A Blade Against the Wind
The rising sun carved golden lines along the stone tiles of the outer disciples' training courtyard. Lan Wu, dressed in sky-blue robes, stood barefoot in the grass with sword in hand, eyes closed, breathing slow.
Each inhale—Qi into the Dantian.
Each exhale—a smooth current riding his meridians.
A gentle swirl of wind curled around his limbs, guided by his intent, not forced. Though his Qi pool remained modest, and he had only reached the late stages of First Awakening, his control over Qi flow techniques had deepened immensely. His every movement sang of discipline.
Behind him, Mei Lian observed in silence, arms crossed, face carved from stone. But her sharp eyes followed every subtle step, every breath, every spiral of wind that traced her student's motion.
"Your stances no longer shake," she said finally. "Your weight flows. That is progress."
Lan Wu beamed at the praise and bowed politely.
"Thank you, Teacher. I'll keep refining."
She raised a brow. "You'll have to. Your control is just now catching up to your sword arm."
He chuckled softly, not as defense, but in true agreement.
The Spark of Challenge
But before another motion could be made, a new voice cut through the stillness—a mocking, smirking tone that echoed across the courtyard.
"Is this how far you've fallen, Mei Lian? Teaching lost boys with pretty manners and no backbone?"
Both turned.
Across the tiled walkway stood Instructor Ping Yao, a lean man in dark blue robes, silver trim glinting under the morning sun. Behind him, a smirking young disciple stood—tall, wiry, proud.
"Instructor Ping," Mei Lian said flatly. "Still clinging to your delusions of seniority, I see."
"Not at all," he replied, smiling with venom. "Just wondering how long you plan to pamper your pet cloud. The outer sect has grown… curious."
Lan Wu bowed politely toward them both.
"Senior instructor. Senior brother."
Ping's student scoffed, arms crossed.
"He speaks like a servant," the boy muttered.
Mei Lian's jaw tensed, but she tilted her chin in response.
"Then perhaps you'd be willing to test him," she said coolly. "See what 'the servant' has learned."
Ping laughed. "Ah, a public spar? Don't tell me you're confident in your 'favored' boy now?"
"Let's see if your beast can break my flower," she snapped.
Lan Wu blinked.
"…Am I the flower or the beast?"
But he had no time to question further.
A Gentle Blade Meets Cruel Steel
The courtyard cleared. Outer disciples gathered in murmuring circles. Word had spread quickly that Lan Wu, the nameless boy turned sect darling, would spar against Kong Ru, a disciple one year older and one stage higher—Final stage of First Awakening, with a cultivation known for aggression.
Lan Wu, standing still, clasped his hands and bowed deeply.
"I thank you for this match, Senior Brother Kong Ru."
Kong Ru unsheathed a short curved blade and sneered.
"Don't thank me until after you lose. Try not to cry when the sword lands."
Mei Lian stepped forward.
"Sparring match, first to three decisive strikes. Begin."
First Exchange — Whirlwind Meets Thunder
Lan Wu moved first—his form controlled, elegant, Wind Spiral Art flowing from his fingers to his legs. His body twisted and the spiral wind wrapped his blade, aiming for a light but fast diagonal slash.
Kong Ru smirked and met it head-on with a brutal arc of his own. Their blades clashed, the force sending Lan Wu stumbling two steps back.
>"Too strong… but not impossible."
Lan Wu pivoted, realigned, and drew the wind again. But Kong Ru's attacks were savage and persistent, his Qi spiking with each step.
Second Exchange — Flow vs Force
Kong Ru dashed, blade cutting the air with sharp pressure. Lan Wu barely ducked, air splitting above his ear. He responded not with force but flow—diverting his Qi into his back foot, he spun, countering with a precise elbow and light slash.
A grazing touch along Kong Ru's arm—Point to Lan Wu.
But Kong Ru didn't slow. Instead, he roared and surged forward with a heavier blast of Qi, throwing a sweeping crescent slash.
Lan Wu raised his sword just in time—but the impact cracked his shoulder.
Point to Kong Ru.
The third strike would determine it.
Third Exchange — Stillness in the Eye
Lan Wu, breath ragged, let his mind settle.
He remembered Mei Lian's words.
"Control the wind, don't command it. Let it dance with you."
He let go.
His blade dipped, and his movements shifted—not just trained, but instinctive.
He closed the distance—not with speed, but timing.
Kong Ru struck again—fast, overhead.
Lan Wu sidestepped by half a breath.
Moved behind.
Wind spiraled—his sword struck the shoulder lightly… then stopped.
Point to Lan Wu.
The courtyard went silent.
Lan Wu bowed again. "Thank you, Senior Brother. That was… enlightening."
Kong Ru stood still, fists clenched. He gritted his teeth and left without a word.
Ping scoffed and walked off.
Mei Lian? She hid her smirk behind a raised hand.
That Night — Beneath the Chains
In the storm-wracked soulscape, Wuxie sat in silence.
His hair longer now, curling past his shoulders. His body leaner, but tighter with coiled energy. His movements smoother, refined.
He moved in repetitions—the same steps Lan Wu took earlier.
Perfected. Sharpened. Poisoned with edge. All done in his mind, due to not been able to move, a training learnt from the thousand serpent sect, it was all he could to do pass the time.
"He adapts well," Wuxie muttered. "Too well."
He traced the air with his fingers, swirling a spiral of corrupted Qi—not gentle wind, but razor-edged decay.
"I despise how he bows. How he smiles. How he surrenders… and still grows."
" If not for heavens lap dog, I wouldn't be in this humiliating position.... But.... It makes me learn you things, to grow stronger, to adapt to a system that may be stronger than my own "
He laughed.
"But he learns. So I will too."
From the ledge above, the Devouring Moon Beast lifted one eye lazily.
"You watch him as one watches a mirror."
"No," Wuxie said. "He's not me. He's a fragment. A harmless petal."
The beast growled. "Then why the obsession?"
"Curiosity," Wuxie replied. "Nothing more."
The beast yawned, uninterested. "What kind of evil are you, boy?"
Wuxie paused.
"One who knows good and evil both. One who remembers the whip and the kindness. One who chose evil not because he was made for it…"
His voice lowered.
"…but because the world gave me the choice, and I saw the truth behind the lies."
The beast went quiet.
Wuxie closed his eyes and went back to training.
"Let the boy grow. Let the flower bloom."
His fingers curled, Qi spinning into a black spiral.
"One day, I'll pluck him from the roots and one day I'll burn the heavens."