~~~

According to the information given to him by Song Daiyu, the Sword of the Wind King is a storied blade that has been used several times in the history of the Endlessly Raging Valley. Its origins can even be traced back to the war between humans and demons. Despite that, the Sword of the Wind King cannot be said to be particularly powerful. It cannot reach the lofty heights of Emperors or even come close to the wild power of Renegades.

It is still more than what most cultivators in the Earth Realm can withstand.

“Ruan Leji of the Endlessly Raging Valley vs. Qing Jin of the Eternal Flame Clan!”

As soon as the announcement is made, Ruan Leji brings his sword down in an overhead slash. The movement unleashes a furious tornado but Liu Jin blurs across the ring, tossing a few lightning spears at Ruan Leji. As soon as they get close to him, wind rises to block them.

Liu Jin hums approvingly.

“Your skill with the relic has grown,” he notes

“Do not attempt to patronize me!” Ruan Leji shouts back, swinging his sword and unleashing another tornado. “The Sword of the Wind King heeds my will, and that will is for you to fall!”

As Liu Jin dodges, he decides against trying to explain that he is not trying to mock his foe. It was a genuine compliment. When Ruan Leji fought Shen Mi, just one swing of the sword seemed to take a lot of him. Now, he is filling the arena with deadly winds without a care. It is a sign he has become more attuned to the weapon.

Unfortunately, that is not a good thing. The Sword of the Wind King is a sword for monarchs, and the price of rulership is death. It is hardly an uplifting thought considering Liu Jin’s position, but that is how the sword works. The more Ruan Leji uses it, the more years of his life the sword claims.

“You will die long before I fall if you keep doing this,” Liu Jin says. His voice is a whisper amidst the fierce tornadoes swirling around the ring, but Qi ensures his words reach Ruan Leji.

The disciple of the Endlessly Raging Valley laughs. A tornado expands around him, pushing everything in the ring against the barrier. At the same time, a large Qi snake manifests around Liu Jin, anchoring him to the ground and protecting him from the wind.

“Who’d have thought the Emperor of the Storm Dragon Empire would talk so much during a duel!” Ruan Leji shouts over the winds. “Do you like wasting time?”

“I am merely curious. What did the Endlessly Raging Valley offer you that was worth the risk? Why does a promising member of the Ruan Clan need to risk himself by fighting me?”

A blade of wind explodes from Ruan Leji’s sword, cutting the ring in half and cracking the barrier. It is only because Emperor Xiang strengthened it during Feng Zhi’s and Huang Shing’s fight that it does not break. Liu Jin dodges, yet a cut is left behind on his robes. Considering the weapon, it is not surprising.

It is also not important.

Ruan Leji’s mouth may refuse to answer his questions, but the burden the Sword of the Wind King has placed on his body has left his Qi unstable. His soul has become too loud for him to hide, and Liu Jin can glimpse it with full clarity. The anger there is predictable. The fear is unsurprising. The concern, however, is unexpected, as are the words that accompany it.

Family.

Brother.

A single face is at the forefront of Ruan Leji’s mind. If Liu Jin didn’t know any better, he’d think Ruan Leji was thinking about himself, but it just so happens that the most important person to Ruan Leji bears the same face as him.

“Stop!” Ruan Leji shouts so loudly that his voice momentarily overpowers the howling winds. “Do you think my soul is a book for you to read?! Fight and Die!”

“I have no intention of doing the latter. As for the former, I am confused as to what you think we have been doing so far.”

Liu Jin’s words echo around Ruan Leji. Try as he might, he cannot find him. His anger mounts, and the sword in his hands vibrates with bloodlust.

Ruan Leji unleashes it.

Each swing of his sword creates deadly sickles of wind that bounce around the ring randomly. Ruan Leji is not even trying to aim at Liu Jin anymore, having given up on locating him through sight. Yet, those wild, haphazard attacks keep almost hitting him.

That is the true power of the sword Ruan Leji is wielding. As much as he might have looked down on the concept of luck before, the Sword of the Wind King is one that brings favorable winds to the one who uses it.

Lightning snakes suddenly appear in the ring. They slither around and leap to intercept the wind sickles.

“I will stop prying into your personal matters,” Liu Jin says. “However, let me ask you something else. Did the Endlessly Raging Valley order you to capture me? Or to kill me? Who gave the order?”

Art of the Roaming Thief is a technique that marks Liu Jin as someone who knows dangerous things. Some people want that knowledge. Others are fine with seeing that knowledge destroyed. Knowing which outcome the Endlessly Raging Valley prefers might help him discern whom they are connected to.

Ruan Leji does not answer. He brings his sword up at the same time as Liu Jin appears above him, swinging down a spear of lightning. The air crackles, and the wind rages as the two weapons clash. However, rather than focusing on overpowering his foe, Liu Jin’s soul reaches out to touch Ruan Leji’s once more.

A new face appears, one older than Ruan Leji. The Elder of the Endlessly Raging Valley watching them.

Ruan Chenshu.

Does he know anything of substance? Or is he merely relaying someone else’s orders? A good question, but there is no point in asking Ruan Leji.

“How much more do you think you can mock me!” Ruan Leji shouts at him, realizing what Liu Jin is doing. “I refuse to let this farce continue!”

Ruan Leji backs away and holds the Sword of the Wind King in front of him. His Qi rises, and the winds around him grow fiercer.

“Do you wish to lose? Is this humiliation to your liking?” He yells. It takes Liu Jin a second to realize that Ruan Leji is not speaking to him but to the sword. “No? Very well, then! What are you waiting for?”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Don’t-” Liu Jin tries to shout, but the wind overpowers his voice.

“My life is rich and hearty! Feast on it and give me victory!”

A hurricane blossoms in the ring.

The barrier trembles against its mighty force, and the sky above Imperial Cloud City darkens. The audience can barely see what is happening within the ring.

“Are you mad?” Liu Jin yells, barely keeping himself anchored to the ground. “If you do that, you will-”

“Die? Is that what you want to say?” Ruan Leji shouts as cuts and bruises appear all over his body due to the force of the hurricane. “Did you think I stepped into this ring without knowing the risks? Whether to you or to this sword, I stand here prepared to lay down my life!”

The hurricane winds assault Liu Jin without rest. Their mighty howls boast of their power and strike fear into the hearts of the crowd. Shapes can be seen inside, glowing eyes peeking from behind the dark winds. Invisible claws and fangs leave wounds on Liu Jin’s body. The young Emperor looks down as his snake constructs try to protect him.

Two words leave his lips.

“I see.”

Purple lightning flashes into existence, bringing light into the dark world. Later that day, people would swear that they heard the roar of a dragon. Fear ignites in Ruan Leji’s heart. The Sword of the Wind King urges him to action. His Qi rises as he pours everything into the blade to meet the incoming blast of lightning. The two mighty powers meet in the center of the ring, dark wind and shining lightning.

The hurricane pops like a balloon.

“I apologize,” Liu Jin says on the now silent ring. “I greatly underestimated your resolve.”

The Sword of the Wind King shatters.

Ruan Leji falls.

~~~

“The Winner! Qing Jin of the Eternal Flame Clan!”

The Wandering Wind sighs. “It was a poor choice to face him.”

“Perhaps,” Ruan Chenshu says. If the Wandering Wind noticed or cared about his temporary absence, she gives no sign of it. “However, he was the only disciple whose battle against Emperor Qing Jin we could guarantee. I mean no disrespect against your disciple. We’d simply never dream of risking her by giving her the Sword of the Wind King.”

“You misunderstand,” the Wandering Wind says. “I am not talking about the disciple. I am talking about the relic. It was foolish to use the Sword of the Wind King against him.”

Ruan Chenshu frowns. The Sword of the Wind King is one of the most powerful relics they could have given someone like Ruan Leji. It might not have been his choice, but it is one he fully agrees with. He wants to know what could make the Wandering Wind disagree, but experience has taught him there is no need to.

If he stays silent long enough, people will fill in the gaps. Powerful cultivators love hearing themselves talk, himself included.

“Emperor Qing Jin is quite aware of his own weight,” the Wandering Wind says. “By making the entire tournament revolve around his person, that weight has increased further. A sword that can only bring good winds to its wielder was never his match. The fight was lost the moment that relic was picked.”

~~~

As the day’s fights end and the people return to their homes, Ruan Chenshu makes his way back to the Endlessly Raging Valley’s estate. The beautiful stone gardens around the mansion are often a balm upon his soul, often weary from having to deal with the stupidity that so often surrounds him. Not so today. For various reasons, it has been a trying day, and it is not over yet.

Ruan Chenshu slowly makes his way inside the compound, the servants bowing as he passes by. It is only proper for them to do so. He would never waste his time terrorizing those beneath him, but he firmly believes in the importance of showing adequate deference to one’s superiors. Naturally, he is not exempt from that standard.

No matter how often it tries his patience.

On the uppermost level of the mansion, there is a small room with four large statues in each corner: a swordsman, a pheasant, a mouse, and a child. The room has no windows and only one door, yet Ruan Chenshu can feel a gentle breeze that does not stop even after he has locked the door behind him.

Without making a sound, Ruan Chenshu kneels down in the center of the room.

“The boy lost,” Ruan Chenshu says.

Silence. Two long minutes go before the statue of the pheasant stretches its stone wings and wiggles its tail. The beak opens, yet the voice that comes out does not fit the small animal at all.

It is the voice of an old man.

It is the voice of Ruan Haoran, head of the Ruan Clan.

“Pathetic,” says the statue. “Is this what we can expect from the current generation? He was given one of the greatest relics possible for his level, yet he couldn’t beat a boy playing at being king? How could you let this happen?”

Ruan Chenshu wonders if he should relay the Wandering Wind’s words about the Sword of the Wind King being the worst possible relic for this task but decides against it. Pleasing as it would be, the pleasure would be momentary, and the reprimand would surely last longer.

“Ruan Leji is talented, but his talent was never superlative,” Ruan Chenshu says instead. “We already knew that. Otherwise, we’d have given him far greater treasures to aid his growth. We could not possibly have anticipated that the Emperor of the Storm Dragon Empire would reveal…well, you already know.”

Ruan Haoran grunts but does not reply. Ruan Chenshu wishes he would, so someone would explain to him how this tournament became a quest to capture Emperor Qing Jin. Try as he might, he still cannot wrap his head around this farce. All he knows is that it began with that damned technique.

The Art of the Roaming Thief.

Those who know the steps cannot be trusted.

Those who know the steps must be hunted down.

It is one of the first things Ruan Chenshu was told upon becoming an Elder of the Endlessly Raging Valley. Back then, he had wanted to believe it was nothing more than a joke played upon him by his elders, but there had been no laughter in their eyes. To think some of the most powerful cultivators in the continent would pass down such a warning like children telling each other horror stories. Ridiculous.

And yet, that silly old tale has decided to manifest itself.

“This is disastrous,” Ruan Haoran says. “That boy was our best opportunity to get our hands on the Art of the Roaming Thief. The only other disciple who might make it to him is hers.”

Though Ruan Haoran is far, far away, the sheer loathing with which he refers to the Wandering Wind is palpable.

“She must have planned this! That has to be it! I have heard the reports. Her disciple was cavorting with that brat like some common whore. Worse still, the girl has been spending time with the Ding girl. They are plotting against us!”

Ruan Chenshu rather doubts that is the case. Such would imply the Wandering Wind cared enough to sabotage them or engage in any sort of collaboration with her lessers. However, there is no point in voicing that. The old man has always foolishly believed the Wandering Wind plots against him.

What a pitiful person.

“Honored Elder,” Ruan Chenshu says. “Why exactly is this matter of such great importance?”

“Do you even need to ask that question?”

“Is this related to the Peerless Heavenly Sword Peak?”

The pheasant goes absolutely still.

“Ruan Chenshu, you are a smart lad. You have always been,” Ruan Haoran says after a while, “That’s exactly why I am going to ignore the words you said just now, and you’d do well to never utter them again. Your duty is to act for the glory of the Ruan Clan. Understood?”

“Naturally. Forgive my impudence.”

“Good.”

The wind ceases. The statue stops moving. Ruan Haoran is no longer there.

Ruan Chenshu stays.

All the times he met with Murong Bang and never once did he imagine Bright Sword was a member of the Peerless Heavenly Sword. It always seemed strange to him that Murong Bang was the one the Endlessly Raging Valley sought to court, especially since the Wandering Wind seemed to have some sort of understanding with General He Bin. However, if Murong Bang was always under the watch of the Peerless Heavenly Sword Peak, it begins to make sense.

A game is being played. A dangerous game.

And somehow, the Emperor of the Storm Dragon Empire stands at the center of it all, while he, who has plotted and maneuvered for more than a century, is stuck taking orders from those ill-equipped to lead. He can tell himself he only needs to endure this for a while longer, but…

For the first time, Ruan Chenshu finds himself angry at Emperor Qing Jin.

~~~