~~~

Feng Zhi’s injuries are mostly healed.

The healers of the Eternal Flame Clan began treating him even before he left the arena. Elixirs that would have cost years of a person’s livelihood were poured like cheap wine, and precious pills were swallowed by the dozen. His flesh was sealed, his bones were mended, and his clothes were changed. Mere hours have passed, yet Feng Zhi stands as though nothing happened. Only the slight pain that accompanies some of his movements tells him he has been in a fight.

In a few hours, that will be gone, too.

However, it is not the pain that has kept him immobile for the past five minutes. Feng Zhi, the Young Master of the Eternal Flame Clan and prodigy with few equals, stands rooted to the spot for no other reason than nervousness. His golden eyes are fixed on a simple, unassuming door.

Huang Shing is on the other side.

For years, Huang Shing has been chasing after him. Now, Feng Zhi finds himself in the improbable situation of being the one who needs to go to Huang Shing. It is outlandish and ridiculous, so why does he feel so nervous about it?

“You shouldn’t hesitate.”

Feng Zhi does not jump in surprise. He does, however, mentally chastise himself for having forgotten Yi Jiao was standing right beside him all this time. Clearly, it is a sign he is still tired from the battle and nothing else.

“This is…” Feng Zhi trails off. “There is really no need… You are the one who grew up with him, and…”

Yi Jiao smiles gently and places a comforting hand on Feng Zhi’s shoulder.

Then she takes a step back, moves her hand to his back, and shoves him.

The sudden push catches him by surprise, forcing him to take three stumbling steps that leave his nose brushing against the door. He looks back and glares at Yi Jiao, who smiles and shoos him forward with her hands.

Feng Zhi sighs and enters the room.

“You took your time.”

Huang Shing is lying on a bed. As the loser, there was no need to prioritize his treatment, but that does not mean he was left without care. Many elixirs, pills, and ointments have been used on him, just not enough to completely restore him. His body is completely covered in bandages and burns.

And yet, he is grinning.

Feng Zhi struggles to believe it. He frantically searches those burned lips and cheeks for any trace of falsehood, yet he finds nothing but the buffoon’s usual stupidity. Huang Shing looks so content one would never believe he lost a fight.

Curious. Feng Zhi does not feel like he won either.

“You’re doing that thing,” the fool points out. He raises a bandaged hand and waves it at his face. “I thought you’d have gotten over it. That expression makes you look pathetic.”

Feng Zhi grits his teeth and marches till he is right by Huang Shing’s bedside.

“Well?” He demands.

Huang Shing blinks.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you angry at me?” Feng Zhi yells. “You have to be! If it weren’t for that relic…”

Once again, Feng Zhi cannot finish a sentence. It burns him. The paper knife. The stupid, silly paper knife he had so readily dismissed, that he’d kept in his pocket more out of vain hope than any real belief. It awakened at the last moment, turning into a fiery sword that burned through Huang Shing’s defenses.

If not for that, he’d probably have… in all likelihood lost.

Feng Zhi does not need to say it for Huang Shing to understand it, something he will forever be grateful for. The fool looks at him for several seconds in silence. However, the answer that leaves his mouth is not one Feng Zhi expected.

“Nah.”

“What?”

“I’m not angry,” Huang Shing says, shrugging. “Well, maybe a little, but that’s normal. It was a good fight. You won. Congratulations.”

Feng Zhi stares at him.

“How can you possibly say that?’

Huang Shing sighs.

“I don’t know how Yi Jiao puts up with you,” Huang Shing says, grunting as he moves to a sitting position. Considering Feng Zhi’s body is still sore despite receiving much better treatment, even that simple movement must cause Huang Shing quite a bit of pain.

“I realized something when we fought,” Huang Shing says. “No, maybe I knew it beforehand, but I couldn’t fully grasp it till then. You wanted to win more than I did.”

Feng Zhi blinks.

That cannot possibly be the case. The buffoon has been trying to surpass him since he left his stupid backwater town. For years, he has been chasing after him. Defeating him was his sole purpose once upon a time. The idea that he, the Young Master of the Eternal Flame Clan, would care more about defeating a nobody like Huang Shing is preposterous.

So why can he not deny it?

“If I had been willing to sacrifice an arm to your flames, I’d have won,” Huang Shing says, raising a bandaged arm and tapping it with his other one. “I thought about doing it. I didn’t. It seemed like too much a risk for a tournament battle where our lives weren’t at stake.”

Feng Zhi wants to scoff at the notion, yet his mind replays the fight and finds several moments where that sort of crucial sacrifice might have allowed Huang Shing to seriously injure him early on. The fight wouldn’t have lasted long enough for the relic to activate.

He’d have lost.

“I wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice, so I lost,” Huang Shing sums up. “I might have gone in there wanting to win, but you were completely desperate not to lose. You were willing to put so much of yourself at stake that you found your path. I felt it. Most of the arena did, too.”

“Cleanse,” Feng Zhi says, tasting the word.

Despite all his misgivings, it feels right.

“See?” Huang Shing says as if that proves his point. “You wanted it more, so you won. I won’t deny it’s a little frustrating that I don’t want to defeat you as badly as before, but I guess our wants change sometimes.” He pauses, then adds, “Besides, if we had a match right now, I’d win.”

Feng Zhi scoffs. “Braggart. I understand how to use this relic this time.”

“So what? I’d be ready for it this time,” Huang Shing counters, crossing his arms.

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“The only reason you can face me is because of the damned elixir!” Feng Zhi points out, his eyebrow twitching.

“Is that what you think? I’ll have to trounce you after you hit the Heaven Realm, then.”

“You brazen fool,” Feng Zhi says. Nevertheless, he’s smiling.

“You know, it is very pathetic that you need the guy you beat to make you feel better about yourself,” Huang Shing points out. “You’re very fragile, Young Master.”

Feng Zhi’s answer is lost as he hears a sniffle behind him. He and Huang Shing look toward the door and see Yi Jiao standing there, teary-eyed but smiling.

“Please, don’t mind me,” she says, wiping a tear. “I am just very happy right now. Continue, please.”

Huang Shing and Feng Zhi sigh as one.

“You’re making this weird, Yi Jiao.”

Feng Zhi agrees but doesn’t voice it. Minutes later, as he and Yi Jiao are leaving so Huang Shing may rest, his fellow disciple calls out to him to tell him one last thing.

“Considering everything, it is probably for the best that you won today. A relic and Dao, you’re going to need both if you want to fight Brother Jin.”

~~~

How to fight Boss?

Nearly everyone left in the tournament and quite a few people outside it must be pondering that very question. Su Daji stands out as a rare exception in that she is not. If she makes it to him, she is not particularly worried about winning or losing.

Even if she wants to hit him really hard.

It is not proper, a part of her complains, but she has never really been all that proper to begin with. The older part of herself might have loved to fake a genteel exterior, but her insides were that of a vicious predator, seeking to indulge her appetites at every turn. Su Daji is quite done with that sort of thing.

Her fingers tap against the table in her room. The sound gradually grows stronger, and her fingers start making a slight indent on the wood. However, she does not stop. Everything is becoming a little more tense. The common people might have loved the matches so far, but even they are beginning to feel something is off with the tournament.

The Four Great Sects are hungry. That they were willing to give a Relic to someone like Ruan Leji proved it. It is safe to assume the others might try similar things.

Of course, one has to wonder if Xiao Shuang even needs it.

Su Daji frowns. Like many, she has paid close attention to Xiao Shuang’s matches. There is no denying the girl is among the strongest participants in the tournament. That she has yet to reveal the full might of her cultivation says it all. However, power alone is not the reason Su Daji worries. Something changed in Xiao Shuang after Boss revealed his movement technique. The word cold has been used repeatedly by various people to describe her aura, but Su Daji feels something else underneath it.

Her finger breaks through the table.

She sighs, raises her hand, and blows off the splinters from it. Annoyed as she is by her lack of control, she imagines Xiao Shuang’s condition is much worse. The Divine Frozen Palace has probably told her about the danger Boss will be in after the tournament, and that has caused her change.

In other words, Xiao Shuang has already made her resolution.

The same can be said for Lu Mei. She hides it far more effectively than Xiao Shuang does, but Su Daji has not missed the signs. Despite fighting the likes of Ding Yan and using the Eternal Flame, Lu Mei remains in perfect condition. She has to be if she intends to face Xiao Shuang, which she absolutely does.

That means she fully believes she can beat her.

Su Daji’s hands slowly form into fists before she takes a deep breath and lays them flat over the table. She is not angry at the unintentional jab at her strength. That would be foolish and petty, which she most definitely isn’t.

“You look preoccupied.”

Su Daji jumps.

In a motion that is neither beautiful nor graceful, her legs hurriedly step over the table, kicking it up after she has jumped over it, and snatching it out of the air to hold it in front of her like a shield.

The Wandering Wind raises an eyebrow.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” Su Daji says, not letting go of the table even as her legs hurriedly back away until her back touches the wall. “It is also not enough. I should be in another country, but I am not that fast.”

“Fair enough,” The Wandering Wind says. “I would still find you in another country, by the way.”

Su Daji twitches.

“Why are you here?”

Most would not nearly be so flippant with the Wandering Wind, but as someone who has suffered the attention of the Wandering Wind more than most, Su Daji knows the Wandering Wind cares not for breaches of etiquette.

Put simply, the Wandering Wind cares too little for people to care about their offenses.

“Is it not normal for a Master to visit her student?” The Wandering Wind asks, taking a seat on her bed. Somehow, the mere act makes her look like a queen on her throne.

Su Daji scoffs. She’d cross her arms if doing so wouldn’t mean letting go of her shield. The Endlessly Raging Valley might think of her as the Wandering Wind’s student, but that does not mean the Wandering Wind has ever thought of her in those terms. At best, she is the Wandering Wind’s experiment.

“What do you want?” she repeats.

“You are hesitating,” the Wandering Wind says

“People tend to do that. Not all of us can be so certain of our paths.” Su Daji asks. “Is that a problem?”

“Not as such, no,” the Wandering Wind says. “Whatever you decide will be fine as long as you make a choice. I just want it to be a choice made without doubt.”

Of course.

The words might sound encouraging, but they are an extension of the experiments the woman subjected her to so that she might find herself. Su Daji can still remember all the time they spent inside her soul. Every day was a new, horrible trial.

And yet, she cannot deny the lessons she learned there have served her well.

What does she want to do?

Who does she want to be?

“I really don’t like you.”

“I do not particularly care.”

~~~

“I think there are assassins outside,” Lu Mei says, squinting as she looks at the windows. The gesture is largely performative. She is not using her eyes to peer into the darkness. She is sensing the faint traces of Qi of those trying to hide outside the property.

Their presence is not unusual. Spying is a common tournament tradition, and there have been people watching them from the shadows for weeks now. However, they feel a little more lethal as of late, especially tonight.

“It does not surprise me,” Lord Feng Shang says. He is only a few steps behind her. Father and daughter are alone in his study. “Your husband broke the Sword of the Wind King today.”

Lu Mei considers her father’s wording for a moment. Is it a good thing that he is acknowledging her ties to Qing Jin despite them not being officially wed? Or is he trying to cast blame on her for his actions by doing so?

She looks at her father’s inscrutable face and decides trying to read it is beyond her right now. Instead, she focuses on the other part of his sentence.

“You believe the Endlessly Raging Valley is seeking retribution?”

“Though far from their most powerful relic, the relative weakness of the Sword of the Wind King made it safe to use at various points in their history, allowing it to gain some notoriety. In that sense, breaking it is an insult to them,” Lord Feng Shang says. “However, I don’t believe they would be so foolish as to send assassins. It would be too obvious.”

“But it makes for a good excuse,” Lu Mei says, realizing what her father is implying. “It gives everyone else plausible deniability. They can try to strike Qing Jin, and when it fails, they will just say it must have been the work of the Endlessly Raging Valley.”

“Good,” Lord Feng Shang says, nodding in approval.

“Qing Jin is not here,” she points out.

“But they do not know that,” Lord Feng Shang says. “As far as everyone is concerned, we have been hiding him all this time. Since things have reached this point, it’s for the best if that belief is maintained.”

“Should we send someone to deal with the assassins?” Lu Mei asks.

“Leave them. Let them try and fail if they dare,” Lord Feng Shang says. “What matters now is your upcoming fight. You will face the Wandering Wind’s disciple.”

Lu Mei’s face grows serious.

“She can hardly be called that, but she’s closer to it than most,” Lu Mei says. “I do not intend to lose.”

“And the fight after that?”

Lu Mei does not offer any outward reaction as she meets her father’s gaze.

“I will win,” she promises.

“Meng Yue’s disciple is dangerous and has more than one reason to wish you dead,” Lord Feng Shang points out. “There is no shame in surrendering.”

Lu Mei blinks.

Out of all the things she expected her father to say, that was not one of them.

“Are you… concerned for me?”

How… foreign.

“I have practical and personal reasons to wish for your survival, daughter,” Lord Feng Shang says. “Do not be surprised by it.”

Lu Mei is not sure how to react to that, so she decides to change the subject.

“Is it really alright for us to meet so openly? I doubt Lady Feng will be happy about it.”

Her father sighs and takes a seat behind his desk. He looks down for a moment, a hand rising up to rub forehead.

“That is not for you to worry about,” he says at last. “Trust me, she will have more reasons to direct her anger at me soon enough.”

~~~