying to escape by using the workers as shields then there was a chance for her to escape however, Fan Zhong knew that she wasn't that type of person.

"Thank you as well, Senior." Cui Shi said as she bowed to Xing Zheng who had returned to his mysterious appearance, the brim of his hat fully covering his face. "Apologies, senior, I don't think we've spoken before. Do you and Senior Zhong know each other? It seemed that you spoke after the fight, however, the air seemed… hazy?"

Cui Shi raised her hands in a defeated manner as confusion set in on her expression, struggling to describe what had happened after the bandits had been subdued. A moment of silence passed before Xing Zheng inclined his head to the young woman in acknowledgment.

"It's no matter, Young Mistress Cui Shi. I am known as Master Zhang Zheng and am a wandering martial artist of little fame or reputation. Young Master Zhong and I met some years ago when my roaming took me near the valley. Since I'm not native to the area and we know each other I was simply asking him if there was room in his schedule to show me around!" Xing Zheng lifted his hat the slightest bit to reveal a sheepish smile "You'll have to forgive me for the slight trick of the light, years spent as a wandering martial artist has raised my paranoia you see and I value the privacy of my conversations."

Fan Zhong's eye twitched in irritation at the smoothness with which his newfound companion told lies. It was as if he was a dishonest con man who had been selling snake oil for generations! Thinking back on it, he felt that the pitch for Xing Zheng's sect was too well practiced as if he had given it to dozens before and been rejected each time.

Secretly he started to wonder how famous the Azure Rain Sword Sect truly was and if Xing Zheng was truly from the royal family or just a distant clan that happened to share the name of the empire! As his thoughts drifted, Fan Zhong was brought back to the present by the sound of his name.

"In any case, Seniors Zhong and Zheng, thank you so much for your assistance today. If there is any request you have of the Cui clan I will do my best to fulfill it!" Cui Shi's expression was sincere and the workers behind her, who had been speaking in hushed tones among themselves until now, cheered their assent at the proclamation.

Nodding in thanks, the two exchanged pleasantries with the young woman for a few more moments, vowing to call upon her favor if they ever felt the need to. Shortly, the two men found themselves in the streets of Butont making their way back to Fan Zhong's humble abode by starlight.

"I hope my home will be acceptable for the night. It's a far cry from a palace but comfortable enough for an honest night's sleep." Fan Zhong said, yawning as he finished before lazily tugging on Little White's fur to climb up onto the wolf's back.

"No trouble at all. Trust me, when you've spent the night meditating under a hundred meters of mud to hide from a raging thunder toad, the idea of a bedroll is comfort enough for the rest of your life." Xing Zheng chuckled slightly while shaking his head at the memory.

"That actually happened?" Fan Zhong had just finished climbing onto his furry companions' back and looked over to stare at the living immortal casually walking through the streets with him with an expression of incredulity.

"Indeed, my master felt that I'd become 'too used to civilized life' to connect with the world in a more natural way. He called me to the tallest peak of the sect and whisked me a few greater regions to the east to a desolate greater region. Waited until I woke up to tell me that place would be my home for the foreseeable future and that he would be back precisely a century later on that very peak that I'd been left on to collect me. It was… an interesting learning experience" Xing Zheng's face twisted into a slight grimace before he continued chuckling and shaking his head, obviously not all of that particular outing had been pleasant.

"Hmph, kidnapped and stranded huh? I can relate, not the immortal century-long isolation part. However, my father also left me in the forest of the southern valley shortly after I began training. It was actually where I met this adorable guy" Fan Zhong smiled as he stroked the top of Little White's head, conflicting bits of joy and sadness mixing in his expression.

"Honestly, I've never felt the inclination to take a disciple and abandon them someplace strange, you know…" Xing Zheng started to talk to him about his time spent training the disciples of his sect.

Although the older man had never had a personal disciple it seemed that he did have a great deal of experience training those who had come to the sect. By the time he had finished explaining an incident Xing Zheng called the 'Three masked cultivators triumph' they had arrived at Fan Zhong's home and went inside. To his surprise the immortal member of the empire's royal family made no comments on the bareness of his home, merely finding a quiet corner of the room and double-checking with Fan Zhong if that space was ok to use.

After that Xing Zheng simply sat down in a lotus position and wished him goodnight before starting to meditate. For his part, Little White curiously strolled in a circle around the man before brushing against him in an affectionate manner. This continued for a small bit before he seemed content that the older man was ok and the spirit beast returned to the pillow pile to lay down with Fan Zhong.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly as contentment settled into his heart for the first time in ages. Just earlier this week it felt like Fan Zhong's life was over, he was at his wit's end. Now, he was on the cusp of a new beginning that would see him traveling the valley in the companion of a legendary immortal.

Not everything was fixed and he still felt a deep sadness and anger within his heart, kept locked away by the calm he had found that day. That was ok though, it would just take time and dedication as all things did. Closing his eyes for the night, Fan Zhong slept soundly for the first time in over five years.
 
Part 2. Ch. 3 Ten Thousand Li Lay Behind, Ahead is the only the next first step
Sunlight peeked over the horizon as Xing Zheng opened his eyes. He sat atop the roof of the tiny home that had served as a shelter for him and his new companion for the night. The plain brown tiles of the roof angled toward the ground before ending at a sharp drop which his legs currently dangled off.

Down below the street was silent as Butont still slept the early morning hours away. Partway through the night, Xing Zheng had finished his half-sleep cycling pattern that had become so natural during his century in desolate lands. With the day still so young he'd decided to reach a higher vantage and scan the valley using divine sense to wait for Fan Zhong to rise.

It had been hours and his mental energy had stretched far and wide across these mortal lands only to find nothing. Inwardly he cursed, his master had always emphasized that a specialized divine sense technique was critical to any cultivator's arsenal. However, Xing Zheng had been stubborn about learning ancillary skills, preferring to hone his pure mastery and understanding of the sword and through it the world around him.

After constant reprimands about the subject, he had eventually acquiesced, and around five centuries ago Xing Zheng had taken a year to learn the basics of spells, arrays, formations, and refining. Surprisingly refining had been incredibly enjoyable and he had taken to it well, leading to his high proficiency in the craft today. Refining encompassed the ability of a cultivator to refine materials that had absorbed the energies of the world into usable treasures including weapons, armor, talismans, pills, and even array or formation plates.

Sword refining was his specialization, to no one's surprise, however, weapon refining, in general, was something Xing Zheng took great interest in. However, This had once again narrowed his vision instead of broadening his horizons as Lin Qiu had hoped. Following this whenever he had been asked about progress in choosing a diving sense technique to practice Xing Zheng would simply wave the concern away saying that the precision allowed by his basic usage was more than capable.

Divine sense was thought by many mortals to allow one to directly see the area it was spread to as if one was looking at an area from a birds-eye view or many locations at once. However, this was actually a specific form of technique that used divine sense not the general usage of it. At its core, divine sense was highly compressed and potent mental energy.

As such its general usage allowed for a cultivator to detect the energies of the world, and what mental energy was actually doing when it was cast forth. With the increased power of divine sense, it simply upped the precision of what was seen allowing the user to get a far higher understanding of the structure of the area observed. Energy flowed through all things in heaven and earth as such if one could read the flow accurately enough it was akin to being able to see all things.

Although this was the case, mental energy was only able to see the mental energy of other creatures as it was far more pronounced than the ambient energy of the world. With divine sense being an order of magnitude more powerful the level of detail was enhanced enough to see the energy flow of the surroundings; however, it was still a hazy level of detail at best. With this Xing Zheng was able to get a general idea of the energy sources in the valley but not the specifics of any locations.

Sighing he retracted his energy, drawing in a deep breath as the disperse awareness of his mind refocused on the rooftop. As he did so his mind turned to the young man that he had decided to take as a charge so hastily. In truth, not even he understood why he had been so willing to make such an oath.

It was like a burning passion in his soul the size of an ember, a point that was so tiny it was barely noticeable but burned with such heat that it seemed to suffuse his very being. As that boy had attacked him with such fury and such sadness, that ember had been ignited. Seeing the look in his eyes had momentarily caused the sound of rain in his heart, the eternal droning that kept him calm at all times, to go silent.

For just a moment Xing Zheng had remembered the pride and passion of two smiling youths that wanted to be the heroes of old. Men who always arrived to save the day, who upheld values and oaths above all else. Perhaps it was that childish passion that had made him swear to Fan Zhong, or maybe it was guilt about leaving him in this valley on that day. Finally, his full awareness had been withdrawn and with that Xing Zheng exhaled a low and strong breath.

None of that mattered now, what would matter would be how well he lived up to those words. As the ever-present sound of rain subsumed his mind he sent out a safety net of alerting divine sense before setting into a rhythm of cycling his energy to wait for his charge.






Fan Zhong stood abruptly at the sign of the door opening, the slowness of sleep clouding his mind. In the motion to stand his enhanced mind worked in overdrive as deep inside his subconscious the idea of someone entering his home triggered only one response, to fight. By the time he was on his feet, Fan Zhong had drawn the brick from within his robe and slid into a 'Voidgate' stance, all signs of grogginess gone.

"Good, at least you've been trained to respond correctly. What would you like for breakfast? I personally prefer simple fruits and some grilled meat. However, that is the fare of the short mountain region. Do the northern plains kingdoms have similar morning meals?" The older man's voice was casual as it sounded over the impact of the door closing.

At that moment Fan Zhong realized that the old swordsman wasn't standing at the door. During the time he had taken to stand Xing Zheng had opened the door, moved to his small corner kitchen while taking a few objects out of a bag, and lit the small heating array under the grill. All around him the smell of cooking meat started to fill the air and Little White, who was curled in a tight ring around where he had been laying, stood in a hurry, rushing towards the smell with tongue-wagging glee.

"Calm down, there's plenty for everyone. The cooking will be done soon however, it is for me and Junior Fan Zhong. However, this old man didn't forget Sir White. This should be more to your tastes, right?" Saying this Xing Zheng slapped the bag that hung from a small thin rope belt at his side.

As he did this the small brown cloth bag's top opened to a size larger than the opening had originally seemed. A whole boar carcass, freshly skinned and cleaned for butchering came out of the bag going straight up into the air before seeming to be grabbed by an invisible hand that gently guided it to the ground halfway between the door and the corner kitchen. Eyes filled with bewilderment, Little White stared at the corpse for just a moment before barking happily and pouncing on the meal.

"When you get to my age sometimes fancy takes you and sleep is elusive. It just so happens that the nice man three streets west of here runs a great butcher shop! He was going to take all morning to prepare the boar, however, I told him it was unnecessary." While he spoke Xing Zheng's hands never stopped moving and every now and then his bag would vibrate causing a new object to exit or enter it.

Soon the smell of exotic spice met the air and before Fan Zhong could gather his wits the older man arrived in front of him with a table and some stools, placing the final seat down as three plates descended from above. All things said and done in just a few moments Xing Zheng sat across from him at a table covered in three dish plates. Atop each plate to the sides of the table were ornately spread slices of various fruits that formed patterns of alternating gold, azure, and bright red.

At the center of the table sat the largest dish which consist of thin slices of meat, seemingly beef, chicken, and something he couldn't identify, lightly seared with a cup of dark black sauce placed on either side of the platter for each of them to use. In the older man's hands was a plain fork and a much smaller plate sat directly in front of him. Likewise, the same utensil and small personal plate sat on Fan Zhong's side of the table.

Adorning all of the cutlery and plates were the stylized crest of the Xing Empire set upon a pure white jade backdrop.

"Senior, is this really a casual breakfast or a formal bouquet to preclude a lecture on court etiquette?" Fan Zhong smiled with some wryness and a bit of apprehension on his face as he sat down.

"Bah! These are just a few things this old man has gathered over the years. This very set of plates once served the Xing Emperor! A very well-loved emperor…" Xing Zheng's thoughts seemed to turn somber as he spoke, a great sadness seemed to suffuse the atmosphere.

"I see, were you close?" Fan Zhong felt he understood some of what the older man was thinking, it must be akin to the sadness that lie in his only heart, only perhaps somewhat dimmed by decades of life.

"Close would be… simultaneously a good way to describe our relationship and an incredibly inaccurate one as well." The old swordsman's laugh seemed to contain little humor as he chuckled for just a moment before continuing. "I'm surprised you don't know. It seems that this valley is truly removed from the dealings of the empire, refreshing really."

With these words Xing Zheng casually took a few pieces of the meat and piled them on his plate, pausing to eat one during the process.

"Know? Why would I know about your relation to one of the Xing Emperors?" Fan Zhong's brows furrowed as he spoke, trying to recall what he knew of the emperor.

In all of his life, the only news that had come of any of the men who ruled the vast empire behind the baroness was the day the previous emperor had died. Other than that he was struggling to think of any details that may link Xing Zheng to the emperor other than them being from the same clan. Although the man looked only slightly older than him he was an immortal, this meant he could be anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand years old!

"Hmm, it makes no difference I suppose. Xing Hai, the champion of the people and the 'Flashing Void Sword'. The previous Xing Emperor who was so beloved that the sword of the empire's crest was changed from gray to black in honor of him. He was my sworn brother and the previous owner of this set of finery." Xing Zheng seemed to step into the past as his eyes became hazy as if he was recalled to a distant place.

This revelation startled Fan Zhong however, it didn't truly shake him. In truth, he had never known much about Xing Hai, much less that the man had been a champion of the people. It would be accurate to say that he knew more about Xing Zheng than the previous emperor.

"Senior, apologies, however, the reach of the empire is limited in this remote region. My knowledge of your late brother is limited to knowing that he died in a duel some years back. Until now I had no idea he was even well-liked, much less so loved by the masses." Fan Zhong spoke after a few moments, breaking the older man from his thoughts.


"Oh? It's normally the only thing I get asked about, well at least until a year or so ago. In any case, you should know the reason that my name has spread. Xing Hai fell by my blade." A sharpness entered his eyes as he spoke and met Fan Zhong's gaze "If this will be a problem let me know now. Know that it was by his choice and that I'd prefer not to speak of it if possible. Honestly, if it were any other time this topic would remain off the table. However, as of this moment, I am under oath and any bad air needs to be cleared."

Xing Zheng's tone brooked no question, it was clear that the issue was sensitive to him, however, a resolute passion burned in the depths of his gaze giving off the aura of honesty and righteousness. Looking at him Fan Zhong only nodded slightly, picking up one of the pieces of meat and stacking it on his plate as he spoke.

"No problem at all, Senior Zheng. Your business is your own. Besides, we all have things we'd rather stay buried in the past" As he spoke his voice quieted, barely whispering by the end.

With another nod, Xing Zheng remained silent and the two took to eating with gusto, eager to set about their business and bring their minds to other things.


"Nephew Zhong, it's good to see you!" Fan Shun said as he strolled out of the door at the new Fan clan compound.






It had taken around two hours for Xing Zheng and Fan Zhong to make their way across Butont. Little White had offered to allow him to ride; however, Fan Zhong had insisted on walking the whole way. All the while the old swordsman had remained quiet not even saying anything when he moved without using a movement technique. Like this, they had arrived in front of the humble five two-story buildings that were arranged in a u-shaped formation.

Adorning the buildings were various banners and trimmings with alternating gold or azure coloring. In the normal style of valley architecture, the roofs were slanted with flat tiles that would push water off and into the streets below. The buildings that made up the sides of the compound housed only around twice the ground space of Fan Zhong's home.

The main building formed the entire top of the formation of buildings and was three times the width of the others with the same depth. Upon the large double doors that led into the main building were highly stylized versions of the Fan clan crest above an image that depicted a battle. In this battle, a single Fan clan cultivator stood on a platform above a group of swordsmen that seemed to glide on shifting winds.

At the top of the battle scene, the sky seemed to be descending with a crescent-shaped wave. It was a depiction of the battle that had taken place the day the Fan clan fell as well as the tragedy that had occurred afterward. Fan Zhong had asked that no such thing be made but after much insistence from the remaining clan members, he and others had been able to cobble together enough details to have an artist make the image.

Of course, the image wasn't accurate to what had happened, no one living had been close enough to see that detail. This was only a distorted version of the events, the best they could come up with. Seeing the image caused a surge of emotions to burst through Fan Zhong's thoughts, all of the things he wished to suppress pushed against the boundaries of his mind.

Even the sound of Fan Shun's voice or the surprised expressions of him and Fan Yong running from the base of the door down the pathway was drowned away. At that moment he felt a small touch on his shoulder and turning around Fan Zhong saw Xing Zheng nodding with a soft gentle smile. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and then breathed out slowly.

As he gazed once more upon the world, color and sound seemed to have returned. Standing in front of him, amid the plain courtyard that the Fan clan compound surrounded stood his two remaining closest family members. Behind them, a pair of two-tiered fountains was the only thing that adorned the bare courtyard, one to either side of the path midway through.

"It's good you've returned. When Nephew Yong last reported to me it seemed the chances were slim however, it seems the light has finally returned to both you and the clan!" Fan Shun's voice seemed to noticeably energize and hope suffused his weary-looking visage.

Looking at the man Fan Zhong could notice the bone-deep weariness that had sunken into him. There were visible marks, yes, a scar here and there; however, what truly gave this away was the way Fan Shun held himself. What was once a proud man who carried himself strongly, as if the weight of mountains couldn't force him to kneel, now had a slightly sunken appearance to his stance.

The subtle way his feet rested, the position of his hands and arms, the alertness of his eyes, all of this and more filtered through Fan Zhong's enhanced mental energy rapidly leading him to one conclusion. Fan Shun was being drawn thin as the steward of the Fan clan and the duty was taking its toll. During his years spent under the surviving clan members' care Fan Zhong had gotten to partially understand what was wearing at the man

Running a martial clan was a tiring industry, one had to keep up appearances, manage finances and deal with other martial clans. The weak were in a constant state of larger clans threatening to swallow them up, either through economic suppression or by force. In the years after the destruction of the clan ancestral ground business for guard and mercenary service had expanded exponentially to deal with the bandits that had multiplied in the valley. However, this only intensified the competition of those looking to absorb weak clans to strengthen themselves.

"It's good to see you, Senior Shun." Fan Zhong bowed as he spoke, his voice remaining calm after a great deal of effort. "It seems that I've been blinded by my own selfishness. Please accept this apology."

Saying this he knelt on the ground and bowed his head to the floor, just as he had so many years ago to his father.

"Young Master you don-" A female voice from a group of approaching clan members sounded out but was cut off.

"No, this is needed. I beg you, sons and daughters of the Fan clan, accept the apologies of this blind fool." Fan Zhong's voice trembled as he spoke, struggling emotions burned in his heart like a raging fire.

Soon many of the present Fan clan members had gathered around the commotion in the courtyard. Some looked at him with gazes of pity, others with contempt. The most common expression, however, was that of apathy.

Many of them were in the same state as Fan Zhong, having died inside the day most of the clan was destroyed. They were simply living out their lives like shells being animated by instructions, no real willingness to go on existed within them. Within that apathy was an understanding and hope, a hope that perhaps this young man could revive that which had been lost.

After a long moment of silence Fan Zhong stood and met Fan Shun's gaze.

"Senior Shun, at present this one is not qualified to lead the clan. I ask that you continue protecting that which remains of the clan, while I gain the right to do so. This senior has offered to mentor and watch over me as we travel through the valley, both to hone my skills and give him a tour of the local sights. Once this is done I hope that my strength meets the clan's approval" Fan Zhong finished his words with a final bow before looking to Fan Shun for approval.

"Nephew Zhong…" Fan Shun returned his gaze, seeing the conflicting emotions in Fan Zhong's eyes "I understand. However, if this man is to accompany you then I will personally test him. Senior, may I have your name?"

"Very good, had you not at least asked this much I'd be worried about the Fan clan in the meantime. It seems that with your leadership there's nothing to fear. This old man is known as Zhang Zheng 'the worldly sword sage'. How about this, we'll exchange strikes. My style relies on nine swords that form arrays to execute various sword techniques, during this exchange I'll only use three swords. In this way, you can be assured that Junior Zhong is in good hands." Xing Zheng spoke smoothly as he walked to Fan Zhong's side in the middle of the walkway.

Nodding his assent Fan Shun positioned himself before the other swordsman and positioned his sheathed blade into the strange ceremonial position his style used. As this happened the bystanders, including Fan Zhong and Fan Yong, moved to the sides of the walkway to make room for the exchange. Fan Zhong stayed level with Xing Zheng not approaching his clan members while the remaining Fan clan bystanders backed away to either side so that none of them were further down the path towards the bamboo hat-wearing swordsman than Fan Shun.

"One more thing, senior. I can never trust a man who doesn't show his face. Would you please remove your hat before we continue?" Fan Shun's tone was level as he quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Hmph, if you want to remove this hat then do it with your sword, junior." Xing Zheng chuckled slightly as his armed blurred and three magical treasure swords appeared in front of him before forming a slowly rotating loose circular formation

Each of the blades was vibrant gray steel with three simple runes etched on the front of them. The pommel of each sword pointed straight to the sky as the points were directed at the ground as the formation floated with the hilts at eye level. Oddly the blades didn't have crossguards and the hilts were inlaid with the image of a white dragon.

Other than this the length of each weapon was only slightly longer than a meter and gave off a slight vibration to the air. Immediately Fan Shun took this as a sign to attack and he disappeared surging into motion. This caused the ground to crack and a shockwave to spread outward through the air. Fan Zhong could barely see the afterimage of five blurring images striking at Xing Zheng from different angles.

As they approached the five afterimages distorted, making their exact angle of attack unclear as the actual strikes split into over 15 different variations. Some of these were real attacks and others felt different, almost insubstantial. Even Fan Zhong could detect the difference however, he could only pick out a single afterimage as an illusion.

Palm strikes and drawing sword slashes were intermixed with draw thrusts and sheath strikes to make a dizzying array of attacks. As this happened the runes on Xing Zheng's sword array lit up and his swords each spun in a lazy circle, trailing phantoms left behind in their aftermath. By the time Fan Shun's attacks split off into a multitude of different attacks the array had generated three circular wheels of sword phantoms and as the immortal swordsman was about to be struck the phantoms flowed from the wheels like water in a river.

Each counter was perfect and textbook, like something from a martial arts manual only more dynamic. Although the sword strikes moved at a blurring speed it was noticeably slower and more relaxed than the assault of Fan Shun as if every phantom was already moving on a predestined course to counter its opposite.

Where hard strikes hit multiple Qi phantoms intercepted and redirected the strike, never meeting the attack's head-on and instead parrying them in such a way that the phantoms pushed outward to strike while at the same time using part of their force to defend. As Fan Shun came to a halt, dozens of small slits appeared on his robe and blood flowed from the wounds as the air rippled around the cuts. The robe was made from natural treasures and could have taken a strike that would destroy the wall of one of the buildings within this courtyard before tearing.

Now that same robe had been cleanly cut, not too deep or shallow, just enough to leave grazing blows.

"Senior Zhang Zheng… it seems I've underestimated you. However, I thought we were going to exchange blows. Was this not my chance to attack?" Fan Shun turned and leveled a wry smile at the older swordsman.

"Indeed, exchange blows. There is nothing to say that a clash of weapons isn't an exchange, Junior Fan Shun. Consider this a free lesson from this old man" Xing Zheng returned his look with a mischievous smile on his lips.

"I see, junior thanks senior for the instruction" Fan Shun bowed low to the other man, giving him a martial salute before continuing. "I have one more thing to ask if you'd be willing to hear me out, Senior?"

"I have time, what can I do for you?" Xing Zheng's expression remained calm as he took the swords from the air in a blur, seemingly stuffing them into the inside of his martial robe.

"Since you'll be accompanying Nephew Zhong I wonder if Nephew Yong journeying with you would be an issue? The two are terribly close and if the clan is to prosper the younger generation needs mentoring, it would be my honor if senior could provide what wisdom he can spare to both of them" Fan Shun bowed once more as he requested this, knowing that it was well within the other man's right to refuse.

"Senior, tha-" Fan Yong started to speak from behind Fan Shun, obviously surprised to hear the request.

"Hmmm, that's fine I suppose. To be clear, Junior Zhong has made it apparent that he has no desire to be my disciple. As such my instruction to them will be minor insights here and there while allowing them to experience instructions from the various teachers of the valley. After hearing this, if you're willing I have no objections." Xing Zheng replied in a sagely tone, allowing the brim of his hat to lift up just the slightest so that Fan Shun could see his face.

"Your-" Fan Shun was noticeably startled and confusion crossed his face as the air seemed to hum the barest amount.

As this happened, Xing Zheng removed his hat, tucking it under his arm as a jovial smile crossed his face that now bore no signs of his signature scar.

"Indeed, I'm an old man who has far too much time on my hands." the old swordsman chuckled lightly as he spoke.

"Seniors! I have important business here in the clan. How can you just say I'll leave on such short notice!" Fan Yong's face was full of bewilderment, it was as if the two older men were talking about him like he wasn't present!

"Yes, just like good old times, the low fort has kept watch for the high tower which is rising once more." A voice came from Fan Shun's side and he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder revealing that Fan Zhong had slowly made his way to his best friend's side.

"There's… no way out of this is there?" Fan shun said dejectedly.

"Nope," Fan Zhong said, smiling as he shook his head.

"Will there at least be a pleasure hall where we're going?" Fan Yong replied, hope surging in his eyes

"Well…" Fan Zhong considered the matter for a moment before speaking "Senior Zheng, where do you wish to head first."

"Hmmm? Oh, I've heard there is a sword sect on this side of the valley known as the 'Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect'. That seems like a good place to start." Xing Zheng replied before returning to conversing with Fan Shun, the two seemed to be discussing sword techniques.

"Well, there you have it, nope." Fan Zhong's smile returned and he bowed in his trademark overly dramatic way to emphasize his words to Fan Yong.

"Come Nephews, it's been a while since everyone has been home and Senior Zhang Zheng is visiting. Tonight we will hold a feast to commemorate the start of your new journey!" Fan Shun smiled and motioned for them all to follow inside the main hall.

In short order, the group made their way into the main hall, and orders were sent out. In the end, the group drank, ate, and partied until deep into the night. The next morning Fan Zhong, Fan Yong, Xing Zheng, and Little White all set out for the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect.
 
Part 2. Ch. 4 Heaven above heaven.
Dark clouds hung over the western gate of Butont as Fan Zhong and his party stood alongside Fan Shun to prepare for their journey. Around them was a street far more richly decorated and colorful than where his own had been. This was the main road leading in and out of Butont which continued into the heart of the village before passing through the other main gate at the eastern edge of the town.

This gate served to make the end of the wall that contained the interior part of the village as there existed many roads outside the walls proper with many smaller gates leading out from different directions. Fan Zhong's home had been in one such place and it had been some time since he had stayed in the more protected walls of the interior of Butont. Honestly, with the layout, he considered it more of a small city or town than anything however, due to the overlord factions controlling the only proper 'cities' everyone still referred to it as a village.

Looking around, the early morning was covered in a light blanket of darkness, only lit by the sparse light that peaked through the clouds overhead. It seemed that it would rain soon and Fan Zhong made sure to secure his azure cloak just in case. For three years he had simply used a plain gray cloak bought for three spirit stones at a local tailor; however, Fan Shun had been insistent that he should be given a set of clan robes and cloak just like when he had been accepted as a warrior.

Now he and Fan Yong stood slightly behind and to the side of Xing Zheng as the older man idly talked to Fan Shun, assuring him that he would keep the young men safe. With them standing so close in a wedge-like formation it brought back memories to Fan Zhong's mind. Images of a big man who moved more silently than he had any right to dying in front of him, a locket dangling from a headless neck, and of a small girl breathing her last breath while clinging to robes…

A small movement caught his attention, breaking Fan Zhong's reminiscence. His mind worked fast and was just able to notice the moving hand of Fan Yong rapidly approaching his shoulder, fast but not too fast to track. With a casual flick of his hand, he met the motion, moving the outstretched hand with the back of his own hand before looking up at him.

"Is something wrong? Was there a fly on my shoulder?" Fan Zhong asked him, his face taking on a slight expression of confusion.

It was then that he saw the concern in Fan Yong's eyes as the man stared back at him, concern and understanding.

"Brother Zhong, it seems that it began raining early. Make sure to let me know if your cloak has any tears." Fan Yong spoke softly, nodding before turning to face the older men once more.

Moving his hand to his cheek Fan Zhong realized that there was a streak of wetness that ran down his face, having seemingly appeared from nowhere. Looking around he saw that no rain had fallen and a quick focusing mental energy to his eyes was enough to be doubly sure of the fact. Having confirmed this his cheeks took on the slightest sheen of red in embarrassment before he too nodded and turned back to face the older warriors, trying to focus on what they were saying.

"I see, Senior Zhang Zheng, your understanding of sword drawing techniques is profound, do you practice similar styles?" Fan Shun remarked, genuine respect and admiration showing in his eyes.

"No, no nothing like that. It's just that when you travel enough like me and meet enough fellow swordsmen inevitably you'll become very familiar with most styles. Oh, I suppose you could say that I'm particularly familiar with one form of sword drawing technique. My clan's ancestral style is based on them; however, the heavens deemed that this old man would have no fate with that particular form of swordsmanship. Your technique is good and I approve of the decision to mix Mind Qi in as the primary element of your style to compensate for the conflicting natures of earth and fire. In any case, I was wondering, Elder Fan Shun, is your movement technique the same as Junior Zhong's?" Xing Zheng's tone was one of a sagely old man, nodding ever so often as his fingers idly stroked his chin as if brushing past a non-existent beard.

"Not just us, every single trained Fan clan warrior uses this movement technique. I apologize if senior finds this rude, however, this is one of our clan's ancestral techniques. We don't often discuss it with those outside of the clan." Fan Shun's brow furrowed slightly as conflicting emotions spread across his face.

"Of course, have no fear. This old man has enough self-respect to not eye the secrets of others." Xing Zheng said, waving his hand to dismiss Fan Shun's worries "However, it seems that the tradition of Fan clan warrior's all using this technique in the future will sadly come to an end, am I right, Elder Fan Shun?"

Xing Zheng's tone became soft as he spoke the last part, an understanding and sad expression overtaking his gaze. Fan Shun seemed to visibly shake at these words, taking enough time to recover that even Fan Zhong and Fan Yong noticed. Amid the ever stoic and calm expression, the older warrior normally wore this was like a hammer strike cracking a mountain in two.

"I… It seems that way," Fan Shun replied, taking a slow calming breath before continuing "Senior Zhang Zheng's skills are truly profound; however, I would ask that this be kept between us if possible. Is there something you would like in exchange? As you know I cannot give you the technique however, anything else within my power is worth that price."

Tension rose in the air and it seemed to thicken as resolve settled into Fan Shun's eyes.

"Anything within your power? So if I ask you to behead yourself right now, then so it will be? Such a feat is certainly within your abilities." Xing Zheng's tone took on a slightly harsh and reproachful note as all of them visibly paled at his words. "Relax, you've placed your trust well in this old man so such a thing would never happen. However, this can't be said for others. Take this lesson to heart Elder Fan Shun and with it the knowledge that your secrets are safe with me. Now, unless there's anything else we should really be off."

"Of course, apologies for doubting you, Senior Zhang Zheng. Juniors, behave yourself and learn well from the lessons that are imparted to you. If you can, please send word every now and then just to keep this old warrior's mind at ease." With that Fan Shun bowed to Xing Zheng before leveling a smile at the two young men in front of him.

With this, the two of them said their goodbyes, and the group was off as a conspicuously missing wolf slowly became visible in the drab light and began walking beside Fan Zhong. Fan Shun stood for a long while, simply watching them go while the empty early morning streets of Butont stayed silent all around him. After the group had crested the horizon and were out of sight he spoke.

"Are you going to come out now? I see that you didn't even wish them farewell." The older warrior's eyes tracked to a shadowy alley that lay between a couple of two-story buildings.

Soon a young man walked out of the darkness, arrogance, anger, and grief plain in his expression. He snarled as he walked up to Fan Shun, spitting on the ground in the direction the group had departed in.

"As always, he's a useless coward who runs away from duty. Didn't even speak to me all of last night either." Zi Bao spoke with acidic vitriol in his voice, fury boiling in his eyes as emotions built.

As this happened a calming hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to find Fan Shun shaking his head with a soft smile.

"It's simply a wound so deep that he knows how to do nothing else but flee from it. Such injuries of the soul affect everyone differently, with only time allowing all of them to heal. Tell me, in your heart, do you truly hate him? Hate the brother who spilled blood by your side? Who stood with stalwart courage in the face of overwhelming odds?" The older warrior's words were patient and calm as he spoke.

For just a moment Zi Bao's face softened the slightest bit and overwhelming sadness threatened to overtake him. In a rush, he let a cry to the heavens, a cry that contained his frustration and rage all boiling into a single eruption. Fury marred his face and with a grunt, Zi Bao shrugged off Fan Shun's hand before turning to run back towards the Fan clan compound.

Looking at his back the older warrior could only sigh and smile wryly before turning to follow him. After all, someone still had to run the clan.






As Fan Zhong's group made their way out of the village the clouds overhead seemed to writhe and squirm. At moments it would seem as if the light of the sun would peek through and at other times the thick cloud cover would threaten to plunge the earth into an early night. While he was examining the sky and desperately hoping that the rain decided to wait for another day, his thoughts were interrupted as a thin hazy film seemed to surround the group in a bubble.

"Alright, I think this is far enough, Junior Yong. There is something that you should know." Xing Zheng said, turning to face the boys while continuing to walk with his back facing the road.

All around them, the ever-present sound of shifting grass and swaying bamboo shoots was cut off. The road that they were on was the main road out of Butont and well traveled for quite some distance. Alongside the road stretched the normal ever-present bamboo forests and rolling hills that were commonplace in the valley.

It was a far cry from the almost untouched nature that Fan Zhong had experienced during his training and at home but the subtle noises that made up the backdrop of the valley even heard had become somewhat of a passive calming melody for him. With that stripped away the world around them looked ominous with the blanket of shadow cast all around by the looming clouds.

Fan Yong seemed to freeze, frantically looking at Fan Zhong for some support as he had no idea what was going on. Alas, he also had no idea what the eccentric immortal was up to, nor had the man shared any plans for things to discuss. Looking at his best friend he simply smiled, relishing, if just the slightest bit, the anxiety in the other youths' expression.

"You see I am not Zhang Zheng 'the worldly sword sage'. My real name is Xing Zheng, a spirit cultivator from one of the immortal sects within this lesser region." Xing Zheng said this as if it was the most casual thing in the world, slapping his bag for it to spit out an apple that he peeled with his finger while waiting for a response!

Fan Yong's face twisted into several expressions as he processed the information, at first terrified, then confused, and finally bewildered at the sight of a man using his finger like a knife to peel an apple!

"I see… Does this mean that senior is not interested in seeing the sights of the valley then? If it's any consolation, a fortune teller once told me that my spirit roots are very poor, meaning you won't get much power from absorbing me!" Fan Yong replied emphatically, huffing out air at the end to emphasize that he was no good as materials.

Xing Zheng stopped walking and stared at him with an expression of dumbfoundedness. It was as if he walked straight into a wall at full speed!

"Junior Yong… What gives you the impression that I care about your 'spirit roots'? Also, why do you think I'll 'absorb' you?" Xing Zheng spoke slowly while shaking his head as if he couldn't believe the words coming from his own mouth.

"Well, you will, right? In the legends, immortals who hide from mortals do it to gather them into refining cauldrons, gathering millions to steal their spirit roots and gain power!" Fan Yong's expression was genuine and as he spoke it seemed that he truly believed this was true of immortals.

"That's… Where to begin? Junior Zhong, what kind of stories is your clan telling of immortals anyways?" Xing Zheng turned his gaze to Fan Zhong, expression turning to one of exasperation combined with inquisitiveness.

"Wh… What stories? Of course, everyone hears different stories! How should I know which ones he partook of?" Fan Zhong's face reddened slightly in embarrassment and he turned his head slightly to not meet the older man's gaze.

In truth, he knew what story Fan Yong was speaking of as it was his best friend's favorite! It involved a duplicitous immortal who disguised himself as a mortal to gather aspiring martial artists together in the guise of welcoming them to a rich-looking sect. This was a series of legends that detailed how three righteous immortals, who practiced painting, music, and calligraphy as their arts, tracked down the duplicitous immortal and defeated him to save a kingdom.

Both of them had liked the stories however, Fan Zhong had loved legends of all shorts, simply taking in what tales he could. Fan Yong on the other hand really only fancied tales that had immortals who cultivated arts that were not of a martial nature using their understanding of the world to be on par with their weapon-wielding counterparts. It was no wonder that, when faced with a real immortal, this was the first thing that came to his mind.

"In any case… No, 'immortals' don't go around refining mortals for their 'spirit roots' or otherwise. The reason that I'm in disguise is twofold, on one hand, the Baroness asked that my business be accomplished in a more conspicuous manner than the last time I worked for her. On the other hand, I'm as pure-blooded as Xing clansmen come, something that usually sends the local nobles and important figures into a dizzy spell trying to curry favor." Xing Zheng sighed as he finished, likely thinking of the exhausting protocol required to deal with such people.

"Xing… as in the Xing Empire?" Fan Yong asked, confusion covering his face before bewilderment replaced it.

"Indeed, a tiresome name, if useful at times. Junior Zhong can fill you in on the details if you'd like; however, no bowing and scraping please the courts have enough of that." The old swordsman's eyes met Fan Yong's with a gaze as sharp as his sword, seemingly content that the young man had been sufficiently schooled on his general lack of care for protocol he continued. "Now, honestly having the both of you call me an 'immortal' is a bit embarrassing as it's a title I've yet to earn."

Both of the young warriors shared an exchange of confused looks as he said this, seemingly unsure of what the older man meant.

"But senior, it's true, isn't it? You've surpassed the level of a Supreme Grandmaster, shaking off the shackles of mortality and opening yourself to the energies of heaven and earth completely right? If that doesn't make you immortal what does?" Fan Zhong spoke first, questions coming to his mind as fast as his mental energy could process them.

All of his life Supreme Grandmaster had been as high as the heavens and those that went beyond that were above even them. Now he was being told that there was an even higher level of existence? His mental energy allowed him to think on the subject more as the words left his mouth and it did make some sense.

Many legends spoke of one immortal defeating another and that they continued to cultivate to gain power after ascending. However, from the way, Xing Zheng spoke it seems as if 'immortal' had a specific meaning and that it was something that could be achieved. With an effort of will, he forced his mind to focus as the final words left his lips, intent on taking in and fully processing whatever the old swordsman told him.

Nodding to Fan Zhong to acknowledge his question, Xing Zheng slapped his bag which promptly spat out his wide-brimmed hat which he donned in a single smooth motion. As he did so the hazy bubble fell away from them and the slightest patter of rain could be heard from the outside world.

" I have, however, that doesn't make me immortal. In time, if my cultivation stagnates, old age will take me just as it will you, simply over the course of around 5000 years give or take a century. The term you are looking for juniors is spirit cultivator, this is something that my master informed me of many years ago. In the mortal world, it is common to refer to all those who have reached the realm past Supreme Grandmaster as 'immortals'; however, cultivators refer to these as the 'spirit realms'. For the spirit realms of cultivation one still has a limited lifespan but has also taken the first steps to ascending fully." Xing Zheng paused to quickly eat a slice of the apple that was still in his hand before continuing in a calm and sagely voice "Once you've successfully risen through these realms you face another hurdle that needs to be overcome. That is when one enters the realm of 'True Immortal', having a limitless life span and defying the heavens for all time. My master has said that True Immortals have distinctions among them; however, even he is far too weak to know what they are."

Inwardly Fan Zhong felt as if the world was disappearing, like his understanding of everything was being swallowed into a dark void. Only, he realized that this wasn't right, rather his understanding was becoming the tiniest pinprick of light among a vast ocean of darkness. This was now his understanding of the world, where it once before had felt like it was expanding naturally and filling in at a reasonable rate; it now felt as if the endless darkness of things he didn't know and couldn't see stretched on for infinity.

That infinite darkness engulfed his knowledge so profoundly that it was all he could do to reign in his mind and focus on the here and now. In this way he could at least keep his thoughts grounded, not worrying about the scope of the massive world around him. Xing Zheng waited patiently as the two young men took the information in silently, idly reaching out to pet Little White who was now walking beside him at the head of the group.

After a while he nodded and slapped his bag, causing one of the swords he had used the previous day to fly and float in front of the old swordsman.

"Hmmm, it takes time to fully grasp how large the world is. Try to relax and think of other thoughts. It will take many years of reflection to fully process the weight of such things. Now, onto some more practical matters." Xing Zheng's tone turned from sagely scholar to casual in a seamless transition, as if changing moods for him was as simple as water flowing down a river "I hear that our destination is around a month away, in that time let's see if this old man can't help you two."

A wolfish smile crossed his face and he very carefully reached out and tapped the floating sword with a single finger. Suddenly the blade whirled in a complex pattern, its tip trailing a faint ethereal azure light as it drew a circle in the air with three smaller circles inside. Various lines connected two of the smaller circles, each of which lay at the top and bottom of the large circle, to the smaller one at the center.

Writhing runes that caused Fan Zhong's eyes to hurt when he looked at them were placed within each of these smaller circles. As the older swordsman tapped the blade again it withdrew back slightly before blurring to leave two afterimages of the sword thrusting outward through the center small circle. Each of these was angled slightly so that the thrust would be gone through each man's chest, right above the belly button where their dantian would be located.

At the same time, two streaking lights flew into their bodies in line with the thrusting afterimages. This had all occurred in just a moment and before they could even register it had happened Xing Zheng had retrieved his sword and no energy remained in the air.

"Senior… Respectfully, what the hell was that?" Fan Zhong's mind raced, the words that the old swordsman had said to Li Cheng all those years ago flashing to his mind.

"Try to move." Xing Zheng's face wore a wolfish smile as he spoke in the same calm and level tone as always.

He did so and found that moving his arms or legs felt far harder as if he was moving through a thick liquid that made it almost twice as hard to move.

"So I've heard you juniors have had some training. Let's see about that. My senior apprentice brothers used to use this spell on me to improve my swordsmanship! I was incredibly excited to learn it after that to allow my enemies to experience the joys of 'training'. It turns out, however, that this spell is only effective on those at least nine small realms below the caster. Truly disappointing, however, a boon for both of you today that I decided to learn it anyway." The smile never left his lips as Xing Zheng casually took a step and disappeared, reappearing to sit atop Little White as he pressed down a glowing palm on the spirit beast's back that had the same rune he had applied to Fan Zhong and Fan Yong!

"You too, Sir White, think of the joys of running and training with your master! The idea of you both working together so valiantly is a truly awe-inspiring thought." Xing Zheng nodded his head sagely as if he were imparting great wisdom to the spirit beast.

"So this spell is good for… bullying the weak? Senior, I thought you were a righteous son of the Xing Empire!" Fan Yong asked, indignation heavy in his voice as he moved his arms about trying to get used to the feeling.

"Bullying the weak? Of course not, this is simply a generous old man allowing you juniors to experience the joys of training! Now, I've been holding back the rain for some time and it feels like the storm is building quite significantly. Let's call it… that hill on the horizon. Get there in under an hour, then we'll stop to rest."

"W… What happens if we take longer than an hour?" Fan Yong's voice contained a healthy dose of trepidation now as he eyed Xing Zheng wearily.

The old swordsman's grin turned even more wolfish and he disappeared on the spot causing a large shockwave that dispersed all the rain within 2km of them before a downpour descended from the heavens. In the distance the silhouette of a man on a distant hill appeared, sitting in a lotus position. Groaning with no small amount of despair, both of the young men started running towards the hill.

Little White looked at them in confusion before barking happily, sprinting with all of his might as if it were the most joyous thing in the world.
 
Part 2. Ch. 5 Path of the Damned
"Senior, is… this… really… necessary?" Fan Zhong said through clenched teeth as struggled to push himself upward.

Beside him, Fan Yong was doing the same as they both attempted to do a simple push-up atop the hill that had served as a shelter for the group during the night. Physical training had been a staple for the both of them following the start of the war with the Wei clan and so it wasn't the act itself that was causing them such trouble. Rather it was a combination of other factors.

From above tiny droplets of what seemed like water rained down on the young warriors in miniature rain storms as if they each had a stream of rain to themselves. Conversely, the clouds that had hung over the valley during the previous day were nowhere to be seen, and across rolling hills and thick forests lay the splendor of the sun. For Fan Zhong and his compatriot, however, the continuous fall of light rain had never left.

Indeed these raindrops stung like the practice stick that both of them had experienced from their mentors so many years ago. Focusing closely enough on each drop would reveal that they were actually tiny phantom swords being projected from small arrays of more stationary phantom weapons that formed overhead. Hundreds of these tiny arrays formed in the same shape that Xing Zheng had used in a larger form against Fan Shun and they constantly peppered the bare backs of Fan Zhong and Fan Yong.

Combine this with two of the movement impairing 'master's affection' spell seals and it was easy to see why simple push-ups were giving the usually spry young warriors trouble. That morning they had awoken after collapsing in heaps at the top of the hill from exhaustion. To their surprise, it felt like that night had provided the best sleep each of them had in ages, with no nightmares or restlessness coming to either.

Around them, Xing Zheng had set up a comfortable pavilion tent with various runes glowing in the air to ward off the elements. Little White had curled around both of the young men, providing warm and soft bedding with his fur. With a snap of the old swordsman's fingers, all the comfort had disappeared and he had announced that training would continue, smiling sweetly while telling them the name of the spell as it had been applied so they would 'come to understand it better'.

"Indeed, it's incredibly important. Now, remember to think of not just your own movements when using that movement technique but all the movements of your body. The principles of your technique deal with the transfer of momentum between objects. Do you think that only your own movements cause motion? Feel it as you fall back to the earth from the top, then shift it in a cycle to rebound." Xing Zheng's tone was sagely and calm as he sat in a lotus position in front of the two, eyes closed in meditation.

For the dozenth time, Fan Zhong tried to imagine the shifting of earth as rocks moved into earth other, a landslide caused by the smallest pebble. For just a moment he let himself fall, feeling something in his mind and… deeper, shifting ever so slightly. The momentum fell to his hands wanting to push out into the earth, to slam him down with the weight of the heavens.

With sheer will he grabbed it, moving his body ever so slightly to match that falling and direct it back up in the esoteric way that had been imprinted into his mind by Fan Cheng. His memories of being taught the technique were hazy as if the entire process of learning to move his body to transfer momentum was something that had been engraved onto his soul rather than taught. Just as his face was about to meet the ground, gravity seemed to stop and Fan Zhong felt as if he was floating in a vast plain of nothingness, a slight breeze barely pushing him upward.

Outwardly this moment was so small it would barely be noticeable however, he felt it. Only slightly later he felt the impact of the ground much more clearly. Groaning with irritation, Fan Zhong once again strained his arms, trying to raise his weight under the increased 'slowness' of the spell that Xing Zheng had layered twice upon them. Fan Yong likewise grunted as he too hit the ground, simply lying there in defeat for a moment.

"Hmmm, good progress." Xing Zheng commented, nodding his head as if to acknowledge his own words.

"What progress… Senior Zheng, your wisdom is obviously profound, however… Perhaps this level of training is too much for this simple one to understand?" Fan Yong turned his head, pleading entering his tone as he tried his best to smile at the older man.

Sighing with exasperation, Xing Zheng opened his eyes and looked at the two, taking a long moment before waving his hand in a casual blurring motion at them. Instantly the feeling of the stinging raindrops fell away and both of them could finally sit up. As they did so the old swordsman leveled an inquisitive gaze at the two of them before.

"Very well, let's discuss something more fundamental. Forgive any misunderstandings this old man has of the northern plains martial arts, I've not had much time to study the level of basic education you might've received." Xing Zheng seemed slightly annoyed by his lack of understanding, the barest hint of this showing in his ever-calm expression.

"If you don't mind, could you please explain what is meant by 'northern plains' and 'short mountain region'? You've used these terms a few times, however, I've never heard of them." Fan Zhong spoke up with an inquisitive tone, quickly hoping to take the initiative to sate his curiosity.

Ever since he had met the immortal, or 'spirit cultivator' as he had asked to be referred to, his mind had been constantly conjuring questions to ask the man. However, events had simply moved too fast and the last few days had moved by in a dreamlike fashion. Now that they were finally settling into a rhythm and had ample free time, these questions bubbled to the surface of Fan Zhong's mind.

"Ahhh, these simply refer to the local names for parts of the Twisted Territories Lesser Region. For the most part, this area is split into four major areas: The northern plains border the nearby lesser region and make up the majority of the northern border. To the east are the rolling hill lands and the shoreline merchant cities that occupy parts of the Sea of Myriad swords.

In the west we have the Short Mountain Region known for collections of low mountains that are numerously spread out, this area has many local city-states, and this is also where my sect is located. Finally, we come to the central and southern regions taken up by the large Twisting Bowl Mountain Range, these mountains form an inwardly spiraling wall that from above looks like a spiral bowl or so I'm told."

Xing Zheng paused at these last words looking up in thought, before continuing

"Thinking about it, since we have time, ask any questions you'd like and I'll do my best to answer them. After all, who knows what you haven't been taught better than yourselves?"

Fan Zhong took a moment to digest that information. Normally he had heard of city-states outside the valley and thought these were the norm everywhere. He had heard of some nearby city-states but hadn't known that the majority of surrounding lands were plains. It seemed that the surrounding powers would most likely follow the plains clan style of the Deng clan rather than city-states. As he was thinking it over, movement stirred in the corner of Fan Zhong's eyes and he saw Fan Yong's brows furrow before he finally spoke.

"Senior Zheng, why is it that so many martial artists stay in the master realms? It seems that with the ability to live multiple centuries even untalented individuals could bridge the gap and advance to the spirit realms. However, practitioners at your level seem so rare that they've become legends in remote regions like this valley." Fan Yong's confusion grew as he spoke as if the feeling had been nagging at the back of his mind and was only now growing into a full thought.

"That… is a good question indeed, Junior Yong. However, to my understanding, many clans keep this information from their younger members as they fear it will cause them to stop progressing. My own master didn't speak to me of this until I reached the master realm. Is this something you truly wish to know?" Xing Zheng spoke with sternness to his voice, all pretense of calm and casualness extinguished to be replaced by a deep seriousness.

Both young warriors shared a brief look, feelings of brotherhood and resolution passing before them faster than words could ever convey.

"Senior Xing Zheng," Fan Zhong addressed the old swordsman with a burning resolve in his gaze "we absolutely must know. Please, instruct us."

"Very well, to begin there is something I must make sure you understand first. Tell me, juniors, what is causing your bodies to move more poorly?" Xing Zheng returned a small, sad smile to both of them as he asked the question.

"My arms are heavier, they feel almost half again as heavy with only the one spell you left on us!" Fan Yong replied immediately, sure in his deduction.

"No, that's not it." Fan Zhong said, shaking his head at his compatriot.

He was certain of it, the wording the old swordsman had used was specific. When speaking he had referred to their bodies as moving 'poorly' not slower or heavier. This was the key however, Fan Zhong simply couldn't puzzle out what Xing Zheng had meant with this choice of words.

"Correct, Junior Zhong. If your body were simply half again as heavy, falling would have much more impact for example. As you could tell earlier falling down from a push-up left you with an injured pride not face. What the spell does is cause interference between your body, soul, and mind. Commonly, I've found many martial artists believe that advancing your arts by realm doesn't increase one's physical capabilities until the Master realm, however, do you really think a mere mortal can move as fast as either of you?"

The old swordsman let the question linger and both of their eyes started to widen, having never considered this fact.

"What is truly going on, is the strengthening of the harmony between your mind, body, and spirit. The more inline these three are, the more capabilities your body can pull from the world around you, using the natural energies that make up your body. Now, this isn't to say that one cannot specialize in one than the other, indeed many do. The importance of harmony comes with bringing them all to a baseline before focusing on your specialty." Xing Zheng's tone transitioned smoothly into his sagely mentor-like cadence as he spoke.

"Hmmm, that clears up a few things, senior; however, how does this relate to advancing through the Master realms?" Fan Zhong asked, his thoughts in chaos as some things became clear in his mind while others seemed to grow more obscured.

"It relates to when one enters those realms. For one to advance to the master realm it requires that you bring the supporting aspects of the trinity within your arts to supplement what you focus on. That is to align them so that they feed what you focus on, beginning the first step to set the path that you will follow all the way to immortality. Now comes the unnerving part, this process is largely fueled by how you see your arts and understand them.

Whether through the world around you, through music, or the shifting skies, however, one conceptualizes their own training that will be ingrained into their path at the Master realm. At this point, one uses mental energy to handle Qi. It is important to remember, whether you're an immortal or a mortal martial artist, that Qi is the energy of the world. No matter how much you refine it or condense it, that energy will never be entirely under your control."

The old swordsman's voice took on an even more serious tone than he had earlier, pressure built around him in the air to emphasize his words.

"If even for a moment, that Qi is let loose and not controlled by mental energy, it will rampage outward in chaotic patterns wreaking havoc on the previous wielder and the surroundings. This is important to understand when ascending to Grandmaster and beyond as to do so one must do something considered suicidal. Gather the energy of the world until it exceeds your ability to control the power with mental energy."

Silence stretched on for a moment as the young warriors absorbed this information. The whistling of the wind could be heard in the early afternoon sun as various birds called from deep in the forests around them. After a minute of silence, Fan Zhong finally broke away from the spell that those words had set him under, speaking up in an almost desperate tone.

"Ridiculous! Senior, you just said that doing so would be suicide! There must be another way, no sane person would do that!" As he spoke a pleading tone entered his voice as he desperately wished that this was a cruel joke played by the immortal swordsman.

Fan Yong simply seemed too stunned to speak, as if someone had simply smacked him in the face so hard he still needed to recover from the blow.

"Ridiculous indeed, there are only two outcomes from this. The first is as you say, a very messy suicide that will most likely cause a rather violent explosion. However, if the mind, body, and spirit are in line then doing this will cause one to break through their boundaries, surging forth into a new realm. There are no concrete ways to do this and many clans or sects have various techniques they believe affect the results."

Xing Zheng's eyes seemed to turn cloudy for a moment, seeming to reminisce over some distant memories before continuing.

"To be clear with you though, the only concrete fact cultivators have been able to extract from this process is that bringing this trinity into harmony is based on deepening the understanding that one used to enter the master realm. This is what I mean when saying that moment sets your eventual path to immortality. Training helps and as well as study and meditation but, it's clear that one's foundational understanding of the world is the largest factor in determining success.

Evidence of this can be seen even in the earlier stages of advancement, those who take longer to progress or gain a better understanding of the world and how they view it build strong foundations. For instance, mental energy itself has varying degrees of potency, those with stronger foundations tend to have more powerful mental energy than those who advance quickly even when they are in the same realm."

"So… you're saying that the path above the master realm is simply a path of repeated attempts at suicide?" Fan Yong's voice was low and groggy as if he was waking from a great dream as he spoke.

"Not necessarily, it simply means that those who wish to advance must have a reason to do so strong enough that death pales in comparison. So you see, Junior Yong, there is a reason many of the mortal masters do not advance. In ancient legends the martial path had a different name, it was known as the path of the damned." Xing Zheng's voice took on a somber tone as he said the last words as if countless images flashed in his eyes at those words.

"Then… are the spirit realms also so dangerous? Does even ascension give no defense against such tribulations?" Fan Zhong asked, hoping to seize any hope he could about the higher realms of cultivation.

"Hmmm? Well, not entirely. Once you've ascended to Qi Condensation there is a period of relative calm where a cultivator continues to condense and refine their energy while raising their understanding of mind, body, and spirit. Spirit cultivation in particular is about remolding the body with those understandings and creating an ideal soul. Honestly, the details are a bit vague and would most likely confuse you rather than help. Suffice it to say spirit cultivators face even greater tribulation but only at the end of the spirit realms. Now, I think our lunch has arrived." As the old swordsman, both young warriors heard a loud thudding noise behind them.

Standing there with a bloody maw set into a grin was Little White who had just dropped off the corpse of a large deer with deep bite marks on its neck.

"Good catch, now Sir White. Please keep the juniors company while I prepare the food. In the meantime, both of you finish five pushups. If you don't…. Hehehe." Xing Zheng's voice took on a jovial tone and as he walked away his arm blurred out in several motions behind him.

What followed were two spell seals, with one landing on each young warrior's chest, and a dispersed haze of phantom raindrops. That day Fan Zhong and Fan Yong didn't eat until late into the night after finally finishing five push-ups. Earlier the next morning all of them woke up and continued their journey toward the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect.

Along the way, Xing Zheng would stop them for training at least two to three hours a day, much to the chagrin of the young warriors. It seemed that although the old swordsman wasn't taking them as disciples he fully intended for Fan Zhong and Fan Yong to live up to his physical standards in the least. Over the course of this journey, the older man also instructed Little White, conjuring small balls of water and having the spirit beast practice manipulating them back and forth.

At first, the wolf hadn't known what to do and was repeatedly doused in water. Indeed it seemed that for all his mastery of minute amounts of water in the air Little White had difficulty manipulating the substance in large quantities and it took some time for him to be able to even stop the balls of water from falling. Fan Zhong had become intimately familiar with his companions' frustration as Xing Zheng had shown him how to use his limited control of mental energy to leave a spirit mark on Little White.

The technique came from a large sect known as the 'Beast Tamer Sect' and it allowed both Little White and him to feel the other's location as well as exchange general feelings. Direct communication was supposed to be possible after much time and deepening of the bond. However, as the two were now connected it allowed him to experience the entire process of Little White learning to hold the small ball of water and then move it before finally sending it back to the old swordsman.

When this happened the wave of joy and happiness felt through their bond was almost overwhelming and Fan Zhong almost missed a step at that time. Surprisingly Xing Zheng had been incredibly insightful when it came to the Fan clan palm style and with the addition to his physical training combining the movement techniques both young warriors had made great strides. Fan Zhong felt confident that he could move almost a tenth faster after only a week, with his understanding of how to react and fight greatly increasing as well.

This was astonishing to him as that amount of progress would've taken months of training alone. What shocked him, even more, was that Fan Yong progressed to the First-Grade realm within three weeks of their travels. The old swordsman had been full of praise for him, commenting on how his years spent at the Second-Grade realm had given him a solid basis for the advancement.

By Xing Zheng's estimation Fan Yong's mental energy was about half again as potent as most First-Grade martial artists and most likely far stronger than Fan Zhong's when he had advanced. That had been a dreary day, however, as the mention of his advancement had sent the Young Master of the Fan clan into a brooding mood. Silence had stretched on for the next few days before he had been able to cool his head.

Like this, the group traveled and after a month they arrived at the foot of the Green Mist Mountain facing the gate of the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect.
 
hey all just a quick update, no chapter today as I'm feeling under the weather and not to up to it. will try to kick my butt in gear so that i can double post on Wednesday to make up for it.
 
Part 2. Ch. 6 First Impressions
Cold winds blew down from the mountain that loomed in the distance framing the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect. Sitting at the foot of the mountain the sect was marked by the presence of three circular sections of wall each higher than the last. As each section went up it encircled a portion of the sect that sat atop a higher step further up towards the mountain and it seemed clear that originally this land had been a set of descending cliff sides that had been carved into flat steps atop which various buildings had been built within the fortifications.

On the remaining cliff walls of each step, small entrances could be seen indicating the private cave dwellings of various occupants of the sect. Though the idea of a cave-dwelling had sounded rather primitive to Fan Zhong after speaking with Xing Zheng he had learned that many of them were rather well furnished and usually well guarded with formations as well as talismans. As the group approached the large gates he couldn't help being awed by the sight.

Although the walls of the lowest section of the sect were rather plain, prioritizing function over form, they still radiated the same stalwart resolve that Fan Zhong had often felt from the older warriors he had known. Thoughts of the elders, particularly his father and elder brother, brought pain and sadness forth within his heart however it had become easier and easier to calm those feelings. As it was, it only took them covering half the distance to the gate, which had been around 400 meters away when he had started focusing on them, to center himself.

Slightly in front of him and to his left Xing Zheng led the group as Fan Yong flanked the older swordsman on the other side in line with Fan Zhong. As they approached the gate he was once again amazed at the craftsmanship that had been put into such seemingly simple fortifications. Across the gates, which spanned 10 meters across and 20 high while sitting slightly set into the 50-meter high walls, was a depiction of what must be the sect crest. Atop a starkly clear rendition of the Green, Mist Mountain was a pair of crossed swords that seemed to emanate sword hymns and the sound of clashing steel.

Looking at the weapons gave Fan Zhong the impression that he was gazing upon two blades forged from the laws of cutting and swordsmanship instead of a relief carved into the stone gates. Taking a deep breath he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the image and examine what lay at the base of the entryway. In front of the gate to either side stood graceful-looking warriors with steel gray martial robes and swords at their hips.

Two of them were young men, one with flowing blonde hair and dull honey-colored eyes who stood shorter than even Fan Yong with a stocky frame. Meanwhile, the other young man was tall and lanky like Fan Zhong with short-cut rust-colored hair and piercing ruby eyes. Both of them stood in a pair on the left from the approaching group's perspective.

On the other side of the gate stood an older man with shoulder-length brown hair streaked with gray next to a middle-aged woman. The woman had a resoluteness to her posture and her auburn hair was streaked with subtle green tinges while her eyes seemed to contain a murky gray mist. For the older warriors' part, he stood slightly forward from the gate than the rest of the group with apparent vigilance and alertness in his steely expression.

Observing how the others kept switching glances between the approaching group and the man it became obvious he held some position of seniority over them. When Fan Zhong and his companions neared within a dozen or so meters the guards seemed to tense noticeably and each of them shifted their stance to allow the swords at their sides to be easily accessible.

"HALT! Who are you and what purpose do you have here? Speak quickly or don't blame us for being rude." The older man's face twisted into a scowl as he spoke, obvious irritation and stress leaking into his tone.

Fan Zhong almost visibly winced at the words, only barely managing to stop himself. It seemed that whatever was going on, the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect hadn't been having an easy time of it.

"Hmph, this old man goes where the winds will take him and where the voice of true swords whispers throughout heaven and earth. Is your sect so rude that you would deny a fellow seeker of the true path an exchange of knowledge and techniques?" Xing Zheng spoke the perfect amount of indignation and contempt needed to convey his guise as a world-worn master mortal swordsman.

"Seeker of the true path? What rubbish, all you'll find in these lands are bandits and whoresons. How is it that a vaunted seeker of knowledge finds himself here?" The leader of the sect guards shot back, his tone now carrying some contempt to match the disguised immortal and some warryness as well.

"The Dao is eternal, junior, as heaven and earth are boundless. Do you think such concerns block my path? It seems your faith in your own sword is lacking." Xing Zheng intoned back as he narrowed his eyes, patience and calm slowly overtaking the contempt in his words.

To punctuate his final words Xing Zheng pulsed a small amount of sword Qi outward in all directions. All around him the wind that buffeted the outside of the sect walls was stopped as a dome of air rushed outward from the immortal swordsman. Fan Zhong noticed that through the whole thing the same feeling of a wolfish amusement hidden deep within Xing Zheng's actions had never left, the feeling especially evident to him as he had felt the old swordsman's Qi often enough these past few days.

It seemed that Xing Zheng's acting skills had a large range to show, if Fan Zhong hadn't known he was playing a role the entire ensemble would've easily fooled him. As it was he could tell that Xing Zheng was simply acting how someone would expect a sagely older elder to act, slightly eccentric, irritable, prideful, and more than happy to dispense wisdom without being prompted to. After finishing his assessment of the exchange, Fan Zhong allowed his mind to slow down once again so that time stopped crawling by.

"Yo- Wha-" The guard leader seemed to be stunned by the display of Qi and it took him a few moments to collect himself, quite an embarrassing amount of time for a First-Grade martial artist in Fan Zhong's estimation."It would seem you are correct, senior."

After that, the man calmed and he bowed to Xing Zheng, an understanding seeming to form in his gaze. At the gesture, the rest of the guards seemed to relax considerably.

"Hmph, took you long enough. That's senior Zhang Zheng 'the worldly sword sage' to you. Now, these youngsters and I have come seeking an exchange of pointers and knowledge. Personally, this is simply my path, to wander seeking the myriad styles of the sword. For them, it is an opportunity to deepen their martial arts and perhaps find a calling as they are rather displaced currently. Does your sect wish to deepen its knowledge? Or should I go elsewhere with the information that your doors remain closed?" Xing Zheng's words were sagely and calm while also carrying the tone of a teacher talking to a particularly slow disciple who needed extra time to understand the lesson.

"As if these bumpkins can exchange pointers with us! Senior Huo Ru, let me show this 'worldly sword sage' that none of us, especially you, lack faith in our swords!" The youth with the rust-colored hair stepped forth from the other side of the gate, indignation, and pride burning in his gaze.

Under those words, Fan Zhong could see that the young man hid more than simply his arrogance. There was a wounded pride, one that had been forced into a cage unwillingly. If he had to suspect the young warrior had probably wanted to rush into battle against the Wei and his elders had forbidden him from doing so.

In that fiery expression of arrogance and anger, he saw the silhouette of a man that had become his friend, one that had done so on fields with dead bodies and broken dreams.

"Please sir, calm yourself." Fan Zhong began walking next to Xing Zheng and addressing the youth, the sadness in his heart barely contained as he spoke patiently. " Senior Zhang Zheng means no disrespect. We com-"

"What do you know? Pompous pretty boys like you make me sick, I'll bet a week's worth of latrine duty you've never even so much as sparred before!" The young man's fury seemed to rise and he started to move forward before the leader, Huo Ru, held a hand out to block his advance.

Before the older man could speak the young man let out a furious roar and tried to rush past Huo Ru's hand. To Fan Zhong's eyes, it was painfully slow as if he was watching someone pounce forward at a walking speed. Thankfully the older guardsman delivered a well-timed chop to the youth's back, knocking him off balance and into the ground.

Inwardly Fan Zhong was conflicted as although the insults hadn't hurt him too much it seemed foolish for a Second-Grade martial artist to speak to him in such a way. Thinking about it his elder brother had said that sensing others' mental energy wasn't something commonly done before the First-Grade realm, perhaps he had never been taught to spot the differences. He kept musing to himself, wondering if he truly would've stooped low enough to fight the junior disciple before the sound of Huo Ru's voice broke him from the contemplation.

" Please forgive Junior Disciple JieYun, seniors, and fellow Daoists," Huo Ru began, pausing to bow to them slightly before continuing. "It has been difficult for the sect lately as I'm sure you can tell from my earlier actions. Bandit raids are frequent and everyone is on edge however, it is no excuse for any of our sect to act this way. Accept my sincerest apology and know that we would be honored to exchange pointers with you."

While he was finishing speaking the other young man who had been standing guard next to Jie Yun walked forward and helped him to his feet while also holding him back from charging forward once again. Anger, defeat, and shame crossed over Jie Yun's face however, this did nothing to stop him from struggling to still charge at Fan Zhong.

"Difficult? Do you call keeping me here while those Wei bastards roam free difficult? Letting the murders of my mother enjoy the open skies carefree merely puts me on edge? NO!" Jie Yun's anger seemed to reach a boiling point and he seemed to be just as angry at Huo Ru as he was with Fan Zhong.

"Senior, if he wishes to spar them let him, I'll try to be gentle" Fan Zhong's lips subconsciously took on the barest hints of a wolfish grin as he said the words.

His emotions about Jie Yun were conflicted and it was hard to sort them even with his mental energy. Instead, he chose not to, he funneled all of it into his intent to battle. Huo Ru shrugged and nodded to the other guard to release the youth as Xing Zheng raised a barely perceptible questioning eyebrow at Fan Zhong.

With a huff he waved his hand slightly at the old swordsman, now was time to speak in a language only martial artists understood. Watching the approaching Jie Yun he focused on the anger that hid in the deepest corners of his heart and the threads of it that had wrung loose when the youth had insulted him. Slowly under careful control, he let the image of a bleeding sun enter his mind as the familiar tones of a song played in his mind, the song of his own personal war.

As the young man approached he felt a pressure overtake him like a tide of blood and blades washing over his entire body. It felt as if small cuts were springing forth all over his body even though no wounds were present and as he looked at Fan Zhong it was as if a dangerous beast had stood in front of him instead of a man. This was further amplified by the howl of Little White who revealed himself slowly as he sensed his master's killing intent leaking outward.

In a blur of motion as Jie Yun was still six meters from Fan Zhong his vision blurred and the next thing he knew the world was spinning.






Xing Zheng eyed the young man as he moved to strike the arrogant disciple from the Reclusive Mountain Sword sect. It amazed him how much progress Fan Zhong had made with his clan's movement techniques as even now he saw the fruits of that work as the young warrior used the scant momentum of falling into his stance to build his forward dash. Of course, the Second-Grade youth never stood a chance and he had almost stopped the exchange from happening for fear that Fan Zhong had let his aggressive temper loose.

As two shifting palm strikes connected with the disciple and he was spun sideways he paid special attention to the force inside the blows. Finally, as the youth spun Fan Zhong connected a rising origin palm hard into his stomach well below his dantian catching him with enough force to take the feet out from under the poor disciple. However, the entire time the force had been controlled, ferocious yes but controlled enough to avoid serious injury to Jie Yun.

It seemed that there was nothing to worry about and in the back of his mind he secretly let out a sigh of relief. The mental state of Fan Zhong had been a constant worry for him and he had done much to make sure the young man's mind had been occupied during their trip. Most of it had simply been physical exercise or tales from his travels and youth, not much of real technique training.

By his estimation, that was what not just Fan Zhong but Fan Yong needed as well. They had spent too long stewing on the troubles of their past with little structured training and work to get them into a habit to push forward. This was a small step but a necessary one and it seemed to be working judging by the fact that Fan Zhong had refrained from attempting to kill the youth.

"Junior Huo Ru, apologies for this. I should've warned your disciple in advance as it was clear this fight was far from even. This old man will do you a favor and give some guest lectures during our stay free of charge to all of your disciples. Hopefully, this will help ease any hard feelings." Xing Zheng's tone never wavered from the sagely and calm guise that he had assumed as he acted quickly to make sure the scene was smoothed over as amicably as possible.

"There's no need for that." Huo Ru began, shaking his head while speaking "It should be me apologizing for our disciple's behavior. Zhen Lan, please go and inform the elders and the sect master of our guest's arrival. Meanwhile, Junior Disciple Ding Heng, watch over things here and makes sure Junior Disciple Jie Yun is alright when he wakes.

As he spoke Huo Ru indicated for the women to move towards the gate while nodding toward the other young man that had been standing next to Jie Yun. Quickly the two of them went to work and the now passed-out arrogant disciple was set against the wall while the female disciple named Zhen Lan knocked on the gates harshly causing a large crashing sound to echo over the entryway. With quick and practiced motions she slipped through the gate as it was opening and began running into the sect. Moments later the large gates fully opened to reveal her running up a long staircase that led outward for some 30 meters with sheer walls rising on either side.

At the base of the stairs, there was a flat landing to give enough room for the gates to swing inward while the top of the stairway ended level with the walls that rose to either side. Looking at it from the bottom it seemed that someone had come to a sheer cliff and simply carved a rectangular staircase forward at an angle until it became level with the top of the terrain.

"Please follow me and I'll lead you all to some guest rooms while we wait for one of the elders to arrive." Huo Ru started to walk to the stairs before freezing as he felt a chill on the back of his neck.

Turning around he met the piercing gaze of Fan Zhong.


"Senior Zhang Zheng may take no offense at this; however, I think it wise we know that the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect is able to provide ample instruction to me and my fellow clansmen. This humble one is Fan Zhong and requests a duel with Senior Huo Ru as recompense for your junior's behavior." Fan Zhong's mind whirled with the feelings of battle and adrenaline that his movements had brought forth.

During his training with Xing Zheng, he hadn't felt he or Fan Yong were improving all that much, however, in that single exchange he had felt fast and powerful. His movement technique had acted like never before allowing him to move with speed and precision that made his previous usage of the technique feel clunky and amateurish in comparison. Now his heart beat for a fight, something to truly test these skills.

In the back of his mind, there was a voice that seemed to nag at him, something about responsibility and honor. None of that mattered in battle, no honor shielding your neck from a sword nor responsibility stopping your allies from dying. As he bowed slightly to the older man Fan Zhong felt the sound of war drums grow ever so louder in his mind while the world seemed to tinge with red.

"Brother Zhong, you're being rude to Senior Huo Ru." Fan Yong spoke while Huo Ru was still processing the request, a clear worry in his voice.

"Fan Zhong… as in the Fan clan?" Huo Ru's expression was stunned, seeming unable to accept the fact.

"Indeed one and that same. Junior Zhong, need I remind you that you represent not only your clan here but me as well? Please keep yourself in check, or did the events just now not demonstrate clearly enough what happens to those that let their emotions get the best of them?" Xing Zheng spoke before Fan Zhong could reply, leveling a calculating gaze at him.

"Of course, Senior Zhang Zheng." Fan Zhong replied bowing slightly to the older man "I simply wish to exchange pointers with Senior Huo Ru. That is the entire reason for this journey after all."

The older swordsmen stared at him for a long moment before sighing and nodding while waving a hand dismissively.

"Fine, fine, as long as he is willing I have no objections. Let him be Junior Yong." He said while looking over at Huo Ru for a response.

"It would seem that Warrior Fan Zhong simply wishes to test my martial prowess, as such there's no reason to make a big deal of it. I'll ask that Senior Zhang Zheng mediate, to prevent any serious injuries." Huo Ru seemed to relax before nodding his assent.

As he did so the air around him seemed to grow slightly heavy and he drew his sword in a blurring motion bringing the blade to a guard position. Fan Zhong fell into a fighting stance as well, his body fitting into the Voidgate Stance like a well-worn glove as Huo Ru extended his sword arm in a mid-guard position with his off hand-drawn behind him.

All those around backed away to give them room and the moment they stopped moving Fan Zhong burst forward. His opponent's sword gave him a reach advantage and without a staff, he would need to close the distance. Fan Shun had offered to give him a clan staff when they had departed; however, he had opted to ask only for the traditional natural treasure hand wraps that the clan warriors used. With this, his only real weapon was the brick to be used in conjunction with this palm techniques.

He had no desire to kill the man so the brick felt like overkill so he drove forward quickly hoping to get into Huo Ru's guard and undo his opponent's advantage. Seeing this, the other man quickly sent a wrist cut at his shoulder which he met with a mortal receiving palm. As the hand wraps that surrounded his palms barely started to contact the blade to bind it Fan Zhong saw the barest twist of his opponent's movements as he went from driving force into a cut to pushing forward to thrust past the catching technique.

His mind racing overtime he urged the momentum in his body to move and divert. Inside it felt like someone was hitting the walls of his muscles with hammers as the movement technique struggled to shift his movements into a shifting palm strike as he dropped his right hand and pushed outward with the left. As he moved the circular footwork put him on the inside of his opponent's guard and his right leg swept outward using the movement to finish the kick that would've accompanied the receiving palm technique.

Hot pain blossomed on the upper outside of his right arm as blood dripped from a shallow wound. The deflection had been good however, it was too late and the thrust had still just barely caught him. As he backed away a step to get out of swinging range a whistle in the air was the only notice Fan Zhong could perceive of the counter cut to his kick, the blade barely missing his chest.

Looking at Huo Ru it seemed that his kick had connected solidly as his off-hand was held to cradle his side while his sword was poised at Fan Zhong. Both of their gazes met and a smile crossed the two warriors' faces. Less than a single breath had passed in that exchange and within another, they rushed to attack again.

This time Fan Zhong was more reserved, approaching with shifting palm strikes to deflect aside his opponent's blade while building momentum by constantly circling while moving closer and further. Like this, they exchanged a dozen blows with his speed rising each moment. For his part, Huo Ru scored a half dozen minor cuts on his skin causing Fan Zhong to be covered in blood from multiple wounds.

His movements became like a set of waves that formed a circle as he moved inward to strike away the sword and then out as the opponent retaliated. Each strike meant to tear a gap open in the other man's defense, to find a flaw in his technique. As his wounds started to grow more and more of the surroundings seemed to blur and fade, all of Fan Zhong's focus concentrating on winning this duel.

His speed had reached 40 steps of momentum at this point and his focus was peaking causing even the falling drops of blood that flew from his cuts to fall at a walking pace. It was there, a brief lapse in the whirlwind that was the man's sword. A moment where he was slow to react on his left-hand side from the kick he had taken earlier.

Fan Zhong drove into that gap, his brick swapping hands for two swift shifting palms that expended four steps worth of moment. Huo Ru had been slightly off center and slightly too late such that the strikes to his blade drove it entirely out of position to defend. Howls played in Fan Zhong's mind as the world turned red and he executed a piercing origin palm sending the brick spinning atop his right hand at ridiculous speed forming a drill of death aimed straight at the other man's heart.

Triumph rang in his mind, the sweet sensation of destroying the enemy utterly before suddenly then the world blurred and spun.






Xing Zheng sighed heavily as the sound of an echoing explosion washed over all of them. Between the two fighting First-Grade experts he could feel the several phantom sword strikes he had sent out bending and redirecting the force of that blow. He had been hopeful at first and the bout had seemed to be doing Fan Zhong some good; however, the strike at the end would've surely killed Huo Ru.

As his divine sense worked to move the Qi he paid special attention to cutting through and redirecting the forces of their attacks, seeming to cause both men to stop moving entirely. Both of them would never know that it was simply a few larger sword phantoms being split into hundreds of discreetly angled and calculated smaller sword strikes that had nullified both of their movements. Thinking better of letting Fan Zhong off without a reprimand he gathered the remaining Qi and wove a net of smaller blows such that it hit the young warrior's lower torso like a fist.

This sent Fan Zhong tumbling end over end until he connected with the ground in a groaning heap some five meters away. Huo Ru simply stood there with his sword halfway through a defensive form meant to try to counter the deadly strike, his face twisted in horror and fear.

"It would seem that we both have troublesome juniors. Junior Yong, please collect your clansmen. Junior Huo Ru, if you would be so kind as to still lead us to those guest rooms?" Xing Zheng spoke with a composed calm and sagely wisdom, only letting the barest hint of a wry smile touch his lips.

"Ye... Yes, of course. Right this way" Huo Ru responded in a rush, seeming eager to get them inside and out of his hair as he moved quickly towards the staircase.
 
Part 2. Ch. 7 Drastic Measures
"What are these sloppy attacks, Junior Fan Zhong? Are you a martial artist? Or just some rabid beast?" The calm voice of his opponent washed over Fan Zhong's mind like oil on a fire, fanning it hotter.

Currently, he was standing in the middle of a square training field, one of many that took up the northeastern quarter of the second ring within the sect. Across from him was a woman in steel gray robes with flowing onyx hair who held a sword casually to the side. Blood was running from several cuts all across his body and Fan Zhong was currently kneeling on one knee five paces from his opponent.

Tiyun Areal was her name and she was one of the elite First-Grade realm disciples of the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect. Shaking his head he stopped thinking of extraneous details as he let his focus narrow to the woman. In an instant, he dropped low, almost allowing himself to fall forward and onto the ground.

'Momentum of Shifting Earth' kicked in immediately curving that downward momentum into a charge as he got his feet under him and closed the distance in two bounding steps. Dirt flew into the air at the force of the steps as Fan Zhong seemed to teleport to his opponent in the eyes of several observing Second-Grade disciples. His origin palm strike was met with a block and counter thrust in the same motion scoring a deep cut on his shoulder.

Red subsumed his gaze and Fan Zhong no longer thought of the pain as he pushed with all of his might. With his opponent thrown off balance, he lashed out with a low kick before coming up with an earth-shifting palm meant to hit the outside of her leg. The shove accomplished nothing as Tiyun Areal turned the momentum into a flourish that transferred the force into a block that left a stinging cut on his leg in response to the kick.

Meanwhile, the crossguard of her blade was already positioned to block the shifting palm and in one smooth motion, the elite disciple used that force once more to shift out of the way of the blow. As she did this his opponent allowed her blade to be carried upward in a circular motion until she was back into a guard position with her sword resting on Fan Zhong's throat.

"Enough, the bout is mine, Junior Fan Zhong." Tiyun Areal's voice was as calm as ever, only a small tinge of sadness and contempt seeping into her words.

"This one thanks you for the instruction, Senior Areal." Fan Zhong intoned through gritted teeth, referring to the elite disciple in a casual tone to at least strike back at her slightly.

"Hmph, you do the name Fan a disservice acting this way. Your brother would be disappointed in you." Tiyun Areal's tone dropped any pretense and her contempt became palpable as she seemed to dismiss him while turning to walk away.

Hearing these words set off an explosion in Fan Zhong's sight. It was as if the heavens had descended once more and destroyed the damn in his heart that held back all the feelings in the world. Sound bled away from him while color drained from his vision, as the world turned scarlet…






Tiyun Areal looked one last time at the last remaining heir of the Fan clan. She had heard of him, one of the three stars of the strongest martial clan within the valley. It was said that at the height of their power the Fan clan could've easily taken control of the inner part of the valley becoming a third overlord of this region.

The only thing that had stopped them was the philosophy of Fan Long, the previous leader of the clan. He had been a true martial artist, someone who had sought the martial path to better understand the world and protect those around him. She had admired that man and while hearing of the exploits of the Fan clan throughout the war with the Wei that admiration had only grown.

At the time she had been new to her First-Grade realm strength and her mother had recently advanced to the master realm while her father was close to the same breakthrough. Being powerful martial artists the war had called them to make many sacrifices and give up their peaceful secluded life spent training her. As such every victory became a symbol of the possibility that they would once again return to those idyllic times.

Unfortunately, the heavens had willed that it was simply not to be. It had been early on, during the time that the foreign illusionist the Wei dogs had hired was devastating the sect forces. The mission had been a routine one, sending out a powerful set of reinforcements to aid where the enemy had struck. Only this time the illusionist disguised an enemy squad just well enough that they seemed like a battered and injured band of sect forces returning to request aid.

With fury and valor, her parents had taken over two dozen trained sect disciples to help their fellows only to be trapped against a cliff with no escape. By the time additional reinforcements had arrived only her mother had remained, mortally wounded atop a mound of enemy corpses. She had never been angry with her parents, only proud that they had been so willing to charge forth for their fellow sect members.

In the years that followed the victories of the Fan clan had been like beacons to her, light that warded away thoughts that would distract from her getting stronger. Now here was the last of the three stars of that clan moving like an uncoordinated mountain goat. His movements were fast and practiced; however, in the eyes of an experienced First-Grade martial artist, they were simple and easy to read.

They had been here for over two weeks and every time she had seen the young man, irrational anger had bloomed in her heart. How could the man who represented the last of the three stars of the Fan move with such obvious tells? During practice and drills, he showed the temperance of a true follower of the martial path, executing forms with resolve in his eyes.

While sparring, however, it was as if he became a different person. Calm blocks warred with thinly masked aggression, while measured tactics were nowhere to be found. Watching him fight felt like watching two different people inside the same body, one with the training of a martial artist and the other with the savagery of a beast. The results were predictable combinations, sloppy feints, and an overall style that was easy to goad into over-extending.

Inwardly Tiyun Areal scoffed at the idea that she had ever held Fan Zhong in such high esteem, had ever pinned hopes of punishing the Wei on him. At that moment however, the hairs on the back of her neck raised as if to stand at attention. Heat blossomed as across her body as a gaze landed on her back and a primal howl echoed throughout the courtyard.

Turning she only had time to see the eyes of a primal beast barreling across the training yard, eyes filled with only thoughts of death and destruction.






A shout broke Xing Zheng from his speech inside the lecture hall. He had been giving a speech on some of the finer points of low-level techniques to use from the bind; however, at that sound all thoughts of the lesson immediately disappeared.

"Juniors, excuse this old man for just one moment." He said gently, as a scowl that threatened to form on his sagely expression was instantly crushed with an effort of mental will.

Before the words even left his mouth Azure Sword Qi thrummed through his body out of the door and into the sky outside the hall forming a slow running hazy river of blue light. With a single step he was outside the hall and within three more Xing Zheng crossed the expanse that formed the second circular ring of the sect. At this time the words he had spoken were still traveling through the room he had just left causing the students in the lecture hall to only hear the complete sentence after their teacher had seemingly vanished.

As his foot met the ground, Xing Zheng's eyes narrowed at the sight of Fan Zhong charging at a surprising speed towards a female disciple, a core disciple by the name of Tiyun Areal if he remembered correctly. Sighing, he exerted a small amount of force to dash between the two and let loose a sliver of Qi in a wide area. Instantly Fan Zhong was pressed into the ground in a cloud of dust as well as bringing every disciple within or around the training field to their knees.

Snarls came from the young man and Xing Zheng looked at him with considerable worry. Those were the eyes of madness, eyes he had seen all too often in his service to the baroness. A small bit of anger rose in his stomach and it showed as the ground around the youth pressed into a depression that sank a few centimeters before he got himself fully under control.

Pained groans came from the pit however, the rasping snarls that sounded more beast than man continued, if diminished significantly.

"JUNIOR FAN ZHONG," Xing Zheng leveled a scathing glaze at his young charge as power filled his voice, eyes turning into blazing stars of azure as he let energy leak into them. "CALM YOURSELF, NOW!"

These words carried Qi and Divine Sense along with his intent, meant to suppress and bring order to the young man. As the working of will hit him Fan Zhong's eyes seemed to go slightly dull as if a hammer had hit his soul. Even still the anger in his heart could not be quelled and he returned Xing Zheng's look with his own, one filled with defiance, rage, and indignation.

"What would you know? You who sit so high as the heavens, watching from your moun-" Fan Zhong's voice contained enough venom to melt stone and his words even unknowingly carried some of his mental energy.

"Remember yourself, JUNIOR. Your actions affect more than just yourself here, now explain what's going on, or do you mean for me to read your mind to determine what has you in such a fuss?" Calm overtook his words as Xing Zheng spoke, hundreds of years of training asserting themselves to keep a clamp on his irritation.

This was getting out of hand, Fan Zhong had been having outbursts more and more over the few weeks the group had been at the sect. At first, it was only minor outbursts during sparring but this was far more than even the bloodlust he had displayed at the gate. He had hoped that attending lectures and practicing with the sect disciples would allow both of the young Fan scions to hone their technique and pave a start to their path to the master realm.

However, it seemed that if something wasn't done soon then Fan Zhong would lose himself to rage rather than walking further down the path. It was affecting his growth as well and after the initial training they had done on the journey here had allowed him to solidify his experiences over the past five years the young man's growth had almost completely stalled. Fan Yong by contrast was still progressing far slower as well but the sect atmosphere seemed to be doing him good, allowing years of unresolved tension and stress to slowly ebb away.


Observing the scenario it seemed drastic measures would need to be taken.

"Senior… She spit on my brother's grave. What would you do in my place?" Fan Zhong's expression calmed enough that he seemed in control of himself, if struggling to be so, and as the fury ebbed from part of his gaze, resolve took its place.


"Senior Zhang Zheng that is-" Tiyun Areal started to speak but her words caught in her throat as Xing Zheng's piercing gaze turned to face her.

"Is. That. True?" Xing Zheng kept a tight lock on his Qi as emotions he thought buried for centuries surfaced, memories of rain washing away a sword coated in black lightning flashed through his mind.

"With all due respect senior, I told Brother Fan Zhong that his brother would be disappointed in him. There was no disrespect to his family, only his skills" The young woman maintained her resolve, refusing to be pressed down from her kneeling position to the floor as small parts of his energy unconsciously pressed down harder on her.

Taking a deep breath Xing Zheng pulled back his Qi so that everyone except for Fan Zhong could stand. As he did so looked back to the young man before glancing at the sect disciple again with a hard gaze.

"Is this how a core disciple of one of the nine swords of the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect treats one of their guests? Apologize now, and swear on your blade to never speak so callously about Junior Zhong's late clansmen ever again." Xing Zheng's tone brooked no quarter and Qi as well as Divine sense infused his words, making them echo throughout the training area.

"My… apologies Brother Fan Zhong. I was thoughtless and spoke out of turn. By this sword let it be known that Tiyun Areal shall never disparage the clansmen of the Fan Clan as long as life still courses through my veins, may the heavens witness this oath and strike me down if it is broken." The young woman's face set into a grimace as she began to speak the oath; however, to her credit the resolve returned by the time she finished speaking.

It seemed that the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect chose and trained their disciples well after all. Nodding Xing Zheng walked over to Fan Zhong and stood over him before addressing the young man.

"Junior Fan Zhong, are you an animal or a martial artist? What gives you the right to shame our hosts like this? Quickly apologize and let us be done with this farce." Slowly he lifted the aura that he had used to suppress the youth, allowing him to stand.

In a blur Fan Zhong pushed himself up before the force was entirely gone. As he landed the young man sent a withering gaze at Xing Zheng before fury crept into his expression as he slowly turned to face the female disciple.

"Apologies. For. The. Shameful. Display. Senior." Fan Zhong intoned through gritted teeth, giving the young woman a martial salute as he bowed low to his waist.

"Hmph, there it is. Disciple Tiyun Areal, please send a messenger to the lecture hall and inform them I will not be able to return to finish my lesson today. Worry not as I'll find time to reschedule it. In the meantime Junior Zhong, I think it's good we speak in private." As he finished these words Xing Zheng swept a stream of his movement techniques river under the young man and they both blurred out of the training arena.






Weak. Too weak. That was what it all came down to. Too weak to save Wang Quiang on his own. Too weak to defend Sir Teng's crewman. Too weak to matter during the war.

Now he had been too weak to even control himself in a training yard, like some child throwing a temper tantrum. Shame roiled in Fan Zhong's stomach, warring with rage and indignation. Even now he couldn't quench the seething anger that had overcome him upon hearing those words.

The most infuriating part is, she was right. Fan Cheng would've beaten him senseless for acting like that and in a sense what Xing Zheng had done was tame in comparison. Heat pulsed in his chest at the thought of his brother even as the cold winds of the air rushing around him brushed along Fan Zhong's body.

Below the ground streaked past beneath a transparent film and in front of them, the slopes of the Green Mist Mountain loomed overhead. With the turmoil going through his mind Fan Zhong hardly noticed when they stopped on a plateau some few hundred or so meters below the peak. From there the valley stretched out below, wondrous green forests that hid the undergrowth beneath their canopies with sprawling prairies that filled the gaps between the dense plant life.

Overhead the sun shone dimly through cloud cover, casting a soft light across the entire landscape. Through the middle of it, all sat the expanse of the Flowing Grass River, a resplendent channel of blue that bisected the valley down its center. So large was the river that throughout tiny islands could be seen as if they were the high point of the back of some monstrous serpent slumbering in the depths of the waters.

Taking in the sight caused all thoughts to flee from Fan Zhong's mind for just a moment. In that blissful period of peace, his mind found a song he thought forgotten, one that spoke of shifting sands and firm mountains. A song that was as patient as the earth and as free as the heavens.

As he basked in the music of the world it was perfect, for a moment. Then suddenly a note was eschewed, causing disorder in that harmony. Drums beat, matching a new tune that beat down the shifting sands forcing them to work to erode the mountains. Heavy boulders fell crushing down the unity of the world, throwing it into ruin as the sun bled the blood of the innocent.

Fan Zhong screamed as he dropped to the ground, and clutched his head in pain. Slowly the song receded and as he came to his senses he found himself curled in a ball at the edge of the plateau beside Xing Zheng. The immortal swordsman was sitting next to him, patiently meditating in a lotus position with a sword lazily floating in front of him.

"It was beautiful" The old swordsman's words seemed to come from the air itself, light as the wind and flowing like water.

"Wh… What was beautiful?" Fan Zhong asked with confusion as slowly pulled himself into a sitting position while moving back a few meters, leery of the proximity to the edge.

"Your song, it was once a great work." Xing Zheng spoke as he opened his eyes that glowed with a flowing azure power, one that seemed to meld with the world itself.

His words were so simple yet Fan Zhong couldn't make sense of them. That song had been in his mind not played out loud and what was meant by once?

"Senior, forgive me for being lacking, but what exactly are you saying?" Fan Zhong's expression became more and more confused as he tried to puzzle out the meaning of the older man's words.

It was as if mist covered his thoughts, shrouding his mind with a cool and calming feeling. Perhaps this was some form of mental whiplash from his rollercoaster of emotions. He had been seething with fury just a few moments ago and the sight of the valley had instilled inside of him a peace he'd forgotten about.

Both were so extreme as if they came from opposite ends of the world. After hearing no response after some time he simply took a deep breath and closed his eyes and tried to center himself, to lift the veil from his mind while the immortal formulated his reply.

"Do you understand now, Junior brother Zhong?" Xing Zheng's voice came to him not as an interruption but rather a new layer of calm, as if applying a balm to a wound he'd never known he had.

"No, honestly I don't think I do." Fan Zhong opened his eyes to see the sun had dipped considerably on the horizon.

It seemed that his meditation had taken quite some time as it had been morning when they had arrived. Looking back he saw that Xing Zheng stood at the center of the plateau with a practice sword in hand. The old swordsman had a solemn look on his face as he gazed back at Fan Zhong, a rare sight to see such a serious expression on him.

"Then we'll have to do this the hard way." He said, letting loose a small sigh "Come and attack me so we can get started, neither of us is leaving this plateau until you understand."

With these words Xing Zheng raised his sword in a martial salute and took a fighting stance, steel flashing in his eyes. Internally alarm bells flared in Fan Zhong's mind, that type of look only ever crossed the immortal's face when he was preparing to fight seriously.

"Senior, I understand my actions were rude please forg-" a smack to his face cut off Fan Zhong's words and he found himself tumbling through the air to the center of the plateau.

Stumbling to his feet he found that he'd traded positions with Xing Zheng and an ache in his side spoke of a hard blow.

"Enough, speak like a martial artist!" At these words, Xing Zheng charged at him at a… visible pace?

Fan Zhong was perplexed as the old swordsman moved with the speed of a newly minted First-Grade Martial artist. With no other options he withdrew his brick from the folds of his robes and charged forward, it seemed the time for talk was over.
 
Part 2. Ch. 8 Choices one must make
Air rushed around Fan Zhong as the rays of the waning sun cast a soft light over the plateau. All around him the world seemed to fade into a blur as his vision focused on his opponent, only he and Xing Zheng existed at that moment. Two origin palm strikes, one heaven, and the other earth went out expending a small part of his momentum.

Casually, as if strolling through his own backyard, the immortal swordsman batted the two strikes away, his sword flickered to intercept the blows before they even began. Hot pinpricks of pain blossomed on Fan Zhong's arm as small trickles of blood ran from a small thrusting wound on both his left hand and right elbow. Before he could move it was too late and his opponent's blade whipped about in a flourish to push on the inside of his leg.

In an instant Fan Zhong lost his balance and fell forward onto a pommel strike that drove up into his gut and sent him flying 10 feet back.

"Again, surely you can do better than this?" Xing Zheng's voice was mocking and condescending instead of his usual sagely tone.

Fire blossomed in the pits of Fan Zhong's stomach as the words hit him almost as hard as the hard rock of the plateau greeted his back. With a snarl he was on his feet in an instant, dashing forward. Momentum building from his movement technique he lashed out with a shifting palm before taking a circular step to the outside of the old swordsman's guard.

Lazy blocks met his blows as Xing Zheng seemed to slow more and more, now only moving at the speed of a Second-grade martial artist. Still, none of his blows landed, instead met by cold steel and biting pain. Red started to creep into his sight and after a dozen shifting and receiving palms he let loose a snarl before throwing one last shifting palm.

Doing so he waited for the immortal to block the simple blow and fell into a void gate stance. With a primal roar, he slid forward with all the momentum he had gathered, reaching the limits of First-grade realm speed as he delivered an origin-piercing palm with his brick. The attack was straightforward and simple, meant to disregard the enemy's defense and blow through with strength alone.

Before Fan Zhong even fell into stance Xing Zheng's sword moved in a lazy upward arc and as soon as his brick was in range the tip slightly nudged the bottom of it. All the force was thrown off course and his strike was now aimed at his opponent's shoulder. In another blur, the sword spun and met the front top side of his brick.

Instantly the tip went towards the ground while the backend tried to continue upward at Xing Zheng's shoulder. Fan Zhong almost stumbled as his arm speared toward the ground. Completing his attack the old swordsman allowed his downward strike to complete its arc so that he was holding his sword in a reverse grip.

Without even moving this motion aligned the pommel of his sword with Fan Zhong's chin and he slammed into it. Stars swam in his vision as his body dropped to the floor, feeling numb and unresponsive.

"Is that all then? All the anger you have for the Wei? The love you have for your clan only amounts to this much? Pathetic, perhaps you should've asked Senior Li Cheng to end your miserable existence that day." Xing Zheng sneered and the contempt in his words was a palpable venom.

Hearing those words sent a familiar spike of unbridled rage through Fan Zhong's body and he rose with a roar. Crimson colored his vision and he charged at the arrogant immortal as the man simply faced away from him, sword held casually at his side. In a rush, he arrived and lashed out with a fist at Xing Zheng, madness overtaking him as the only thought in his mind was to kill.

In slow motion as if moving through molasses the old swordsman simply shifted his body slightly as his leg moved, not even deigning to look at Fan Zhong. Incredibly the movement connected the flat of Xing Zheng's sword against his ankle and the earth slammed into his chest as he met the ground with the momentum of his charge. Blackness quickly overtook his mind as Fan Zhong's consciousness faded…






"Brother Yong, this is truly a masterpiece! Where did you learn to play so well?" A youth with short black hair spoke with an enthusiastic tone as Fan Yong sat across from him as well as two other sect disciples while holding his lute.

"It's simply a hobby, something to add color to my life. Honestly, you should hear Brother Zhong play with me, now that is something to remember!" Fan Yong smiled at the disciples and bowed slightly to them while slowly putting away the instrument.

These weeks at the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect had been like a balm for him and he felt truly grateful that Xing Zheng had agreed to take him. Although his martial arts were progressing slower than before after speaking with some of the instructers it became apparent that his recent training had simply been allowing him to condense his experience over the last five years.

During his time with the clan, there were many responsibilities that kept him from training diligently and dedicating his heart to it. Although Fan Yong had never been one to focus on the martial path even he had put more effort into it before the war. However, life is cruel and with Fan Shun bearing so much weight as the interim clan leader he had taken it upon himself to assist with as much of the weight as he could.

Rarely had he been out on missions for the clan, instead relegated to filling out mountains of paperwork and attending long negotiation meetings that took up his day. The stress had mounted and the little joy he had found in feeling good after a solid day of training had quickly wilted away. That wasn't to say he had never gone on missions, far from it, however, it was nowhere near Zi Bao.

Thinking of his friend left a bitter taste in his mouth. Although they hadn't always gotten along, the two had gotten closer as they became a team under Su Fen and he could honestly say that Zi Bao had become one of his best friends. Following that day, however, the always angry heir to the Zi clan had become a storm of violence.

Each and every day he threw himself into sparring or missions that were considered the most dangerous the clan was accepting. It had gotten so bad that Fan Shun had limited how many missions he could take per month simply to stop Zi Bao from committing suicide through battle. If it was just this it would be understandable, everyone in the clan had lost so much in that final battle.

What crossed Fan Yong's bottom line, however, was Zi Bao's attitude toward Fan Zhong. Every time the subject was brought up he would become increasingly angry. The final straw came when one evening, a year after the fall of the clan, Zi Bao stormed into Fan Zhong's room and started beating him.

Blood had been running from the face of a curled-up Fan Zhong before clan members had pulled Zi Bao away. He still remembered the rage in his friend's eyes, the same type of rage that seemed to consume Fan Zhong when he fought nowadays.

"ANSWER ME, WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN? HOW CAN YOU BE SO WEAK?" Zi Bao had shouted over and over as he was dragged away from that room, a blazing sun of fury in his eyes.

Sighing Fan Yong noticed that he had been staring off into space and the small pavilion he was sitting in had become quiet. At first, he had been thinking while making small talk with the sect members however, it seemed his emotions had gotten the better of him. This rarely happened nowadays with his enhanced mental energy but it seemed some wounds still cut so deep they wiped away all other thoughts.

"Apologies Fellow Daoists, it seemed my mind was wandering. What was that again?" Fan Yong smiled wryly as he dipped his head in apologies and spoke with a jovial tone, attempting to rally his own spirits.

"It's not a problem Brother Yong, we all have things that keep us occupied. I was just wondering if you'll be staying to participate in the sect tournament. It occurs every four years however, the recent war has postponed that schedule for some time. With most of the conflict dying down the Sect Master has deemed it safe to once again make plans to run the event. Recently he announced that one year from now will be the official start of the new tournament cycle." The response came from a slim female disciple who radiated mental energy with the same strength as Fan Yong's own, she had piercing yellow eyes with shoulder-length crimson hair.

"Hmmm, I suppose it all depends on Senior Zhang Zheng and how much time he wishes to spend here. However, the idea of a tournament sounds interesting. I'll make sure to bring it up to him the next time we speak to see if it's possible." Fan Yong searched his memories and couldn't think of a set amount of time they were meant to stay, as such he was amicable to the idea of settling into the sect life until the tournament happened. "In any case, I was wondering if Fellow Daoists would be interested in trying one of my new recipes? Recently I've found…"

As Fan Yong spoke he allowed himself to simply enjoy the company he had and put complicated thoughts to the back of his mind.






Cold water jolted Fan Zhong awake from the blackness of the void and he gasped desperately for air as his senses returned. As his eyes opened a dark sky overheard greeted him as soft rain poured through the valley. Small rays of moonlight peeked through the sparse few cracks in the cloud cover casting rays that looked like heavenly swords that pierced the earth.

All around the valley rain fell, not a deluge nor a sprinkle but a steady cadence of rain. It poured down the valley, running down from the peaks of the mountains. Water raced down the cliffs pooling to overcome the lips of depressions as slim streams diverged to find the path of least resistance. Thunderous roars could be heard echoing below as the water built, joining in great amounts as it smashed great boulders and trees at the base of the mountains.

Like lightning it appeared with the force of a dragon before dispersing as calm as the clear sky, gently feeding the earth. Bamboo shoots drank greedily as the water ran through the ground of the valley. Mirage carp danced at the surface of the Flowing Grass River, reveling in the turbulence the rain brought to the waters.

Soft rains overcame hard obstacles and soft water crushed rock that stood as stalwart as the mountain. As Fan Zhong gazed over this sight it was as if all the fire in his soul had been doused by that rain, an indescribable calm settling over him. That haze in his mind appeared again as if it was dampening his true thoughts so he could gaze at the majesty of the world.

Without even realizing it he understood that a song was playing in his mind, a piece that spoke to the shifting of soft force and the stalwartness of gathering. Of the patience to erode the earth with the swiftness to follow the will of heaven. Slowly he lost himself in the song as it crescendoed in his mind.

Time passed and it felt like he was coming close to… something. To complete a beautiful work or grasp something ungraspable. Further, he pushed his mental energy, desperate like a drowning man in the ocean trying to find dry land. Finally, his hand seemed to touch something, and triumph rang throughout Fan Zhong's soul!

He smiled and looked inward, eager to see what he had sown, to hear the true melody that had felt just out of reach for so long. As the image formed in his mind he saw his hand grasping the edge of a cresting horizon. Suddenly the edge was hot and he pulled his hand away into the water to cool the heat.

There he saw it, his hand was covered in blood. Terror spread throughout Fan Zhong's mind, a fear as primal as any he had ever felt. Wildly he swung his arm, desperate to wash away that blood into the waters around him. Soon the ocean turned red and the waters thickened.

The scent of blood invaded his soul and pain rang in his mind as a song that seemed too wrong to belong in this world played a discordant melody. Nowhere in the world was he safe from that noise, it existed in all places, all times… Then, it did not.

Calmness washed over Fan Zhong's mind and he sat up, realizing he was once again at the edge of the plateau overlooking the valley as the sun rose on the horizon. Xing Zheng sat next to him, calm and composed in a lotus position.

"Void gate stance, NOW!" Xing Zheng's words rang out with the force of a celestial general in Fan Zhong's mind.

Struggling to fight through the hazy Fan Zhong simply complied, rising quickly and falling into a fighting stance. Next, the old swordsman called out technique names in rapid succession and he executed them one by one. Before he knew it Fan Zhong was flowing into a rhythm of techniques and Xing Zheng was calling out combinations of techniques, forms that used multiple sets even.

His body moved with grace and speed until abruptly Xing Zheng stepped in and started countering him. No longer did the older man command his response, he simply went slowly allowing Fan Zhong to improvise. Quickly his techniques fell apart, chaos and disorder entering them.

After around half an hour of this Xing Zheng called a stop to the free flow form practice and once again the two stood across from each other on the plateau, Fan Zhong bent over panting from exhaustion.

"Once again a beautiful piece, Junior Zhong. Tell me, do you understand now?" Xing Zheng's voice was kind and sagely as he examined Fan Zhong with a serious look.

Taking a deep breath he tried to calm himself. What was the point of all of this, what was he supposed to be understanding? Fire built in his stomach as Fan Zhong started to remember the words Xing Zheng had said to him. Only… that tone didn't match with the old swordsman he knew.

Was that a dream, an illusion? Had they really been sparing all day? An irritated grunt escaped his lips as he leveled a confused expression at the older man.

"No, Senior. I don't think I understand at all." Fan Zhong felt helpless as he spoke as if the answer were obviously in front of him, yet impossibly far away at the same time.

"I see. Then it seems we have more work to do. Defend yourself!" With those words, Xing Zheng's eyes became hard as he blurred.

Before he could reply Fan Zhong felt the darkness of unconsciousness overtake him.






"Remember that when cooking with natural treasure ingredients not only is the affinity of the meal important. Yin and Yang balance, as well as effect balance, are all equally important." The raspy voice of the old man echoed throughout the small two-row lecture room.

Fan Yong grasped his chin in thought for a moment before writing down some notes. This was one of the lectures offered by the sect and the only one that spoke of using cooking to produce medicinal effects. Normally natural treasures would have a refining method used to remove elemental and medicinal properties when being used as food.

Most preferred this as cooking without doing so would be the same as doing alchemy but without precise measurements and instruments. Since food was mostly eaten for pleasure by higher-realm martial artists it was simply safer to prepare the natural treasure ingredients in this way. The refining process would leave the neutral energies of heaven and earth still in the food so it was still beneficial to eat without the need for overly complicated cooking processes.

Though rare, some martial artists did follow the path of cooking unprocessed ingredients. This was most common among spirit beast hunters or wandering martial artists as they had to make the most of what they got and couldn't afford to waste spirit stones hiring someone to refine the ingredients. It just so happened that the master who taught this class was one of the 'Nine Swords' of the sect, their nine most powerful elders who were led by the sect master.

He had been one such wandering martial artist and wanted to pass his knowledge onto the sect as he thought it was a very practical skill to have. Fan Yong had taken to the class instantly as if some part of him that had been missing was filled by practicing the art. Although music and his calligraphy were enjoyable they didn't speak to his soul as closely as this 'Spirit Cooking', as the master had referred to it, had.

As he had delved into the craft it had started to clear some of the fog in his mind about martial techniques. Each of them broken down like recipes for him, a little extra push there and bringing in your arm closer here, each adjustment like fine-tuning the amount of an ingredient to get the energy balance or taste right. Even his lessons from Xing Zheng had been easier to dissolve with this and he almost gasped when he realized it.

The old swordsman had realized that no one method would allow him or Brother Zhong to heal or progress in some miraculous fashion. Instead, his recipe for this had been a little affection with their physical training, a dash of comfort from a powerful senior's protection, and finally a heaping of encouragement to accept and process the past. Slowly but surely that mix was coming to a boil and Fan Yong couldn't help but feel warmth in his heart at the thought.

Inwardly, he was feeling better, stronger, and less alone. Now they just needed time, that and perhaps a few more ingredients to help thaw out Brother Zhong. Thinking of the two, Fan Yong felt a twinge of worry in the back of his mind.

He hadn't seen his best friend for over a month and the only news of his whereabouts that could be found was some disciples saying Xing Zheng took him away earlier the day he had asked. Fan Yong had only found this out as he'd tried to find the pair to ask about staying for the tournament the day the sect disciples had informed him. With a sigh, he decided that nothing bad could happen to Fan Zhong with Xing Zheng by his side.

Quickly he refocused his mind on the lecture and his recipe, after all, Spirit Cooking took serious dedication.






Fan Zhong awoke once again atop the plateau. Previously Xing Zheng had cut him a thousand times, painting the stone red with his blood. Never too deep or too shallow, each flick of the blade had been precise and accurate.

Every blur of that steel had become slower and slower yet he had never been able to dodge a single time. Like every previous time, the very last strike that had ended the bout was barely a movement from the immortal swordsman. He had flung himself in a bear tackle at the man's feet and a shifting motion had brought Xing Zheng such that his sword ran lightly along Fan Zhong's back.

Strangely this time the immortal hadn't spoken a word and only fixed him with a gaze of contempt. That gaze spoke of a being that was above him, someone who considered Fan Zhong nothing more than an ant squirming on the earth. It was a look that threatened to erase his existence simply by will alone, something only the mighty could achieve.

Inside his mind, Fan Zhong had rebelled against that haughty look. He had screamed and raged all the while bleeding yet Xing Zheng had never said a word, simply stared at him like he was a pitiful insect. The memory of that look on the old man's face sent a shiver down his spine and he quickly tried to shift his thoughts.

Looking out of the valley his mind once again seemed to be calmed by the beauty. A hot sun rose over the landscape as lancing rays of sun brought heavenly golden rays down like the swords of celestials. In this, he saw the splendor, however… there was more. The sunlight fed the trees and grass, and dried the wet ground yet… it wrought a tax on the living. Across the prairies and forests, life struggled under the cruelness of the sun.

In beauty, there was a struggle and in struggle, there was beauty. As he thought this Fan Zhong's thoughts seemed to speed up, his mind racing. A song was already playing and he focused on it, intent on understanding.

Slowly the melody of the song shifted as discordant notes played. Pain blossomed in his head, but the pain was an old companion for him by now. He welcomed the agony, letting its message bleed into the song.

Shifting sands were no longer the soft whimsical breeze but now the eroding winds that forever shaved away at all things. Mountains were stalwart however, they were also heavy and crushed everything in their path. Swiftness was a flexible thing, able to move and bend but also an unstoppable force able to break all things when marshaled.

"It is… less beautiful. Still, it is more true." Xing Zheng's voice rang out softly beside him, sorrow and melancholy rooted deep in his tone.

Fan Zhong broke from his contemplation, his mind reeling.

"Why…. couldn't you just tell me…" Fan Zhong found tears streaming down his face, anger, and sadness rushing out of the depths of his soul like a steady river.

Now he understood, maybe not all of it but enough. That beautiful song was forever out of reach, a dream that had been thought up in his innocence. Something that the world had taken from him as a price for continuing forward. Was it fair? No. Was it fate? Who could say. Was it reality? Certainly.

"Would you understand if I did?" Xing Zheng turned to him and opened his eyes, a profound gaze landed on Fan Zhong that seemed to pierce his very soul.

"No… I don't think I would." Fan Zhong shook his head as he rubbed the tears from his eyes, his understanding growing.

"Is this your final choice then?" The immortal's voice carried the sorrow of the ages as if he wasn't only asking this question to Fan Zhong, but countless others he had met throughout his life as well.

"What choice? Is this not my Dao? My path? What choice do the heavens give us mortals who struggle under these uncaring skies." Fan Zhong's face grew gloomy as he too stared out over the valley once more, some of that sorrow settling into his very being.

"There is always a choice. Who determines your Dao? Me? The Emperor? The Immortals? The Will of Heaven? No, Junior Zhong, your path is for you to choose. You could leave the mortal world, come to the Azure Rainsword Sect and spend decades meditating within the rain. Perhaps, one day your heart would heal, are you willing?" Xing Zheng stood and walked to the very edge of the plateau, his hands clasped behind his back and he stood in front of Fan Zhong.

"Hmph, no again." Fan Zhong could only shake his head, knowing whether to laugh or cry while staring into the boundless sky.

"As I said, there is always a choice. Sometimes that's the most terrifying part." Xing Zheng smiled a sad smile, one meant only for the heavens as he too stared into the sky.
 
Part 2.Ch. 9 Of Qi and Qi related matters
The world seemed to blur and dim as Fan Zhong sat at the edge of the plateau, lost in his thoughts. It felt like a thick mist had been dispelled from his memories as if he was seeing himself for the first time in years. Images of his fight with Tiyun Areal appeared causing him to wince at the thought of his obvious tells and lack of control.

Sadness overlaid that as he knew that all of this had been incited by his unwillingness to move forward, to understand that he had changed. Originally during training, his inspirations had come from the world around him and reveling in the connections between all things. It felt liberating as if there was a mysterious world of these connections that were hidden just beneath the surface just waiting for him to uncover.

As the war progressed that world had been revealed, a world that Fan Zhong found covered in blood, desperation, and struggle. Ever since then his childlike awe at the world and its connections had been slowly eroded away, replaced by a growing horror and anger. Now his songs spoke not of a boy who aspired to climb a great peak, but a warrior who had seen many battlefields filled with the corpses of friend and foe alike.

Never again would the solid humming of the world be a comfort, instead a hymn of soldiers preparing for battle. The shifting sands no longer held the softness of giving way now replaced with the harshness of a willful anger that sought to erode away all that existed in the world. Sturdy mountains didn't shelter his mind any longer, now standing as a reminder of the weight that pressed down upon Fan Zhong.

It was still the same song yet… different. Perhaps it had always been like this just hidden away under that mist, obscured by viewing the world from a different angle. As he processed these thoughts in his mind Fan Zhong felt a bone-deep weariness settle into him. Looking over at Xing Zheng he saw the immortal simply sitting in a lotus position, his ever-calm visage observing the valley below.

"Will it always be like this then? At any point I'll have to worry about losing my way, forever fearing my path twisting and turning?" Fan Zhong asked in a forlorn voice, his expression bleak.

"Always? Hmph, you're still under the master realm and your path isn't nearly set. In any case, have you never heard the phrase junior? 'The Dao is eternal and endless, myriad ways exist and all things exist within the Grand Dao'. The twists in your path barely register as anything but a straight road in the grand scheme. Besides, the important thing is not to ignore changes in your path, they are evolutions of who you are! What is truly important is to understand those changes, that way you always know who you are. Losing martial prowess is one thing, losing who you are is… another thing entirely." Xing Zheng's voice was full of his sagely tone, bereft of the sadness and weariness that had been present when Fan Zhong first awoke.

"I see… Thank you senior, for the lesson." Fan Zhong stood and fixed the older man with a resolute look, determination in his eyes.

In one swift motion, he kowtowed to the immortal three times, keeping his head low to the ground as he did so.

"Teacher, junior recognizes that he has been stubborn and willful however, I shall never forget your kindness. Teacher may not view me as his disciple, however… In my heart, there is only one teacher I recognize!" Fan Zhong intoned, sincerity and warmth evident in his voice.

"Yo… You, rascal!" Xing Zheng said with mock irritation as he placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and helped him rise. "Fine, perhaps this old man did teach you a few things. Come on, let's get back to the sect, Junior Yong is probably worried sick about you."

"Brother Yong is old enough to take care of himself. Besides, what danger could befall him within the sect in three days?" Fan Zhong smiled wryly at Xing Zheng before raising an eyebrow upward in question.

"Hahahahaha, three days? Hmph, perhaps you need a calendar disciple. We've been here for a little over a month. Took this old man quite a few Calming Breeze Cloud elixirs and healing pills to keep you in shape." Xing Zheng returned his look with the mischievous smile of a fox. "In fact… you know each of those bottles of elixir was worth around 800 spirit stones, add in the 500 spirit stones worth of healing pills you needed… I suppose Elder Fan Shun should be receiving the invoice for his young master's training."

Fan Zhong's face turned pale and he balked as he heard the prices. Just one of those elixirs would've allowed him to stay for months at the soft moonlight hall and Xing Zheng had said he used multiple of them!

"Teacher… please be forgiv-" He started to say before an uproar of laughter cut him off.

"That's the look… priceless. Don't worry about the costs, they were a gift from the baroness for my trip so I wouldn't be 'uncomfortable'. Honestly, they have no use for this old man so seeing your heart at ease is more than enough payment. Now we really should get going before Junior Yong has a heart attack. Seize the day junior!" With another hearty laugh, Xing Zheng slapped him on the back with such force that Fan Zhong was sent flying 50 meters outward before he began falling at a frightening speed down the mountain.

As he screamed in terror the old man simply fell right next to him laughing the entire time as they rushed toward the ground.






Fan Yong was sitting in one of the many meditation pavilions lining the training grounds on the second step of the sect. Normally one of these could be filled by up to four disciples as there were four benches placed around a central stone table that could even be removed if the middle of the space was needed. He had just finished attending a Dao lecture held by one of the stronger First-grade realm disciples of the sect.

It had been enlightening and he had been to a few such lectures over the month he had been living in the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect. They were common enough as each was an opportunity for someone further along the path to spread the insights they had gained in their own martial arts to the younger generation. In turn, others were given a chance to 'debate Dao' with the speaker at the end of the lecture, providing new perspectives and challenges to the one holding the lecture.

At first, he had been startled as 'Dao' was such an ambiguous word for him, something only heard in legends of immortals. After discussing the idea of what exactly the word meant with others he felt that it was far simpler than the concept was made out to be and also… far more complex. Dao, path, way, whatever one wished to call it all held similar connotations.

However, it wasn't as simple as that either. Yes all the words could be used interchangeably enough and in a technical sense the same literal meaning would be conveyed but it felt like there was something intangible and different about each word. For Fan Yong's purposes, however, those intangibles were out of his reach and he was comfortable viewing them as similar ideas, if not exactly the same thing.

All of these thoughts ran through his head as he idly tuned his lute, occasionally plucking a string before subtly twisting one of the pegs to adjust the sound. It felt like he was just getting the first string exactly where he wanted when a sudden gust of wind threatened to unseat him from the bench. In a blur, he was thrown halfway back and forced to look at the roof of the pavilion before he managed to grab the bench and pull himself up.

As he did so a twanging sound could be heard as his other hand tightened on the peg of his lute, twisting so hard that the string attached to the peg snapped in half. Pulling himself back into his seat with a huff Fan Yong leveled a glare at the rest of the pavilion. What greeted him was the sight of a disheveled-looking Fan Zhong seated to his left who was glaring at Xing Zheng with annoyance. The immortal swordsman meanwhile simply feigned a look of innocence and leveled a beaming smile at Fan Yong.

"Junior Yong, it's so good to see you! Has the sect been treating you well?" Xing Zheng spoke in a lively tone, quite different from his normal calm and sagely demeanor.

Judging from his friend's irritable glare and the…. Tree branch? In his hair. It seemed evident that the old man had been up to something and was trying to swiftly move the conversation along to distract both of them. With a slight shrug Fan Yong decided that he should play along.

"Indeed, you were right senior. Living in the sect has been rather calming and I've found a new passion for Spirit Cooking. Progress on my martial arts has been slow and honestly, I can't say that the sword arts of the sect interest me too much however, sparring with the various disciples has been enlightening to my own shortcomings. In particular, the mindset and forms used for binding and parrying fit well with my usage of 'Nine Palms Subdue the Nine Heavens'." Fan Yong said with a respectful tone, his voice showing warmth and gratitude for the guidance he had received both from Xing Zheng as well as the sect.

"Hmph, at least he treats someone well…" Fan Zhong grumbled in the corner.

"Weren't you just talking about how in your heart ther-" Xing Zheng leveled a look of feigned hurt at Fan Zhong's remark but was cut off as his friend shouted.

"YOU THREW ME OFF A MOUNTAIN!" Fan Zhong said accusingly, mock rage in his tone.

So started a back and forth of both the old man and Fan Zhong bickering at each other for a good while. Fan Yong simply smiled at the two of them as they went at it. An outsider may have thought they were genuinely angry with each other however, he knew they were simply expressing themselves.

After an hour or so the arguing had turned into laughter and somehow a gourd filled with strong wine had made its way to the table. It was now suspiciously empty and the three chatted animatedly, simply enjoying their time spent together.

"Blood? Why would anyone want to practice blood martial arts?" Fan Zhong's tone carried disgust along with a slight slur, indicative of how much he had drunk.
"Indeed, power is one thing but to do something so… despicable. Honestly, I thought things like that only came from legends." Fan Yong said while shaking his head before taking a small sip from his wine cup.

"Many people will go to great depths to gain power, far deeper than simply cultivating disgusting arts. His name was Sha Da and he did far more than that himself. What's important to understand about demonic arts is that they rely on feeding the emotions that stem from our primal selves. Those desires that if given into, make us more beast than man, fear, rage, and lust are just a few. Sha Da was insidious and he incorporated the resentment of warriors into his arts." Saying this Xing Zheng's eyes seemed to cloud over and he waved his hand causing the bottle of wine to be replaced with one that had a far stronger stench of alcohol.

As soon as it appeared the old swordsman poured until his cup was full and emptied it, repeating the action three times in a blurring fast motion.

"Why would he need to do that? I thought demonic martial arts made you a monster that could beat anyone in a similar realm." Fan Zhong asked as he cautiously poured himself some of the stronger wine.

"Not necessarily no. In fact, Blood Qi itself is rather weak as the composite is worse than pure elemental Qi." Xing Zheng said, shaking his head at the question.

"Then why would anyone use such a technique? Something that actively makes you weaker?" Fan Yong's tone was filled with confusion and slight bits of doubt as he continued to sip small bits of his drink, hesitant to try the stronger brew.

"It's quite simple really. Composite Qi can achieve two goals, either to make a composite stronger than pure elemental energy or to arrive at a desired effect. Just because a Qi type is weak strength-wise doesn't mean it can't have an incredibly specific ability made to handle the situation at hand. In fact, my master knows a wandering hunter at the Core Formation Realm who specializes in formations.

He studies his targets for years to learn everything about them before meditating on the flow of energy in the area to produce a type of Qi specifically meant to combat his prey. After that he spends years condensing energy together to get enough of that specific Qi to form the formations, such hunts take decades sometimes. Such a thing is only really useful for hunting highly specialized targets that are stronger than you but still, the example stands.

The key here is to remember that weaker Qi simply means that it does less work than pure elemental or neutral energy. For example, if you have a composite energy that is half as effective as pure elemental Qi then you simply need twice as much of it to achieve the same result, that is as long as you're using both types on a target they are neutral to."
Xing Zheng's tone had turned into a sagely one, albeit one that sounded slightly silly due to the slur to his words, and he turned his nose up in mock offense at their ignorance.

"Pft, if that was the case why would anyone ever spend hundreds of years practicing martial arts? They could simply hire assassins that specialize in doing what that hunter does and no one would be safe. Teacher, give this young master an explanation and I'll leave you an intact corpse!" Fan Zhong answered the old man's tone with a haughty one of his own, a mirrored turning up of his nose seemed to match the immortal beat for beat.

"Hmph, listen here you snot-nosed brat! That doesn't work for one simple fact, power! Even if you can generate a unique trap like that to trap someone you need to give it enough strength to be effective, otherwise the other party will simply throw off your hard work through sheer brute strength. These types of specialized attacks only amplify the effectiveness of your techniques; they don't make them automatically succeed. Obviously, you weren't paying attention to the part where I told you that hunter takes YEARS to accumulate power for single formations, sometimes it even takes him decades!

All of this is aside the point though as I was speaking of Sha Da. He was a cunning one and hidden within the very northern plains region we reside within. Now you have to understand that Blood Qi's unique effect is that it can be absorbed from all things as they die. The more injured someone is the more Blood Qi can be pulled from them.

While you're alive the strong will of your soul and the heavens protect you and stop those Blood cultivators from sapping the life force straight out of your body; however, bring you close to death and it's a feast for the bastards. After killing a large amount of living beings Blood art practitioners can advance rapidly and most of them practice some sealing arts to store excess energy. This acts as a source they can advance from when they aren't killing and is an incredibly potent weapon if they are willing to use the store Qi up.

As I said, Sha Da was particularly conniving and he posed as an advisor to the tribes within the plains. Subtly he pushed them into multiple wars while using a disguise technique to fuel all of the important officers into a rage at their counterparts. Countless warriors lost their lives with burning hatred in their hearts never knowing that ultimately the betrayals, heartbreaks, and murders that created that hatred were in fact committed by Sha Da!

Those burning emotions allowed him to siphon potent Blood Qi from countless battlefields. Normally when this is done the effects are obvious and the barony or empire will request an executioner to hunt down the demonic martial artist or cultivator. However, Sha Da was too smart and focused on gathering quality Qi on a few battlefields rather than absorbing large amounts from massive sprawling slaughters.

This was the exact opposite of the mindset that Blood practitioners normally use and as a result, it took over a hundred years for the news to reach the baroness." Xing Zheng paused as mist seemed to creep into his gaze, memories of the past seeming to overtake him.

Minutes crept by and both of the young men waited in suspense, eager to know what had happened. It was as if they were transported back in time to being children, listening to their elder's stories around a fire. Perhaps in truth they were, simply in another time and place.

"Teacher… What happened? You can't leave us in suspense like this!" Fan Zhong finally couldn't take it anymore and he spoke, anticipation eager in his voice.

"I… failed." Xing Zheng seemed to falter as his eyes fell to the floor, hand reaching for the wine bottle and taking a long pull from it.

"That… That can't be right, senior. Early you said that Sha Da was one of the first demonic cultivators that you had defeated." Fan Yong's confusion grew at this moment.

"Indeed, Sha Da fell by my hands over five centuries ago. After 13 long years of playing cat and mouse with him, we finally met upon a nameless section of the endless plains. There he sat among the ruins of a large tribe of almost 1,000,000 plains nomads. Around him, the endless green grass was soaked red with blood and littered with corpses. Atop a mountain of corpses, he stared at me coldly as our battle commenced and after three days I limped away with the barest hint of life in my body." Xing Zheng sighed and shook his head, pausing to fully drain the bottle before waving his hand and seeming to retrieve a new one from thin air that he placed on the table. "That day I learned that simply defeating an enemy is no victory, no repass for those that have already fallen. Alas let's speak of better things, this old man has plenty of tales and not all of them involve such dreary history. Have you ever heard of the Penghin people of the Sea of Myriad Swords? They have scales…"

The old man's voice grew warmer as he spoke and the three ended the night in good spirits, content to be around friends with shelter, food, and good drink.






Mad laughter rolled over a plain covered in tall grass as the wind blew fiercely. As dark clouds raged in the sky two men stood in the air as they watched the proceedings below. On the ground, a young man with only pants and a bare chest laughed with madness as he seemed to flicker between a group of running people wearing robes.

These people were dressed in light gray robes with bows in their hands and they fired arrows as they retreated into the distance. Looming on the horizon behind them the towering visage of one incredibly large mountain superimposed in front of another could be made out as the barest reflection of water sparkled at the edge of sight. Dirt and grass exploded as the madman seemed to disappear and reappear next to one of the fleeing figures, slamming his hand forward as a crimson sword formed around his arm and pierced the young gray-robed man in front of him.

As this happened the young man looked down as the madman held him up and terror flared in his eyes as the life drained from his figure. The man had long flowing black hair that reached to the small of his back and stood almost 2.5 meters tall. His eyes contained a piercing glare as one had scarlet lighting rotating clockwise while the other had a black light rotating the opposite way.

His face carried scars and was robust, giving someone the feeling of looking at an evil mountain as they stared at him. Blood from the young man's body ran down the madman's arm and covered his torso causing him to let out a bestial roar before his other arm speared through the young man. In a single motion, the madman tore the young man apart and joy was revealed on his face as he reveled in the feeling of bathing in the viscera.

Meanwhile, the two men standing in the sky some dozen or so kilometers away simply observed, covered completely by black robes so that no one could see their expressions.

"Perhaps that one is… too overt, senior brother? Are we laying a trail of breadcrumbs or simply wasting resources?" The voice sounded like it came from a young man in his twenties and contained respect as well as a hint of contempt.

"Hmph, the trail is laid well enough. That is as long as you've set the rumors correctly. Don't tell me we went through all this effort to complete the sect masters request only to wait here for someone who isn't our target. That would not end well for any of us" The other man in the black robe spoke his voice older and carrying clear scorn and skepticism about the other man's abilities.

"Rest assured senior brother, Brother Gong Jian and Fellow Daoist Zhou Wei set up an extensive net. From that we gathered that he should've arrived by now, they are returning as we speak." The man with the younger voice spoke with more respect this time, bowing slightly to the other black-robed man

"Good, however, about Zhou Wei wanting his sword as a reward…" The man with an older-sounding voice spoke, his tone carrying the image of a smile that was not a smile.

"Indeed, Brother Gong Jian's thoughts are the same on the matter. He said that as long as senior brother is willing to give him the corpse then of course the sword should go to you." Once more the man with the younger voice spoke, chuckling slightly as he saw the man below them had finished massacring the dozen or so people and was roaring atop a pile made from their corpses.

"Fine, as long as he knows his place. Had Zhou Wei been content with his reward from the mission I'd have let him go however, he dared ask for more from my Blood Wings Sect as an outsider, Hmph! Now go, I'll take care of matters here…" The older-sounding man seemed to dismiss the other man with a wave of his hand.

As the younger-sounding man began to leave he froze as he felt a sense of danger and killing intent from a gaze on his back.

"Oh, and Junior Brother Xiang Min?" The older-sounding man, his voice was cold and carried the sharpness of a sword.

"Yes, senior?" Xiang Min turned to face the other man, bowing quickly as sweat beaded on his forehead below his robes.

"Remember that we are here to avenge the current sect master's dear lost son, someone who was ruthlessly killed so many centuries ago. The reward for this is immeasurable and we only obtained the information on who did it by chance, if someone else were to find out before us… well, Hehe" The older man's voice contained a coldness that seemed to freeze the blood in Xiang Min's veins and he struggled to keep the energy in his body under control.

With an effort of will, he suppressed his urge to run as far away as possible long enough to stammer out a reply.

"O… Of course, Senior brother Sha Mu." With that, the younger man gave the most respectful bow he could before disappearing in a swirl of crimson mist.
 
Part 2. Ch. 10 Appraise, Extract and Refine!
The sound of chatter and bustling bodies filled the lecture room as Fan Zhong sat next to Fan Yong at the back of the room with a bored expression on his face. Around them, various disciples sat in groups or arrived from the entrance to fill the three rows of seats that lined the semicircular room. At the third row, there was space that opened up for people to walk as well as three staircases that led to the center that sloped downward.

Each row of seats was positioned slightly lower than the previous one to allow everyone to view the lecturer and be visible to most others in attendance. Both of them had been sitting in the room for the better part of half an hour waiting for this particular lecture to start. After their drinking the previous night Xing Zheng had reminded Fan Zhong that he should attend some of these as most of his time in the sect previously was spent sparring with the disciples.

In particular, the old swordsman had recommended this talk which covered the basics of refining, its disciplines, and how the practice was broadly done. Although he knew in his heart these words were correct it felt… dry. Compared to how he had spent the last few months sitting down to listen to a lecture sounded like a terribly mundane idea, if a practical one.

To add to this Fan Yong's time spent as one of the logistical managers of the Fan Clan had beaten into him a sense of timing and propriety. No longer was he a jovial and lazy youth, ok with missing a few meetings here and there or arriving late. Now Fan Yong was very punctual and had insisted they arrive early to both find seats and perhaps strike up conversations with the disciples.

His friend had indeed found a few acquaintances to converse with; however, Fan Zhong had almost no one to talk to. So it came that he sat there, bored and silent. It came as a relief when the chatter died down as a middle-aged woman in a steel gray robe walked down the center staircase, radiating the sharp pressure of a drawn sword.

The woman had piercing yellow eyes and auburn hair as well as a snow-white complexion. From the aura, she exuded and the way, she carried herself no one could mistake her for anything other than a deadly master. Unlike most high-realm martial artists Fan Zhong had met she did not choose to arrive with a rush of wind and blurring speed. Instead, the woman chose to slowly walk through the room and allow her presence to silence the disciples.

"Disciples, I am Master Bai Yi and today we'll be discussing the basics of refining. As this is a basic lecture for those of you who have some understanding of the practice please bear with simple information for your juniors. Keep note that this will be a lecture on the general practices of refining as an art and as such we will stray away from topics specific to any one field." Bai Yi let loose more of her Qi into the room as she spoke and her eyes seemed to sparkle with a steely light "Do you hear and understand disciples? If not, leave now."

As the woman spoke her voice never raised in volume yet it seemed to contain a commanding force, a will that had been tempered and refined through countless years of dedication.

"We hear and understand Master Bai Yi!"

Each and every disciple in the room stood and clasped their hands in a martial salute, shouting their acknowledgment while also bowing to Bai Yi. Fan Zhong did so as well and he felt relieved that Fan Yong had told him of the practice beforehand. It would've been incredibly awkward to be the only one left sitting while this went on. Apparently, the small ceremony was considered a very important act in the sect as they viewed being a disciple as treading one's own path.

To the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect being bound by rigged rules such as forced lessons or training plans was counter to their belief that one should find their own way without restrictions from others. Although they kept up the barest social structures that most sects contained aside from that the disciples had free reign to decide how they progressed. As such if a disciple was forced to sit through a lecture that contained content they thought useless this would also conflict with their beliefs.

Knowing this Fan Zhong could somewhat see why they valued the verbal acknowledgment that everyone present for the lecture clearly understood what was being taught and what was expected of them. When he had questioned Xing Zheng further on this by wandering about disciples simply slacking off and not progressing he had learned that this was the reason why they were so selective about choosing disciples. Normally one had to go through grueling tests and questioning before being recognized as an official disciple of the sect so that they could be sure you were committed to the martial arts with your entire being.

Fan Zhong and Fan Yong were only able to be here by borrowing the status of Xing Zheng's disguise. Normally as a scion of the Fan Clan, he could visit and receive hospitality from the Sect however, receiving training and instruction were a different matter. As these thoughts raced through his mind Fan Zhong noticed that everyone else was beginning to sit down so he did so quickly as well.

Once everyone was seated Bai Yi nodded at them all slightly before beginning to speak once more.

"To understand refining we must first ask what the term means. The word can be used in many ways. Martial artists refine the mind, body, and spirit to increase our strength. Scholars refine their intellect and the works of their predecessors to reach new heights. It is even said that immortals refine the laws of the world to shape reality to their whims. Alas although these are all good uses for the term what we are specifically referring to today is the art of refining natural treasures into physical items. This comes in three major forms, can anyone tell me what they are?" The woman's piercing eyes scanned the seated disciples with a lazy look as she paced in a small circle near the middle of the room.

"Master Bai Yi, the three major refining disciples are for treasures, talismans, and alchemy." The high voice of a disciple with rust-red hair sounded out from the second row across the room from Fan Zhong.

"Yes, very good disciple Tian Su." The master said, inclining her head at the young disciple before continuing. "Within these three types of refining, the overall process is quite similar. You choose base materials that will act as the final vessel of your product and then refine the rest of the natural treasures into treasure essence. After this, an infusion is used to combine the treasure essence with the vessel. A simple process no?

Bai Yi smiled at the crowd knowingly, pausing for a moment to let the disciples digest the information.

"That's all well and good however, how is it actually achieved, senior?" Fan Zhong spoke up instinctively as confusion grew in his mind.

Brief descriptions of refining had come up in some of the scrolls and books he had read; however, they all sounded vague and very similar to the description Bai Yi had just given. It was as if the information were so simple the authors simply expected the reader to know it but Fan Zhong lacked even the basic steps! After speaking some amount of heat crawled onto his face however, he was someone who had been used to attention from a young age so outwardly he remained calm.

"A good question disciple, I was just about to get to that but the initiative is appreciated." The woman gave Fan Zhong an amused smile as she turned to look at him.

Inwardly he felt himself become more and more embarrassed and it took all of his self-control to stifle the red that was threatening to color his cheeks. Perhaps he had been impatient however, this was something that had been nagging at him since he asked Fan Cheng for books on the subject all those years ago!

At the time he had just started studying the treasure refining books when the war had broken out and all of his attention had been focused on his martial arts and learning runes for formations. With the information now in front of him, Fan Zhong couldn't help but yearn for part of something he felt he'd lost within that war. Even if it was only a tiny part, it was a small victory to reclaim some of what was lost!

"Now as I was saying the steps are to choose a vessel, and materials, refine the treasure essence and then fuse them. As such a refiner must have an appraisal technique to determine the effects of treasures, an extraction technique to pull out treasure essence, and a refining technique to fuse everything together." Bai Yi said in a calm and even tone, speaking slowly enough so that the students could contemplate her words.

"Master Bai Yi, why are there so many different techniques for refining then? Shouldn't there be a streamlined and supreme technique for each of those steps for each type of refining?" A disciple with white hair in the front row asked.

"Indeed? A good question, does anyone know what the differences in techniques are for refining?" Bai Yi raised an eyebrow in question as she glanced among the disciples.

"Senior, for appraising techniques they should specialize in several areas, identifying energies, interpreting unique effects, and judging the balance of the elemental orders being the major themes. As for extraction techniques, they are similar in that they focus on the amount of essence extracted, extracting certain types of pure essence or keeping balance inside of extracted essence with a focus on one causing the other aspects to fall behind. For refining techniques, they must balance imparting extracted unique effects of the essence and the vessel as well as how efficiently they use the energies inside of the essence." Fan Yong answered succinctly, smiling with a smug look as he finished.

"Praiseworthy indeed, Disciple Fan Yong, correct?" Bai Yi fixed Fan Yong with an inquisitive look as she spoke.

"Yes, Master Bai Yi" Fan Yong replied respectfully, rising to bow to the woman.

"It seems that Master Hu Wu wasn't mistaken when he praised your dedication to Spirit Cooking. Hold up your sect jade." The woman's voice was full of praise and she raised her right hand to point a finger at Fan Yong.

As she did so the young man raised a circular jade token with the crest of the sect inlaid into it. Faint gray light blurred from the tip of Bai Yi's outstretched finger and she nodded her head before continuing to speak. As she did so Fan Zhong lowered his head and whispered to his best friend as he sat down.

"What did she give you?" He asked in a hushed tone while covering his mouth.

Although he also had a token and knew that the 'Nine Swords' of the sect could give out contribution points through the jades, how much was given was unknown. To afford basic food and living supplies for a month was around 20 sect contribution points and that could be easily acquired by doing tasks at the job hall. For higher amounts of points though, disciples could obtain items that the sect had collected throughout the years.

Apparently, this system was used in many sects and the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect's version of it was made as simple as possible to not limit the disciples. Xing Zheng had even told him it was quite normal for sects to lock lectures like this behind paying contribution points making those disciples who were lacking choose between lectures and food. Here though the uses for the points were far more limited and the cost for basic living needs was met as long as one did their fair share of tasks around the sect.

Still, the store for the points contained various amounts of things from weapons and armor to medicines that could speed up advancement. With all of that taken into consideration Fan Zhong couldn't help but be a bit curious as to how many points Fan Yong had gotten for such an answer.

"Hmmm, it seems you'll be needing to ask this king for those extravagant amounts of wine you love to drink." Fan Yong kept his voice low, a smug smile crossing his face as he looked back at Fan Zhong.

"Pft, king of what? Come on, just tell me." Fan Zhong gave him a playful palm strike to his arm, feigning annoyance.

"Alright, alright, always violence with you these days." Fan Yong answered back with mock pain in his voice. "It was 100 sect contribution points, not amazing but considerable."

However, Fan Zhong didn't hear his last words, only that the answer was worth 100 contribution points. At that moment his attention to the lecture seemed to magnify tenfold! Fan Yong could only chuckle lightly as he too focused back on the lecture.






"This is good tea, you said it came from the Sea of Myriad Swords?" Xing Zheng said as he closed his eyes with the tea cup held just under his nose.

As the aroma drifted towards him it sang of tropical islands where sky birds roamed, preying upon sea life that dared to rise to the surface. Salt pervaded the air alongside the rich water and wind energies that had sunk into the leaves with just a hint of earthiness from the land. In all, the tea was very pleasant, however, it didn't fit the image that he had of the Sea of Myriad Swords in his mind.

During his few visits to the place, it had been full of fish that seemed to move like blurring silver lights eviscerating anything that dared plunder life from the waters. The sea itself gave off the aura of a sword and the water was known to leave white marks on the skin of even First-Grade realm martial artists. Although this was almost unnoticeable near the shore, where the earth had long had time to absorb and dilute the sword energy that had mixed into the water, even just a dozen kilometers from shore turned it into a treacherous place.

In fact, Xing Zheng had even seen a weak master realm martial artist fall into the water and have his body cut so badly that the man bled out in the short time it took to haul him onboard.

"Well, the merchants mainly deal in that area. As to where they source the leaves from, who can say?" A middle-aged man in a steel-colored robe with short rust-colored hair spoke from across the table that sat between him and Xing Zheng.

This was the Sect Master of the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect Jie Ling and the two had become rather well acquainted over the past few weeks. His impressions of the man were of someone who simply wished to live his life and hone his craft away from the worries of the world. From speaking with him he had learned of the tragedy of the Jie family and it brought a dull pain to Xing Zheng's heart, like a blow that reminded him of old wounds.

So many tragedies happened under the eyes of heaven, it seemed they were innumerable just as Li Cheng had once told him. Thinking of this he could only sigh and enjoy the company of the man as they drank tea together and spoke of simple things. Through this, he had learned that the founder of the sect Gao Guang had perished in an attempt to break through to the Supreme Grandmaster realm just over twenty years ago.

This had left Jie Ling, his only disciple, in a bind as he was only in the middle of the master realm at the time. Thankfully many of the nine swords of the sect felt gratitude towards the sect founder and had no trouble allowing him to assume the role of Sect Master. In truth this fit well with the style of the sect as one of the requirements to join was a desire to retreat from the world and pursue the heights of the martial path.

Knowing this Xing Zheng couldn't help but think that this mortal sect really fit the temperament and sensibilities of his neutral faction. If he hadn't known better from speaking with Jie Ling he would've immediately assumed this was some branch of a neutral faction spirit sect used to find talented members of the mortal kingdoms. With these thoughts roaming through his mind Xing Zheng remembered that he did have a duty to the Azure Rainsword Sect, after all, he was one of their core elders!

"Indeed, it can be hard to find the root of such things. In any case Brother Ling there was something I wished to discuss with you." Xing Zheng's tone was calm and even as he spoke however he allowed minuscule amounts of his qi to start cycling through his body.

Imperceptible to anyone below the master realm the energies atop the raised platform the two sat on at the peak of the sect started to flow like a gentle stream. Slowly the air started to buzz and blur slightly as a bubble surrounded the 10-meter-wide circular platform, cutting off all noise from the outside.

"I… see. Senior Zhang Zheng, please speak candidly. It's obvious I'm not your match so there's no need to be so roundabout." Jie Ling's apprehension seemed to gather however it disappeared in an instant as he seemed to resign himself to whatever fate awaited him.

It was as if decades of bone-deep weariness had worn him down and the man was tired of running, tired of looking at every shadow. In that moment resolution formed in the depths of his eyes, a solid will that decided to face whatever would come.

"You misunderstand Junior Ling, this old man has no ill will. It's simply that I've been a bit dishonest with you." Xing Zheng's leveled a wry, almost apologetic, smile at the other man.

As he spoke he flared his Qi within the bubble letting his cultivation base fill his body instead of being suppressed. With great control, he removed the veil that would stop the other man from inspecting his realm while carefully keeping the pressure close to his body. After all, He was trying to recruit the man, not crush him into the side of the mountain.

"The truth is that my name is Xing Zheng, elder of the Azure Rainsword Sect. The Baroness is someone close to me and she asked a favor that happened to take me this way, one that would preferably involve less work for the cartographers. You understand, yes?" Xing Zheng allowed his energy to surge to his eyes so that they seemed to glow like azure stars, appearances were key for mysterious immortals after all.

The man seemed utterly taken aback by the news and he almost instantly paled upon sensing the amount of energy flowing within Xing Zheng. It was as if he was staring straight into a wall of death, the slightest flicker of which could end his existence utterly. With all of his willpower, Jie Ling managed to slightly suppress the paleness that had shadowed his face and control his breathing so he could speak.

"What can this one do for the honored brother of the emperor? Please tell me how I can serve." Jie Ling spoke through gritted teeth, all hopes of resisting any requests from Xing Zheng utterly crushed in his mind.

"Late emperor, and again you misunderstand. I'm simply trying to be honest so we can start off on the right foot!" Xing Zheng turned his face away in obviously feigned offense. " It just so happens that your sect fits the temperament of my Azure Rainsword Sect's neutral faction quite well. Would you be willing to become a mortal branch of my sect?"

The other man simply gaped at him in dumbstruck awe. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would meet an immortal much less the brother of the previous emperor who he had only heard about in stories from the greater empire as a whole. Now that very man was here offering him what seemed to be an opportunity sent straight from the heavens.

"This… senior… junior has one question…" Jie Ling had a slight bit of apprehension when he spoke these words as if he was afraid the opportunity would go away if he asked even a single thing.

"Hmmm? Of course, this old man isn't someone who bullies the younger generations. What is it that's bothering you?" Xing Zheng smiled with genuine happiness, feeling good to add such a contribution to the sect on this excursion.

"Do we… have to change the name? Of the sect that is?" Jie Ling seemed almost sheepish when he asked the question as if he himself couldn't believe he was asking it.

However, the sect's name had been chosen by his master, Gao Guang! If they were to become the branch of some immortal sect then he wanted the legacy of his master to remain in some form. Xing Zheng simply burst out laughing and it took him a few minutes to get himself under control.

"Of course, you can! Trust me, with my backing no one will dare bully your sect either! We can discuss the details later but now I also wanted to discuss your cultivation with you. You're stuck at the peak of the master realm, correct?" Xing Zheng asked, the mirth slowly fading from his voice before he returned to his sagely tone.

"Correct, with the sect at war I think it would be improper for me to try to attempt a breakthrough. Also, I find that… there's something I'm lacking. Perhaps it's simply the fate of my master that has left me terrified or something else. In any case, I simply don't feel ready to breakthrough senior" Jie Ling replied respectfully.

"Good, solid reasoning. However, for joining my Azure Rainsword Sect you need to receive something. How about as a present you have a duel with this old man?" Xing Zheng's face took on a wolfish smile and a plan seemed to be forming in his mind.

Jie Ling simply swallowed as he saw that look knowing that whatever the old man had planned was bound to shake up his peaceful life.
 
Part 2. Ch. 11 Xing Zheng vs Jie Ling
Morning sun covered the second tier of the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect as two men stood across from each other. They were separated by around a dozen training arenas that had their fences modified so that one large arena was formed. All around hushed whispers could be heard, carried by the gentle winds that accompanied the cool morning air.

Around 500 meters separated these men as one stood with the wisened presence of a scholar with short black hair and a calm countenance. He wore azure robes with voluminous sleeves that covered his hands. Floating in the air around him were nine swords that were separated into three sets of three forming simple sword arrays. On the surface of each blade, three blazing runes flashed with brilliant steel-colored light with two of them seeming to blur before the eyes while one remained blank.

This was of course Xing Zheng and the man who stood opposite him was Jie Ling! As he stood across from the old swordsman the Sect Master gave off the air of a peerless master, with a solid and imposing stature. He had rust-red hair and although he was not built as a large man his body gave off the impression of a blade that had been honed and refined through countless years of training.

Wearing similar robes to his counterpart, albeit styled in gray robes as was tradition for his sect, Jie Ling presented an imposing sight. The announcement that the worldly sage and the Sect Master would be holding a duel to exchange pointers and allow the younger generation to witness their swordplay had been a surprise to most. In just the single day it had taken to organize the event countless speculations had been going around wondering who would be the ultimate victor of the bout.

Fan Zhong and Fan Yong had done their best to simply avoid such discussions although they received quite a few noticeable glares for not immediately supporting the Sect Master as the winner. From this Fan Zhong got the impression that the only thing reclusive martial sect disciples liked more than training their martial arts was ogling and spectating duels between their seniors. So it came that with a sigh he and Fan Yong were standing beside an excited-looking Little White waiting for the duel to start.

As they did Fan Zhong received a thorough bath courtesy of his ever-loveable furry companion. He couldn't allow himself to deny the rascal anything nowadays as he had been ignoring the water wolf to focus on his martial arts recently. Although Fan Yong had promised that he had been feeding Little White during his training session with Xing Zheng it still made his heart ache that he'd disappeared for over a month without even touching his bond with the spirit beast.
Now that his heart seemed to have calmed he could feel the worry and sadness that had accumulated in Little White's mind. The bond wasn't strong enough to allow them to communicate yet however, things like emotions could be interpreted quite easily at this point. As such he borrowed some contribution points from Fan Yong in order to buy the water wolf a generous pile of meat.

At this point, Little White seemed content that he had been covered in enough slobber and was sitting on the ground next to him receiving head scratches while using incredibly thin streams of water to cut and lift pieces of meat into his mouth. It honestly shocked Fan Zhong how much the little wolf had grown even in just the last month. Even sitting down his head still came to Fan Zhong's chest level and to top it off his growth showed no signs of slowing down.

In addition, his fine control over water Qi had become absolutely absurd and it was safe to say that Little White could most likely handle any opponents below the master realm without worry. Shaking his head, Fan Zhong made a reminder to ask the old swordsman about the issue with his spirit beast growing so large. After all, if he got too big then eventually he wouldn't be able to fit inside villages or towns!

"Disciples, Fellow Daoist Zhang Zheng has been kind enough to agree to exchange pointers with me today. It would be a disservice to the sect to keep this experience for myself so I've invited all of you here today to witness this bout. We will attempt to start slow for those of you who have yet to walk far on the path of martial arts; however, what you gain from witnessing this exchange will ultimately be up to you! Fellow Daoist Zhang Zheng, as the guest, please have the first blow." Jie Ling waved his hand and a sword seemed to appear out of thin air held in his right hand as he fell into a fighting stance.

Afterward, he gave a slight bow to Xing Zheng before a great calm seemed to settle over his eyes. His previously swaying robes seemed to become still along with his shoulder-length hair. Inside Jie Ling's normally piercing gray eyes this calm also now existed, as if all things in the world couldn't shake him from this state.






Xing Zheng observed the Sect Master as he entered his state of calm. Deep inside of him respect blossomed for the man, a small sense of shock existed with that respect. Normally one needed to study the way of swordsmanship for hundreds of years before entering a state like that, where one focused their whole being on their weapon.

Some never achieved it as their constantly improving mental energy provided so much information that outside thoughts would always be able to stir them. It was different from the void state that was needed to use the Xing clan ancestral sword style but still impressive for a mortal in the master realm. With a gentle smile, he nodded toward the other man and took a soft step forward.

As he did so the three sword arrays around him spread out with one staying in front of him and two moving to flank his opponent on either side. During this motion each sword array flashed as Xing Zheng waved his hand across his body, quickly tapping a storage bag in his robes in the process. A Qasi-Spirit Qi Treasure sword appeared in his hand and the array in front of him rotated releasing three sword phantoms at different times before rising and racing backward behind Xing Zheng.

As this happened Jie Ling made a small circular motion with his wrist that seemed to blur the air around the edge of his sword. This blur seemed to extend outward in three sheets along the edge of that circular path creating three curtains of force that raced to meet him. Smiling Xing Zheng increased his speed ever so slightly and met the attacks head-on.






Fan Zhong focused all of his mental energy and stared hard at the two men as the Sect Master spoke. He remembered the last time two masters had fought in front of him and although it brought pain to his heart there also existed equal parts shame there as well. When Fan Cheng risked his life to fight two Wei clan masters for him Fan Zhong hadn't even been able to see the battle.

Remembering this brought hot tears to his face and a rising fire rose inside of him however, he forced it down. Shifting cruel winds and shadows beat that fire, strangling it with cold resolve and willpower. Today he would observe this fight and burn every detail into his mind.

Only by doing this could he one day no longer be so weak…






Worry appeared on Fan Yong's face as he looked over to see his best friend's eyes seeming ready to burst out of his skull with red appearing around the edges. Tears streamed down his face, however, and he seemed like a madman prepared to die to observe this duel. The terror beast beside him whimpered slightly as it looked up from its meal to rub its snout on Fan Zhong's stomach.

Inwardly he shivered but a few quick breaths reminded him that this was once that small water wolf that had played tag with the children in the clan. As Fan Yong was looking away to calm himself a scowl settled onto his face. Tiyun Areal was a few dozen meters to their left within the crowd and was staring at them with unmasked contempt.

When their gazes met he could only hear a barely audible sneer and huff as the woman looked away. Shaking his head Fan Yong focused back on the battle as a booming sound echoed throughout the air.






Jie Ling took a slow breath as the three sword phantoms approached him. With a small flick of his wrist, he executed 'Tranquil Sword Melody's' first form with a circular cut. From this pure Sword Qi rushed through his body and out his blade three times.

The effect manipulation was more direct than a Qi phantom as it worked to extend the physical effects that already existed. This method required more Qi per attack but usually gave more power as a result. Faintly the edge of his blade pulsed with light during that quick circular motion causing three curtains of slicing force to echo outward, amplifying the effect of the sword cutting through the air. In his mental sphere, he detected 9 more sword phantoms coming from all angles.

Three from each of the sword arrays respectively. Those arrays had spread out and now encased both of them in a triangular pattern and a resonance seemed to thrum in the air between them. More phantoms appeared out of that resonance, some rushing forward to follow the previous attacks and others forming more arrays that either created their own projections or amplified existing attacks, causing them to fuse and twist according to his movement.

In a blink, over 20 more attacks were already on their way behind the first three sword phantoms and a cold sweat started to bead on his forehead. This was supposed to be taking it slow?






As the slicing curtains approached him a smile crossed the immortal swordsman's face. Quickly he formed a few seals with his free hand, commanding the sword arrays to start their work. This particular style was an echo of Senior Li Cheng's 'lesser infinite sword array' and although it was a far cry from the original when operating on this scale he could manage something that resembled the disciple of the Heavenly Infinite Sword Sect. Thinking about it, he cut himself off before finishing the first set of 99 seals, only using around a sixth of them.

With a slight nod, he decided that number should be an appropriate amount to start with and rushed forward to meet the farthest of his original phantom attacks. As he did soo Xing Zheng swung his blade through the first phantom, fusing the Qi attack with his physical blade and giving it the force to crash through the curtain like slashing attack. In quick succession the other two phantoms arrived as well, meeting his sword mid-swing each time to blow through the curtains.

In doing this he closed the distance between himself and Jie Ling. A big smile was evident on his face as he enjoyed the thrill of participating in a clash of physical swords. The Azure Rainsword Style was effective however, his master as well as most of his senior apprentice brothers mostly used the style's ephemeral nature, and rarely did they have physical clashes like this. In truth, this was a creation of his own making that had long since needed testing.

Forms that had only ever been practiced in seclusion showed themselves as Xing Zheng flashed into view in front of the sect master, weaving between two dozen spear-like lines of thrusting force. As he did so his sword came up meeting three phantoms on the way for a rising diagonal cut from his left leg upward across his body. Jie Ling's eyes widened as he was half turned to the side to project a curtain of slashing force to counter ten or so phantoms and the other man gritted his teeth as a mirror phantom image of him appeared doing the same motion on his back.

Xing Zheng's grin widened further as the same force of the collision between the man's physical blade and his phantoms was projected onto this new Qi projection, effectively using the force of the collision and warping it to lash out behind him. His blade met that working and a loud shockwave echoed through the world. Instantly several large clumps of dirt that were suspended in the air due to the speed of the fight disintegrated when hit by the force.

Chuckling slightly he pushed the attack, stepping in and out in curving lines to attack from every angle. Phantoms peppered the Sect Master from all sides and as he moved to weave through some Xing Zheng met him two to three times with a blurring speed for each step he took. Soon he found himself increasing the pace more and more as his free hand absently finished forming the first set of seals already moving onto the second of the three sets.

Blood flew in the air from minor cuts causing crimson stars to seem to hang suspended as the speed of the fight exceeded the liquid's ability to even slowly descend through the air. It took a few exchanges at this speed before he realized the panic in the other man's eyes. A hint of red crept onto Xing Zheng's face as he slowed the attack before allowing the hail of swords to stop.

As this happened he appeared a few dozen meters from the man, on his knees and pretending to pant with his sword plunged into the ground for support

"Truly Fellow Daoist Jie Ling's technique is profound! This old man has never seen a style focused so purely on effect manipulation so advanced!" Xing Zheng praised the other man while leaning one hand on his blade.






Fan Zhong gawked at the scene as dirt and rocks flew everywhere, finally allowed to rest on the ground now that the bout was over. He had only been able to observe the opening exchange; however, what had been visible was awe-inspiring. Previously, the phantom attacks and movements of high-realm martial artists had simply been too fast for him to observe and they seemed like beams of light that simply shot forward.

In this exchange, he had learned how wrong that was as Xing Zheng's phantom swords had each struck with the skill and grace of a master. It was almost as if he could predict the response of his opponent before sending the attack and as such his blows were grouped and angled to take advantage of that. Slashes too weak to withstand counters landed at the weak points of the Sect master's curtains of force, paving the way for a cascade of attacks that did the same before a final blow shattered the curtain.

That wasn't even mentioning what had been done by the Sect Master as Fan Zhong had never seen someone fight like that before. Instead of using Qi Phantoms, he seemed to instead be extending the slicing force of his blade outward and bending the collision forces when his physical sword met attacks. Although the blows still seemed to impart force to him, the techniques he was using seemed to use principles similar to 'Momentum of Shifting Earth' to shunt and redirect part of the attack into some sort of technique for defense.

Thinking of the implications of such techniques sent his mind racing, broadening the ever-increasing landscape of his view of the martial path. Before this could go too far his thoughts were interrupted by a contemptuous snort to his left. Looking over he saw Tiyun Areal standing next to him with a resolute look, slight bits of victory and arrogance showing in her eyes.

"It seems that the 'Worldly Sword Sage' can't match up to the Sect Master's might." Although her words were calm Fan Zhong could feel the slight bits of mental energy lacing the sentence carrying an aura of satisfaction and venom.

With a frown, he suppressed the anger beginning to rise in his heart once more and turned to face the elite disciple.

"Sister Areal, our last meeting was heated for both of us. Let us allow such things to fade away like the snow on the mountain and start anew. If you would please show some respect for Senior Zhang Zheng. He may be a bit strange sometimes but this bout shows his skills are matched by few." Fan Zhong replied in a calm tone, cutting a short bow at the woman before turning to once again face the arena.

In truth, some part of him hoped that she was too caught up in her own arrogance and contested the claim and inadvertently insulted her own Sect Master. However, it seemed that wasn't to pass as a glint appeared in her eyes followed by a small frown before the woman simply turned to walk away.

"Brother Zhong, are we really going to allow this?" Fan Yong stood beside him and the sleeves of his robes were shaking as the other young man stared daggers at the back of the retreating elite disciple.

"Peace, Brother Yong. That's exactly what she's looking for." Fan Zhong smiled slightly and placed a calming hand on his friend's shoulder.

Fan Yong looked at him with an expression of genuine shock, as if he was looking at an alien instead of a close friend. In truth Fan Zhong himself was surprised that he could keep his calm. After the secluded training with Xing Zheng, it felt like he finally stood still and could breathe in the air of the world.

It was as if for the last five years his world had constantly been spinning and in turmoil and only now was the ground solidly under his feet. His world was now filled with conflict and struggle instead of the luxury of life; however, it was the world as it existed. After accepting that fact his feud with the woman had seemed childish in comparison, something barely worth noting.

After all, she was right. Fan Cheng would've been disappointed and all he could do was also accept that while working to improve. Taking a deep breath Fan Zhong looked up and let the words of the Sect Master enter his ears.

"Disciples and Fellow Daoists, this bout has been insightful and refreshing for me in many ways. I hope that observing has allowed some of you to further your path or provided enlightenment. Please if you have any questions find me or one of your seniors around the sect and we'll make some time over the coming days to help everyone absorb these gains." The sect Master gave a martial salute to the crowd and bowed before turning to Xing Zheng and doing the same.






"Teacher, is it truly wise to do this so soon? Perhaps it would be better to wait until I breakthrough to refine the treasure" Fan Zhong stood within one of the meditation pavilions which had the benches removed. Around them, disciples walked through the walkways, and further out one could see disciples going about their day, either sparring or working through forms by themselves.

A shining sun hung high in the sky as several large birds of prey let loose cries of triumph and dominance as they patrolled the skies. Cool air offset the heat of the beating rays of sunlight giving the day a pleasant feeling. It had been a week since the duel and Fan Zhong felt that he was getting the hang of the basics of refining.

To start with he had chosen a basic appraising technique known as 'Composition of elements'. A fairly standard and run-of-the-mill appraisal method that showed the basic fundamental elements within natural treasures. Although it wouldn't identify highly fused composites or side effects the benefits were the ease of use.

For both his extraction and refining techniques a similar set of techniques had been chosen with 'Extraction of elemental pillars' and 'Refining the foundation'. In all, this would allow him to extract six pillars elemental Qi and refine a vessel where the primary element of the material of that vessel would be the basis for the treasure. All of his practice with runes had paid off as he had been practicing the mental imagery for them for years at this point.

So when the techniques described the method to use mental energy with those images it came easily. As such it had taken only three days to reach the familiar realm in the techniques. He had been so happy at the progress that he had immediately run to the old swordsman to show off with pride in his eyes.

This led to the current situation as Xing Zheng had been rather pleased and informed him that now was a great time to refine his first treasure, using that brick he always carried around. Currently, Xing Zheng also stood in the pavilion next to him while his brick lay on a wide square stone table that had been placed in the center of the structure.

"Of course it's wise. Hmph, how are you ever supposed to get better at something if you don't practice it!" Xing Zheng harrumphed very convincingly, making Fan Zhong question whether he was pretending or actually a grumpy old man.

"I could practice on other materials, this… this is the last piece of home I have left…" his voice seemed to trail into the wind as he spoke, losing all air of confidence and being replaced by a deep-rooted sadness.

Shaking his head Fan Zhong quickly dispelled those thoughts, he had resolved to work past that day!

"Disciple…" Xing Zheng's eyes turned soft and warmth seemed to enter his voice as he spoke "Refining is an ongoing process, even if you refine the treasure today as long as you practice the craft that treasure can follow you for the rest of your life. Each time you improve your proficiency and technique simply gather more materials and do another refinement. Trust your teacher, it's a good experience to work with quality material and this stone is rather good for this region."

"You say that, but won't tell me how good it is." Fan Zhong leveled an accusing glare at the immortal.

"That's part of using your appria-" Xing Zheng started to speak in a lecturing tone before he was cut off by a blur that seemed to fly out of the sky.

Inside that blur, a jade slip appeared in the old swordsman's hand as he caught it with unearthly ease. For just a moment his eyes seemed to gloss over as if he was looking at something far away before a grimace settled on the immortal's face. Quickly he waved his hand and a glowing sword appeared in the air.

Before Fan Zhong could react that sword had zipped towards him and pierced right above his naval, into where his dantian should be located. Heat rushed through his body as the sword seemed to disappear as it made contact instead of gutting him.

"Disciple, listen well. There is a grave matter your teacher must attend to however, that sword will save your life just once. Focus your mental energy on where you feel it and mentally shout my name, after doing so refocus the mental energy on the targets.

The force will be split between them and you'll be out for a few days afterward but there shouldn't be anyone within a week's journey of here able to withstand that attack. Keep calm and work on refining that treasure, I should be back before the tournament starts." Xing Zheng's voice was stern and it carried the edge of a blade.

Warmness entered the immortal's eyes as he nodded once more to Fan Zhong before disappearing in a blur.
 
So, we are getting to the point were the refining system that I've had nestled in my various world-building notes will be coming into play. As I've written this story my skill as an author has improved by a decent margin however, the world building docs I originally came up with are as they were when I started. Much of this is the foundational system upon which things in the world interact and is important for ME to understand but I've been trying to be lighter on the technical details and info dumps as they came off very dry in my early chapters ( something that's been attempted to be fixed with editing to mixed results.)

All that is to say that the following chapter has a description of refining and there is a decent amount of math and technical details behind this which I'm curious if anyone cares about. So a few options!

1.) Vague hand wave were its discussed at a high level but mostly glossed over to move.
2.) Descriptions of techniques and thought process of a few decisions but leaving out the specific nitty gritty technicals of how refining ratios and details such as that work.
3.) a very in-depth description of the process of refining a treasure, mostly as a one time thing so we understand how the underlying mechanics of it work.
My rough draft for the chapter is leaning towards option 2 atm but mainly would just like to gauge how much people actually care about knowing the technical details of the worlds systems, any feedback is appreciated!
 
Part 2. Ch 12. First Refinement
"Teacher… be careful." Fan Zhong spoke those words not knowing if the old swordsman had heard them.

Complication settled into his eyes as he considered the implications of what could make the old man so grim. There were only two times he had seen a similar expression on the immortal's face. The first being when they had fought the bandits in Butont and the second was when he had been taken away for that month-long training session. Whatever had been contained in that jade slip seemed to far outweigh either of those situations as Fan Zhong could feel his mind reeling simply from the gaze Xing Zheng had leveled at him.

Shaking his head he looked at the brick on the stone table and sighed before moving forward to start working on it. To begin with he sat down and focused his mind, allowing all thoughts to dissipate until only the void and the sound's around remained. Deeper he went into that state of meditation, slowly eroding away even the sounds around him until all was silent.

With great care Fan Zhong rose and focused his eyes on the brick while willing his mental energy into that gaze. The image of a rune replaced the void slowly taking shape as an outline. These runes were made up of a shape whose lines were drawn by small runes of the same shape.

In turn, the small runes were made up of even tinier runes again of the same shape repeating over and over for as many layers as his mental energy could manage. This was what often gave Dao runes their blurring effects and gave headaches to those who looked at them. Eventually once enough layers of overlapping runes were used to form the original shape one would have to start causing the internal runes to move in the pattern that was naturally formed by the rune itself.

Only after nine layers was this possible and it was said to take an enormous amount of potent mental energy to form even a single rune that way. All of that was far away, however, as now Fan Zhong simply needed to form three layers to activate the technique. That threshold was important for runes as three layers were the most basic level required to form low-quality runes.

Slowly his mind focused and after an unknown amount of time it felt like a vortex appeared behind his eyes that absorbed his mental energy. In Fan Zhong's field of view, the brick now had a circle floating over it that was filled a little over three-quarters the way with an earthy brown color. The rest of the circle was filled with two tiny slivers of blue and bright red followed by a large chunk of misty gray.

The whole projection was surrounded by a wispy blue mist that formed a border around the inner sections of the circle. Seeing that caused Fan Zhong's eyes to widen as he recalled that the blue mist meant the natural treasure was spirit grade. From the instruction manual, he knew that white would have meant an earthly grade. Meanwhile gold would represent a nascent grade, something that should be impossible as none of his instructors had ever even seen natural treasures of that potency.

All things considered, this confirmed that the brick was truly a good vessel for a treasure as spirit grade was considered the best anyone could hope to get in the valley. Nodding in satisfaction he noted the faded nature of the blue mist outline, this should represent that the brick was only barely spirit grade. Taking a deep breath Fan Zhong once again strove for his state of clear-mindedness before retrieving a few small bags from the side of the table.

There were six of these bags, one for each of the six pillar elements with around 20 kg of treasure essence in each. These bags had been a gift from Xing Zheng to refine his first treasure and the old swordsman had said they were low-quality spirit treasure essence. Sighing he remembered that one of the unfortunate things about refining was the math involved in figuring out the weights and ratios involved with each refinement.

With reluctance Fan Zhong set about arranging a series of scales and instruments meant to facilitate the process. It seemed that today would be a long day.






Howls accompanied a freezing chill that seemed at odds with the sun that beat down over the valley on the horizon as Zi Bao crested a hill. His breath came in ragged rasps and his right hand clutched at a wound that soaked his torn martial robes with blood. Across his arms and back, similar lacerations were also present giving the impression that a feral creature had set about the young man with razor-sharp claws.

Fear was set deep on his face as he looked back to see wispy strands of silver-colored gas rising from the canopy of the forest below the slope that ran up to the hill. In the sky above that portion of the forest, the very air seemed to become dark and thick as if it were night and storm clouds hung overhead. Now that Zi Bao was out of the forest he could see the effect fading as if he was leaving another dimension and returning to the normal world.

As he observed this a shrill howling sound like a scream formed from glass rubbing against stone rang out followed by the terrified calls of others in that terrible place.

"Serves those Wei dogs right, snooping around for trouble. It's fortunate the surviving clan records gave me some idea about this place, otherwise…" Another wave of terror washed over Zi Bao and he shivered so much that his hands loosened for just a moment.

After another pause to sneer at the forest he turned to begin limping down the other side of the hill, anxious to be back inside Forest Depths Village. Just as he began to clench his left hand once more his open palm reflected a ray of light revealing a golden gleam.






Sweat beaded on Fan Zhong's brow as he carefully finished placing the last of the treasure essence inside three of the circles carved into the stone table surrounding his brick. These were formation cores that would use the essence to feed into the refinement process and in total there were six. A master of the 'Refine the Foundation' technique could use these to complete a six-element chain to ultimately give a large boost to the end material, saving on costs or increasing the overall effect a given amount of treasure essence could give.

Currently, he could only manage two supporting elements in the process, and through numerous tests, during practical lectures, he'd seen the rather explosive results to the vessel if one exceeded their limits. Knowing this he had selected the earth essence since the treasure would be earth aligned. Next came metal essence as it birthed earth in the six pillar elements cycle allowing it to act as a boost to the earth essence. Finally, the water essence sat in the third circle as it was the supporting agent for the metal essence.

As he double and triple-checked the calculations that were scribbled on a scroll near the edge of the table Fan Zhong's eyes seemed to drift to the essence itself. It came in the form of heavy glowing dust that gave off light that corresponded to the quality and element contained within. From the texts, he knew that once essence surpassed the spirit grade it would start forming incredibly small crystals instead of dust but for now he would have to make do with this.

Taking a deep breath he placed his left hand over the water essence that sparkled a hazy blue while his right hand moved into position above the metal essence. The formation had a connecting line that started with the furthest circle at the 10 o'clock position. Moving from there a rune connected counterclockwise to the 8 o'clock position and so on before the 12 o'clock position connected to the middle of the table where the vessel sat.

With great care, his left hand formed a hand sign while mental energy gathered in Fan Zhong's mind's eye to begin forming the rune that would activate his refining technique. More sweat beaded on his brow as the runes that made up the stone circle carving flickered, sometimes filling with white light before briefly shutting off. After five minutes he managed to activate it and a circular curtain of light gently surrounded the water essence with a shining corridor that led to the metal essence.

Gritting his teeth Fan Zhong shoved away images of failure and the table exploding, forcing the first rune to stay solid in his mind as the second one formed. This process went smoother and after a minute the metal essence had a similar curtain surrounding it with wisps of blue mist seeping into the dust causing it to glow brighter. Stirred on by the ease of success here he moved his left hand from the water essence over the final circle to begin the third step.

Then trouble struck, as soon as the third and final rune for the earth essence started to coalesce the energy in the air seemed to quiver. It took all of his mental discipline and training to bite down the emotional response and stabilize the previous workings, barely getting them back in place. With dogged determination Fan Zhong pushed forward slamming his will into the technique to make it stable.

In his mind he allowed the song of his internal war to play, amplifying the sounds that conjured images of looming mountains that pressed down on all of creation. Cracking sounds started echoing out that only Fan Zhong could hear as his limited mental energy seemed to buckle under the stress of focusing on the technique while using the image of his path.

Snarling he poured all himself into the working. Internally he now realized that part of the problem lay in using such high-quality materials. In the practical lectures they always used earth-grade natural treasures and his mental energy had never had to contain a refinement like this. The spirit materials were like a high-grade flame as they released their energy to clash with and fuse with the brick as a vessel. In this process his mental energy served as the kiln for the refinement, taking the beatings of the essence releasing its potential.

Blood started seeping from the corners of Fan Zhong's lips without him noticing as his mind focused entirely on finishing the process. As the third rune snapped into place the essence circles connected a line to a final containing circle surrounding the vessel. A torrent of energy surged forth, filling the central circle and beginning to make the brick shine with iridescent light.

Almost by instinct his right hand moved overtop of the treasure as it started forming. While doing so he started to form a series of hand seals while forming a final set of images in his mind. In total Fan Zhong's mind held three refining runes and a single ephemeral and changing rune that corresponded to the seals.

Pain mounted quickly as his vision seemed to go white leaving no time to see if he performed the seals correctly. After what seemed like an eternity the blaring agony started to fade just slightly and over the course of an unknown amount of time it completely receded. Fan Zhong slumped to his knees as he coughed and grunted through the pain






Once he opened his eyes they revealed a dark night sky speckled with stars that shone like celestial jewels. A crescent moon sat high in the heavens illuminating the pavilion. With a quick check, he was able to determine the privacy array that kept others from observing was still active and most likely the reason no one had checked on him.

Drawing in a great breath Fan Zhong winced as the pain seemed to fill his body, causing each movement to arc with what felt like a lighting arc of agony. It took some time before he could stand and by that time the sound of footsteps could be heard from the small staircase leading into the pavilion. Turning his head Fan Zhong was greeted by the stern gaze of his best friend as well as the small snout of a cub-sized Little White.

Seeing that made him smile as the water wolf seemed to teleport beside him to begin licking at his face. Apparently, the old swordsman had communicated with his companion before he left, teaching him how to control his size. While speaking with Xing Zheng he learned that older spirit beasts learned to do this instinctively and as such the process to learn the skill would be like teaching a fish to swim.

Once taught the right way to move energy they would simply know how to do it. Thankfully the overlord of the surrounding regions was a sect that dealt with beast taming and raising leaving Xing Zheng with a lot of auxiliary knowledge about such topics.

"Brother Zhong, why must you go so overboard? I've been waiting for you at the sparring arena for over three hours now and even the masters didn't know where you were. With this privacy formation, I had to find Little White to track you down!" Fan Yong's tone was accusatory but it also carried some genuine worry as well.

"Apologies Brother Yong, Teacher was supposed to guide this refinement and it would've been done much sooner. Unfortunately, it seems that something urgent came up and he had to leave while promising to return before the tournament. In his absence I got a little carried away." Fan Zhong looked up at the other young man while rubbing his head with a self-deprecating grin.

The motions hurt however, the more he moved the more the stiffness and pain were fading so it seemed that all he could do was work through it.

"That is… worrying. I suppose we don't need to worry about him though. What would it even take to scratch that old monster?" Fan Yong shook his head and chuckled lightly. "In any case, can you stand?"

Grimacing Fan Zhong looked at the ground and attempted to push himself up. When his arm gave out as support for the attempt a soft pillowy feeling pushed against his back replacing the support. With the help of a Little White's size-changing, he was on his feet in just a few minutes, albeit with a lot of help from the loveable furball.

For his part, the water wolf was ecstatic to have so much attention and was dutifully pressing forward with a snout every time he started to lose his balance. Looking at the table Fan Zhong smiled as he was now staring at a smooth brick that was roughly the size of his palm and four times the thickness of his hand. At the center was a circle that was made of runes with the Fan clan crest in the middle.

While measuring out the essence he had opted to refine the lowest possible quality spirit-earth-grade magical treasure. That was something that only provided a one percent boost to the inherent qualities of the vessel material and was barely above a mortal-grade treasure. All of this was for two reasons.

The first was that he didn't really benefit as a First-grade martial artist from Qi enchantments and as such the quality didn't really matter. Aside from the durability boost provided by the refining process, this made the treasure not much more useful than a normal weapon for him. A spirit natural treasure weapon was almost impervious to attacks below the Master realm by itself and with this refinement, it would take a competent Grandmaster to destroy it.

With all of this considered the second reason he only refined the treasure to inferior spirit-earth grade was to save on materials. Spirit-grade natural treasure essence was incredibly expensive in the valley and the amount that Xing Zheng had given him could've probably bought a sizable portion of a village or town. Knowing this he had to be mindful of how much was used.

Unfortunately, this was compounded by the fact that the old swordsman had taught him a formation that would allow the weapon to shift into a different shape. This was not great as formations took up part of the treasure essence lowering the refinement boost. With the 10% decrease from the single formation Fan Zhong had to use enough material to refine an 11% inferior spirit-earth grade treasure even though he was only planning on the final product giving a one percent boost.

All of that had been worth it though as the end result had turned out marvelous. With a flick of his hand, Fan Zhong spun the brick around his wrist before catching it and pushing mental energy into the formation. In a flash of iridescent light, the brick morphed, narrowing the sides.

Meanwhile, the ends elongated, and what was left resembled a smooth gray stone staff. Testing the balance he found that it was only slightly heavier than the old staff he'd used in the clan and overall was lighter than the original brick. This was most likely because the basic refinement technique had burned away everything but the primary earth element, wasting the more ethereal energies that the treasures had held.

"Ahh!" Fan Yong shouted as the treasure transformed into the staff, seeming caught off guard by the bright flash of light.

"What? Never seen a supreme treasure refined by a favored son of the heavens?" Fan Zhong asked while smirking.

"Supreme treasure my ass." Fan Yong grumbled while slugging Fan Zhong in the shoulder in revenge. "Did senior teach you some techniques for controlling treasures? I don't remember seeing something like this in the refining lectures you dragged me to."

Fan Zhong winced at the playful blow but endured it, he deserved it after all.

"Indeed, it's a formation that lets you imbue an alternative shape for the treasure during refinement. Also, you're a free man so the decision to go was yours! Don't pin your actions on me!" Fan Zhong replied, red-tingeing his face as he recalled that his friend wasn't all that interested in the refining lectures.

In truth, he knew that Fan Yong had attended the basic lectures weeks ago and was now learning knowledge specific to his Spirit cooking while they were separate. However, ever the good friend, the other young man had followed him to the basic lectures without question or complaint. His presence had been a comfort for Fan Zhong and had served equally well as a study partner to ask for ideas or compare notes.

"Hmph, whatever, Young Master Fan Zhong." Fan Yong replied with a small smile on his face.

"Y... You!" With these stuttered words a limping Fan Zhong began a display that the whole sect saw as he chased after the other youth.

Little White ran between the two in circles, enjoying the exercise and occasionally making sure his master didn't fall over. Disciples were aghast as they saw the trio shouting and laughing as they ran down the walkways and across training grounds all the while their constant back and forth echoing throughout the mountain.






Night sky loomed overhead as a man walked through a field of shifting chest-high grass. All around him the air whistled as the cool night breeze brushed against all living things. He wore a wide-brimmed bamboo hat that hung over his face obscuring it from sight along with practical brown martial robes.

At his side rested a sheathed sword that seemed rather odd. It lacked a cross guard and the hilt seemed to merge with the sheathe making the entire object appear as one seamless piece. As he walked the air around the man seemed to distort and twist and occasionally an area of the tall grass would be pushed aside by a peculiar gust of wind.

At this particular moment, the area around him did this lifting the bamboo hat ever so slightly to reveal a handsome middle-aged man with short-cut black hair. He had a scar running down the left side of his face and the air of a scholar permeated his expression. This was of course Xing Zheng and he was currently standing within the endless expanse of the Northern Plains.

In particular, this field was 200 km southeast of the Flowing Grass Valley at the edge of Deng clan territory. At his feet lay the dried-up corpse of a young warrior from a clan with the crest of a black arrow. The body was dried up as if it had been laying in the sun for years and was sapped of moisture while a gaping hole was blasted through the chest.

It seemed to have been a young man who was a member of the nomadic clans that visited the Deng to trade for goods. Here on the plains, young martial artists were trained in the field and many lost their lives during the process. Xing Zheng knew all too well that the spirit beasts that roamed the tall grass as well as the birds of prey that warred over the sparse peaks killed innumerable amounts of nomadic clansmen each year.

This was amplified by those very peaks, strange mountains that seemed to jut out of the ground like swords made for titans. There was a rumor that long ago a race of immortal titans had used the Northern Plains as a burial ground and that these were actually swords of fallen warriors from that race left to mark their graves. Whatever the truth, it was the reality that these areas had some of the few forested areas of the plains.

Venturing inside could give a young hopeful warrior rare herbs and natural treasures that would give his position in the clan a significant boost. All of this didn't even mention the various wars that raged over these resource-rich areas. Even though he knew all of this Xing Zheng could instantly tell that this warrior had been killed by no such beast or war.

What gave it away was a combination of factors. Firstly the ground was damaged all around, littered with cracks and fissures from martial artists fighting not to mention the various arrows from the plainsmen firing their bows. Looking at these he could see that most of them were still present and even mounds of loose dirt hadn't blown away with the constant winds.

Considering these factors it was obvious that the battle had been recent. However, the key factor was something that was not present. Using his divine sense Xing Zheng was constantly observing the energy flows in the area.

While doing this he could instantly see that there was no gathering Mental Qi or dispersing ambient Vital Qi. Around him, hidden under the swaying tall grass, there were over two dozen bodies. If left alone this amount of slaughter was enough to form a zombie or two and could spread further with more victims and time.

He had been to many battlefields that had been left to fester, assigned to do cleanup duty to prevent this very thing. Every single one of them showed signs of the Mental Qi that contained the resentment and hatred of the slain gathering together with the Vital Qi that dispersed in the air when someone died. This was the work of some sort of demonic art that harvested that energy and used it to further advancement, a sloppy one if the battlefield was anything to go by.

Normally experienced demonic practitioners would allow some of that energy to remain to give the impression the fight had occurred long ago, causing the Qi to dissipate over time. It could be any number of demonic arts but there was some part of Xing Zheng that told him… this was a Blood Qi cultivator. However, that caused a pause for him.

The scene was so obvious it was like an invitation for anyone caring to investigate. True the power used had been below the spirit level and as such below far-range detection. However, it would be obvious to anyone keeping watch over the area what had happened when they received the report. When scouts had reported to the Deng clan elders that this was going on, his network of contacts within the area had made sure to pass the message along within an hour of receiving it.

All of this seemed to be perfect, and it reeked of a trap. Even more so now that he had been in the area and contacted some of the baronesses' people that were nearby via divine sense and similar reports had cropped up. Each of them drew a path that led him deeper into the center of the area.

As he took a deep breath the cry of a swiftwind twin-tail reminded him of a day. Stepping into that memory was like walking into a dream. All around him was a similar sight, tall grass as far as the eye could see while wind seemed to caress all of creation. The sharp tang of blood coated the air of the memory as a scarlet hue settled on the horizon.

There on top of a mountain of corpses sat a bored-looking young man meditating with his eyes closed in crimson red robes with an amused expression. Xing Zheng had seen war before that time and witnessed fields full of bodies. However, nothing prepared him for that sight, a mix of pure slaughter amid the concentrated terror left within the energy of that field.

As he approached it felt like the agony of uncountable souls were lashing out at him, begging any living lifeform to endure their resentment and hatred. When he was only 500 meters away that young man opened his eyes.

"So you've come, dog of the heavens. Tell me, what treat did your masters promise for throwing away your miserable life here?" Sha Da leveled a cold, predatory smile upon him.

"Demon, I give you this one chance. Surrender yourself and enter service under me to repent your crimes for the rest of your life. It will be hard, however, until the end of days your deeds will work to right that evil which you brought into this world!" Xing Zheng felt a bead of sweat start to form on his neck from the pressure of the souls; however, his voice carried the pride of a son of the Xing Empire!

This was his code for serving as a Judgment Executioner, all who he hunted would be given this chance exactly once! In the proceeding hundreds of years, he had never once hunted a demonic cultivator without giving them this option. He himself did not start to understand why until centuries later while mulling on the topic.

It gave him peace and settled the irritation in his heart over the ways of the neutral path clashing with his instincts to embrace the righteous path. All beings should have a choice in the world, and be allowed to walk on their own path or so was said by the neutral path's Primordial Ancestor. In this way, even though a small one, Xing Zhengdid just that and acknowledged that his targets walked their own path. From that moment on they had to choose to keep walking it even knowing it would bring conflict with him.

He still didn't fully understand why this gave him peace during these hunts however, perhaps it would simply come with time. Refocusing on the memory he now saw the tells of the attack that would make this fight so difficult. Each of the corpses was shimmering ever so slightly as the earth trembled with barely perceptible vibrations.

Amid all that, his focus had been solely on the arrogant smug smile plastered on Sha Da's face.

"You seem pretty strong, perhaps father will give me something nice if I refine a vital soul from you. Feel honored as I can only do this three times in my life, you're the first," A red glint flashed across the young man's eyes as crimson light surrounded him.

That would mark the start of the fight as hundreds of blood-colored phantom spears raced upward from underground to attack Xing Zheng. A single mistake and it had almost cost him his life that day. Sha Da had been a competent fighter but without the injuries, Xing Zheng had sustained from that surprise attack the results wouldn't have nearly been so close.

Between then and now, that had been the only noteworthy blood cultivator he had fought. Sure there were some minor practitioners but Sha Da had been different. He had possessed obvious training and a coherent style with techniques to complement it.

Now here he was, standing in the exact same area tracking another such practitioner. Inwardly Xing Zheng smiled to himself. These demonic practitioners set off a storm hoping to lure him into the eye to crush him. It seemed they hadn't learned, he and the storm were one and the same.






Time passed slowly for Sha Mu as he waited near the center of the Northern Plains region. Already he and his fellow disciples had spent almost three months in this pathetic Lesser Region and it was already grating on his nerves. At first, he had been happy his idiotic older brother had been killed while training in the mortal world all those years ago.

It had been a chance to earn his father's approval and gain the identity as the heir to the Blood Wings sect, a sizable upgrade from being the Second Young Master. However, that was before it had actually happened. His father had been less than pleased and all but ignored him in the resulting years, choosing instead to go into seclusion.

Due to this, he had inherited the responsibilities of being the heir without much of the protection as the person who would've given him that was now in closed-door cultivation. Such had started centuries worth of scheming and manipulation to keep his own life and position. In the first decade alone ten different assassination attempts were made!

Those years had drilled into him the truth of the world. Schemes were used by the weak. Deception and lies only tools to be used to gain edges. What really mattered in the world of cultivation was strength, indomitable might that pressed down on the world like a sword of celestial might. When it had come to him the truth seemed so obvious, one of the lessons that had been told to him practically from birth.

It was then that Sha Mu understood what 'profound' truly meant. Profound was an essence found in the experience of the world colliding with sayings that men remembered. Ephemeral and elusive, these words contained a hidden world that could not be opened unless you experienced the truth of them for yourself.

In a way that made the sayings themselves almost tragic, as if they were paintings of catastrophe made for the blind who could not see their message. You could say them as much as you wanted and those who lacked experience would reply with things such as 'I know!' or 'I understand.' when in truth they were those furthest from understanding! After gaining this enlightenment his cultivation skyrocketed and he'd broken through to the Qi condensation realm a little over 400 years ago.

Since then he had continuously challenged himself, ever hungry to gain enough strength to stifle the feeling that he was drowning in the sea known as the world. No longer did he ride on the hopes that his father would exit seclusion and favor him nor that the sect would treat him like a chosen son of heaven. All of that had been until he had missed his father's actual exit from seclusion while hunting in the wilds.

So offended had the old man been that he instantly told him that since he wanted to rely on himself so much Sha Mu no longer needed to be the heir of the Blood Wings Sect. This had ruined everything, crushed all of his momentum! After much bowing and gritted teeth, his father finally relented and said this.

"Son, let it not be said that your father shows favorites. Since your big brother died in that small mortal empire, then as his brother you should be looking to avenge him! Bring me the head of his killer and only then will your inheritance be reinstated." The old man had said while maintaining the air of some aloof immortal.

He had almost attacked the man right then and there with only the reminder that the core formation old monster could crush him with a glare stopping him. This had been 180 years ago and every moment since was spent frantically searching for this blasted Judgment Executioner. Now that would all come to a rest, he had taken the bait and been mercilessly tracking down all the mortals they'd given techniques to.

After months of checking and collecting info they had confirmed, there were no mysterious protectors following him. Finally, they had taken the last month to set up a formation that would stop any of the old monsters hiding here from feeling this battle going on. With a minor effort of will, he signaled the others, who were positioned underground in a 100 km circular pattern around him, to activate the concealing formation so that the central Northern plains were concealed from long-range divine sense scrying.

Taking a deep breath Sha Mu felt let go of the power that was wrapped around him like a thick cowl. Instantly his 11 meridian Qi Condensation power was revealed, almost peak power for that realm! A smile crossed his lips as a powerful divine sense quickly zeroed in on his location and a massive amount of energy started moving his way.

"Good, this will finally all be over." Sha Mu whispered under his breath with relief as a sinister smile crossed his face.
 
Bonus chapter today to make up for some of the days i missed! its a chonky one so I hope you guys enjoy!
 
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Part 2. Ch. 13 Pride of the Storm
Wind rushed across the central area of the Northern plains as Xing Zheng traveled through the air, appearing as an azure arc to those on the ground. Beneath his feet rested his Azure Water Sword glowed with that same colored light as it worked to propel him through the skies. Just moments ago he'd felt the pressure of a demonic cultivator from this direction, an incredibly strong one at that.

It had been years since he had felt such ominous and evil energy, just the feeling had sent his skin crawling. Although he wasn't well trained in techniques regarding pure divine sense usage it had never been difficult for him to detect the presence of someone who practiced the demonic arts. Their energy had a feeling about it, one that was cold and menacing with each different tradition having a slightly varying accompaniment.

In this case he felt the echoes of fierce vital energy, life force that had been extracted from its owner and was now shackled to unwillingly serve a new master. No sentience was left in that feral Qi, just savagery that wanted to lash out and ravage through all living beings it could touch. These negative echoes were a large reason demonic arts drove those who practiced them mad.

Cultivating itself was an act that defied the heavens where death waited just around the corner at each step. Demonic practitioners took that even further endangering themselves with a constant war within for the energy they forcibly took from others making their path all the more treacherous. Shaking his head, Xing Zheng forced himself to stop musing about such things and focus on the moment.

He could feel that his divine sense wasn't traveling as far as it normally would. Currently, it was limited to a circular area with a 500 km radius. In peak condition, Xing Zheng could manage double that so it was obvious the enemy both knew he was coming and had activated some sort of dampening array. It must have been quite expensive seeing as his divine sense couldn't feel the boundary of the effect.

For the briefest moment hesitation bloomed in his mind. Obviously, this was a trap, one made specifically to kill whoever came to investigate. Even with his limited knowledge of the spirit cultivator community of the Twisted Territories, he knew that doing something like this without extensive planning was simply asking for death. There were one or two foundation establishment old monsters that called the northern plains home who would easily kill the offenders simply for being so brazen.

No, this scheme seemed far more meticulous to allow that to happen. It had taken the mysterious demonic cultivator three months to move even though Xing Zheng had been killing their pawns the entire time. Normally practitioners like this would only leave so many inheritances to mortals if they had some technique to extract the energy the 'disciple' would be able to gather.

A rather safe way of gathering Qi for cultivation, leave many in-name apprentices with the technique across a large area and then return to harvest them. This was also rather safe as the cultivator didn't care how many of the mortals were killed by local factions or judgment executioners. They could simply collect the successful ones and then find someplace to enter seclusion to continue cultivating.

However, these particular 'disciples' were restricted to this area. Normally this meant that the demonic cultivator was trying to make higher-quality harvests and would be protective of at least a few promising candidates. This hadn't happened and no other reports came in of blood cultivators giving new inheritances to mortals in other areas of the lesser region.

Putting all of this together there was only one conclusion, someone was calling him out in particular. Xing Zheng was rather publicly known in the area as the Judgment Executioner the Lu clan preferred to employ. Taking into account that and the fact that this lesser region was a border area where such a position was normally left unfilled and there was no longer any question of who the target was.

With a long sigh, he pushed away the idea of retreating. Every second that these demonic bastards stayed here was a threat to the entire Northern plains area, perhaps even the entire lesser region. Xing Zheng had seen how the allure of demonic arts could cause greed to appear in the hearts of good men. Seen it in the ruins of the state of Renhu, in the burning ruins of places that housed the corpses of those he had once called friends. Among the smoldering ruins of those he passed his Dao to, he had seen the result of letting these beasts go wild.

He may be part of the neutral path, one who practiced their Dao and respected that those in the world had their own path. However, this was at his front door and Xing Zheng had no intention of letting rabid dogs run rampant here.






A booming sound shook the earth as an arc of azure light scythed through the sky before landing in an endless barren plain. All around the stench of death and dust filled one's nose as the earth was scared with small shallow craters and tiny ravines as if the ground had once been cleaved through by giant blades. The once vibrant grass that grew here had withered and only dried husks of it remained, blowing gently with the wind.

Standing in the center of that area, at the bottom of a shallow bowl-shaped crater that spanned 100 km in diameter, a gruff middle-aged-looking man stood imperiously. He wore a black robe and had short wavy hair of crimson streaked with white. The man was built stocky, with a large frame that seemed to loom over those around him and he stood over three meters tall.

His hands rested atop a large saber that came up to the top of his chest and the blade was plunged into the ground in front of him. As the arc landed at the edge of the crater this man looked up with crimson light glowing in his eyes. From the landing azure light, a middle-aged man with the frame of a scholar was revealed.

His azure robes billowed in the wind as a wide-brimmed bamboo hat was tipped over his face, hiding the man's expression. As he landed that man raised his hand with a speed that made the dirt that had been kicked up in the landing seem frozen in the air in comparison. A ripple seemed to spread out from him as a glowing sword appeared in the bamboo-wearing man's hand.

**I give you this one chance, demon. Surrender now and swear to meet out justice while serving me for the rest of your days. It will be hard work however, the deeds done in my service will scrub away the evil you've wrought in life. Choose carefully, for this is the last time I'll ask.** Xing Zheng's voice seemed to ripple in the mind of all living beings within 200 km who possessed even the tiniest trace of mental energy.

He had only used this way of speaking a few times however, it seemed appropriate when speaking with someone of similar strength. For his part, the man in the black robes seemed to be unbothered by his unfamiliar usage of the method and replied quickly.

**So quick, not even going to ask who I am? It doesn't matter I suppose. After all, dead men have little need to know who killed them.** The man's tone carried arrogance as well as amusement **As a courtesy, however, I'll let your soul rest easy. Today, I Sha Mu, came to collect the blood debt of my brother's life.**

Immediately as the last ripple of divine sense appeared a set of crimson wings materialized on Sha Mu's back as six sabers shot out of the ground in a large circle around Xing Zheng with a speed that seemed quick even to his eyes. Each of those weapons looked identical to the weapon in the blood cultivator's hands and shone with a deep crimson light. In the same instant sizzling sounds could be heard on the ground as dozens of centipedes with black blood dripping from their fangs sprang up slightly behind the sabers.

At the same distance directly behind Xing Zheng, opposite the position of Sha Mu, another black-robed man rose out of the ground. He had a pale face that would make others think he was perpetually ill along with shoulder-length brown hair. Black smoke seemed to twist around him like a mist and his eyes looked like portals to an endless void that dripped black blood down his face.

To Xing Zheng's right, a man with green robes seemed to emerge with a spear around three meters long. That spear glowed with silvery yellow light and several arcs of force containing that energy were already arcing through the air as he burrowed out of the ground. Finally to his left came a whistling sound from the wind as crescents of blood-red energy formed a semi-dome-like encloser rapidly approaching from that direction.

Each line in that dome was formed by a slash of one of the two daggers held in the hand of the young man diving from high in the sky at Xing Zheng. He too had a pair of blood-colored wings, though they seemed smaller and more streamlined for speed than Sha Mu's. The daggers in his hands each shone with crimson and a secondary color as well. His right-hand weapon contained a deep orange inside the crimson while blue flashed within the depths of the blade in his left hand.

Lastly, his eyes shone with verdant green while his blonde hair flowed to the small of his back. Within the dome of slashes, each color was present, obviously representing that the technique was more than a simple hail of effect manipulation attacks. In all, Xing Zheng was rather impressed by the ambush, after all, he had only noticed three of them on the initial approach.

**Is that so? I see, then let it all fade away with the rain.** Xing Zheng sighed internally as his divine sense spread out the message and his left hand formed a seal.

From all directions, he was assaulted as black blood centipedes, crimson crescents, saber phantoms, and thrusting lances of force containing that strange silvery yellow light. As the weight of the heavens seemed to bear down on him, that single seal caused the earth all around Xing Zheng to explode. Rays of light seemed to shoot out of the ground as nine swords appeared around him in sets of three.

On the surface of those swords, myriad azure specks seemed to swim as if a rainstorm was happening inside of a world that existed within those blades. Before the weapons even arrived his hands had already formed over 1,000 more seals which formed runes in the air. These runes landed on the swords and caused the azure specks to drift outward and enlarge, revealing that they were fully formed sword phantoms.

In the time it took for the demonic cultivators' techniques to arrive within 10 km of Xing Zheng over 90,000 sword arrays had been formed by these phantoms. Each of them mirrored the physical blades, forming the same 'Basic Three-Sword array'. At this point the enemy techniques were within 1 km of him however, he remained calm.

With a final command, each of the physical swords was surrounded by 10,000 sword arrays and they formed spherical shapes. These dense spheres spread out so that they each covered a 1 km diameter sphere that rotated in a pattern to form a dense network around Xing Zheng as he rose into the air with his movement technique. Right before his techniques clashed with the enemies he let out a final seal that caused the swords at the core of the spheres to start attacking with maddening speed.

Within these swords spun so fast and in so many directions that they appeared as mini silver spheres within the sphere of phantom arrays. Each of those slashes sent out a phantom attack that was empowered or directed by the sphere of arrays. Sometimes they became brighter as an attack grew in strength and sometimes dimmer as they were split apart into multiple small attacks.

All of this sounded slow but it happened before the dirt that had been kicked up by Xing Zheng's landing had even reached the ground. Many things became apparent as the techniques clashed, one was that the crimson dome of slashes from the young man in the sky was far more than physical attacks. His techniques containing orange energy were weak but exploded on contact releasing an orange nova that crackled in the air as it seemed to work its way into any techniques of the others caught in that explosion.

As it did so orange cracks appeared on those workings making them break to any subsequent attacks. On the other hand, the slashes containing blue seemed to coat his mental energy in a cold layer, causing it to move slower. This took concentration and slight amounts of time to remove, which reduced Xing Zheng's attack speed. Finally, those green-tinged slashes moved with speed that blurred even before his eyes.

The youth also wielded them with extreme skill, actively controlling the slashes to turn and avoid full-strength counterattacks while running into those already weakened by the orange light. Meanwhile, the centipedes with the black blood were shooting streams of it in short bursts as they charged forward. This black blood would burn through phantoms like any Qi attack but also then collect to form more of the creatures before charging forward again.

These lesser insects took fewer blows to kill; however, it still added to the ever-increasing amount of attacks Xing Zheng had to deal with. In addition, the black blood was very dangerous. During this initial clash, only a single drop managed to land on his leg; however, it sent the energy within his body berserk as if it had become a wild beast.

No amount of mental energy seemed to contain it and the drop of black blood had caused a shallow bloody wound on his leg from the Qi within erupting in a small explosion. After centuries of strengthening his body was tough and the contained power of that explosion could level a small village. As such this was a testament to the danger the centipedes presented. Alongside this, the pale man who accompanied them was constantly forming seals that rushed into the centipedes or formed formations in the air that either disrupted his Qi flow or empowered individual insects.

The man with the spear seemed to be the weakest as although his attacks had respectable piercing power they weren't overwhelming in number or strength and as such the rain of sword phantoms drowned them out. That silvery yellow light seemed to linger in the air and erode the mental energy of attacks that crossed those paths but it seemed to be fading quickly. Of all the attackers, Sha Mu proved the greatest threat.

Before Xing Zheng had even lifted into the sky the towering man had coughed up a mouthful of blood mist and pressed a brilliant crimson clan seal to his weapon. The normally mundane implement shone so brilliantly with a red light that the world seemed to lose color except for that seal and Sha Mu's wings. In an instant, the world seemed to warp around him and his six floating sabers before the air twisted again only 10 meters or so away from Xing Zheng.

As if by teleporting the man arrived before his phantom strikes and raised his saber with grace completely opposed to his hulking physique. With barely masked shock Xing Zheng managed to dodge backward while weaving a defensive screen of sword phantoms. In the process his bamboo hat was cut in two, revealing his bewildered expression. It was understandable that he was so confused as teleportation was something usually only possible when one reached the nascent soul stage!

Of course, all martial artists who transcended their tribulation and entered the ranks of true cultivators in the spirit realms were extraordinary people; however, even among them such abilities were incredibly rare. From seeing the slight paling on the other man's face after he used the technique it was obvious that doing this was greatly costly for him. Inwardly, Xing Zheng grimaced, it seemed that today he had the misfortune of kicking an iron plate.

As the saber bloody saber approached him, however, only resolve remained in his eyes. After all, kicking iron was only painful for mortals, shouldn't a vaunted immortal disdain such things? At that thought, a small smile crossed his lips as a large amount of his Qi rushed outward from Xing Zheng's body.

Immediately, every single sword phantom under his control started to hum with sword hymns that seemed to contain the laws of heaven and earth…






Xiang Min was having an absolutely terrible time. In just the last few moments a dozen razor-sharp sword phantoms had bisected him into pieces. The only reason he was still alive was the remnant of mental energy that existed within each of his blood seals that were fused with his daggers.

Each held hundreds of years of Blood Qi that had been extracted from his enemies and that very energy had been used to regenerate his body. Normally even attacks that could cleave small hills of earth-grade treasure stone in two would only leave a shallow cut on his skin however, these sword phantoms passed through him like paper! Already this was the third time he'd had to use the technique and the reserve of energy within his weapons was drained by almost half.

If this kept up he would run out of mental energy in a few seconds, before the seals even ran out of Blood Qi. Shivers ran up his spine as the wings on his back constantly blurred, sending him weaving between thousands of attacks. Each one was so close he could feel the wind on the edges of the blades as if every one of these uncountable attacks were being controlled by the most skilled swordsman he had ever encountered.

Sweat ran down his entire body as he worked overtime to simply send out enough attacks to make a small dent in the deluge of monstrous attacks that the azure-robed swordsman was sending out. Sparing the tiniest moment to observe the center of the conflict caused an even more profound shudder to crawl down his spine. There, within the network of the chained spherical sword arrays and the downpour of sword phantoms, an azure arc blurred at blinding speeds.

Every moment that Xing Min could process it appeared like dozens of afterimages of the arc, or the man within it, were present. In all of those appearances, he could be seen clashing with each of the Senior Sha Mu's attacks multiple times. Through all of this more sword phantoms that seemed to glow even brighter would zip away from the arc and afterimages as they appeared.

These attacks would be sent outward to fend off Xing Min or one of the others. Although he had only opened seven of his Qi Condensation meridians, it never occurred that someone at the peak of the realm would be this much stronger. It felt as if he and the other two were simply annoying the azure swordsman, occasionally inflicting minor damage.

Meanwhile, the two titans clashed in the middle of this storm, booming shockwaves pushed outward in a seemingly continuous chain of explosions. All around them huge chunks of earth remained suspended in the air as ravines and deep pits had been carved from the landscape. Everything for 1,000,000 square kilometers had been eviscerated and the damage extended over 1,000 km into the earth. What was left was only deep-buried natural treasures with insane strength able to constantly weather the shockwaves of the battle.

This caused the entire area to turn from a plain into a land filled with ravines containing large slabs of treasure rock with cuts on them. Those natural treasures that received those cuts were slowly absorbing the blood and sword energy into the land, causing it to suffuse into the environment. For years anything that came here would feel like blades that sapped away life force were lacerating their entire body.

However, Xing Min had no time to consider all of this as a brilliant set of sword strikes knocked a dozen of his weaving green slashes out of the air before arriving before him. With gritted teeth he blocked it as he was pushed backward 300 km, all the while blood seeping out of his mouth as cuts appeared across his body. The attack had been blocked; however, proximity to such potent sword energy had started to wound him.

Just as he was wondering what had caused that attack to be so powerful, his divine sense detected a massive surge of Qi from the storm at the center of the battlefield. As soon as his attention focused in that direction he saw every sword phantom glowing just as brighter with power than ever before.






Xing Zheng grunted as he took a kick to his side, cracking sounds ringing in his ears as he felt a few ribs give way. In response, he had landed a scathing cut across the left shoulder of Sha Mu while sending out a few phantoms while retreating. Add this to the new strength his techniques now carried and what resulted was the man now suffering multiple deep cuts that seemed to rend his body in three parts.

This had been something he was saving to show to his master once complete, attainment level at the Dao Foundation realm. In truth, he hadn't finished getting there as the true form would be understanding the natural laws of the world enough to empower the strikes by commanding those laws. What he had done was to emulate that by using a large portion of his own Qi, in essence, cheating to attain a pseudo-Dao Foundation strength.

All of this showed just how hard the fight had pushed him as Sha Mu had been able to keep him occupied, even being a small realm weaker. Combine this with the debilitating effects of the other demonic cultivators and his Qi reserves and mental energy were quickly depleting. Although to mortals this battle would seem like it lasted 30 seconds or so seconds, to those fighting the battle had felt like hours.

With a rough estimation, he felt like only a third of his Qi reserves remained while his mental energy was at half and that was only because of the excessive use of his Azure Water Sword. He hoped that pushing his phantom's strength temporarily would kill at least two of the demonic cultivators; however, it seemed that was only a hope. The pale-faced man spat out a mouthful of black blood and instantly a portal seemed to open to a dimension that contained a terrifying aura. Out of that place, a giant mandible reached out and tore off one of the man's arms which split into two with one-half entering the portal.

Meanwhile, the other half spread out and formed an opaque black bubble of blood around the man which blocked over ten thousand empowered sword phantoms before starting to fade. In the sky, the young-looking man let out a primal roar before ramming both of his daggers into his throat. Immediately afterward a giant red demonic face that was seemingly made of crimson blades appeared.

Each of the blades carried a different hue of light and they shot outward to form a screen of slashes that appeared crimson while seeming to contain every color of the world in its depths. This too blocked many attacks however, after 9,000 or so the face seemed to run out of energy, and the young man was turned into pieces. Although this seemed good his daggers appeared shortly after and shined briefly before burning into dust after restoring the young man completely.

At the very least he plummeted to the ground while seeming to be unconscious. This would give Xing Zheng a small amount of time with one less opponent to contend with. Sha Mu was the least affected, as would be expected, as he simply activated some technique to make the wings on his back glow brighter which seemed to make him faster and his saber stronger. However, this time each of his saber's swings, as well as the ones of the sabers he controlled in the air around him, seemed to carry the slightly delayed afterimage of six other such blades.

It seemed that the bulky blood cultivator was using some form of effect manipulation array to overlay the strength of all seven sabers in each swing. All of this happened the instant Xing Zheng empowered his attacks and before it finished he was preparing his next move. Already tens of thousands of sword phantoms were streaking through the air at each of the opponents.

Just as he pushed energy into his meridian inscription formation a voice seemed to physically enter his ears.

"So disappointing, still playing lapdog for the patriarch are you?" Suddenly the sound of a voice that Xing Zheng had never thought to hear again seemed to impossibly enter his ears.

That was the voice of a man treasured by the people of the empire, heralded as the greatest hero of the age among the mortal citizens, his brother, Xing Hai!
 
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Part 2. Ch. 14 Dragon Among Emperors
Xing Zheng barely contained an exhalation of surprise at hearing that voice and unconsciously he turned his head to the left. As he did so the world seemed to blur as his vision focused on the appearance of a handsome young man. He stood with an imperious demeanor as if his will alone were enough to conquer all that lay before him.

His shoulder-length midnight black hair seemed to flow with the same invisible wind that made his gray robes do the same. Adorned on the trimmings and cuffs of the robes were diverse scenes of swords and lightning. At the center of his chest was the crest of a black sword shaped like a lightning bolt atop a cloud of yellow lightning.

Behind him, the scenery seemed dull as a light drizzle seemed to cover the world in front of a backdrop of mountains that gave way to a set of step-like cliffs. These mountains formed a ring with an enormous mountain at the center that was surrounded by a basin-like depression which was in turn bisected by a calm circular river. All of this was hard for Xing Zheng to focus on though as even with his astonishing mental energy the sight of his brother in the flesh was almost too much.

Moments passed as the impact of Xing Hai's words seemed to land on him like an avalanche. Fire stirred in his stomach, an ember of anger that he thought was buried under centuries of training. Strangely enough, that fire felt subdued, almost as if its heat were being siphoned off to dull his anger.

Before the sentence even finished Xing Zheng had collected himself and a glint appeared in his eyes as he looked at the other man. For his part Xing Hai seemed to disdain the world, looking out over the cliff edge without even turning to address him.

"Harsh words for such a reunion. Tell me elder brother, since when did such enmity exist between us?" Xing Zheng spoke with a tone of trepidation.

His memories of recent events seemed hazy and it felt like he should be able to process events faster than this mundane mortal speech. As soon as the thought came to him it was like a lightning bolt striking his mind. Instantly he felt with his divine sense and realized that somehow his mind had started thinking of it as mental energy once more.

That had caused him to not notice his reserves depleting rapidly through that link of anger in his belly. Narrowing his eyes Xing Zheng calmed his heart and used his understanding of the flowing of all things, of water that follows the flow of a stream, of the flow sword strikes must follow in accordance with the way of the Azure Rain Sword style. Subconsciously his divine sense shaped into pale imitations of his phantom sword technique.

When they pushed outward it was like his divine sense was a weak stream running into a fortified fortress. Fear slowly started lingering in his mind before Xing Hai turned around, a strange glint in his eyes as a small smile formed on his face.

"Good, good, good! I knew no brother of mine was so weak, to fall to petty tricks and deceit. Show them little Zheng, the pride of the sons of the Xing Empire. Show them that in this world where evil lurks, crouching tigers lay to guard the weak. Show them the hidden dragon that has lain slumbering in this valley full of rain and loneliness!" Xing Hai's words were filled with pride and familial warmness as his eyes burned with a profoundness he had never possessed in life.

It was as if the Xing Hai standing in this realm were both the man he had grown up with and at the same time some idealized version of himself that had never come to be in this world. Currently, Xing Zheng had no time to think or understand this matter, however, as those words hit him with an even greater mental impact than hearing his dead brother's voice for the first time in over a decade. In an instant, his eyes revealed realization, understanding that the land before him was the Azure Rain Sword Sect.

That he was Xing Zheng, a proud elder of that sect, and was now on a mission to hunt down demonic cultivators. With a mental roar, his divine sense surged and started merging into countless sword phantom-like shapes which formed the visage of a dragon. As that dragon bellowed to the heavens and charged at the seal in his mind a small smile formed on his lips.

He may not specialize in divine sense techniques however, something he had learned in his brief time with Li Cheng spoke to him at that moment. It had been a sentence that encapsulated the Heavenly Infinite Sword Sect's general mindset when it came to fighting 'if brute force isn't working then you're just not using enough of it'. Viewing the dragon of divine sense bearing down on the seal in his mind he thought that although that particular mindset didn't align with his path, he could certainly see the appeal.






Sweat mixed with blood and dirt as Sha Mu twisted the force from his seven sabers to separate, enforce and smash through over 100 different sword phantoms. As he did so twice that many attacks thrust forward through gaps in his defense. Right before these attacks made contact a dense rune seemed to appear that roughly depicted a humanoid holding a large saber.

Quickly his divine sense worked overtime to separate the force of the return stroke that had followed his original slash. This technique barely countered another 300 hundred slashing sword phantoms that seemed to twist in a flowing river to worm at the gaps in his defense once more. Cutting force raced between his sabers, each one angled just so to run along the path of dozens among dozens of sword phantoms.

Meanwhile, parts of the slash were spread to the runes on his robe, meeting the thrusts head-on while eliciting small shockwaves right above Sha Mu's robes. The overall result looked like seven red lines curving in complex patterns all around him with dragons at their heads as they crushed endless amounts of small azure swords that seemed to try to avoid and move past them. Closer the force from the runes formed a lattice on his body of slashing red lines that met the thrust like a thin layer of armor formed from effect manipulation slashes.

All of this happened in a blur and the azure sword phantoms twisted at the last moment, combining to meet four of the sabers head-on while only a few were left to clash with the remaining three. Loud booming noises echoed out as the four red saber dragons were broken causing three deep wounds to appear across Sha Mu's body. The fourth combined attack went wide, scything into the ground below at an angle and continuing into the cavernous ravines causing destruction for an area of 2,000,000 square kilometers and continuing into the ground below.

Creaking noises echoed out from the now deep ravines below them as mountains that had formed from natural treasure stone deep in the earth were sheared while stronger material weathered the effect casting wide shadows behind them. Inwardly he was amazed at this effect as the dampening formation should have been reducing the destruction of the battle by half as a side effect of containing energy within this area. Yet already the after-effects of the battle stretched past 1,000,000 square kilometers already.

Blood seeped all over his body as similar liquid seemed to flow endlessly from the seal on his saber, attempting to heal him. Beside him, a mountain-sized chunk of earth measuring 1,000 square km in size was slowly rising into the air. It had been launched with such force that it seemed to still be moving even to his senses and it contained a deep feeling of sturdy earth.

Growling Sha Mu stopped himself from falling as he had slowly been doing and leveled a look at the azure-robed swordsman. Viscousness flashed in his eyes and the wings on his back flashed with a brilliant red as he rushed forward, a crescent arc of red weaving through the debris that seemed to float in the air. In truth none of the falling objects were truly frozen, speed like that would require far higher-level cultivators who could actually fight at such speeds.

All of this debris was just falling incredibly slowly and so Sha Mu had to pay mind to its motion as he moved. Although he could break through much of it with his body that would waste energy and precious time. With a mental shake of his head, he noticed that the next wave of endless swords seemed… off?

The power and volume were still present however, they seemed to lack the life and soul of the powerful swordsman who commanded them. Whereas before each attack would twist, feint, and attempt to angle for weak points these seemed more like the spells of sages that were thrown forth without the skill of a weapon wielder. In only a moment Sha Mu spotted that his opponent seemed to be lost in a momentary daze.

Clarity seemed to be returning to the man's eyes but it was slow, far too slow in this battle. With a roar he charged forward, not caring for any obstacles as his saber slashes out in a continuous arc as it weaved back and forth in a circular pattern before him while he flourished it side to side to keep the attack going. Each of the other sabers did this as well and each one seemed to form a red line that resembled a bloody wing.

That wing shined with domineering sharpness and it ate hungrily at both his internal energy reserves as well as the accumulated Blood Qi in his Blood Seal. In a matter of moments, the skies seemed to turn black and all color drained from the world as those seven blood wings formed a circular razor. Hundreds of years of accumulated slaughter and mental energy that had been imbued into Sha Mu's seal evaporated faster than any mortal could perceive.

Beastial cries seemed to shake the world and natural treasure rocks hundreds of km in size simply evaporated in front of him. As his divine sense dwindled, Sha Mu let loose one final battle cry and finished the last swing of his saber. Completing 9,999 continuous saber swings with all seven sabers for a total of 69,993 attacks fused into those seven wings.

He had launched this attack from only 1 km2 away, practically touching for cultivators of their level. When only 200m remained between the azure swordsman and the seven wings that seemed to make space ripple with their cutting power, a tyrannical roar seemed to erupt from the man. In a blur, all of the sword spheres collapsed in an explosion of bright light as 9 arcs of silver raced to meet the attack.

Explosions ripped outward and almost everything within a 2,000,000 square km area was turned to dust with the damage continuing into the earth beneath for over 2,000 km. Far into the earth, some monuments of stone that exuded ancient feelings stood stalwart in the face of that destruction, seeming like mountains among the black abyss below. Booms echoed out in the huge expanding crater as these incredibly tough treasures were eroded away dozens of meters at a time.

Enormous areas of calm appeared behind them as if these areas were the shadows of immortal champions who had used their bodies to shoulder the heavens for the land itself. Sha Mu's pupils shrank as the edge of the explosion approached him as a wall of silvery destructive light. Gritting his teeth he made six hand seals and shouted.

"Blood vessel maidens, offer your power in accordance with ancient oaths!" As he spoke the six sabers alongside him exploded in novas of blood-red light.

Inside those novas, the twisted visages of beautiful women writhed in agony as their shrill voices echoed outward. Each of them was ethereal as if they were only spirits left over as remnants in this world. Even with this, their mournful wails spoke of the torment they had endured in life and of the power they wielded.

All of these red novas and wails converged on Sha Mu and formed a red orb with him at the center. Crimson blood seemed to suffuse his being as the sounds of the spirits echoed outward with great pressure and power. With each sound, a dense dome of crimson lines was released that seemed to contain the softer wails of crimson dragons.

These dragons carried the wisp of the lineage of a true dragon and even with them being mere remnants exuded a pressure that surpassed any of his previous saber techniques. Soon the entire world turned white and the shockwave enveloped this brilliant sight, the deafening noise drowning out even those mournful cries.






Xing Zheng breathed out a mouthful of turbid air as he quickly pointed to several places on his body. Small explosions echoed out in the relative quiet that the previous clash had left. All across his body, red scars could be seen pulsing with the crimson light of Blood Qi that was constantly reforming and slashing once more with remnant energy.

This was effect manipulation on a level that he had never seen before, something that imprinted divine sense on the technique to make the remnant Qi self-perpetuate until all energy was expended. All of this didn't even mention the Qi that he had lost control of inside himself from the forceful stripping of his divine sense. As the energy injected from those points rushed through his body it purged much of the remnant rampant Qi as well as blood Qi while causing Xing Zheng to cough up multiple mouthfuls of bile and blood.

Gritting his teeth he endured the pain as he worked as fast as he could to regain his wits. Moments felt like minutes that stretched into hours but eventually, he gathered himself. In all this process had only taken two seconds however, at the speed with which the battle had commenced this was actually a long time! Now that his senses were back to him he understood that there had never been a demonic cultivator that held a spear.

Instead, there was an older man dressed in resplendent yellow robes that were now stained with blood. His kneeling form stood atop one of the many spires that had formed into the wreckage of the fight. Around him were the refuse and flesh of a giant pulsating yellow eye.

All around the battlefield similar eyes could be seen near where the cultivator who had controlled the centipedes had placed some of his formations. This man had hidden his strength and made an illusion that his attacks that siphoned divine energy were spear attacks. By using the cover of the black blood formations and insects his eye constructs were able to hide in plain sight and slowly weaken Xing Zheng.

Had the fight continued at an even pace for some time that drain would have ultimately resulted in his death. Using his pseudo-Dao-foundation level attainment had forced that yellow-robed cultivator to activate his life-saving technique and burst forward with his hidden 10 meridian Qi condensation strength. At the same time, that eye's primary attack was the illusion where he had seen Xing Hai.

If that was the case though what was that last sentence from the illusion? A trick? With a growl he refocused on the fight, knowing there was no time to figure these things out. Using an effort of will the last remaining energy in his body gathered as his meager divine sense marshaled forth. Although he was cycling energy from the environment he knew it would take time to recover. Knowing this he slapped a storage bag that was hidden deep within his robes.

As he did this tens of thousands of low-grade spirit crystals appeared around him, ever increasing in number. The moment they appeared these glowing crystals would dissolve into dust as Qi poured into Xing Zheng's body. This would introduce a large number of impurities into his body and likely give him even further wounds that would take decades to heal.

Thinking of this his mind went to the talisman filled with his master's energy. He could solve all of this by simply using that life-saving treasure; however, Xing Zheng knew what consequences would go along with that. With determination, he marshaled his remaining divine sense, which had only four-tenths remaining after that illusion attack, as he would need it for this technique.

Cracking sounds issued throughout his body as several of his meridians flared with agonizing pain that made being hit by heavenly lighting seem mild in comparison. Those were clear signs that his foundation was damaged making using his meridian inscription formation much harder. Calming breaths passed his lips as the enemies gathered themselves and began to approach.

Sha Mu had assumed the entirely red visage of a demon with three pairs of wings that had a single larger wing at the middle of his back. His red skin was marked with countless runes that seemed to gnaw at the mind of the viewer and his saber glowed like it was the blood vein of some ancient primeval god. The black-robed cultivator had transformed entirely as well and now sported three heads that were the bodies of giant centipedes while countless black spell circles floated around him containing bubbling black blood that formed lances.

Fortunately, the young man with the daggers was nowhere to be seen and Xing Zheng couldn't detect him so either his hiding skills were phenomenal or he had died at some point. For his part, the yellow-robed cultivator continued standing on that peak a thousand of km below them although he did seem to be absorbing the eye constructs to reform the one that surrounded him. As he opened his eyes to meet their hateful gazes Xing Zheng's expression was calm and sad.

In his expression almost a thousand years of loneliness were contained, almost a thousand years of pondering in the rain with only a sword in hand. Perhaps they had thought this was the eternal rain, yet he knew inwardly that none of them had truly understood what the rain was. With one last breath the formation within his meridians activated and the entire sky seemed to darken.

Remaining within Xinn Zheng's body was only a sliver of divine sense and Qi as the rest rushed out, filling the echoes left by his uncountable sword techniques. He could feel each and every one of them as they started to form, filling with the ambient energy of the world as his divine sense worked to seize the leftover power that lingered in the air. In total 98,745,623 sword phantoms were seized… and multiplied 10,000 times.

As this happened the skies darkened under the shade of almost 1,000,000,000,000 attacks, the azure light diluting due to the shape as a gloom was cast over a circular area that spanned 3,000,000 square kilometers with him at the center. With a serene expression and a force of will to stay conscious Xing Zheng slashed down with his Azur Water Sword causing a clear ringing sound to wash over the battlefield. A line appeared before him as if his blade had sundered space itself and it dispersed to head into the sky as the Qi phantoms fell like the rain.

Heaven and earth shuddered as space rippled with fluctuations at the presence of that power.


*An instant births 10,000 Epochs of rain…** Xing Zheng's divine sense spread out, no longer caged by the constraints of the suppression formations.

That divine sense carried all the sadness he had experienced in his life of cultivation, all of the struggle and triumph, the grief and hardship. In that single moment it felt like the entirety of his being was contained… almost. It was as if something was missing, some part that was so ephemeral even Xing Zheng himself couldn't detect the unfinished sentiment towards his cultivation.






In the east, a man sitting atop an incredibly tall mountain that overlooked an eternal rainstorm opened his eyes. As he did so the world shuddered at his focused attention as he looked to the north with a complicated expression on his face.






In the northern plains themselves, an old man sat high in the sky on a continent millions of square kilometers in size that seemed teeming with life. All around the continent and contained a sea of endless grass that seemed to sway with a wind that was alive. This old man had a narrow gray beard that stretched to his belly button and long white hair.

He sat in a lotus position at the center of the continent with only pants on and a bow slung across his back. As those ripples reached outward for the first time in over two thousand years this old man opened his eyes and a glint appeared in them. Almost immediately as it did a cold harrumphed sounded out next to him and the pressure of a sword seemed to touch his neck.

With a wry smile, the divine sense around the old man twisted to communicate a sense of helplessness and he slowly closed his eyes.






Meanwhile in an opulent palace grounds that spanned multiple lesser regions sat a palace that seemed innocuous and hidden. This place carried a quaint atmosphere and the decorations lining the many halls gave off an ancient feeling.

In the grand hall, surrounded by rows of tapestries depicting heroes of a mortal empire, sat the Xing Patriarch. A sword floated in front of him that seemed to shimmer while appearing and disappearing from reality. Suddenly his divine sense detected fluctuations in space itself that seemed to emanate from the border of the empire through a grand array.

At that moment the sword completely dissolved as the middle-aged-looking man opened his eyes. His long white hair seemed to flow with an invisible wind as a complicated expression seemed to arise on his face.

**A dragon among emperors is it?** This thought was almost a whisper and even if anyone was present they would be unclear if this was a true divine sense message or simply the fluctuations of the world.



All of this happened at the same time as the sky seemed to fall on the central area of the northern plains within the Twisted Territories lesser region. Amid an area that many in the heights of the immortal heavens deemed insignificant a faint waiver seemed to echo throughout the Grand Dao itself as that waiver built into a barely perceptible murmur…
 
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Part 2. Ch. 15 Sword of the Eternal Echo
Power washed over the northern plains area, rushing forward like a wave. To the west, various beasts called out in fear as they ran towards the sword peaks to seek refuge. As the power traveled further north the waters of the Flowing Grass River trembled like a small stream as the shockwave sent ripples into ancient waters.

Eastward the fringes of the dense forests that served as a buffer between the Shores of the Sea of Myriad Swords shores shook. Countless stout trees that had stood for generations vibrated to their core as entire flocks of birds fled from their high branches. Southward the lesser nobles that called the outer region of the twisting bowl mountain range felt the very mountains tremble at the might that was unleashed.

At the center of all this destruction was a battlefield that stretched for over 3,000,000 square km. For almost 1,500 km in any direction from the center of the plains, one would only find ruin and devastation. Where once stood flat earth now stretched cavernous ravines that gave way to seemingly endless abysses that were over a thousand km deep.

Areas of lesser destruction stretched out like shadows behind edifices of hard natural treasure stone that stuck out of those depths like the fingers of long-dead titans buried deep within the earth. Sparse plateaus were formed from various areas where great sword scars had swept through the ground at shallow angles, spreading their destruction for hundreds of thousands of square km.

While all of this was happening a great lull of silence pervaded the center of this great battlefield. Only the sounds of tumbling rock and wind could be heard as clouds of dust settled. On a peak that stood some hundred km from the ground level of the plain, Xing Zheng knelt with his sword pierced into the ground.

This particular peak only had a small circular area measuring around 100 meters in radius for him to stand. At the moment this was all he could manage as the sword strike to clear the mountain peak caused him to cough up a mouthful of blood. Through all of this, he simply gritted his teeth and slowly worked to cycle his divine sense in his body while gathering a pitiful amount of Qi.

The fingers of his free hand were pressed into the semblance of a sword and now and then they would occasionally blur to jab into a point on his body. Each of these movements caused him immense pain and was followed by him spitting out bile and black liquid. These were the remaining Blood Qi that was still wreaking havoc in his body and the impurities the low-quality spirit stones had imparted into him.
This was one of the reasons spirit stones were usually only used slowly when gathering and refining Qi as like most natural materials they contained a diverse set of energy. Consume it all too quickly and one simply couldn't refine these extras out, causing them to either take extra mental energy to control or allow them to seep into the body.

Heartache welled in his chest alongside the physical pain that was wracking his body. In the last few exchanges, he had to detonate those silver sword treasures with a self-destruction technique. He had been refining and strengthening those blades for over 100 years and was quite fond of them.

To date, they were his most prized accomplishments as a refiner and the basis for his advancement in the craft. What added to this was that the blades hadn't even been enough to kill the enemy! After that, he'd only been able to use all of the spirit stones he had on hand to activate his meridian inscription formation.

Honestly, he was regretting not doing that from the start as the demonic cultivators had done a number on him. At least half of his meridians were damaged with four of them completely cracked. This meant even if he had energy in his body it would be used at only half his current cultivation strength.

Lastly, although he could feel that the attack had killed two of the opponents, at least one was still alive. This was apparent simply since blood was constantly seeping out of his wounds and drawing small streams of vital energy away into the dispersing dust cloud. Only an alive Blood Cultivator could do such a thing and it was one of the reasons they were so deadly on massive battlefields.

Living targets had great control over their life force and as such it couldn't be stolen until the target died, preferably right after they died as it began to quickly disperse after death. However, these blood art practitioners could sap away small amounts from those that had been wounded. The weaker and more wounded their prey the more the demonic cultivator could take.

From this it was easy to see how one of them could draw life force from hundreds on a large battlefield, resulting in obscene amounts of power. Previously this had been to Xing Zheng's advantage as the opponents outnumbered him making their meager energy stealing negligible. Now that he was so injured though he was losing a decent amount of life force.

Not enough to be life-threatening but definitely enough to hinder him in battle. After all, he barely had enough energy in his body to form a few thousand sword phantoms with a normal level strength. Although his physical body was powerful and quick, that was relative when dealing with other cultivators.
Even if one moved at high speeds, if your opponent could move at equal speeds it was the same as two mortals fighting in a relative sense. Suddenly from the dust, a red gleam flashed and Xing Zheng rose to meet it with a thrust from his sword, sending two phantoms out in the process to attack his opponent's hands and the other to act as a support to his blade.

He guessed that Sha Mu was the enemy that was left alive and when comparing physical strength both the other man's weapon and cultivation style put him above Xing Zheng in this aspect. This guess was quickly confirmed as a miserable-looking Sha Mu appeared above him, slamming a saber down. The force multiplied and Xing Zheng was pushed into the ground a few centimeters before he took a step back.

Quickly the other man flew back a few meters as well and the two stood facing each other with grim expressions.

**Do you have any more tricks up your sleeve? What's next? An immortal-grade treasure? A hidden army of sect disciples hiding just over the horizon? You're like a cockroach, just refusing to die!** Sha Mu's divine sense carried a hint of madness and a force like his saber as it rippled through the air at Xing Zheng.

**Hmph, an interesting accusation coming from someone who attempted to ambush me with four others. I thought strength reigned supreme in the demonic path? Your brother would be disappointed.** Xing Zheng answered back, keeping his tone calm as a lake while seeming to contain a deep and dangerous beast.

**Hahaha! My brother?!??! Good, Good, Good! You really know how to talk. Let's see if your sword is just as good or if you simply like bullying juniors!** Sha Mu's response contained an even greater sense of madness and unwillingness as if Xing Zheng had caused something within him to break.

For his part, Xing Zheng was slightly taken aback, bullying juniors? Was he simply supposed to hold out his neck for the opponent's saber? This didn't last long though as the demonic cultivator charged as soon as he was done sending out the message.

Taking a slow breath Xing Zheng instantly used his waning Qi to draw three paths for his movement technique. Following the first he swept out to his left, rushing off the mountain peak and landing on the wall of a higher peak. Behind him a red blur approached as a vortex of saber slashes moved in front of it, charging at high speeds.

Gritting his teeth Xing Zheng triggered the two sword phantoms he had thrown to the sides as he moved, pushing them along the two remaining trails of his movement technique. The sword phantoms turned into beams of azure light as he kicked off the wall, charging forward to meet the vortex. With a flick of his wrist, a circular fan of five more phantoms shot out, hitting the vortex in places where the force was weakest.

Slashing force billowed out in all directions as the vortex exploded. Not missing a beat the dispersed slashing force quickly converged and formed crimson wing-shaped arcs that drew lazy curves to come at Xing from all directions. Sha Mu meanwhile bore down on him with a slash that seemed to bely his brutish style as the cut elegantly curved into a spiral hooking under his high guard.

In the air, they collided as Sha Mu took two deep wounds to his back while Xing Zheng was cut in the chest all the way to his sternum. Blood soaked the front of his robes and drifted in a hazy mist toward the demonic cultivator. Neither missed a beat and the moment they touched another surface each man blurred as an arc to meet the other.

Dozens of exchanges happened in only six seconds as wounds continued to accumulate on each of them. As the attacks continued a manic feeling rose in Xing Zheng's chest, like a call that had been dormant for hundreds of years. It was the call of battle, the will to fight an opponent and defeat them through sweat and blood!

Slowly a small smile started to appear on his face as his Qi seemed to dwindle while his fighting spirit rose! Less and less phantoms appeared as his pure swordsmanship revealed itself like a dragon. Wrist cuts flowed, seeming to wind around Sha Mu's saber slashes like he was a clumsy oaf.

Meanwhile every time their blades clashed it was almost as if Xing Zheng were clairvoyant as his weapon appeared at just the correct angle to press his center of gravity. The other man was helpless as a twist of his wrist pushed the saber off center and a new wound would appear on Sha Mu's body. All around the world seemed to speak to him, he could hear the echoes of the techniques.

Each echo whispered its secrets and desires allowing him to understand the force, angle, and intent of the strike. Slowly even more became revealed to him as the techniques that had been used earlier in the battle seemed to echo all around them, speaking of everything from how they were performed to how the Qi that powered them was used. Suddenly even the Qi itself seemed to contain the faintest echo, a memory of how the laws of the world itself allowed the energy to take that form.

Memories came unbidden to him at that moment, moments of sitting in the rain on a cliff that overlooked the Azure Rain Sword Sect's basin. At that moment he realized, that too was an echo. An echo so profound that it had imprinted on his very soul, something that was imprinted on the soul of its user!

That was it, the reason he felt something missing from his swordsmanship. He had never been fated with the Azure Rain Sword Style, it had been imparted into his soul due to him being sensitive to the echoes of the world. In a place where the old nascent soul monster practiced his techniques, it was as if the world was screaming at him compared to the techniques on display here.

As the realization slipped into his mind, a great sadness welled up in Xing Zheng's heart. It was a sadness that he was not his master's fated disciple, the one who would carry on his legacy. He would never let these techniques go, they were the essence of his martial arts and would remain at the core of his power. However, Xing Zheng wasn't and had never been the eternal storm, he had simply been witness to its glorious echo.

Suddenly as the two were set to clash for their next engagement he used his movement technique to veer back to that flat mountaintop. Blood fell all around him as a veritable mist of vital energy poured toward Sha Mu. For his part, the demonic cultivator was now missing an arm and was sporting even more deep wounds across his body.

They were closing slowly; however, it was obvious that he couldn't last much longer.

**I have to thank you, this encounter was… enlightening.** Xing Zheng smiled sadly as he looked at the other man.

**Hmph, enlightening indeed. Who would've thought this backwater would hold a monster like you? I've met plenty of powerful Qi condensation realm cultivators however, you are something else** Sha Mu shook his head just ever so slightly as his voice echoed in Xing Zheng's mind, bewilderment alongside a now tempered madness.

**Powerful? It seems that you've indeed been sheltered, Fellow Daoist. Among those monsters that live in the spirit regions, we are but grains of sand. My master once meant a Qi Condensation cultivator from a heaven-shaking faction, with a single spell he was defeated while at the beginning of the Core Formation realm.** Xing Zheng shook his head in response.

That information seemed to genuinely affect Sha Mu as he looked back with disbelief in his eyes.

**Impossible! You're lying!** Sha Mu's divine sense seemed to contain fury and a profound unwillingness to accept that information.
**As they say, the Dao is endless and there are infinite possibilities. Let me show you but a small part of it so that you may better understand the difference between heaven and earth. May your next reincarnation be as a kinder soul** Xing Zheng's divine sense was as calm as water as it seemed to reflect a pond. **' Sword of the eternal echo: First style, Mirror pool'.**

The name had just come to him as if the technique had always existed and was simply waiting to be discovered. Although many words were exchanged the actual time elapsed was less than a second and in a blur Xing Zheng raised his sword to the sky. As he did this his left had formed countless seals that formed six formation cores in the air in front of him.

In tandem, these six cores hummed in tune with his remaining meridians as his sword drew a strange pattern in the air while it was raised. In the blink of an eye, the sky seemed to turn calm like the smoothest pool of water before swords started to appear underneath the surface one by one. Each of these swords seemed to condense from the laws of the world as barely perceptible whisps seemed to converge onto them from uncountable numbers of places on the battlefield.

If a high-level cultivator had observed the battle from the start until now they would realize that each of those locations was a place where the demonic cultivators had used one of their techniques. Reflecting this, each sword seemed to carry a shadow of every technique that they had used. The result was swords that swirled with black blood and multi-colored crimson arcs while the blades looked like dark crimson swords with ethereal energy dragons that had glowing yellow eyes at their tips.

Overall there weren't many of them compared to his normal meridian inscription formation, around 10,000, and the techniques contained within were only around the level of a mortal grandmaster. Combined, however, they contained a terrifying might as each blade seemed to form a vortex as the air twisted around them. Each sword lay just below the surface and as one looked up at the surface it was as if a shadow of each demonic cultivator was standing behind every sword, holding it.

With a final swing of his sword, Xing Zheng sent the blades downward as beams of black light. From the outside it was like 10,000 black beams that contained the void descended upon Sha Mu and pierced him as he simply looked on with dumbfounded confusion. Before he could even make a sound his body simply corroded away as a small crater was left atop the mountain peak, sizzling with an energy that seemed to contain the will of all the demonic cultivators.

Exhaling a breath of turbid air Xing Zheng fell to his knees and slowly pulled himself into a lotus position to begin circulating his energy. Suddenly a terrifying aura erupted in front of him and he opened his eyes to see a single drop of blood rise from the ground where Sha Mu had been standing. That drop instantly expanded, forming an old man who was made entirely of blood.

He had long hair that reached to the small of his back as well as narrow eyes that spoke of a shrewd disposition. Long martial robes in a classic style covered his thin body as the old blood man walked on the air as if it were the ground. All the surroundings seemed to tremble with each of his steps and Xing Zheng barely maintained his consciousness under the man's gaze.

**Hmph, incompetent as always. It's your misfortune young man, you seem to be plenty competent and have a bright future. Normally I'd steer clear of killing someone of your talent however, you killed my only good son and it seems you're out of life-saving treasures. Blame it on the will of the heavens that whatever powerful master you serve didn't give you an escape treasure.** The old man's divine sense shook Xing Zheng's mind to the core and it contained a cold and calculative will.

Instantly Xing Zheng willed his master talisman into his hand and crushed it before the old man could even finish sending out his message. A globe of sword phantoms that seemed to contain an endless amount of more such constructs appeared around him. It was just like every time he saw his master's techniques as if each of his sword phantoms contained as many attacks as the 'An Instant Births 10,000 Epochs of Rain' that he had just used.

The old man seemed dumbfounded as several bloody wing-shaped arcs simply dissipated upon hitting the globe of swords. At the same time, the sky seemed to tear as a deafening boom rang out across the Twisted Territories. A blue arc seemed to instantly cover the sky and the ground of the peak Xing Zheng sat on trembled as that terrifying energy arrived next to him in a moment.

There, standing on a wide 10-meter-long sword stabbed into the ground at an angle, was his master!

**Senior… it seems there was a misunderstanding. I hope that you can sho-** Before the old man's divine sense message even finished he turned into an arc that rushed into the distance.

With a cold harumph, Lin Qiu simply raised an open hand and closed it. Instantly a huge globe of sword phantoms appeared in the sky with its center being the fleeing crimson arc. That globe spanned over a third of the lesser region and stretched so far into the sky Xing Zheng could only barely sense the top of it. In this single attack, he could sense there was enough power to crush the entire twisted territories and most likely deal substantial damage to the adjacent lesser regions as well.

As soon as his master closed his hand the globe collapsed onto a single point, completely obliterating the fleeing arc. The cataclysmic shockwave that Xing Zheng expected never happened, however, as the force seemed to smooth out like a calm drizzle. Within the technique the destructive wave seemed to span outward far past Xing Zheng's senses, depositing small bits of the attack everywhere high in the air.

Before he could even process what had happened it was over and Lin Qui was looking at him with a mix of worry and warmth. Another boom seemed to rip the air and a man in brown and golden robes appeared in the sky above them atop a cloud of shining golden bees.

"Senior Lin Qui, it seems that I've arrived late. On behalf of the sect, I apologize for this lapse!" The man bowed to the waste towards his master as sweat seemed to bead on his brow.

Xing Zheng could sense a powerful presence from the other man. It didn't surprise him that he decided to speak rather than use divine sense as doing so when it wasn't needed within non-spirit regions was considered rather rude. Perhaps it was just tradition or something he had yet to learn; however, it seemed the man was doing everything he could to not irritate his master.

"It's fine, I should be apologizing for the mess that my disciple has made. Please, junior Duan Zan, send my sincerest apologies to Sect Master Dai Yin." Lin Qiu said calmly, his words carrying a sense of something ancient along with great power.

"This is nothing, senior. However, I'll convey your words to the Sect Master. If there's nothing else I've personal matters to attend to." The man replied with another bow while his tone remained respectful.

With a simple nod of Lin Qui's head, the man disappeared in a golden arc and the two were left alone on the mountain.

"You've been busy, disciple. Although I recall that little girl requesting you to be a bit more conspicuous last time we exchanged words, the current circumstances hardly seem to qualify." Lin Qui slowly walked over and took a seat opposite him, just a few meters away.

"Indeed, it was a mistake on my part that led to all of this." Xing Zheng shook his head while sighing. "It has been so long since an enemy has pushed me to this extent, arrogance was my folly today."

"Oh? And what makes you think that it was a mistake?" Lin Qui quirked up an eyebrow in question as he seemed to pull out a small sitting table and tea set from thin air.

"How could it not be? Hundreds of plains nomads died simply to the scheming of these demonic cultivators and the battle shook the entire area. I can't even begin to imagine how much damage I've caused to those living here, how many died simply in the after-effects of my battle." He looked down at the floor as he spoke, clearly attempting to come to terms with the battle.

Xing Zheng had of course participated in battles that caused massive amounts of destruction. However, that was always in predetermined areas such as desolate lesser regions that weren't inhabited. This had been different, destroying an area that was lived in by so many people.

It was so spread that even the empire may never be able to determine the entire scope of the damages, tens of thousands had probably died with entire nomad tribes now lost to the annals of time. A solemn feeling spread throughout his mind as he worked to come to terms with that, to understand the words that Li Cheng had said to him just five years ago. To only administer the justice that was within reach of his sword, within sight of his eyes.

This also put into context just how impressive the foreign disciple's feat of skill had been. According to him, the demonic cultivator was about to destroy a large part of the lesser region, to prevent such destruction and contain it to such a degree was beyond impressive. Xing Zheng felt lost and… alone.

Loneliness was something that had been ingrained into his bones for centuries now; however, it never felt so tiring. It was buffered away by his sect, his master, and his senior apprentice brothers. Although his master didn't have many other disciples he had a few and speaking with them had always allowed him to ward away the worst of his loneliness.

At this moment that all felt like it was slowly slipping away, or perhaps it always had been and he was only now realizing it. With his enlightenment during the battle, he now knew that one day he would leave the Azure Rain Sword Sect. Perhaps not today, perhaps not even in a thousand years… but eventually he would leave.

Looking up at his master he saw the smiling warm face of his teacher, ever unchanging as the visage of a handsome and youthful middle-aged man. Understanding was present in his eyes as he looked at Xing Zheng with the calmness of a deep ocean, one that had existed since ancient times.

"Teacher, this disciple has been unruly and unfilial; however, I ask that you indulge me one last time. There are matters I must attend to, things that must be done with my own hands. If teacher has no need of me then I shall take my leave." Xing Zheng struggled to sit up and kowtow three times before rising to his feet.

"And where shall you go my disciple? Where is it that the path takes you?" Lin Qui closed his eyes as he sipped on his tea, speaking so quietly that his voice was barely a whisper.

"Where the world speaks and the heavens have answers. I go towards the peak as all cultivators do, although I know not the way." Xing Zheng's voice was also low as he stopped with his back facing his master to speak, deep sadness ladening his words.

"Go then, go where the world speaks, and may the heavens guide your path. Just try to stop giving this old man so many heart attacks, these are expensive after all." Lin Qui chuckled slightly with his last words as a blur shot out towards Xing Zheng.

He caught it by reflex and it was revealed to be a talisman, the same as the one that had saved his life. With a brief turn back and a nod, Xing Zheng started a slow, limping journey, down the mountain. As he left a shadow seemed to detach from the underside of the stone sword that Lin Qui had used to arrive.

That shadow revealed a middle-aged man with eyes that were slanted slightly. He had short auburn hair that came to his shoulders, braided into many small braids. Along his back was a large sword that was held within a sheath that seemed to be made entirely of shifting ink-black runes.

A sleek pair of vibrant green wings were tucked behind his back and he seemed to have concern on his face as he approached Lin Qui, looking in the direction that Xing Zheng had just left.

"Teacher, are you sure that youngest junior apprentice brother should be traveling with such injuries? Let's at least carry him to his destination, he's been reduced to walking after all! The man's voice was rough and he had concern laced into his words.

"It's fine, this is the path he chose. Who are we to deny him whatever way he wishes to walk? Come now, sit and have some tea, your youngest junior apprentice brother left his unfinished!" Lin Qui chuckled once again and shook his head before motioning with his hand for the man.






Fan Zhong grunted with irritation as he practiced his morning forms. Normally this would help calm his mind however, today it was bringing none of that. No, what was troubling him was that his teacher had been gone for over four months and still hadn't returned!

Not only this, but after his disappearance, a great calamity in the outside world happened, killing many while causing great trouble. The few city-states that traded with the Valley had become silent as reports that the Wei clan was hurriedly fighting off a beast wave were resounding throughout the gossip mill. It was said that a great immortal battle had scared the spirit beasts of the plains and caused them to stampede into a rarely-seen huge beast wave!

With these rumors, it was impossible for Fan Zhong to not worry and he had been struggling to focus on his studies within the sect. Perhaps he should make a journey to Butont to-

His thoughts were cut short as a hand landed on his shoulder. Whirling with staff in hand he turned to see the smiling face of Xing Zheng, standing within the nearly empty early morning training arena. The old swordsman was leaning on a cane and had a few new scars on his face; however, he was back.
 
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Part 2. Ch. 16 Sect life
Laughter filled a small room on the second floor of the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect's guest residence wing. Inside sat Fan Zhong and Xing Zheng alongside Fan Yong as they exchanged words while sharing warm wine. The room was sparsely decorated with only a single shelf lining one wall above a plain bed.

In the corners by the doorway that led out of the room were two torch stands that danced with flames while several talismans were attached to their stands to help keep out rain and balance the temperature within. The two youths were listening with focus as the old swordsman told of the battle that he had fought.

"It was then that a single drop of blood took the form of an old man who gave off a terrifying presence! I immediately used the talisman that my master had given me for life-saving events like that, if it was used only a second later then I fear all would've been lost!" Xing Zheng's tone conveyed excitement and action as he embellished his telling of the tale.

He was enjoying the fanfare and it seemed to be doing him good. Inwardly the feeling of loneliness that had followed him for the month-long walk back to the valley was covered as if a warm blanket were smothering it. Simply seeing and talking to the young fan clan scions sent him back to a simpler time, one where he could sit and regale the younger generation.

Often he would do this when there was nothing to do within the sect, giving out tidbits of wisdom or fascinating new arrivals with cultivation tips. Although Xing Zheng enjoyed his privacy and seclusion he was still human after all. Thinking of that his mind turned to how injured he still was and estimating the recovery time.

It seemed that he would be doing a lot of 'living' his life as even his best estimate put a full recovery in around 20-30 years. As he worked to wrack his brain for some way to recover faster a voice seemed to lull him from his thoughts.

"Teacher! Are you even listening?" Fan Zhong sounded impatient and his words slurred slightly as he spoke.

"Hmph, as if I could stop hearing you, perhaps even the heavens heard your blustering." Xing Zheng replied with a wry smile on his face as he focused his attention on the young man.

"Oh? Well, what do you think then?" Fan Zhong's tone was haughty and carried a tone of challenge as he raised his nose into the air indignantly.

"That's…" Xing Zheng internally winced as he realized that with his weakened divine sense he truly had missed whatever the youth had been saying. "Oh fine, I wasn't paying attention, look at you being an unfilial disciple. Can't you see that your teacher is severely injured? And here you are abusing me in my weakened state!"

Slight amounts of red tinged his face and he could feel that the alcohol was affecting him more than normal. Harsh mental blockades threatened to clamp down on his emotions, allowing him to raise himself to peak combat effectiveness at any time. However, he simply let his thoughts stay at ease while enjoying the back and forth. It felt good to simply act his role, seniors were allowed to be grumpy after all.






Sweat beaded down Fan Yong's brow as he carefully controlled the image of the runes in his mind. Below him was a cauldron that bubbled with a thick brown liquid that gave off a heavenly smell. A small flame that burned with incredible heat sat under all of this as an array of five glowing runes lined the stone floor in a pentagonal shape around the base of the cauldron. Inside were a total of 16 ingredients selected for their various complimenting effects and synergistic Qi combinations all to make the final product.

This brewing had taken more than a week to set up and plan out along with the last three hours to get to this point. Currently, he was sitting within one of the pavilions that lined the other side of the road across from the training arenas on the second step of the sect. Both Xing Zheng and Fan Zhong sat in lotus position at the entrance to the structure making sure that he wasn't disturbed and providing aid if he needed it.

It had been a month since the old swordsman got back and after speaking with him for some time Fan Yong had wanted to refine a Spirit Cooking broth to let the old swordsman's injuries heal faster. After long hours of discussion and finding what was available the immortal agreed but only if he paid for it and Fan Yong understood that this was a training method for his refining and that helping Xing Zheng was only a secondary matter.

All that said and done they had gathered here to begin the refining that morning and everything had gone smoothly. Firstly he had inserted the old beast bone of a 100-year-old water serpent. This had been chosen since Xing Zheng was, at his core, a water cultivator and so the base of the broth should match his elemental cultivation.

Next came three ingredients that would form a chain of strengthening for the refining. These were essentially like the essence dust that Fan Zhong had used to refine his treasure whereas other elements were used to give a boost to the ones they enhanced. This process had been done over three days and each one had its own set of three ingredients that formed its own chain of strengthening.

After that, they were refined into each other to form a concentrated paste that resembled gritty mustard in consistency and glowed a golden color. Adding this had been relatively simple however, it had almost destroyed the entire thing as the raw energy contained in that paste had been the maximum that Fan Yong could handle. A solid two hours of refining alone had gone into keeping the runes for the flame array stable in his mind while containing the rampant Qi until it dissipated into the broth.

Not only that the temperature of the flame contributed to how rampant the energy was. A hotter flame meant the process would go faster and less medicinal efficacy would be lost while requiring greater mental strength to contain. Lower flames took longer and would result in worse results while being a safer process as one didn't risk ruining the entire refining process by causing an explosion.

After that was finally put under control the last hour had been used to slowly add the last three ingredients. Each of these carried ethereal Qi combinations that would actually trigger the intended effect of the broth. Before this, it was only a large highly concentrated portion of Qi that might serve as an overly complicated and purified version of a spirit stone.

These 'active' components as they were known in Spirit Cooking possessed little energy but the unique effects they had upon ingesting them were why they held value. The first one was the meat of a beast that lived deep in the earth and was only rarely found inside deep caves. These were 'refining devourers' which appeared as giant glowing worm-like creatures.

Each one glowed with a color corresponding to one of the six elemental pillar Qi types and would spend their days tunneling through stone and material deep in the earth. After they ate their fill these worms would go into a dormant state where they found the energy type they were attracted to and pushed out all other elements in their food. What resulted were incredibly pure stones of elemental Qi forming that dwarfed the energy density of spirit stones.

Unfortunately, the refining devourer would normally be far away from civilization at this point, and harvesting these stones was incredibly rare, far more than just finding the creatures when they periodically surfaced. For alchemy thought, their flesh would have a similar result to their refining when introduced to a dominant element in a concoction. Thus this meat would allow the broth to purge anything but Water Qi from Xing Zheng's system allowing him to push out impurities.

Although there was more than Water Qi to the old swordsman's energy cultivators at his level had extreme control over their bodies so holding onto the secondary types that he needed shouldn't be overtly hard given he was in a calm place to ingest the broth. Slowly the small cubes of meat had softened and dissipated entirely under the flame while Fan Yong tensely watched. That had been disappointing at first but he understood that there wasn't anything to do about it, keeping the meat as something to eat in the food was a mostly cosmetic and texture addition that his level of skill didn't allow for.

The next two ingredients were far less interesting with a high earth-grade quality mountain spring flower to give extra clarity and clear-headedness during cycling and a 100-year-old ginseng to promote healing of the energy pathways. All of this led to the current situation where Fan Yong needed to carefully control the flames as the final refinement took place. With his appraisal technique, he was constantly checking the flow and composition of the energies within the cauldron while also making sure to keep the runes stable in his mind.

This was the critical moment and it was going well, right up until the refining devourer's unique effect began merging with the Water Qi. As this happened it attempted to take all the remaining energy and violently shove it out of the cauldron causing the entire mixture to boil and froth. Fan Yong lost control of two of the five flame array runes, which turned out to be a blessing. With the less intense flame, some of the potency of the broth was lost but this gave him a reprieve to recover mentally, allowing his will to surge back with a vengeance.

After this, another hour passed with no more mishaps, and finally, the broth was done. As he wiped the sweat from his brow a hand clamped on his shoulder as a blur appeared to his left before Xing Zheng appeared on the opposite side of the refining array.

"Well, it might be lethal but it smells good! How is it, teacher? Is Brother Yong's cooking on the level of a mortal's poison or a threat to even vaunted immortals?" Fan Zhong laughed as he stood beside his friend, arm slung over his shoulder.

For his part Fan Yong rolled his eyes and gave the other man a playful shove before looking up at the old swordsman.

"Very good, although I think it's too much for just me alone, Junior Yong. It's a good thing we invited some friends. Worry not as the cleansing effects will do mostly good for those of you who have yet to cycle Qi, your path in the master realms will be slightly easier although perhaps we should prepare baths as well…" Xing Zheng seemed to be in high spirits as he made a seal to deactivate the privacy formation surrounding the pavilion.

Slowly the noises of the outside world came back and the clamor of disciples training in the nearby grounds washed over them. More obvious to note was the small crowd of disciples that were standing at the entrance to the pavilion. Among that crowd were several that Fan Yong had become acquaintances with as well as Hu Wu, the master of the Spirit Cooking lecture.

Nervousness entered his mind as he moved the cauldron, with the aid of Fan Zhong, to the entrance and served some of the broth using bowls that Xing Zheng seemed to conveniently pull out of thin air. Honestly, it baffled him how many things that man seemed to contain in his 'storage bag', how many things could one man prepare for! Shaking his head, Fan Yong knew that he was simply distracted with idle thought.

With resolve, he looked to Master Hu Wu and waited for the man to taste his work. The old man gave off an ancient air as he took the time to take in the fragrance of the broth. For his part, the master looked every part of Fan Yong's idea of a sect lecturer with his traditional martial robes and long beard thin beard that dipped to his chest.

In all the only thing that didn't fit was his short-cut white hair and piercing orange eyes, somewhat of a rarity around the valley.

"Hmmm…" Hu Wu hummed lightly as he finished taking a sip from the bowl "Very good disciple Fan Yong, some of the medicinal effect was lost but overall a good meal. However, a suggestion for the next time."

"Yes, Master Hu Wu?" Fan Yong straightened and focused, intending to commit the criticism to memory.

"Perhaps, a bit more salt next time. Spirit Cooking is, after all, cooking instead of alchemy." Hu Wu intoned with a calm smile crossing his aged face.

Fan Yong was dumbfounded as the laughter of Fan Zhong echoed out behind him. Soon everyone was enjoying the broth along with some prepared mundane food and wine. In all, another successful day lived to the fullest.






Pain lanced across Fan Zhong's shoulder as the tip of a training sword pressed a shallow wound into his skin. The blade had pushed along the haft of his stone staff as his opponent caught the correct balance point in their bind, allowing them to seize the advantage and simply lunge forward from the locked position. As he fell back and went to his knees, a middle-aged man with a sword loomed over him.

He stood just a head shorter than Fan Zhong at full height and was of medium build. Traditional gray sect robes adorned his body and a light traditional sword was in his hand. Brown hair fluttered to just above his shoulders as murky black eyes stared down at Fan Zhong. This was Shen Shuren, another one of the core First-grade disciples of the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect.

Quickly Fan Zhong rose to his feet and gave a martial salute to him.

"Brother Shuren, thank you for the guidance." Fan Zhong intoned with the cadence of a soldier reporting to a superior officer.

"Of course, Brother Zhong. We've been sparring for a while now and my gains have not been little. It's inspiring seeing someone who doesn't traditionally practice swordplay still attempting to take lessons from our sect's style." Shen Shuren returned the salute with a casual tone, his voice light and jovial.

It was true that they had been sparring on and off for many months now. At the moment it had been three months since Xing Zheng had returned from his trip to the center of the northern plains. During this time the group had stayed within the sect and ingrained themselves with the cultures and techniques within.

Fan Zhong had found himself fascinated by the bind position of swordplay. Normally in the Fan clan style engagements were meant to be swift where shifting palms knocked the opponent off balance, while origin palms looked to deliver lasting damage. Receiving techniques were used to take a risk to finish off an opponent with deadly counters instead of being an overtly defensive technique in nature.

In all of this, weapon contact was something that happened briefly and was rapidly disengaged from either to approach from a different angle or gain distance. The bind in swordplay instead chose to fight for control with the opponent, looking to leverage your weapon's center of gravity against the tip of their blade to gain an advantage. In this way, high-level swordsmen often had engagements of many seconds where their blades remained in contact as they pushed forward or retreated to win this advantage.

Once one gained the upper hand they could simply press the opponent's blade aside while stepping forward, essentially walking their sword into an opponent. Mortal and low-level marital artists found this hard as following the movements of an enemy so closely was past their mental processing speed. However, with mental energy, as one grew higher in realm this became far less of an issue.

Considering all of this Fan Zhong had been trying to incorporate more binding techniques into his own martial arts, finding it fitting well with his newly formed association with struggle and the martial path. At first, it had been tough as his staff lacked a crossguard, one of the most important factors of binding in swordplay. Simply put, if one's hands were in danger of being cut then engaging in weapon contact for prolonged periods was not a great idea.

Not to be deterred however he had pushed on and it was coming along well. The natural treasure hand wraps he wore had done a great deal to help with the lack of a guard on a staff and after a bit of work, he had managed to get used to gripping his weapon lower when engaged with an enemy's weapon. Combine this with more practice shifting his hands and much of the worry of hand injuries had been alleviated.

Now the issue was simple, Fan Zhong was simply years away from being good at weapon binding. It looked so simple from the outside but after sparring with the sect disciples it became clear the minute movements and feints could leave your opponent disengaged just slightly giving them the chance to run you through with a sword. The arenas had array formations that emitted repulsing force to disperse attacks that hit too deeply; however, he had been on the receiving end of many painful stabs that hurt no less from their dulled lethality.

After the last few months, it was looking better and Fan Zhong could use his foundation of martial arts combined with the forming addition of engaging in the bind to defeat most of the disciples. However, the elite disciples remained out of reach and that is where Shen Shuren came in. Every time they clashed it was like he was fighting a ghost and an immovable wall at the same time.

His sword seemed to press down at just the right angle whenever he wanted to attack and simply disperse when Fan Zhong thought he was caught in a trap. Their martial arts realm was rather similar as the man had only been in the First-grade realm two more years than him. What mattered was the skill disparity and that is what left him in the current predicament.

"If it's not too much trouble, Brother Shuren, care to go again?" Fan Zhong asked in a respectful tone, his focus on analyzing how to improve during this next bout.

"We have plenty of time left, as long as you feel up to it we may continue Brother Zhong." Shen Shuren said in a calm tone as he walked back a few steps within the training arena to take his position.

Soon both of them were standing five meters apart and had settled into their fighting stances. Cool air washed over the dirt training arena as the sounds of the early morning echoed against the mountain in the distance. Overhead the sun shone with radiance as the few disciples that walked on the road nearby chatted amiably among themselves.

Inside some of the pavilions on the other side of the road, some of the disciples sat and discussed theory or recent lectures they had taken. Still, other members of the sect went about their daily tasks, sweeping walkways or preparing morning meals. To Fan Zhong that world narrowed to the fenced-in dirt arena as he took a calm breath.

A cadence that sounded the drums of war beat in his mind as he took a single step forward. That step marshaled the sounds of a melody, one that complimented the drums and told of the conflict and struggle that happened on a battlefield. His second step fell and his momentum surged as the tempo of the noise picked up.

The world seemed to tinge red however, it was controlled, caged even. Inside his mind, that rage was focused on his weapon, on his opponent. In a blur, he built speed as the discordant ensemble played in his mind, a tone that clashed with the seeming beauty of the picturesque sect. It was the clashing of ideals, the war of what martial artists aspired to be, and what the reality of their battles looked like.

Air shook as an origin-piercing palm from Fan Zhong was met with a rising slash on the outside of his guard from his opponent. Quickly that slash turned into a circular movement as Shen Shuren moved his sword so that it was above his staff and at the tip as he pressed down. The blade was like a silver snake as his staff was pressed downward as the tip raced forward toward Fan Zhong's chest.

Using some of his saved momentum he twisted to deliver a shifting palm strike with his right hand. Instead of retreating, he stayed inside his opponent's guard, keeping his staff in contact with the blade as he pulled it back slightly to press the center of his weapon upon the tip of the sword. As soon as Shen Shuren's guard was pushed open his left hand surged with his remaining momentum as Fan Zhong delivered a 'mortal origin palm' from the side.

The visage of a descending mountain enveloped his mind and the staff strike hit so hard that the air let out an audible booming noise. Runes lit up around the arena as repulsive force cushioned the strike enough to save the other man from having serious internal injuries. Even still the blow was so powerful that Shen Shuren was thrown across the arena and slammed into the enclosure fence.

For just a moment Fan Zhong stood with a grim expression on his face as his mind began formulating how to finish the man off. After a brief shake of his head, he dispelled the rising song of war and calmly walked over to see if his sparring partner was ok.

"Are you ok, Brother Shuren? Apologies, we've been sparing for months now however, this is the first time I've managed to get past your guard. It seems I don't know my own strength." Fan Zhong bent down to offer the man a hand as he cradled his side with one arm while using the other to push himself up.

Once he was on his feet Shen Shuren simply chuckled and shook his head before looking at Fan Zhong.

"It seems I'll need to be more careful around you Brother Zhong. As for this?" He pointed to his still cradled side. "I've had worse training injuries, give me a few moments and it should be good."

With a nod Fan Zhong went over to the gate to the enclosure fence to grab some pain-killing pills for the other man, it was the least he could do. As he did so a small smile played on his face as he thought of the upcoming tournament.






Chatter filled the second step of the sect as Fan Zhong looked down on the largest crowd he had seen here since Xing Zheng and the Sect Master's duel had occurred. All the space around and in between the training arenas had been filled out and the outer ones had been taken down to make way for three tiers of stands for spectators. Currently, he and Fan Yong were sitting in the second set of stands overlooking the main of the prepared arenas.

There were five of them with one large main arena and four smaller side ones. The stands lined either side of each with the farther row having their backs to the cliff edge of this level of the sect. This was the event that he had been waiting for, a year of training and earnest study and now it was time to test his gains.

As he looked out over the multitudes of disciples and visiting martial artists Fan Zhong couldn't help but feel giddy with a growing sense of anticipation.
 
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Part 2. Ch. 17 Sect’s Tournament (1)
The sun hung just over the horizon, shining rays that illuminated the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect. Amid the cold morning mountain breezes, the sunlight granted a welcome warmth that helped stave off chills for all those present. On the second step enclosure of the sect, a huge crowd stood watching with bated breath.

Hushed whispers rolled over the arena as many onlookers observed the scene. Standing inside were 10 martial artists, a mix of sect disciples, and wandering martial artists. Fan Zhong was one of them and he stood with an air of calm with a deadly battle intent lurking deep within his gaze. This was the third set of groups that had entered the three arenas to do battle this morning.

There were approximately 300 participants and so it had been decided that groups of 10 would be chosen to enter each of the three arenas. From those inside only the top five left standing would be allowed to advance. Currently, Fan Zhong's group was located inside the western arena of the tournament grounds.

Alongside him, there were six sect disciples and three wandering martial artists each of them giving off the distinct impression of someone in the Second-grade realm. It was unfortunate that none of them were stronger, however, it would do as a preliminary. Suddenly a ripple spread throughout the air as a streak of light shot upward from the center of the area.

That signaled the start of the round and Fan Zhong simply leaned on the mortal treasure wood staff in his hands, nodding coldly to the other contestants as they charged toward one another. It felt unfair if he was to simply choose which of them would proceed by attacking so he let them fight it out amongst themselves. For these more junior martial artists, it could be considered bad luck that they had been assigned to this group.

Currently, Fan Zhong didn't want to seem like someone who would bully others. Surprisingly, however, one of the wandering martial artists who was adorned in a blue robe with flowing waves on it approached him. He was two heads shorter than Fan Zhong and sported short-cut blonde hair with hazel-colored eyes.

This man looked young and he sported a medium build that was slightly stocky while giving off a dense feeling. In his hands was a spear that measured two and a half meters in length.

"Senior Fan Zhong, do you dare show your skills in front of my spear?" The youth's words were respectful however, they carried an undertone of pride and arrogance.

"Junior, there is a difference between heaven and earth. Do you wish to simply exit the tournament so soon? If so, just forfeit now, otherwise stop courting death when it does not want to be found!" Fan Zhong replied with a frown on his face.

In truth, he felt awkward referring to someone as junior however, it had been many years since he was among the youngest walking the martial path. Having been around powerful martial artists his entire life Fan Zhong felt he was doing a good impression of a grumpy senior chiding an overeager youngster.

"Hmph, how can I know the difference between heaven and earth without being shown? Senior, please advise!" The young man seemed undeterred and he started charging with his last words.

Inwardly Fan Zhong sighed while shaking his head. This willfulness reminded him of a day long ago, of a youth bullying him and Fan Yong on a deserted street. Taking a deep breath he steadied his mind as mental energy surged through his awareness.

Between the two of them was only a distance of around 10 meters, to begin with, and in that single breath, the youth had already crossed two meters. Even so in Fan Zhong's eyes, his charge that seemed to slightly blur his figure to mortal eyes slowed to a walking pace as his gaze gained a trace of killing intent. As he went forward a single step his body seemed to fall forward with the movement.

In just that step it seemed as if Fan Zhong had gained the speed of someone who had sprinted a distance to accelerate to their top speed. Instantly his second and third steps carried his body over the ground five meters while his figure blurred in the sights of those not using mental energy. At the same time, a sense of bewilderment and primal terror appeared in the youth's eyes.

By the time he reacted, however, it was already too late. An 'Origin Piercing Palm' powered staff point appeared before the youth and rammed between his eyes. His spear had been held in front of him but the staff seemed to shift at just the right angle to slip past his guard. In that single exchange Fan Zhong appeared behind him in a blur, leaning on his staff with a calm look on his face.

Behind him, the youth had slumped to the floor with a red mark between his brows as he lay on the floor unconscious. Ripples spread out from above the sprawled-out wandering martial artist as the arena arrays worked to equally dissipate the force of the strike. All around the arena, the runes hummed to life ever so briefly to ensure no serious injuries happened.

Until this point the arrays had still been working to do this however they only appeared like this when a significant enough force was present. As the effects of that clash died down the other participants of this group also finished their bouts. In the ensuing melee that had followed four remained with two being sect disciples and two being the remaining wandering martial artists.

The sect disciples wore the traditional martial robes of the sect and each wielded a sword. One of them was a man while the other was a woman. Among the wandering martial artists, both were women with one having rustic furs overlaid on a set of ordinary clothes while wielding an ax and shield. For the other wandering martial artist, she had traditional valley clan robes on and wielded a saber with a small shield in her left hand.

Seeing the two shields caught his interest as not many used shields in the valley. It was not that shields were not useful, in fact, they were extremely useful. However, as one got stronger they needed weapons or magical treasures that could take the punishment of their opponents as well as their strength.

It had to be said that magical treasures cost a fortune to refine and the larger the vessel needed to be the higher the cost got. As such shields being secondary items that were rather large in many cases tended to become prohibitively expensive once one crossed the Master realm threshold. That was not to mention full sets of armor which could only be afforded by those incredibly rich factions and families.

From what Fan Zhong knew this was why many styles forwent teaching shields entirely as it would only inhibit the potential of their students. Sure one could say that such techniques were useful to train large amounts of weak soldiers however, who wanted to train a style that was a dead end? Even Second-grade martial artists had astonishing processing power compared to basic mortals and as such, it wouldn't take long for them to understand the folly of this path!

At the end of the day, everyone who walked the martial path dreamed of one day reaching a high realm. Although it might be a pipe dream, who was willing to give up on such a dream of power and long life? Sighing internally he simply dismissed the matter as the others seemed to be gathering around him and he had no more time for such thoughts.

"Senior, forgive us for being rude. However, if we don't all work together then even the smallest chance of victory is unlikely." The male sect disciple said with a voice full of respect as he clasped his hands in a martial salute while bowing to Fan Zhong.

One of the two wandering martial artists, the woman with furs overtop of her robes, snorted with displeasure but still held herself back.

"En, attack as you wish." Fan Zhong's voice was calm as he spoke while still leaning on the staff.

"Then we won't stand on ceremony, let me see the vaunted prowess of the Fan clan!" This voice came from the women in valley clan robes who held a saber and shield.

Instantly all four of them rushed at him as two swords, a saber, and an ax cut arcs through the air from all sides. The swords were fast even to Fan Zhong's perception as they moved almost at a slight jogging pace while the saber seemed to move with unnatural grace. Even though that saber was still at a walking pace in his eyes it was as if it was revolving around the shield which felt like an incoming mountain.

Conversely, the ax gave off the impression of a tyrannical sharpness that seemed to descend from the heavens while the shield accompanying it was reserved and graceful. Although each of these only contained the shadow of a shadow of these forces Fan Zhong still nodded upon seeing it. He had much respect for the amount of effort put into their arts.

Even though they were weak compared to him, it could never be said that any martial artist's efforts should be put to shame. In a sudden rush of motion, he took a step forward at the two approaching swordsmen, dropping to his left to slip away from the saber. His staff whirled in arcs around his hand as he contact juggled it to generate two more steps worth of speed in that single motion.

At the same time, his movements put him under the ax attack which he slipped past. Although the ax was tyrannical it was the slowest of all of them. Just one step generated the same speed that had taken him three in the previous exchange. Like a viper, his staff struck out with a shifting palm strike that pushed the male sect disciple's sword off course.

As he did so he caught the weapon in a bind and slid his staff forward across the blade to deliver an 'Origin Piercing Palm' strike between the man's brows. Borrowing his still cycling momentum Fan Zhong arrived at the left-hand side of the female sect disciple as she was still turning to face him. Her blade lashed out in an upward diagonal cut which was met by a shifting palm strike from the opposing angle.

With brute strength he overpowered her, shoving the sword into the ground before continuing the motion to spin his staff. As Fan Zhong's left hand pressed down to finish the shifting palm his right hand cradled the other end of the weapon. The air resounded with a boom as the array lit up and the opposite end of his staff crashed into the female disciple's head, toppling her like a stack of bricks.

As this all happened the two wandering martial artists had only just finished arriving at his original location and turned to face him. Fan Zhong leveled a small smile at them while battle intent blazed in his eyes. Each of them revealed an expression of fright and a cold shiver ran down their spine as he took a calm breath.

For the first time since the round had started Fan Zhong fell into a fight stance with that single breath, exuding an invincible pressure throughout the entire arena. Faster than even the last exchange he took three steps and blurred. Two bangs resounded in the air as each of the wandering martial artists raised their shields while swinging outward with their weapons.

In that blur Fan Zhong dropped low to the ground, launching an 'Earth Origin Piercing Palm' that arced upward under the saber-wielding woman's shield. A staff tip connected with her chin sending the woman upward into the air a meter. Borrowing that momentum he spun the staff around his wrist and caught it with both hands to clash with the other wandering martial artist's ax.

This was the second bang that had sounded out in this exchange as his staff trembled ever so slightly as it blocked the ax blade mere centimeters from his face. Almost as soon as this happened Fan Zhong let some of the force of the ax through as he twisted his upper body toward the ground to roll with the momentum. In doing so his legs shot up into the air as if he was doing a handstand and his right foot hooked onto the outstretched end of his staff.

With one final rush of motion, he brought the weapon down with an ax kick that landed between the wandering martial artist's neck and shoulder. In just a moment he was on his feet standing over the two of them while leaning on his staff, a bored look once again on his face. This had done well… for a warmup.






Fan Yong looked out over the eastern arena as his opponents lined up. This was the eighth set of combatants that had been chosen and his luck had been rather rotten. Inside the arena with him were four disciples and five wandering martial artists.

What had soured his mood, however, was one of the sect's disciples. Tiyun Areal stood there in an aloof manner as she stared into the sky with a cold expression. Although he hadn't interacted with her much since she'd clashed with Fan Zhong it had left him with a less-than-favorable impression of the core disciple. Gritting his teeth he took a few breaths to calm himself as he settled into a fighting stance.

Soon the signal to start rang out and the circle of combatants quickly rushed to meet one another. Fan Yong dashed to his left, away from where the aloof Tiyun Areal had gone. His opponent was a stocky middle-aged wandering martial artist. The man was adorned with a plain shirt and pants, the clothes of a hunter instead of a martial artist.

In his hands was a two-handed mace that he brandished in an overbearing fashion. With a quick shuffle Fan Yong dodged to the left as the mace sailed through the space he had just been in. As his momentum carried him forward he lashed out with a quick 'Earth Shifting Palm' to the man's shin eliciting a grunt of pain.

At the moment the man was stunned he quickly struck forward with the top of his staff in a 'Heaven Shifting Palm' to the side of his opponent's neck. This was followed by two other strikes to the outside of the left elbow and right knee. All of this happened in a blur as Fan Yong's movements seemed to slow slightly while his momentum was shifted into the attack.

Finally, once the wandering martial artist was completely off balance Fan Yong withdrew slightly to fall into a void gate stance before taking a breath in. His staff blued in an arc around his body as it carried the remaining momentum he had built and as soon as it landed in his hands he struck. An 'Origin Palm Strike' that slammed the back end of his weapon into the man's stomach, right above his belly button, with a booming force.

As this happened a lancing pain appeared on Fan Yong's right side. Quickly he allowed his body to fall to the left while twisting to get his feet under him. Using his movement technique that force was converted into a step's worth of momentum.

Combining this with a push-off with his feet he quickly dodged to the left while turning to face the attacker. It was Tiyun Areal who held her blade poised towards him with an air of elegance as a drop of blood dripped off the tip. The wound was superficial as the surrounding arrays had dispersed the force; however, part of that force was distributed to Fan Yong's body as well.

He knew this was so that slashing and piercing weapons were disadvantaged against blunt weapons. This knowledge didn't make the hot pain lancing through a large area of his side go away, however.

"Commendable, it seems both you and Brother Zhong have improved. Are you able to continue?" The woman's voice was serene and carried an air of… respect?

Previously she had been arrogant however, now it seemed that tune was changing. Looking behind her Fan Yong couldn't help but gasp inwardly as the unconscious bodies of each of the other contestants were on the ground. The feat wasn't beyond him however, it would take more time.

What shocked him was the ruthlessness that Tiyun Areal had used against these Second-grade realm juniors. He had at least been holding back against the mace wielder, attempting to engage the man in a contest of technique skill. She on the other hand has simply blitzed through the others.

"Indeed, it seems that Sister Areal is as ruthless to others as you are to yourself, eh?" Fan Yong's words contained a bit of disapproval as he frowned.

"This is a tournament, if they lacked confidence in themselves they shouldn't have entered. The martial path has many variables one must contend with Brother Yong. Talent, birth, resources, and even luck. Would you coddle them and simply set false expectations? I expected better of someone who has seen so much." Tiyun Areal's voice was ice cold as she said this, leveling a gaze filled with disapproval right back at him.

"It seems that we simply view the world differently, Sister Areal. What you say isn't wrong but, I still disagree. Come then, show me your path like a martial artist, if you can!" Fan Yong replied with a slight sigh before resolve entered his eyes as he charged forward.

He dropped low to the ground and took a curved path to the left of his opponent. As he did so he spun his staff in a figure out around him to build extra momentum. A feint brought him inside striking measure for his staff as he brought it forward while shifting to grip the lower portion. The front end of the weapon lashed out like a cobra looking to hit the elbow of the enemy's sword arm.

Tiyun Areal snapped forward with a circular wrist cut that connected with the staff just a centimeter below the tip right at the highest point of control on her blade. Fan Yong was already pulling the staff back and twisting to change directions. He had intended to feint and come closer on her right-hand side, inside his opponent's guard.

Even still that wrist cut slammed his staff with such force he had to contact juggle it into an arc to dissipate it. Meanwhile, his path of attack was cut off as he retreated to bring his weapon back in position. As he did so the woman was like a wraith not allowing him to make distance any as she struck out with a thrust at his throat.

Fan Yong saw a blur of silver and he barely managed to shove the sword off course enough to make it go to the left of his head. With a grunt he spun the lower side of his weapon to strike at Tiyun Areal's midsection, forcing her to retreat a step. After all this, hot blood streaked down his face as the sword cut a wound across his cheek.

Almost immediately the woman charged forward again, her sword seeming to thrust out straightforwardly. Fan Yong met it with a shifting palm strike which turned out to be a blessing as the thrust was a feint. Halfway into her movements, Tiyun Areal's footwork changed and her forward foot landed at an outside angle.

Suddenly her blade went from thrusting to slashing upward from a slightly lower point outside Fan Yong's original guard position. By sheer luck he had stepped left instead of right with his footwork while countering, otherwise, the sword would've been at his throat. Several more quick circular wrist cuts followed this before the two ended up in a brief weapon bind with Tiyun Areal gaining much ground.

Fan Yong found it awkward to fight at this close of a distance with his long weapon and he hadn't trained in weapon binding as much as Fan Zhong had. In a moment the two followed each other's weapons circling to give pressure while pressing forward and retreating. Just as he thought he had the upper hand his opponent's sword retreated ever so slightly faster than he could react.

With the sword so close and already in motion it stabbed into his left shoulder as a boom echoed in the air from the speed of the blade. Fan Yong screamed in agony as he stumbled five steps backward before falling to his knees. As he did so he looked up to see Tiyun Areal standing still, five steps away.

She stared at him with the same cold aloofness that was always on her face.

"Well done Brother Yong, your skill has improved greatly since the last time we spared." She said to him, a genuine small smile briefly appearing on her face.

Fan Yong was shocked upon seeing this, in his eyes, this woman had great enmity with him and Fan Zhong! Every time they had interacted she had been cold and even disapproving of their martial arts. Yet now she was smiling at him?

"Hmph, lacing words with honey now? What do you hope to gain from my Fan clan, Sister Areal?" Fan Yong's eyes were filled with unwillingness as suspicion laced his words.

In his eyes, the only reason for her attitude change was to curry favor! Obviously, she had discovered something they had that she needed, or perhaps she was looking to get closer to Xing Zheng?

"What?!" She replied, seeming genuinely appalled and shocked at the suggestion. "Can I not compliment Brother Yong's progress without having schemes? You've worked hard and so has Brother Zhong, is it so bad to acknowledge that?"

For her part, Tiyun Areal was equally shocked by the accusation. She had been born in the sect and it was normal to judge others based on their martial skill. It was rather common for two disciples to butt heads rather heatedly before reconciling after training hard, spurred on by the emotions rallied in those confrontations.

The incident with Fan Zhong had been a bit unique in that she had become particularly heated given the circumstances. After that during the exhibition match the sect master had given out she still harbored resentment as neither of them had been in the sect that long. As the days passed and she reflected, however, those emotions simply spurred her training as they always had.

Coupled with this was the genuine admiration Tiyun Areal had for how hard both Fan clan members had worked to improve themselves over the months. She'd been looking forward to fighting them during this tournament but any thoughts of animosity had simply dissipated during her meditation and training. All of this left her frowning and looking at Fan Yong with an appalled expression.

"It seems that words have been spoken; however, silence is all that was heard. Come then, let's finish this." Fan Yong simply shook his head in exasperation, not knowing what to make of the woman in front of him.

With a frown, his opponent just nodded and sunk into a low fighting stance. Taking a deep breath Fan Yong started contact juggling his staff as he slowly walked forward, swaying his body from side to side. It gave one the impression that his staff was a wall of spinning wood that could strike out in any direction.

His staff gained a terrifying momentum and after three steps his figure blurred as he charged forward. Meanwhile Tiyun areal simply stood up straight, letting her sword fall to a low guard as her expression turned serene. The air boomed as a staff that seemed to leave an afterimage arced down from above, slamming down at an angle at her shoulder.

With what seemed like an incredibly slow motion she raised her sword and what seemed to be trailing afterimages followed behind this slow raising. Her sword seemed to arrive at the staff and follow it as it descended, tapping it multiple times in seemingly random places. When the staff was only 10 centimeters from her it stopped, her sword seemingly glued to the tip of it.

Fan Yong simply stared at the scene with wide eyes as he strained to move his weapon. It was as if a mountain was holding it in place and it wouldn't budge an inch. In one swift motion, Tiyun Areal swung her sword in a graceful diagonal slash across Fan Yong's chest, eliciting a sharp whistle in the air.

A slash appeared across his whole body and the rebound force from the arrays lessening the impact sent him flying into the fence surrounding the arena. With a crash, he landed on the ground in a heap. Silence filled the air as runes lit up all around the arena with dense green light.

These were the emergency healing formations meant to provide first aid if the array formations didn't disperse enough force. Although they would always ensure the life of the contestants, under a certain level of force, these emergency arrays were activated on rare occasions to stop long-term injuries.

"Well fought, Brother Yong. To pull out so much of my strength is commendable." Tiyun Areal's voice was light and calm as she clasped her hands in a martial salute toward his unconscious form before she walked out of the arena.






Xing Zheng watched the match proceed with his ever-calm and sagely demeanor. He was seated high in the stands bordering the southern part of the central arena. It was a platform that was placed some 10 meters higher than the rows of benches that made up a majority of the stands. The platform itself was around 10 meters wide and five meters lengthwise.

Large throne-like chairs adorned this platform with 11 of them in total. 10 of these were occupied by the Sect Master and his 'Nine Swords' who helped run the sect. Xing Zheng occupied the last seat and was right next to the Sect Master as a guest of honor. Around them were various disciples who delivered wine and refreshments and even conveyed some minor matters of importance.

Currently, Fan Yong's match had just ended and sect disciples were carrying him to the side of the arena in a stretcher. Although he knew the youth would be ok given the safety measures in place, Xing Zheng couldn't help but furrow his brows at the sight.

"That was a rather good showing by Junior Fan Yong, Brother Zhang Zheng." Master Bai Yi said with a small smile as she turned to face him from his left. "My disciple is rather strong among the younger generation, to be able to pull out so much of her strength is a credit to him!"

Xing Zheng suppressed a small spark of irritation at the comment. It was both a slightly teasing remark and a boast of her disciple which was rather normal, among peers. However, he had taken a liking to the Fan clan boys and as a spirit realm cultivator, a bit of the pride in his heart was stirring.

"Ehhh," a slight cough came from his right as the Sect Master spoke before he had a chance to respond, "I think what Master Bai Yi means is that she is rather proud of Disciple Tiyun Areal's attainment in her 'World condensed to the blade' technique. Isn't that right Master Bai Yi?"

The Sect Master leveled a slight glare at the woman as he finished speaking.

"Ahh? O… Of course Sect Master. Disciple Areal is my pride and joy." Master Bai Yi hastily averted her gaze while replying quickly.

"Indeed, her sword techniques are rather good, Sister Bai Yi. I imagine her attainments in effect manipulation won't be small when she crosses the master realm threshold." Xing Zheng had long since gotten ahold of that small spark of irritation and he replied with the same slightly jovial and calm tone that always seemed to pervade his words.

Like this, the evening proceeded as the preliminaries of the Reclusive Mountain Sword Sect's Tournament drew to a close.
 
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Part 2. Ch. 18 Sect’s Tournament (2)
"Disciple Fan Zhong seems to be doing well, Brother Zheng. Perhaps he will make it into the top eight!" Sect Master Jie said as he observed the central arena.

Currently, the young man in question was participating in the 14th group of the second round of the tournament. For this round three groups of three at a time were selected at random to participate, leaving only the winner of each arena to progress. In order to preserve fairness each of those ranked first in the previous round had been seeded into separate groups.

Other than this the rest of the selections were made at random. This time a newly broken-through First-grade realm sect disciple was in the central arena along with a more junior Second-grade realm sect disciple and Fan Zhong. The bout had been going on for a few breaths of time and surprisingly all three of them were still fighting.

Although the junior disciple was weaker than both competitors she managed to use her two short swords as well as a defensive style to remain in the fight. What truly allowed her to do this though was a great grasp on the spacing between the two stronger opponents, causing both to be wary of one another. Fan Zhong had landed a glancing blow on the shoulder of the stronger sect disciple causing the other youth to visibly favor his other arm.

Meanwhile, the audacious junior disciple actually landed a cut on Fan Zhong's leg during the exchange before retreating to once again pit the two against each other. This caused the senior male disciple to brandish his long two-handed sword in a defensive guard while making space to assess the situation.

"Oh? Was there a question whether he would take a top spot or not?" Xing Zheng asked as he leveled a small smile at the Sect Master while quirking an eyebrow up in question.

"Hmmm? Senior Zhang Zheng, beg my pardon however, junior Fan Zhong's skills were rather average when he arrived. Even though he has made great strides, I think it unreasonable to assume he can contend with the core sect disciples." Master Hu Wu responded with a tone of slight disagreement from his seat to the right of the Sect Master.

It could indeed be said that Fan Zhong's skills were average for his age among the talented younger generation. One had to know that in the clans it was normal to take many years to reach the first-grade realm as there were many things to attend to. For someone like Fan Zhong, he would have to learn about leading the clan as well as dealing with clients.

All the while he would be constantly learning to navigate inter-clan politics so as to not cause any misunderstandings with the powers that be. As such it was normal for those who participated in such things to progress slower in their martial arts. One need only take a look at his father Fan Long as an example.

He was known as one of the most brilliant martial artists the valley had seen for many generations; however, it still took him decades to arrive at the Grandmaster realm. Although this was fast for a normal practitioner, to someone who entered the Master realm at only the age of 15 it could almost be considered laughable. This too showed how conflict and wartime could spurn clans to greatness.

While the chaos was going on within the valley, strength was the only thing that mattered, and as such Fan Long only had to focus on practicing martial arts to make a breakthrough. After peace settled many more responsibilities came his way, ultimately eating up much of his time. However, all of this didn't matter to those who joined martial arts sects.

Sects for their part mainly served to protect the local surroundings as well as powerful factions to deter evil-doers. Although sect disciples occasionally had to do missions to fulfill these roles the rest of the time they were free to pursue their own interests. This gave them far more time to study in seclusion and perfect their martial arts, allowing them to advance faster than those with other duties!

All of this only spoke of those who joined such sects externally, for those born inside this mentality was ingrained into them since birth. With sect martial artists mainly focusing on training they would rarely have children but when they did those descendants were normally stronger than the parents! Mainly this was because having the environment of martial arts crazed people around one molded them from an early age to see this as the norm and the mundane world as strange.

It could not be expressed how important mindset was when it came to training in martial arts and striving to ascend through the realms. From the basics of perseverance to the start of establishing one's Dao heart, the mindset was the underlying foundation that underpinned all of this. Deep meditation could help change a person's personality and coupled with a rigorous set training regime one could produce miraculous effects.

None of this, however, could compare to someone who had this mentality innately ingrained into them. For those individuals, they could spend all the effort put into training that mindset and reinvest it into perfecting their path! From this, it was easy to see how sect-born martial artists could progress faster than those who primarily operated in the day-to-day mortal world.

Knowing all of this Xing Zheng could indeed see why Master Hu Wu thought Fan Zhong's original skill was average for his age. Still many of them did not know that he had spent five years simply not practicing martial arts. During that time Fan Zhong was deep in his depression and his skills hadn't improved at all.

If any of them were to know the shockingly little amount of time he had spent actually training it would amaze them all! It had to be said that even for those sect disciples who breakthrough into the First-grade realm at the young age of around 15 they had dedicated their whole lives to the martial path. Taking this into account it could be said that they spent over a dedicate of training to accomplish this feat.

Meanwhile, Fan Zhong had only started training with any seriousness when he turned 14, meaning his road to the apex was a little less than a decade long. Thinking of all this caused a small smile to appear on Xing Zheng's face as he turned to look at Master Hu Wu.

"Brother Hu Wu, while Junior Zhong's skills were average when he arrived, his current level might shock you. How about a small wager between friends, I'll bet 1,000 spirit stones that Junior Zhong will place in the top two." Xing Zheng's words were calm and spoken in a casual manner however the others present still paled as they heard them.

1,000 spirit stones? What kind of extravagant wager was that? Although this amount wasn't heaven-shaking it definitely wasn't a small amount either.

With just that amount of wealth, one could buy a decent quality earthly-earth-grade treasure, increasing their battle strength by a quarter! If one was a mortal they could live off such an amount for a few years with modest accommodations in a place like butont. Considering this the present masters couldn't help but wonder how this 'Zhang Zheng' could casually throw around such wealth in a friendly betting competition.

Martial artists could definitely earn spirit stones through various means such as gathering rare materials or giving protection to various organizations. However, they were rarely independently wealthy and usually needed to gather together to form their own groups to gain wealth. Only those old monster-like experts who wandered the world while delving through old battlefields and ruins could flippantly sell off the things they found and become greatly wealthy by themselves.

Either that or tie themselves to a great existence like the Xing Empire and take up the role of an official, supervising an area while raking in benefits from those who came to pay homage. As such trepidation started to creep into the hearts of each of those present as they wandered about the identity of this mysterious guest. Normally he spent most of his time reading through scrolls in the technique library or exchanging words with the Sect Master.

For his part, Jie Ling was incredibly polite to him, not daring once to use his position as the Sect Master to override a request by the other man. At the moment he was inwardly sighing while also outwardly putting on a pale face of shock. Truthfully he felt that Xing Zheng would restrain himself as such talks between the senior peers during gatherings were rather normal.

With his negotiations still going on with the Azure Rain Sword Sect on the details for becoming a mortal branch sect, the matter had naturally been kept a secret. As such for now, he could only endure and continue acting like the immortal was simply a powerful mysterious mortal master. Although this was the case he was still happy with the reserved nature shown by the man.

There were many stories of domineering immortals not caring about what those beneath them thought and even killing people on a whim. Xing Zheng for his part was being reserved and only presented a slight amount of overbearing attitude with this sum of spirit stones. In truth had he wanted even ten times this amount wouldn't have been an issue for the man so it was quite good that he had limited it to keep his cover.

Overall this had given Jie Ling quite a good impression of Xing Zheng and he was eager to keep working with him. After all the Fan clan scions were under his personal protection, wouldn't it be losing too much face if he wasn't at least a little bit overbearing?

"Th… This… Brother Zhang Zheng, isn't this a bit much?" a female master seated to Hu Wu's right spoke up.

She had shoulder-length vibrant green hair and faint traces of scales could be seen on her skin. The woman's eyes were piercing and slanted like a snake with her pupils shaped like stars sitting in an azure sea. From a single glance, Xing Zheng could tell that she was demi-human, one of those with strong nonhuman ancestry.

If he had to guess she descended from one of the intelligent humanoid races that themselves were descendants of the Primordial Flood Dragons. He had seen her a few times throughout the sect but it was still rather eye-catching each time. Although in the capital and inner parts of the empire demi-humans were only slightly less common than normal humans in the more remote parts they were a rare sight.

As he turned his gaze to meet hers a small mischievous twinkle played in the depths of his eyes as an outward domineering expression crossed his face.

"What much? If you have the confidence then bet, if not then don't! Hmph, how can anyone who hopes to walk to the peak lack decisiveness?" Xing Zheng played the part of his outward grumpy mortal master facade perfectly and the others could only wryly smile.

"Indeed, Brother Zhang Zheng is right! Come, this old man will bet with you!" Master Hu Wu gained a glint of competitiveness in his eyes as he seemed to rally.

After this everyone shared a polite chuckle as they exchanged a few more polite words. In the end, only Hu Wu chose to take up the bet while the others backed down while saying some words to give Xing Zheng face. Meanwhile, while this short exchange took place, in the span of only a minute Fan Zhong had toppled both of his opponents.

In the central arena, he stood with several cuts on the outer parts of his legs and arms. Even so, he showed no hints of pain or agony and simply leaned on his staff for support as a bored expression settled on his face.






Shen Shuren stood with a complicated expression as he looked at his opponent across the arena. It was currently the third round of the tournament and the 50 remaining contestants had been paired up for individual matches. Unfortunately, the seeding from this was decided by the strength of opponents defeated in the prior rounds.

During the first round, he had been exceedingly unlucky to get three First-grade realm opponents and had ended up placing third after the other two ganged up on him. This led to him not being a first-place seed during the second round and getting random opponents. That round had gone well as his opponents had been rather weak however, this left him with an unfavorable ranking coming into the third round.

All of this led to his current predicament, being matched against Disciple Sister Tiyun Areal in the fifth match of the third round. Currently, the previous three arenas had been reconfigured to merge into a single larger one. Their current positions placed each of them near the center of the previous western and eastern arenas respectively.

This put quite some distance between them, somewhere around 25 meters giving ample room for either to use movement techniques to build up speed. With a deep breath, he shook his head internally and prepared to try his best. It was common knowledge that his disciple sister was one of the strongest members of the younger generation.

Although some thought that Disciple Brother Ren Lan might be her match it was hard to say who might win a straight-up duel. At the very least Shen Shuren knew that he was in the bottom half of the core disciples in terms of strength. All things considered, it seemed there was nothing for it but to try his best.

Worst case scenario he would participate in the wildcard melee to receive the 26th slot for the next round. That spot would pit all 25 losers of this round in an all-out brawl to set the number of remaining contestants to an even amount. This would continue until the top four and give those with perhaps unfavorable matchups second chances at continuing.

From the way his luck was going he felt that any second chance was very much welcomed.

"Disciple Sister Areal, it is a pleasure to cross blades with you." Shen Shuren wore a wry smile as he clasped his hands in a martial bow toward her.

"Indeed, shall we see if your understanding of 'World Condensed to the Blade' has improved, Disciple Brother Shen Shuren?" Tiyun Areal's voice carried the aloof air of a sword immortal as well as the calmness of a still pond.

He could only shake his head in response, it seemed that this disciple sister of his would remain cold and impersonal.

"Of course, please instruct me kindly, disciple sister." With these words, he raised his sword into a mid-guard position and charged forward.

Speed built up as he rushed forward in a swaying manner, each of his steps causing his body to seem like it could slip to either side at a moment's notice. Meanwhile, his opponent walked forward with a graceful air, slowly taking each step as if she was walking through a garden. Her sword drew lazy arcs in the air as she casually flourished it in swift arcs that elicited soft whistling noises.

In just a few moments the two met where the border fence of the western arena had previously been sitting. Shen Shuren had covered far more ground than his opponent and chose to use that momentum to feint to his right. In the same instant, his footwork shifted his body in the opposite direction and his high wrist cut to the opponent's neck changed.

His sword arced as it drew a sharp blurring circle of silver at a reverse angle. The blade cut down on the opposite side at the outside of Tiyun Areal's outside ankle instead. Her sword seemed to become ephemeral as it slowly moved, still on a trajectory to meet the previous angle of attack.

At that moment her brows seemed to furrow just ever so slightly as all momentum in her sword seemed to halt. Instantly the pommel of her blade blurred down and met the edge of Shen Shuren's sword. A sharp sound of clashing swords rang in the air as his opponent pushed outward while her blade seemed to slide into place to meet his sword.

Shen Shuren gritted his teeth as his sword seemed glued to its position and a blurring sword tip approached his throat. Quickly he stepped to his right and took three steps backward, trying to disengage the bind. Tiyun areal didn't let up, however, and she followed him step after step with a seemingly otherworldly amount of grace.

It was almost as if she knew the moment he would move and started her steps at the same exact time. In just those three steps they pushed back and forth with their blades over a dozen times while drawing half a dozen circles. During this Shen Shuren desperately tried to disengage from the position while slashing or stabbing forward only for his opponent to stick to him like glue.

Finally, he lost the upper hand once again and Tiyun Areal's sword pushed forward just above his right shoulder. A large gash appeared there as the edge of the blade made contact with the outermost part of his body, spreading pain all throughout his right arm and chest. Meanwhile, he lashed out with his left leg as she pushed closer for the attack.

Shen Shuren's leg twisted up above his head and descended in an ax kick that was aimed at the area between his opponent's neck and shoulder. She raised her offhand in response, cushioning some of the blow. Instantly he felt his sword regain some of its control and used the space to take five steps back as he tried to keep a fighting stance together.

Pain lanced through his sword arm and it trembled as he kept the blade pointed at his opponent. Tiyun Areal looked back at him with a smile and nodded before she charged once more. This time her control seemed shaken and in just a few breaths the two engaged and disengaged half a dozen times.

Booming sounds echoed throughout the arena as their blades met and then silence followed for just a brief period. During this brief period, the two could be seen fighting for control over the space between them as their swords seemed glued together. In that time they wove large and small circles back and forth as each tried to gain position or disengage just slightly to push past the other's defenses.

Finally, the two landed only five paces from each other. For his part, Shen Shuren was covered in dozens of small and medium-sized cuts while his opponent mainly had a few bruises and a single cut on her cheek.

"Disciple Brother Shen Shuren's technique has advanced by leaps and bounds, commendable." Tiyun Areal's voice seemed to carry a tone of excitement and happiness along with her normal aloofness as a spark seemed to ignite in the depths of her eyes.

"Hahaha, you say that however, I'm covered in blood while you're simply enjoying this. Isn't that slapping my face while calling it a gift?" Shen Shuren laughed as he spoke, a hand cradling his side.

"En, however, it was not meant that way, disciple brother. Previously you only lasted for two and a half exchanges with me using this technique. This performance was markedly better!" A rare smile crossed her lips as she spoke.

"It seems that your memory is as sharp as your sword. Come then, I'm sure you've had all the fun you needed tormenting this poor simple disciples brother." Shen Shurne laughed and smiled wryly.

It was all he could do, after all, he had tried his best. Many martial artists became bitter or angry after being defeated however, he saw it differently. The martial path was a long one and many sought to climb to the apex.

If he couldn't smile while doing his best along that long road, then when could he? In Shen Shuren's estimation, as long as one tried their best then one could walk their path with no regrets.

"Disciple brother, your memory is just as good as mine. After all, our mental energy should be comparable. However, I do agree that it's time to end this, let it not be said that I bullied you." Tiyun Areal replied with a slight chiding nature and cheer in her voice as she nodded her head.

At the same time, she started walking in a slow circle around him while lazy afterimages of her seemed to appear. Soon she changed directions and was walking the other way. With barely enough energy to keep his sword in a fighting position, he could only keep turning to face her.

In the space of two breaths, it felt as if an invisible pressure descended upon him as a circle of Tiyun Areal's afterimages seemed to be walking all around him in both directions. Suddenly a whistle sounded throughout the air and he saw four hazy copies of her charge toward him. With a roar, Shen Shuren raised his sword and struck out to meet the image nearest him.

At that moment the arrays around the arena blazed to life as the soft sound of footfalls from behind him sounded out. Looking back he could see Tiyun Areal standing there with her sword outstretched as if she just finished slashing outward. Suddenly Shen Shuren felt an intense line of pain arc in a diagonal line from his left shoulder to his thigh as his vision turned black…






A grunt filled the air as Fan Zhong landed a blow against the inside of his opponent's midsection. The shorter wandering martial artist quickly twisted, bringing his sword down in a downward arc to counterattack. With a quick lurch Fan Zhong threw his momentum to the left causing his body to fall in that direction.

Right before he hit the ground his shoulder pressed forward as he tumbled in a roll before coming up in a fighting stance with the end of his staff held towards the enemy. In his mind a steady drum beat tolled, signaling each movement in the fight. Just two steps away from him his opponent held a hand close to his right side.

It was obvious that the man was struggling to hold his two-handed sword while trying to cradle the wound. Silence was all that entered Fan Zhong's mind as the roar from the watching crowd was drowned out in his mental space. Again and again, the drums beat, each sound eliciting a step as he slowly circled the man.

Looking at him closer a shocking resemblance could be seen to Fan Yong. Both of them were around the same height and had a similar build. For his part, however, the wandering martial artist had black hair with traces of dark red streaking throughout. His eyes carried a savage light that was set upon brown irises.

With an effort of will Fan Zhong pressed his mental energy to focus on only the tip of his staff and his opponent's every movement. A red outline appeared around the man that trembled each time he breathed or even slightly moved. The butt end of his staff was already moving in rapid circular movements and soon that transferred to the top.

In just a breath Fan Zhong's staff seemed like it was leaving shadows behind in the air as it moved as the top end moved in circles as he stepped closer bit by bit with circular movements. From an outside perspective, it seemed as if his weapon were moving in the circular patterns of a swordsman attempting to gain an advantage in a bind. However, there was no opposing weapon, only the air.

To his opponent it seemed as if the staff was appearing in many places, approaching from angles just out of view. Suddenly the ground under Fan Zhong's feet cracked as he charged forward. A shout came from the wandering martial artist as he attempted to thrust forward at Fan Zhong's chest.

From his point of view, it was as if the staff was moving straight and then curved around his sword, striking directly at his chest. Runes lit up around the arena and the green runes of the emergency medical array lit up as well. In an instant, the air cracked with a vertical disc-shaped shockwave from the impact point as the wandering martial artist was sent flying.

Cracking sounds could be heard as his body flew into the perimeter fence of the arena and actually broke one of the boards that were used to make the fence. These boards weren't high-grade natural treasures but even still, the low-quality natural treasure wood was harder than mundane steel. Aghast expressions could be heard from the crowd as sect medical staff rushed to see to the man's injuries.

"Hmmm, good struggle. You fought well." Fan Zhong intoned with a tone of respect as he clasped his hands in a martial salute at the crumpled form of the man from across the arena.

With that he simply walked to the gate and left, moving to find Fan Yong.
 
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Part 2. Ch. 19 Sect’s Tournament (3)
"Did you hear that Senior Brother Shen Shuren had to enter the melee last round?'

"I heard that he lost to some random wandering cultivator in the first round!"

"Really? How could that be? Senior Brother is one of the core disciples of the Nine Swords after all"

"Hmph, perhaps it's time for them to choose new disciples then. Can you imagine losing in the first round? Master Wu Yimu must be furious right now!"

"All of you are idiots! Senior brother lost because those bastard wandering martial artists schemed against him and attacked together. How else could he lose to them?"

"Really? What proof do you have…"

The sound of the observers chatting pervaded the air as Fan Zhong stood near one of the stands. Currently, some of the medical staff were applying bandages to his wounds along with some salves. During the entire process, he needed to hold relatively still with his arms outstretched.

As such he was occasionally leveling glares at the two who were applying the treatments.

"Ahh! Brother Rong Ming, are you applying ointment or fire bee salve to my cuts?" Fan Zhong tried to keep some levity in his voice however, the look on his face was still rather menacing.

All throughout the matches, his mind had been poised for a fight. After experiencing a life-and-death battle he found himself shifting into that different mindset whenever he fought. During that time his adrenaline would suppress the pain and it was truly hard to feel it.

While training with Xing Zheng he had learned to focus and hone that state allowing him to control where the focus in battle was. Thus this led to the bored and monotone expression he gave during the tournament matches. However, just a few minutes afterward and the medics had to deal with his bickering.

For their part, they were used to it as Fan Zhong's personality was something the medical staff had learned over the last year. Although he attended lectures his primary focus was on sparring every day. With how much of a gap there was between his skill and some of the elite sect disciples in the beginning he had been limping to the medics every single day.

This didn't stay the same as he eventually worked his way up to standing on par with the core disciples however, injuries still occurred while sparring all the same. Most of them didn't mind, however, as tending to injuries was their duty as well as training for them. Those who staffed the medical section of the sect learned much by administering aid to those who trained a lot.

As such a symbiotic relationship formed between both those focused on sparring and those that occupied the medical staff of the sect. This wasn't to say that there were disciples who didn't spar regularly, it was a part of regular training regimes so, of course, they did. It was mostly those who sparred in their free time, however, who belonged to the group that was well connected to the medics.

"Do you want these cuts closed or not?" The young man kneeling by his feet with a bandage in his hand leveled a questioning gaze as he took a needle and pricked a particular point on Fan Zhong's leg in response.

A line of pain lanced up his leg and it took all Fan Zhong's willpower to not buck and kick the man. That of course, would end all treatment they would be doing and he would be left to tend to his injuries himself. Currently he would be less than thrilled at the idea of having to do such a thing

"No… thank you… disciple brother… for your leniency." he said through gritted teeth as he focused on remaining still.

"Hahahaha, serves you right for bickering so much Brother Zhong. You know the tournament is especially busy, Brother Ming is applying the ointment according to the procedure. If you want someone more gentle then go look for a masseuse!" The other disciple who was standing to his right and tending to a cut on his arm spoke up.

At the mention of a masseuse both of them laughed heartily and even Fan Zhong felt his mood lighten as he joined in. As he did so a small weight seemed to be removed from his shoulders. The difference was almost unnoticeable compared to the mountain that seemed to press down on him in terms of responsibility.

However, when one is trying to hold up the heavens even a little bit helped.






Fan Yong took a slow breath as he assumed a void gate stance. It was the fourth round of the tournament and he had seen Fan Zhong win his match-handedly in the first bout. Now he was facing a sect disciple who favored a single-handed sword coupled with a dagger in his offhand.

During his time in the sect he had only seen his opponent once or twice and didn't even know the man's name; however, to make it into the top 26 he must have been rather skilled. Currently, this round coupled with the following melee would determine who would enter the top 14 and Fan Yong was determined to at least make it that far. He had seen Brother Shuren narrowly get into this round through the mass melee and hoped to avoid going that route.

Both he and his opponent nodded their heads to each other in acknowledgment as they waited for the starting signal. Suddenly a boom sounded in the air as the telltale light shot into the sky from the center of the arena. Fan Yong immediately started to charge forth, using a route that curved to his left to give him the extra distance to build momentum.

His opponent on the other hand charged straight at him, looking to close the distance before he could do so. Even still Fan Yong widened the arc, allowing him to get in six steps of momentum as well as dozens of revolutions of his staff. In all the force he had built was tremendous and he lashed out with half a dozen shifting palms as he retreated.

The head of his staff was like a shifting breeze as it met the sword and dagger over and over again. His opponent's brow furrowed as Fan Yong used his built-up force to mainly retreat while lashing out with his reach advantage. For martial artists that crossed the master realm the physical reach of a weapon might matter less however, for the realm they were in it still showed a clear advantage.

Within six breaths the two exchanged almost 50 blows and Fan Yong found that his opponent was doing a good job at draining his built of momentum. The plan had been to use his movement technique to batter down the sect disciple while building even greater force. He had thought that unlike a monster such as Tiyun Areal, this opponent wouldn't be able to lock his weapon down so easily.

That had proven true however, the sword and dagger combination worked well in tandem and he often found his staff being caught between the two while the sword worked to thrust forward. During these exchanges Fan Yong had to bleed momentum to give his weapon extra force, allowing him to escape the bind while gradually decreasing his speed. After this many exchanges, he only had around two steps of momentum left and was currently contact juggling his staff in arcs in front of him to keep it going.

For his opponent's part, however, every bit of ground he gained had been hard-earned and he was favoring one side while covering a spot on his leg with the hand holding his dagger. During their rapid exchanges, Fan Yong landed a kick right below the knee on the outside of his leg. For the hit on the man's side, he had spun the staff on the outside of his hand as he disengaged from their bind.

This had whipped the butt end of his staff up from a low angle ultimately catching his opponent in his side. Ultimately even though this man was not one of the core disciples of the sect Fan Yong still felt that he couldn't defeat him in a short amount of time. With a sigh he readied himself and instantly fell forward, pushing his momentum into his body as he fell.

His legs soon caught under him and, combined with the accumulated force of the fall, caused the ground to slightly crack as he shot forward. The sect disciple's brow furrowed as he saw this and immediately he started moving his weapons forward and back, giving off the illusion that the blades were melding together. Fan Yong met him with an 'Earth Origin Palm' from the outside of his guard.

A small shockwave boomed out as his right hand pressed the butt end of the stuff up at an arcing angle as his body was stretched low across the ground. The sword met the upper end of his weapon as the dagger seemed to ring out, rapidly making contact with a few points on his staff. Quickly Fan Yong pulled back and used his last step of momentum to sweep the front end of his staff low, trying to knock the feet out from under his opponent.

As he did so the force in his staff seemed to recoil from the contact of the sword and it hummed in his hands, causing them to go numb. At the same time, the dagger in his opponent's hand flashed in four blurring arcs, far faster than it had originally been. Blood spurted from two x-shaped wound patterns on his chest as the sweep collided with the man's legs sending him tumbling into a spin.

With a savage grunt Fan Yong kicked his opponent's head as it neared the ground. As soon as that kick landed the sect disciple flew back two steps and landed on the ground in a heap. Meanwhile, Fan Yong let out a cry of pain as brought his hand up to clutch at the wounds on his chest. During all of this, the medical staff watched from the sidelines as the force repulsion arrays worked to stop any of the wounds from being too deep.

Faintly, the green medical arrays had also started showing up; however, the light was so indistinct Fan Yong had to focus his mental energy to see the signs. Slowly the seconds passed and his opponent lay on the ground. It had only been five or so seconds and the tournament required that ten seconds pass before a match was called.

Of course, this was when it came to matches where the result wasn't obvious. In cases like Tiyun Areal fighting Shen Suren, the ending had been obvious and there was no need to wait for a period of time to determine the winner. However, this fight was much closer and so everyone was simply observing to see if the sect disciple rose to his feet.

Fan Yong's breath came in quick ragged bursts as he forced himself to stay on his feet. In truth, he simply wanted to lie down and sleep for about a week. The tournament itself had been exhausting and had been going on for four days now.

Although his enjoyment of the martial arts had risen considerably of late he still found much more pleasure in simply studying his crafts or exchanging notes with his various acquaintances. That was unfortunately not in his control however as Fan Zhong and he had come to represent their clan. Through the five years of helping Fan Shun run the day-to-day operations of the clan, he had come to realize how important reputation was.

With reputation one would simply avoid troubles that others would have to deal with! Take for example being a strong martial artist, simply being known as one would cause others to not even think of messing with you. Bandits would flee, nobles would give face and merchants would not dare scam you in fear of reprisal.

Sure these problems were manageable if one kept their strength hidden however, the time taken to deal with the issues was a tax of its own. When running a clan there was always more work to do than people to do it and every bit of burden that could be lessened with a solid reputation was worth it. If even one less clansman died because some bandit thought twice about attacking the Fan clan due to their rumored strength then it was worth it in Fan Yong's estimation.

As such he was here, bearing the pains of today to carve out a better tomorrow. Intrinsically he was a lazy person, someone who liked to enjoy life. However, when calamity was at the door Fan Yong would burst forth with a terrifying motivation and will. Such a thing had caused him to change his daily life almost completely since the fall of the clan and it was what kept him standing at the moment.

Slowly the seconds ticked by and the unthinkable happened. His opponent actually roused and rose to a single knee, leaning on his sword which he had plunged into the ground for support.

"Many thanks… Brother Yong… For showing mercy and not finishing me off." With shaking hands the man pulled himself onto both knees and clasped his hands in a martial salute, managing to bow to Fan Yong.

He was taken aback by the other man's willpower and words. Although Fan Yong got along with the sect disciples he had never truly considered how much these people breathed the martial arts themselves. For clan warriors, the martial path was a road to power and long life.

However, those who were in a sect pursued martial arts for their pure enjoyment and the freedom they offered. As such things like honor and showing respect to another's arts were practically part of the very air that kept them alive. Inside of Fan Yong's heart a feeling of true admiration and respect blossomed as he felt that, today, he had learned a truly valuable lesson.

"It was an honor to exchange pointers with you, disciple brother." Fan Yong bowed and returned the martial salute with a smile on his face.

"En, indeed. I admit defeat! Please someone just give me some medicine, my head is ringing." The man's stoic demeanor dropped almost instantly as he fell backward and simply stared at the sky, grunting in pain.

Laughter rose around the arena as Fan Yong walked out from the eastern gate. Fan Zhong stood there to greet him and clasped an arm around his shoulder.

"I see that Brother Yong has truly become a tiger gaining wings, sailing forth to defeat myriad experts. How can I, as your humble and modest brother, hope to keep pace?" Fan Zhong smiled while he spoke with an air of joviality, all the while leading Fan Yong to a waiting pair of medics.

"Hmph, modest my ass. Haven't you been all grumpy lately talking about struggle this and that? I swear even Master Hu Wu's face is less grim than you've been lately" Fan Yong replied while rolling his eyes, grunting in pain every now and then as his friend's arm pressed down in just the wrong spot.

"Well.. it's… you're right." Fan Zhong said with a sigh as his tone turned somber. "Ever since Teacher helped me overcome that bottleneck it's hard to see the same joy in the world. Perhaps it was never there and I was only fooling myself."

"Ahh, a scholar as well as a heaven-defying genius!" Fan Yong exclaimed, lowering himself slightly as if to gesture in mock prostration before slugging the other youth in the arm.

"Stop all that, it's good to think about your state of mind however, isn't it ok just to be who you always were? Let the heavens do what they will and we'll keep moving forward. You're the heir to the Fan clan and my best friend, that should be enough."

With a smile Fan Zhong nodded back at him and the two continued on their way to the medics, Fan Yong slightly regretting his earlier movements as his injuries acted up again.






"Hah! See that Hu Wu you old codger? Junior Zhong trounced that disciple of Master Du Tian with ease." Xing Zheng beamed as he nodded with an air of self-satisfaction.

Currently, he was over-exaggerating his feelings to fit his cover however, seeing the youth win so-handedly brought him a good amount of joy. Although Master Du Tian's disciple was not among the stronger half of the core disciples it had still been satisfying. In just five exchanges he had landed three blows and then used that personal technique of his to land a finishing blow.

That technique should have long ago passed the threshold for expert-level attainment and was nearing the master level. Inwardly he nodded his head in approval, focusing on techniques was a good way to hone in on one's path and would give him a clear direction on how to proceed.

"Indeed, it seems I've underestimated him. It's still too early for you to celebrate though Brother Zhang Zheng. In this round, that clansmen of his disciple Fan Yong, was eliminated. Even winning here only puts that brat in the top eight, far from winning your bet!" Master Hu Wu replied with vigor in his voice.

For his part, the mortal master seemed to be enjoying the exchange and was only being spurred on by his competitive spirit. Xing Zheng sighed in his heart at seeing such a thing. It was clear that the man had long reached the limits of the master realm but had kept his realm lower to assist his sect.

One could never know how a breakthrough would go and as such mortal masters tended to do such things. Had the valley been stable and the original Sect Master, who had been a grandmaster, been alive, Hu Wu likely would've attempted to attain the next realm a decade ago.

"Of course, we'll just have to see if the other core disciples can stop him. Disciple Shen Shuren has been surprisingly strong after his showing in the first round. It seems they are fated to meet in the semifinals if all goes well." Xing Zheng responded with a nod of his head, his tone was calm and light like a morning breeze.






"Brother Shuren, it's an honor to meet you here!" Fan Zhong beamed, a genuine smile on his face as he looked over at the other man.

"En, it seems that you were holding out on me during our spars, Brother Zhong." Shen Shuren replied with a jovial tone.

"Well, you can't expect me to let you know all my tricks. Where is the excitement in that?" Fan Zhong let out a slight chuckle as he spoke before clasping his hands in a martial salute while bowing.

The other man simply shook his head and returned the gesture, bringing his sword up into a guard position shortly after.

"Brother Shuren, these bouts are simply tiring me. What say we skip the prodding and go right for it?" Fan Zhong leveled a predatory smile at his opponent as battle intent started to show in the depths of his eyes.

"Ahhh, you wound me, Brother Zhong. Here I thought we'd enjoy a nice cup of tea while talking about technique. Alas if you are in a rush we can only do as you say" Shen Shuren replied with a slightly exaggerated sigh as his gaze revealed a hidden light.

Instantly the ground cracked as both of them dashed forward. Fan Zhong almost seemed like a serpent blurring across the ground as he let his body fall forward and side to side. Each movement built momentum causing the air to whistle around him.

Meanwhile, his staff stayed level at his opponent as the tip started moving in blurring circles that left shadows behind. It looked as if multiple of the staff was coming from either side as well as charging straight at his opponent. With a terrifying momentum, the ground cracked in six total places as he cut a curving S-shaped path forward.

Shen Shuren started whirling his sword in a figure-eight shape while walking forward with slow calm steps. Each step caused his sword to look as if it was leaving behind after images that were drawing the same arc but at a slightly different angle. In total just three of these steps made it look as if the afterimages formed a lotus with six petals that seemed to form a barrier in front of him.

This was his strongest technique and normally was built up over the course of a fight. He had originally wished to use it when fighting Tiyun Areal. However, her 'World Condensed to the Blade' was simply too good at controlling the opponent's weapon, completely dissolving the technique. Now that it was displayed just nine steps formed three overlapping sword lotuses around him.

Fan Zhong didn't even have time to be internally startled as his eyes worked to track the movement of that blade. It seemed mystical from the outside but there was a clear pattern to it. Slowly he shifted part of his momentum as he charged forward ever so slightly to his contact juggling.

This gave him that precious extra moment that he needed to focus on the pattern of that sword. The red outline he saw in the world seemed to condense into the shape of that blade as it circled in almost inhuman patterns. Outwardly it felt slow but it was almost as if the movements themselves melded with the world around them.

This was only a vague impression as no ethereal energy was used with the technique however, Fan Zhong could feel that if this technique was perfect it would be incredibly terrifying. As Shen Shurren raised his foot for the tenth step the melody in Fan Zhong's head seemed to slow its tempo.

All around him the discordant sounds seemed to converge to a point of dissonance as the drums playing in his mind settled into a cadence. In the brief span of time, it took for his opponent to raise his foot Fan Zhong saw the pattern that formed the technique. It was there that he witnessed the flaw, Shen Shuren hadn't mastered transitioning to draw a new layer of the afterimages.

With a roar, he charged forward his staff entering from just below the outside guard of his opponent at the level of his thigh. Fan Zhong's body was low to the ground and he twisted to push the staff and curve his approach such that the end of his staff hooked upward to his opponent's chest level. At that moment startlement registered on Shen Shuren's face as his eyes widened.

He could feel it, the small gap that had been created as he started forming the next layer of his 'Dancing Lotus Sword Wall'. It baffled him that anyone could use it, however. Each hole was at a different point in each lotus causing the path between them to be like a winding snake.

Fan Zhong's staff had entered the hole on the lower outside of his guard and traveled upward before twisting to shove straight forward once more. At the very last moment, the staff head curved upward once more as Fan Zhong spread his legs to complete a split in order to send his weapon into his opponent's throat.

Not even able to gasp for air, Shen Shuren was sent flying as an array of runes emitted a repulsive force followed by a shining light all around the arena. The green medical arrays light up with glazing green flames that seemed to make the air itself crackle. For his part Fan Zhong looked on at his opponent as he slowly stood up and resumed a fighting stance.

Inwardly a portion of his mind was screaming that his blow had been excessive and to go check on Brother Shuren! After all, the two had become rather good acquaintances and Fan Zhong had started thinking of him as a friend. Those thoughts seemed to come through a haze however as his mental energy spread out, trying to spot the tiniest movements.

Slowly he took deep breaths and the grim expression on his face gave way to one of respect and admiration. Truly Brother Shuren had been dazzling with almost no flaws in his technique. Had he simply been willing to defend Fan Zhong was struggling to see how his charge would've broken through the defense.

In the end, he was certain that he would have won. However, that victory would require a much longer and more strenuous fight. Looking over at his opponent he let out a sigh of relief as the man seemed to be able to nod his head and had regained consciousness.

"Brother Shuren, I don't know if you can hear me but nonetheless it was an honor to exchange pointers with you. Please remember to find me if there's ever anything you need." Fan Zhong clasped his hands in a martial salute and bowed low as he spoke his words loudly to make sure everyone present heard.

This was a statement from him as the future leader of the Fan clan. It was telling everyone that Shen Shuren was his personal friend and to offend him was to offend them. Fan Zhong didn't count many people among his personal friends however, he found brother Shuren incredibly likable.

Add onto this the long hours the other man had spent sparing with him and it was no issue publicly declaring the man as his friend. A roar was kicked up as the crowd all had different reactions, some booing and some cheering him on. Still others in the crowd were talking of the implications of that action, and what this would mean for Shen Shuren's future.

Fan Zhong paid no mind to any of this, he simply walked out of the arena with a smile on his face for the first time since the tournament started.
 
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So this chapter was supposed to drop Monday however, due to RR writeathon ending tomorrow and me working i just decided to release it early. That way if i get caught up in work I won't miss the deadline, for those not readingon RR consider this a bonus as your also getting the chapter earlier as I didn't want anyone to miss out!

Since I'm leaving a note wanted to take the pulse on something. Currently I have two directions that I want to take the story. As everyone knows we are focusing on Fan Zhong getting to the master realm however, with Xing Zheng dealing with those spreading rumors and demonic techniques we aren't bound to the valley any longer.

So two options:

1.) We see more of the valley! learning more about some of the organizations and clans that have just been mentioned and meeting some new people while getting some deeper history for the area.

2.) We take a a bit of tour around the twisted territories seeing a few sights as we go.

I have plans for both and will ultimately have some time to thing about it as the tournament and wrapup will most likely take most of next week but input is appreciated!
 
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