Chương 30: Chapter 29: NOT TO WASTE

" the proctor announced before jumping off the stage. Jieyuan set off running, hastespace snapping into place over his body. Across from him, Caoluan similarly bounded toward him, long legs eating up the distance in surging strides. This exact sight was one Jieyuan had seen before. Many, many times. The moment they reached each other, Caoluan threw her arms out, stabbing at him—with a sword that wasn't there.

Jieyuan brought both Shifting Sisters in front of him, and there was a loud, ringing noise with a scratching quality to it as they seemingly struck empty air. Jieyuan concentrated, barely seeing the shimmering outline of a blade as Caoluan drew her arms back before swinging them across at him. Jieyuan once again parried with both splitfangs. It was only in the previous round that Caoluan had revealed her weapon's spiritskill, the ability to turn borderline invisible.

That, on its own, would've been plenty handy, in Jieyuan's opinion. It wasn't all that the spiritskill did, though. Rather, that was just a consequence. Again he heard a loud, scratching noise as the Shifting Sisters met the near-invisible blade. Scratching noises caused by the compressed chromal wind enveloping Caoluan's blade. Wind that increased its cutting power. The shimmering outline of the blade suddenly grew as Caoluan struck at him again.

Wind that Caoluan could manipulate, expanding it, increasing her weapon's reach. Having been expecting it, Jieyuan managed to deflect the strike again—and the ones that followed it. The Xiyunfeng style of martial arts was fluid, leaning heavily on offense. But there were clear patterns to it, if you knew how to look for them. Patterns that Jieyuan had gotten very acquainted with. Specific sweeps led to specific thrusts. Entire chains of successive moves in reaction to particular attacks.

Jieyuan was less fighting, and more enacting a routine, knowing exactly how the invisible blade would strike next. It was after he'd blocked a good twenty or so blows—the Xiyunfeng style was much more easily parried than dodged—that Jieyuan caught Caoluan's frown. And he braced himself, well aware of what was about to come. So far Caoluan had only really been testing the waters. Now she'd be getting serious.

As she swung her sword at him again, her figure seemed to blur a little, and a hissing noise filled his ears. He just barely managed to catch the invisible blow. In front of him, Caoluan seemed to shimmer much like her sword did, though she was still visible. And as she drew her sword back she seemed significantly faster than before. A constant sharp hiss came from her direction. Sibilant Wind Blessing. The Xiyunfeng Clan's sole bondskill.

Its first form, Sibilant Wind Touch, worked much like Caoluan's sword's spiritskill, enveloping the user in a layer of chromal wind that emitted a constant sibilant, hissing sound. It didn't render the user invisible, but it did greatly increase its user's speed and agility, on top of imbuing their entire body with cutting power. Caoluan's normal speed was already near the limit of what Jieyuan could handle given her faster hastespace. Now she was even faster than your average sixth-step Redsoul.

If this had been his first time fighting her, he'd have lost within three strikes after she used her bondskill, no question asked. But he deflected each and every one of the flurry of strikes she launched at him. Because while this was her first time fighting him, this wasn't his first time fighting her. It wasn't even the hundredth one. He'd spent just about all of his waking hours the previous day and this morning fighting her in his head, over and over. Dying, over and over.

But each time in a different way, because Jieyuan learned from his mistakes. Dead. Dead. Dead. He saw his death in each strike he deflected. He had died to each one of them. What was happening this very moment was something Jieyuan had managed to reproduce almost exactly, over countless times, each death taking him just a little bit further. And this was the best he could do. As he defended, he found himself being pushed back, retreating as Caoluan only grew fiercer in her attacks.

He even had to lower the Shifting Sisters' weight as he swung them, returning it to normal as they impacted against Caoluan's sword, all so he could match Caoluan's speed. But that was fine. In all of his simulations, he'd only managed to win in one specific scenario. And that's what he was biding his time for. Waiting for it.

It wouldn't be a clean win—far from it—and it'd depend on Caoluan playing along as he hoped she would, but as long as she had some sense in her, she would— There was a bursting sound as the Shifting Sisters met Caoluan's invisible sword, the splitfangs being thrown back. Bewildered, off-balance, Jieyuan only barely managed to step back as Caoluan swung her arms down in front of her—and it wasn't enough, his robes being torn as Caoluan's invisible blade cut a line across his chest.

Blood splattered erratically, buffeted by the rapid wind currents wrapped around the blade. When Meiyao fought a Xiyunfeng in the first round, the man had just about thrown the match. Clearly, though, Caoluan wasn't playing by that same rule book. Not against him, at any rate. The woman was holding nothing back. Focus. Jieyuan caught onto the pattern again and parried the next blow, ignoring the blood he could feel welling up in the gash across his chest. The wound wasn't deep—far from incapacitating.

As for what had just happened… Jieyuan focused again on the invisible blade, wary of a repeat of what just happened. So Caoluan still had a trick up her sleeve. He doubted her sword had more than one spiritskill, though, so that explosion… a rapid, violent expansion of that wind coat, maybe? Jieyuan grimaced, teeth gritted, half from effort, half from where his thoughts led.

He could still win this, but victory had just gotten a great deal more dangerous if Caoluan could send out air bursts like that—especially given what he had in mind for his winning move. Caoluan kept on driving him back, and for once Jieyuan was grateful for the sheer size of the stage. Now that she'd played her hand, Caoluan seemed to have no qualms about using that air burst again, because she kept interspersing more of it between her attacks.

And even though Jieyuan now knew to watch out for it, she still managed to land another attack, resulting in another wound, a tear just above his earlier cut, also on his chest, slightly deeper, though shorter. But then the moment— the moment, the one he'd been waiting for all along—came. Caoluan angled her body lower, shifting her weight back, and thrust her arms out, her invisible sword coming at him as a low thrust. It was a strike that was mostly meant as a feint.

One that he was meant to parry, which she'd immediately follow up with a slash to his upper arm. Twisting his body to the side, he leaned in, making no move to block the attack—and the invisible blade burrowed into his side, over the waist. As he stepped forward, Caoluan's sword dug further into him, its wind sheath tearing at him from the inside, shredding flesh. But only flesh. His intestines were only inches away from where the blade ran through him.

He'd ensured as much, repeating this particular move well over a thousand times until he could always get the angle and distance right. Caoluan's usually narrow, sharp eyes widened—and he took advantage of her surprise to snap both Shifting Sisters forward. Caoluan tried to draw back, but it was too late; he held the two Shifting Sisters with their blades at a cross barely an inch away from Caoluan's neck, scissor-like.

He could feel the layer of wind wrapped around Caoluan buffeting against the two blades, coming from all directions, but he kept the Shifting Sisters firmly in place. Sibilant Wind Blessing was primarily an offensive bondskill; the defense it provided was more of an afterthought. Jieyuan stared straight into Caoluan's eyes. The pain from the stab wound was a constant thing, much stronger than that from the earlier cuts, but nothing he wouldn't have normally been able to ignore. Right now, he barely even felt it.

The satisfaction he felt left little space for it.

"Concede," he said, the words coming out smooth. This close, the sound of her bondskill was much louder, more like howl than hiss; the curtain of shimmery wind over her body also seemed denser, like he was looking at her from across a fogged window. Her eyes narrowed to slits, her expression tightening.

"If I use a wind pulse—""I'll die," Jieyuan cut in. She didn't even need to go that far, really. Her sword was at tenth-step, and it could cut through him as if he weren't even there. All she had to do was shift it any which way, and he'd be filleted. Her air burst, though, would be even worse—it'd probably blow him apart, or at the very least, put a massive hole in his body.

"But do you think you can do it before I snip your head off?" Jieyuan challenged.

"Besides…" And he tilted his head to the side.

"Between the two of us, there's only one of us that can get away with murder. And it's not you, windy." Caoluan sent a glance in the direction he indicated, and her expression darkened even further—which Jieyuan was actually glad to see, because it meant she understood the consequences. He'd pointed in the direction of the Radiant Gold Sect's delegation. More precisely, where Envoy Guodan was standing on the viewing floor, watching their fight.

And everyone knew how much importance the envoy placed on him, Meiyao, and Daojue because of their heavenly affinity. Again, not a clean victory. Far from it. But this was the only way out he'd found. A win was a win. He'd take what he could get. Caoluan looked back at him, matching his gaze. She still hadn't stopped using either her bondskill or her sword's spiritskill; his insides were still being shredded; his arms were straining to keep the Shifting Sisters steady. He couldn't keep this up much longer.

"For what it's worth, this is the only way I found of beating you," Jieyuan said, seeing the dark, ponderous indecision playing across her face.

"Had I done anything else, you'd have won. But I didn't. This is my win. So I'll say it again. Concede." Eyes still locked with his eyes, Caoluan shifted her chin up by a fraction, then down, almost touching the pair of blades hovering under her neck. A nod, or the closest approximation of what she could do right now, with the Shifting Sisters pressed against her throat. And then the hissing sound vanished, the sight of her becoming clearer, and he felt the wound in his side ease up.

"I concede," she said, loudly, firmly. Stepping back, she smoothly drew her sword back, the blade now visible again, shrouded and slick with his blood. To him, she added, in a lower voice, "Good fight." Jieyuan almost tipped over but forced himself to remain standing. He dropped the hastespace,"Same to you," he said, and though he wasn't sure she'd meant her words, he most certainly meant his.

The irony of how he, the winner, could barely stay on his feet, whereas she, who'd lost, was just about unharmed, wasn't lost on him. The proctor reached them moments later. After looking between the two of them briefly, the Radiant Gold Sect elder looked up at the viewing floor and announced, in her usual, resounding monotone, "Winner, Haoyujin Jieyuan, of the Gleaming Stone Sect." Jieyuan closed his eyes, taking a few moments to just center and gather himself.

When he opened them again, Caoluan was walking away, her back facing him as she made off toward her end of the stage. There was blood on the ground, he noted then. Quite a lot of it. And all of it his. Between each duel, the elder would activate some inscript to wipe the stage clear. Turning around, Jieyuan saw Elder Yiming walking over, already on the stage. The man must've started heading down even before Caoluan conceded.

"Come on, kiddo," Elder Yiming said, and before Jieyuan could react, the older man had wrapped an arm around his shoulder and was pulling him along as he headed back, practically carrying him away.

"I can walk," Jieyuan protested. He'd have pulled away, but Elder Yiming was a tenth-step, and the man's hold on him was unbreakable.

"Sure you can," Elder Yiming said.

"Just be glad I don't have you on a cradle carry. Now open wide."

"What—" There was a blur, Elder Yiming's other arm snapping in front of him, and Jieyuan felt something being pushed past his lips and into his mouth. Something round. A pill.

"Down the gullet," Elder Yiming said, still half-carrying him away.

"It'll get some basic healing done until we can find out how bad the damage is." By this point Jieyuan mostly trusted the man, medicine force-feeding notwithstanding, but he still felt for the pill's spiritual song for a moment, looking for any obvious signs of danger. Not finding any (not that he'd become an expert on pills overnight, but he should be able to sense any poisonous properties), he swallowed it down. They were already in the corridor, nearing the stairway.

"I'm not feeling like much of a winner here," Jieyuan couldn't help but say as the palace head helped him up the steps. He felt light-headed. Caoluan's sword must've done him more damage than he'd thought. Then again, in none of the simulations had he stayed around long after being stabbed like that. He was tempted—very much so—to use Fatebloom Renewal but managed to retain enough presence of mind to figure that'd be a bad idea.

"A lesson for next time, then," Elder Yiming said.

"Want to be treated like a proper winner? Then win properly. Instead of stabbing yourself with your opponent's sword. Because that's just stupid."

"I prefer inspired." The palace head gave him a withering look, orange eyes hard.

"Your preference is duly noted. And summarily ignored. Do you have any idea of how close you came to death?" It was then that something occurred to Jieyuan. What he'd done might seem a lot worse to anyone who didn't know how many times he'd practiced getting stabbed safely. Or as safely as you could be stabbed, at any rate.

"It looks way worse than it is. Trust me." Then he blinked, feeling his thoughts slow down even further, his head get even lighter.

"What…"—the word left his lips slowly, slurring, and he had to force the next ones out—"What was in that pill?"

"Hmmm? Oh, right. It's also a sedative. Meant to stop severely wounded patients from worsening their situation like idiots."

"It's a what?" Jieyuan felt even fainter, thoughts drifting.

"And… And I told you, I'm— I'm not—" The sentence died each time it reached his lips." I am not severely—" And then they were stepping off the stairway and into the viewing floor. And Jieyuan caught sight of Meiyao's furious face, green eyes alight, as she stormed over to him. His very last thought before passing out was that it might actually be a good thing he wouldn't be conscious much longer. —∞— Jieyuan poked at the rough, jagged line to the left of his stomach.

He was sitting on a large, white bed, his back against the wall.

He'd undone the upper half of his robes (he'd woken in a new set of inner disciple robes, outer robes topaz, inner robes white), baring his chest and abdomen. A gemstone light in the ceiling lit up the room, white and sterile. He was in the Gleaming Stone Palace's medical wing, a collection of large but mostly bare suites where patients were attended to by the palace's physicians. It was his first time seeing physician cultivators—he hadn't even known they were a thing.

But apparently they were necessary, as they were charged with handling conditions pills couldn't fix on their own. Not Redrealm pills, at any rate. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He'd only been up for a while.

The physician who'd been in charge of him—an elderly man, all white hair and wrinkles, one of the oldest cultivators Jieyuan had ever seen—had just left, but not before subjecting Jieyuan to a rather lengthy explanation of how impossibly lucky he'd been.

His sullen physician hadn't been particularly forthcoming, but best as Jieyuan could tell, he'd been taken here straight away from the Radiant Gold Palace after Elder Yiming dosed him—something that didn't fail to spark a spike of indignation in him—where the palace's physicians had learned what he'd known all along. That he'd only suffered a flesh wound, and that everyone else was making a ridiculously big deal out of spare change. A grisly wound, to be sure, but nothing that couldn't be healed overnight by pills.

As had clearly happened. His side did ache a little, and certain movements that were fine before now sent up little jolts of pain. But he was a cultivator—the only pains that he cared about were the Pains. As far as he was concerned, he was good as new. Or, well—good as refurbished, at any rate.

"Hmmm." His newest scar sat just above his waist, just about the same length and width as a little finger. A corona of whisker-thin white marks surrounded it like a halo, whirlpool-like. He ran a finger over it. Looks a tad worse than I thought it'd be. As it turned out, he'd forgotten to account for the cutting wind currents wrapped around Caoluan's sword; that was where the halo of scratch-scars had come from. All things considered, though, it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

And it was hardly his first scar, or even the worst of them. His gaze drifted over to the multitude of patches of warped, milky skin that littered his upper body. Little reminders of the lengths he'd gone to, all those years ago, to prepare himself for becoming a cultivator. His body had always come second to his goals. There were also the other two scars he'd gotten from the cuts Caoluan had managed to land on him, both of them running across his chest.

One larger, spanning his entire chest, the other slightly thicker and shorter. But the two of them were pale, subtle things, barely noticeable.

"You're finally awake— What happened to you?" Jieyuan looked up and saw Meiyao standing at the doorway, eyes wide. Staring at his exposed skin—at not just his latest scar, but the whole lot of them.

"Good morning to you too," Jieyuan said. He assumed it was morning, at any rate. The room had no windows, and the physician had referenced his duel as yesterday's event. If it weren't morning—if it were afternoon, and he'd missed the day's duels—there would be problems. Problems he'd start; he didn't get stabbed just to drop out of the tournament because he didn't show up for his match today. Meiyao drew closer, approaching his bed, eyes narrowing.

"You— Were you tortured?"

"It depends." He cocked his head.

"Does it count as torture if you do it to yourself?" She stopped dead, halfway to him." You did what?"

"Not all of us had a steady Cultivator's Agony supply growing up." He shrugged.

"I had to make do with what I had. Also, it is morning, right?"

"I… You know what? Never mind. I see that I came here for nothing."

"And what did you come here for?"

"To see if I could get you to understand how getting yourself stabbed and putting yourself wholly at your opponent's mercy is a terrible plan," Meiyao said, even as she kept eyeing his scars. In a no less sharp but quieter voice, she added, "Even if you do have that ability, which at least you had the sense not to use." Her frown deepened, taking on an admonishing quality—with a touch of exasperation.

"But clearly whatever I had to say would fall on deaf ears. You have absolutely no regard for your body, do you?"

"I'm pragmatic," he said, simply, starting to draw up his robes.

"I won't risk maiming myself or anything permanently debilitating, of course, but scars? That's just cosmetic." Her frown didn't ease up.

"But why go that far? It makes no difference whether you win."

"It's the same for you, but aren't you fighting too? You and Daojue."

"Yes," Meiyao allowed, "but unlike you, we're not taking potentially mortal wounds to advance."

"That's because you don't need to. But I do, if I want to keep pace with the two of you." The look on Meiyao's face made him realize he might have revealed more than he'd intended.

"Look, matters of pride and envy aside, this is good for me. I work best under pressure. You have to admit, I've improved quite a bit these last few days." And I have to take every opportunity I can to improve myself if I want to keep up with you and Daojue, monsters that you are.

"Now," he said, in a tone that made it clear he wanted the subject changed.

"What's the time? It's morning, right?" Please tell me it's morning. Meiyao looked distinctly unamused. She let out a sigh that seemed to come from the soul, and Jieyuan knew then that she'd let the matter drop. At least for the time being, at any rate.

"Yes. It is morning. There are still a few hours before we have to leave for the Gleaming Stone Palace."

"Great." Jieyuan finished folding his inner robes into his outer robes and tucked both of them neatly into his belt. His holder pouch was attached to his belt, as usual, and he'd checked it discreetly with his soulsenses during the physician lecture. Everything was just as he'd left it, except the Shifting Sisters had been thrown inside, sheathed. He looked back over to Meiyao.

"What did I miss? You were up after me. How did you do?" Meiyao's opponent in her first duel, the one from the Xiyunfeng Clan, might have thrown the match, but all the ones after that had fought her properly, be they from the Xiyunfeng Clan or the Radiant Gold Palace.

"I won, of course," Meiyao said dismissively as she settled herself back against the wall, arms crossing. Her opponent for the fifth round had been a sixth-step Redrealm, and she made her victory sound trifling. Never before had casual arrogance looked so lovely.

"So did Daojue and Yunzhu."

"So out of the eight competitors to make it to the fifth round, five are from our sect?" Jieyuan asked, surprised—only to realize that this wasn't that much of a surprise. Or even a surprise at all, really. He couldn't see Meiyao or Daojue losing, and Yongyi and Yunzhu were overwhelmingly talented in their own right. And he'd certainly done his level best and then some more to stay in the running, himself.

But still, this was probably the first time a single sect had dominated the Summit tournament's top ranks to this extent. That got a little smile out of Meiyao.

"I don't think I've ever seen the elders so excited."

"No doubt," Jieyuan said.

"What about the other three? Houliao, Dayang, and Xianjun?"

"Exactly." How he wished there'd been a betting pool for this tournament. He'd have brought all the bookies to ruin.

"And the match-ups?" There Meiyao's smile dropped, a frown taking its place.

"They… don't look that good. The elders couldn't negotiate good pairings—the other three sects worked together, for once, to ensure most of us from the Gleaming Stone Sect would have to fight each other."

"Ah." Jieyuan sighed. Not much of a surprise there, either. And at least one match-up would have to be between two Gleaming Stone Sect members anyway, the way the numbers were split. He got off the bed, turned this way and that, doing some light stretches, making sure everything was working properly.

"What are we looking at, exactly?"

"Yunzhu's against Daojue. I'm facing Dayang. Xianjun, Houliao. And you…"

"Yongyi," Jieyuan finished for her, freezing in place mid-stretch.

"I'm fighting Yongyi."

"You're fighting Yongyi," Meiyao confirmed. —∞— Jieyuan and Yongyi made their way to the center stage in silence, walking side by side. The walk felt longer than it normally did. It wasn't his first time walking to the stage alongside his opponent—he'd done the same in the second round, when he'd been up against someone from the Radiant Gold Sect—but this was different. They weren't just coming from the same direction. There was tension there, between them. There hadn't been any, originally.

Up until a short while ago, it'd been business as usual. They'd both known what was coming, but neither commented on it. Theirs was the second duel of the day, the first one having been Xianjun against Houliao, Xiyunfeng Clan versus Viridian Death Cult, ending in Xianjun's victory, and he and Yongyi had commented on the fight as they usually did. But then their names were called, and tension had settled between them, sure as a spell. Starting small, insignificant, but growing with every step they took.

Now they were most of the way to the stage, and the tension was like a tangible thing, heavy and hanging. Jieyuan sneaked a glance to his left, at Yongyi. He'd had most of the morning to think about the upcoming duel, and he was still torn over the way he felt about it. On the one hand, it meant that either he or Yongyi would be getting kicked out this round. But on the other hand, he was looking forward to fighting Yongyi properly, on the big stage. Yongyi's head shifted slightly to the side. Their eyes met.

A smirk came to Jieyuan, unbidden; and then Yongyi was smiling back, yellow eyes bright, gleaming. And the tension vanished on the spot, as if it'd never been there. Jieyuan nodded to the stage, now just a few yards away.

"Ready?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking that?" Yongyi sounded amused." You are the fourth-step."

"Sure. But you are the sixth-step who's about to lose to a fourth-step." Yongyi snorted.

"We'll see." They jumped onto the stage. Yongyi nodded at him, then walked off, toward the opposite end. Jieyuan stayed put. The proctor was the same woman who'd overseen his earlier matches, and she was already on the platform, at the center, watching on impassively as Yongyi crossed the stage. Once Yongyi got into position, the Radiant Gold Sect elder started to recite the rules of engagement.

Jieyuan had barely paid it any mind the first time he'd heard them, and five repetitions later, he was even less interested. He used this little interlude as he usually did, grounding himself and considering his opponent and the fight ahead. He slowly slid both Shifting Sisters out of their sheaths, taking his time, feeling for their weight and balance. Yongyi presented a different problem to everyone he'd faced so far. He knew Yongyi's abilities well.

Better than anyone else here did—and better than he knew anyone else's. Jieyuan had sparred plenty with Meiyao these last few weeks (about as many times as he'd sparred with Yongyi), but Meiyao had kept as many of her cards up her sleeve as she'd revealed, if not more. With Yongyi, though, Jieyuan knew all of his tricks. Bondskills, spiritskills, techniques, moves—he'd either faced them himself or seen Yongyi use them in spars against other disciples and elders. They'd even sparred while space-hasting.

Jieyuan could tell that Yongyi was eyeing him back from the other side of the stage. He had drawn his sword. The blade was shrouded, but in this case, Jieyuan knew exactly what it could do, and there'd be no room for surprises like what happened last time against Caoluan, with those air bursts. He'd been there when Yongyi bought the weapon in the Radiant Light Atelier, and he'd seen Yongyi use its spiritskill several times in some of the more serious spars he'd had with Elder Yiming.

He'd even faced it himself more than once. The problem was that as much as Jieyuan was familiar with Yongyi and his abilities, Yongyi would also know him better than any of his opponents had so far. Better than just about everyone else, really, or at least as good as. Meiyao knew more of Jieyuan's powers (the ones that he wasn't supposed to have, the ones he kept secret), but both Absolute Will Command and the Fatebloom Heart remained off the table for the tournament.

All in all, this promised to be a straightforward fight. No tricks, no underhanded strategies, no far-fetched plans. Jieyuan probably could've come up with something if he'd abused Absolute Will Command like he had against Caoluan, searching for the one scenario he could steal a win from, but he felt he owed Yongyi a proper fight. One that came down to a simple matter of power and skill. And also wits, of course.

Because fair fight or no, if Jieyuan saw an opportunity to pull off something inspired, he had no intention of letting it go to waste. —∞— For once, Jieyuan neither rushed out nor stood his ground against an incoming rush. Rather, after the proctor called the duel and got off the stage, he began walking toward the center, in no particular hurry. And as if they'd agreed upon it beforehand, Yongyi did the same, coming from the opposite direction.

Jieyuan wouldn't go so far as to call their walk casual—they both kept their weapons up, forms ready for a fight, a stalk-like quality to their advance—but it certainly lacked the tension, the fervor, that had filled all his other fights. Most of the ones he'd witnessed, too. They met in the middle, both of them coming to a stop at just the same time, at about the same distance they usually started their spar, just a handful of yards apart. Neither of them had particularly showy powers that needed a lot of space.

They barely used a fraction of the space available in the stages back in the Gleaming Stone Palace, to begin with, and it was several times smaller than the one they were currently on. But now they were at the right distance to start off things properly. Jieyuan drew up tension and drove it into his muscles, arms and legs and core, as he settled into a lower, firmer stance, spreading his feet out underneath him. Yongyi followed suit, leaning forward. There was a beat, then two, as they just eyed each other.

Then Yongyi gave him a subtle nod. And Jieyuan burst into motion, rushing in, the Shifting Sisters singing. A sharp ring cut through the silence as Yongyi met the blow firmly with his sword, parrying both blades at the same time. Jieyuan immediately flowed into his next move, striking out with both splitfangs again, and Yongyi moved in tandem, putting his faster hastespace to good use as he fended off Jieyuan's attacks. They quickly fell into a rhythm. Jieyuan attacking, Yongyi defending. A familiar rhythm.

For all that the duel had started out unlike their spars, now Jieyuan felt right at home as they went through their usual routine, their usual dance. Take away the glowing brightgold that surrounded them, and they could've been back in the Gleaming Stone Palace. This wasn't the real fight. Not yet. Jieyuan didn't expect any of his attacks to actually land, and Yongyi didn't go out of his way to sneak a strike in. This was the prelude to the real thing.

They were warming up, getting their blood flowing, pumping, setting the right mood. They'd usually spend a brief while like this until one of them chose to break the mold and kick things off for real. Sometimes it was Yongyi, but it was usually Jieyuan that did so. He was a Firesoul, after all, and he had a reputation to live up to. This time would prove no exception As Jieyuan swung his right arm, he moved in closer, bringing his other arm in from the other side, cutting at Yongyi from both directions.

Yongyi caught on immediately, eyes narrowing as he fell back a step, moving faster than before as he snapped his sword out, parrying one of the Shifting Sisters with the butt-end of his sword, and the other with the blade. Yongyi then pulled his sword back and in quick succession stabbed out again. Jieyuan twisted to the side, Yongyi's sword kissing his robes, before attacking again.

Back on the defense, Yongyi parried his next few strikes, all the while pressing forward, making Jieyuan retreat even as he weaved one swing to the next. Chest, shoulders, neck, waist—he switched it up, targeting different locations, often going for two different locations at the same time, one with each Shifting Sister. Yongyi parried it all, unceasing, yellow eyes wide and alert, staring straight into Jieyuan's own as he deflected every attack.

Usually with his sword, and when that proved impossible, with his gauntlets. But then Jieyuan managed to lock Yongyi's sword on his left to block an upward sweep, even as Jieyuan brought down the other Shifting Sister from above. And just as it seemed like it'd land—not even a sixth-step's speed would be enough—Yongyi's eyes flicked up to the descending splitfang. Jieyuan immediately swerved the Shifting Sister aside, pulling the blow, as a gleamstone barrier appeared where the blade would've struck.

Bondskills were on, then. Yongyi stabbed at him, and Jieyuan drew back—and now gleamstone barriers started popping up all over the place, one at a time, winking in and out of existence. Jieyuan wielded two weapons at the same time, but Yongyi might as well be doing the same with those gleamstone barriers of his. If Yongyi had the edge before, now he was dominating: no longer just defending and reacting, but all-out attacking.

And though the heart of the Gleaming Stone Sect's martial arts was defense, it was merciless when its user went on the offensive. Each lightning-quick strike was precise, targeting weaknesses and flaws. Jieyuan only managed to hold on because he was so used to being on the receiving end of Yongyi's blows. That, and because of something he'd figured out a while ago. Seeing Yongyi's eyes flick again, this time toward his left-hand Shifting Sister, Jieyuan once again pulled the strike as a barrier appeared in place.

What he'd figured out was simple. Users of Gleaming Stone Containment would always look directly toward the spot where they wanted to put up a barrier. He was fairly certain it was some sort of requirement or limitation inherent to the bondskill. It wasn't a tell specific to Yongyi. After he'd noticed the pattern, Jieyuan had tried to recall his fight with the inner disciples Sunqiu and Qingshi in the Gleamstone Valley, as well as every time he'd seen Elder Yiming use it.

And as far as he could recall, they always did it. But even then… Jieyuan was more than three-fourths of the way to his end of the stage, and it got closer with every exchange. Soon he'd be driven off the stage, which would mean defeat. The stage, which had seemed so unnecessarily massive before, now felt awfully small. By virtue of experience, Jieyuan was holding on. But he wasn't winning. No. Far from that. He was losing, and in all honesty, he couldn't really say he was surprised.

The truth of the matter was that he was nowhere near as skilled with the amphis as he was with a spear. He wasn't even using the unusual weapon properly, to begin with. He was just bastardizing a style with the splitfangs, as that was the best he'd been able to manage in such a short time, having not even begun to wrap his head around how to properly wield it in bound-state, as a boundfang. Even if he'd been using his spear, it wouldn't have been enough.

After he'd advanced to fourth-step and gotten the Shifting Sisters, he'd still used his spear against Yongyi a couple of times while sparring. He'd managed to beat a fifth-step Yongyi, but he'd still lost to Yongyi at his full strength; and even Yongyi at fifth-step had still managed to eke out a few wins. And that was with the spear. With the amphis, he'd yet to defeat Yongyi with his power suppressed to fifth-step even once.

And that was without Yongyi using his new sword's spiritskill—or Gleaming Stone Containment to the full extent he knew him to be capable of. Still. Jieyuan kept on fighting, kept on attacking, while Yongyi drove him back. Giving up didn't cross his mind. He didn't stand a chance, sure—but he hadn't stood a chance against a lot of the other cultivators he'd faced so far, and he was still there, whereas the others weren't. All that giving up would do was ensure defeat. As long as he didn't?

He might not stand a chance. But if victory was above him, then as long as the opportunity presented itself, he could drag it down to his level. Yongyi suddenly threw both his arms up, over his head, and then down. An unusually broad move from Yongyi, but Jieyuan brought both his blades up to block it all. And as Yongyi's sword landed on the paired blades of the Shifting Sister, Jieyuan caught Yongyi's eyes flicking up. A sign he was about to use his bondskill. But why?

Both Shifting Sisters were already— The gleamstone barrier appeared. But not to block anything. Rather, it appeared over Jieyuan's forearm, right underneath his left wrist. No. Not over. Around it. Locking it in place. A lock-barrier. There was a brief pause. Yongyi's lips quirked up in a small, apologetic smile. Reeling, Jieyuan could only swallow down his surprise as he maneuvered his right hand down to block Yongyi's next strike. A stab, aimed at his side.

With only one arm to withstand the strength of a sixth-step's two arms, the splitfang was thrown aside, and Jieyuan just barely managed to twist out of the way. But still it wasn't enough, and Yongyi's sword cut a shallow line into his waist. All the while his left arm remained up, over his head, locked into place by the unmovable, unbreakable gleamstone barrier. Yongyi's smile was gone, but the apology lingered in the way he attacked.

Not nearly as fast as he could've been, allowing Jieyuan to just barely get his right-hand Shifting Sister—Ruby—in place to defend. If Yongyi had been the sadistic type, Jieyuan would have thought this to be some ploy to prolong the fight and his suffering. But this was more like Yongyi apologizing for what he'd just pulled off. Jieyuan had known Yongyi wasn't using his bondskill fully.

But he'd been expecting something more along the lines of trip-barriers, summoned between his legs, or step-barriers, platforms Yongyi could step on to give him more maneuverability. Lock-barriers were a far more advanced application, one he'd had no idea Yongyi had gotten down. So much for a straightforward fight. Yongyi had had a trick up his sleeve all along. Even as Jieyuan struggled to defend himself, he couldn't help but feel a grudging respect.

He could appreciate a hand well played, even if it were against himself. And in a way, this was a gesture of respect from Yongyi, if not an act of kindness. Yongyi could've won without the lock-barrier. He hadn't had any need to play his hand like this. It'd have been much better, much smarter, to save the technique for the next duel. But this way, Yongyi could say he'd gone all out against him, that he'd held nothing back to defeat him. Jieyuan suspected any moment now he'd be using his sword's spiritskill, too.

Fighting with one of your arms locked in place up in the air was a strange experience. Not only did it throw Jieyuan's balance off, but it also greatly limited his movements. Yongyi was no longer pushing him back because Jieyuan couldn't retreat. His arm would only stretch so far. And even with Yongyi holding back, Jieyuan still needed to make full use of Ruby's spiritskill to hold on.

Dropping its weight when swinging it so he could move faster and match Yongyi's speed, and then spiking it up right at the moment so it'd hit harder and match Yongyi's strength. But this wouldn't go on for long. Sooner or later, Yongyi would kick things up a notch again. And that would be the end of it. What could he do? Giving up still wasn't an option; he'd fight to the very last breath. But he hadn't managed to come up with something even when both his arms were free. Now, with one of them bound and useless?

His odds couldn't have been worse. So useless was his left arm, in fact, that Yongyi wasn't even watching it anymore. He didn't have to. There was nothing Jieyuan could do with it. It was locked—completely immobilized… Or is it? Parrying another strike, Jieyuan tested his wrist with the smallest of motions. It moved freely; he still had full range of motion. His first instinct was to dislocate his thumb and slip out of it; he could do it easily, no problem.

But an idea occurred to him instead, and a plan wrote itself on the spot.