Published: June 1st 2025, 8:29:30 pm
"Young Master Yang, if I could have a moment-"
Li Shuwen's steps were like a river returning to the sea. He interposed himself between Yang Wei and the shameless outer disciple with effortless grace. His steps slowed just the slightest measure, allowing Yang Wei to disentangle himself without ever truly reacting.
"Disciple Yang has his match in the Initiate's Tournament later today. He is a man who does not approach even the simplest of trials with a light heart. I am certain I can assist you with any small matters."
"Well, my father said I should bring this matter to Young Master Yang's personal attention."
"Perhaps today is not the appropriate day for such an important conversation then." Li Shuwen said smoothly. "I'm sure we can find a time for the young master to consider your petition with the gravity it deserves."
Yang Wei tuned out the conversation, as he began to pull out of earshot. He vaguely recognized the outer disciple in question, a man two or three years his senior whose clan had some sort of mining interest mired in legal troubles. That was already more than he cared to know about the matter.
He still didn't know how he felt about Li Shuwen. There had been no shortage of initiates who had attempted to attach themselves to him, like barnacles to a swift ship. But Li Shuwen was a different breed. It'd taken him months to truly put to words exactly how so. It wasn't that he was not grasping. He was. Nor that he was the only one who'd offered to make himself useful. There had been no shortage of second and third sons with strong commands of etiquette who had delicately implied they might assist him with managing the more onerous social obligations that came with his position. Many of them were more skilled than Li Shuwen, who hailed from a merchant family with only three generations of any merit to their name.
The difference, is that Li Shuwen was honest. Scrupulously, shamelessly, honest. But seemingly only to Yang Wei. And Yang Wei was not sure if that made him the ideal servant for a man like him, or a disaster waiting to happen.
The day they'd met, Yang Wei had not been in a patient mood. He'd already fended off half a dozen disciples attempting to chivvy him into joining them upon a hunt. He'd even been feeling a little proud, that he'd managed to do so without offering one of the transparent evasions that were his usual fallbacks.
And then Li Shuwen had found him, practicing his spear arts in a clearing he'd thought no other disciples knew he favored. He'd demanded his fellow initiate tell him what he wanted.
And Li Shuwen had answered:
"My great grand father was a fisherman. He once told my father a story about the sharks sometimes found in the waters of the south. He said that they are solitary predators, who kill anything in the water that offends them. But sometimes, he saw one with another fish by its side. A small fish, white with stripes of black. They are called Navigator Fishes. The shark spares the little fish, and in exchange it will clean parasites from the shark's back, feast upon the scraps of its meals, and sometimes act as bait to lead lesser predators to their doom. Once, my grandfather speared a Snow-Finned Shark. The catch of a lifetime, for a fisherman like him. As he sailed back toward the shore, he was followed all the while, by a single Navigator Fish."
He'd paused, and looked Yang Wei in the eye. Whatever he'd seen there, when he continued, it was without any subtlety.
"The others want you to aid them. To use your family's name, or borrow your strength, to resolve disputes. I just want the scraps from your plate. The benefits you cannot be bothered to stoop to acquire. Let me swim in your wake, and I will clean the parasites off your back."
It was bold. Shameless. Tremendously inappropriate, given their relative statuses and lack of existing relationship. Arguably slightly insulting. Yang Wei had been just intrigued enough to grant Li Shuwen a trial run as his adjutant.
The man hadn't disappointed him yet.
Li Shuwen hurried back to his side. He said nothing, as he fell back in step.
They continued in that manner for a while, making their way toward the Godsgrave Peak. As they crested the hill, and the great crater spread out below them, Yang Wei felt his throat tighten. This. The terrible heights the patriarch had reached. This was what he wanted, more than anything. The very sight of it warmed his blood, and stilled his breath in anticipation. He'd come here before, half a dozen times, just to gaze upon it. Li Shuwen waited patiently, as he took in a sight that would never grew old.
This is where his legend would begin, in the shadow of the patriarch's great triumph.
A trio of outer disciples, spectators or relatives, saw the pair of them. Recognition gleamed in their eyes, and they began to make their way over.
Yang Wei's fingers whitened around his spear. This was the first time he'd borne proper steel since entering the sect, and he suddenly found himself itching to slake the weapon's thirst.
Li Shuwen drew forth a talisman from the sleeve of his robes. With a flourish of qi, it burst into false-flame as a sound modulating technique expanded around them.
"Come on, you wanted to make Li Hou's match, didn't you?"
Yang Wei snorted.
"You were the one who said I shouldn't watch it."
"I said you shouldn't publicly associate with the monkey's master. He's clearly in disfavor."
"He has not been officially punished, or even censured." Yang Wei retorted. "If he actually broke the sect's laws, there would be none of these petty dealings beneath the table."
Li Shuwen shrugged. The trio of outer disciples paused, hesitating. It would be rather rude to approach a man having a conversation under the shield of a privacy talisman. The little bubble that contained sound had few applications in honorable combat, but Yang Wei was coming to appreciate the technique enough he was considering asking Li Shuwen if he might be willing to teach it to him.
He had no doubt Li Shuwen would want something in return. But Li Shuwen had a way of reading Yang Wei, knowing what he would and would appreciate being asked. It made him useful. But it also made him dangerous.
"You don't even believe that." Li Shuwen argued back, disinterest clear in his voice. "Do whatever you want, just be honest with yourself, and me, about why you're doing it. My duty only extends to reminding you that the man's reputation is poison. The Zhang clan might not have any disciples at the Azure Mountain these days, but even you shouldn't be actively trying to offend them."
"Nobody asked you to do that."
"I thought you were the one who keeps saying the point of power is to exercise it?" Li Shuwen said with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, if my family only ever did what was asked of us, we would still be fishermen."
Yang Wei hummed noncommittally. He didn't really have an answer for that. But the nice thing about being in charge is he didn't need one. Li Shuwen was probably correct about the prudent course of action. But he hadn't come to the Azure Mountain Sect in search of allies. If being seen with the embattled daoist would lead others to seek strife with him, well, that wouldn't be the worst outcome. If they stood above him, he would just rise to meet them.
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Daoist Scouring Medicine stood at the edge of the ring, his disciple at his side.
"This is where I will leave you. Good fortune, Li Hou. Return to my side victorious."
Li Hou chuckled that odd chittering laugh of his. The sound had once driven him up the wall, it'd felt mocking, regardless of the context. Now, it reminded him of quiet nights spent studying book by firelight. A precursor to his simian disciple hopping off the table he sat upon, and bounding over with a curious tidbit to share or a question to ask.
"Good luck is for when you get ambushed." The monkey joked, staring across the arena at his foe. "I have teachings and tricks. Much better."
Li Hou looked up at him, and nodded. Daoist Scouring Medicine turned and leapt, defying gravity's call to reach the stands in a single bound. He took a spot near the bottom. The inner disciple standing in the ring should be capable of handling any unfortunate accidents, but his trust in the sect wasn't exactly at its highest point. From the second row, he could respond almost as quickly as the duel's arbiter.
He closed his eyes, and let his breath fill his awareness. Felt the stone seat beneath him. He wasn't nervous about Li Hou's prospects. He was as prepared as he could be. He would win.
It was his own future that had been keeping him up of late. Shorn from the sect he'd served for all his adult life, he didn't even really know who he would be. Li Xun had stood a single step away from core formation for almost thirty years. Even now, he knew in his heart that with a single flex of his will, he could drawn down the wrath of heaven. Drown the Azure Mountain Sect in tribulation lightning.
But Li Xun knew, with the very same certainty that told him he was strong enough to attempt the next breakthrough, that as he was now he would not survive it.
Some days, he wished he was weaker. That he stood further from the apex of foundation establishment. It was a power no man should have. The ability to devastate the very landscape in the act of taking their own life. To force the grand elders, or even the patriarch himself, to emerge from seclusion to disperse his tribulation, lest it destroy the sect. Ren Yuhan might be able to disperse it, but even a pseudo nascent soul cultivator like him would rightly hesitate before charging headlong into a core formation tribulation. It would intensify for each cultivator that sought to meddle in Heaven's judgement, and only a truly surpassing existence would be strong enough to overcome that growth to disperse it quickly.
Yet, there was a protection in such a terrible thing as well. It was one of the chief reasons that even the mighty Elder Lu was compelled to rely on the gentlest possible touches to punish him. One could hardly discipline a walking calamity.
Li Xun exhaled, and returned to his earlier question. Who was he, without the sect? Master, brother, alchemist. All these labels felt insufficient. For the first time in decades, he was beginning to feel like it might be possible for him to finally advance and form a core. But he did not think it would be possible until he could answer that question in a way that satisfied him.
"Daoist Scouring Medicine."
Li Xun opened his eyes.
"Disciple Yang Wei." He returned politely. "And I do not believe we have met."
"Initiate Li Shuwen." The young man at Yang Wei's side introduced himself. Li Xun's eyebrow rose, but he said nothing. It was a very common surname.
"Ignore his modesty." Yang Wei said. "It is not yet official, but he too is an outer disciple now."
"My congratulations." The daoist said mildly. "Earning a place in the Azure Mountain Sect is an achievement to be proud of."
"Thank you, honored daoist."
The three of them lapsed into silence. It would not be long now, mere minutes.
The other spectators were not so restrained.
"Six months in seclusion and it only advanced a single realm? I see that its earlier growth was a fluke."
"That's actually pretty impressive, for a monkey. Holding it to the standard of prodigies would be foolish. I'm sure it will feel very honored to be cut down by Brother Jiang's sword on such a rarified stage."
"I cannot say I share your high opinion of its sense of honor Brother Zhong."
Li Xun couldn't help himself. His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile crossing them for a moment. They had no idea what they were about to face.
A thought crossed his mind. Young Master Yang was a rather righteous young man. He actually reminded Li Xun a little of a younger Daoist Guarding Thunder. But his companion didn't seem quite as rigidly moralistic. His coin pouch was rather light these days. He wondered just what odds the disciples had on Li Hou's match.
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Orange-crest stared at Jiang Yan. They stood opposite each other now, barely two paces apart. The third man in the ring, the inner disciple, droned on, repeating the rules they already knew. Orange-crest only had eyes for his enemy. His first impression was one of stillness concealing nerves. The edges of their qi pressed against each other, the pressures exerted by their wills too evenly matched for either to gain an advantage.
Most of the initiates of the Azure Mountain dressed similarly, in robes of linen dyed the namesake color of the sect. Only the ones of high birth like Yang Wei and Xiao Long fully broke with that color scheme. Apparently it was a money-thing, a concept orange-crest still didn't quite understand. For the rest of the initiates, the differences between them were often small, subtle, things. Jiang Yan eschewed ornamentation. His hair was bound up, but unlike most male disciples, it did not fall free across his shoulders at all. His robe bore no ornaments, no beads or pouches. The sword in the man's left hand matched the rest of his appearance. Smooth pale wood and smooth expanses of steel. Even the little tassel that hung from the blade's pommel was simple, a single wooden bead painted in the sect's colors upon a black cord.
Tension was writ in every line of his body. Neither the fear of the prey, nor the hunger of a predator. A curious blend of pride and anxiety. Could orange-crest use that?
The inner disciple finished, and stepped back.
"I've heard about you." Jiang Yan said.
"Haven't heard about you." Li Hou replied. "Except that you use swords."
"I suppose I haven't been as much of a disruptive presence as you."
Li Hou was fairly certain that was an insult.
"Why do you fight?" The monkey asked instead.
Jiang Yan's eyebrow rose. But his face brightened a little.
"For the honor of the Jiang family of Huangshi, and the glory of the Azure Mountain Sect. To prove myself before my peers as a worthy sword of the empire."
He drew his sword, and stepped back. Orange-crest twirled his staff in answer, shaking the stillness out of his arms.
"And why do you fight, monkey?"
"Because my master asked me to." Orange-crest answered. He had the words to make his hope resonate in Jiang Yan's heart. But that wasn't what he wanted to do right now.
Initiate Jiang's face darkened again at the glib answer.
"Take this seriously. Do not disgrace the sect with the foolish mischief you are best known for."
"I will take this the most seriously." Orange-crest swore, fully meaning it. "You should do the same."
No murder. No allies. No other restrictions. No hesitation or mercy, until Jiang Yan surrendered. Those were the rules, and he would keep to them.
The inner disciple's speech to the crowd began to draw to a close.
"Begin!"
Orange-crest charged, leading with his staff. A rising flash of silver stopped the blow dead in its tracks.
The monkey dipped back, circling as he did. The butt of his staff came up, a feint that would cover for a thrust to Jiang Yan's side.
The sword hung in the air like a hawk. Jiang Yan watched the feinted blow fall short, refusing to commit to the trap. Then when orange-crest thrust, he stepped back, spinning on his toes.
His sword spun in a great circle, before crashing into orange-crest's staff hard enough to drive the blow wide.
Man and monkey stood, steel embedded deep in wood, close enough to reach out and touch each other. Jiang Yan's scabbard rose, the blunted tip aimed right for orange-crest's eyes.
Too slow.
The monkey leaned back. He couldn't get his head out of the taller human's weapon-enhanced reach, but he could foul the angle. As he leaned, his foot came rose up, then shot out like a striking serpent.
"Guh." Jiang Yan coughed, as a heavy foot slammed into his stomach. The initiate flew backward, his sword ripped free by the force of the impact.
Orange-crest smiled. That had to hurt. He ran a hand along his staff, wincing when his paws passed over where the sword had bit deep. Damn. He was barely feeling the force of Jiang Yan's blows, but his staff could not say the same. Three or four good hits in the same place would snap it clean. His master and brother had warned him that was a possibility. Still, he had tricks yet before he revealed his stony fur.
Orange-crest didn't charge forward and press his advantage. Jiang Yan's fangs outstripped his hide. He would be most dangerous the moment orange-crest overextended. This was no fight in the wilds, where every moment and noise risked drawing the attention of a greater predator. He had the luxury of noise and time, so he would use them.
"Is just a little monkey kick. Are you done already?"
"Shut up."
This time it was Jiang Yan who initiated the exchange, his sword surging forward in great sweeping arcs. Orange-crest parried the first two blows, but he could feel his weapon slowly whittling away. He bet Yang Wei's staff wouldn't have had this issue. Stupid weak wood.
He dodged the next pair of attacks, leaning back, then dipping forward, like a willow in a storm. It was a lot harder, but Jiang Yan's sword sliced nothing save the wind.
Jiang Yan crouched, taking up a stance for a thrust.
"Dawning Shadow."
Jiang Yan's sword gleamed, and orange-crest threw himself to the ground as it tore through the air under its own power. The blade clipped his shoulder, but the wave of heat and pain he expected didn't follow.
He was on his feet a moment later, scrambling for distance. Jiang Yan stood still, arms outstretched. His sword soared through the sky, slowly turning to return to his hands.
Orange-crest watched him collect the weapon. Too fast to dodge, but a full two seconds for the blade to return. He could work with that.
He inspected his shoulder, watching Jiang Yan for motion with the other eye.
"What is the human word, for someone who cuts clothing, and not people?" Orange-crest asked, fiddling with his torn sleeve.
His fur was a little short in some places. It couldn't take the strike outright, but it had blunted it. That was awesome. He loved it so much.
"What?"
Orange-crest ripped the right sleeve off his robe. It was flopping around anyway. His master wouldn't be happy about that. It would serve him right. Maybe he wouldn't make him wear clothes next time.
"Tailor. That's the word." Orange-crest continued. "Maybe you should quit being a cultivator and become one of those. Cutting robes seems to be all you're good at."
"You dare!" Jiang Yan shouted, too incensed to think of a better comeback.
His sword rocketed out again, but this time orange-crest had a dozen feet between them. He threw himself to the side, rolling like a stone. This time the blade didn't further shred his clothing. Jiang Yan stepped back, making more distance while he was disarmed. Orange-crest did the same. Jiang Yan had the advantage at a distance. And that was fine.
"Is okay. I didn't want to wear robes anyway. Master made me. Fighting naked is more fun."
"I see the rumors were true. No wonder you squandered your good fortune, if this is how seriously you take cultivation."
Jiang Yan's sword rocketed out again. Orange-crest threw himself into another wild dodge. The human was stalking closer to him now, confident in his superiority.
"Not fair!" Orange-crest cried. "Swords are for hands! Fight me like a monkey!"
He gave yet more ground. The timing for this would be tricky. He didn't think Jiang Yan had to move slowly, like Yang Wei's technique required. He just wasn't in a hurry to close the distance between them.
"Come closer, then. I'm not the one fleeing. Where's that fire you had just a moment ago?"
"No!" Orange-crest snapped back sullenly. He was getting close to the edge of the ring now. It was time.
Jiang Yan's sword surged forward. Orange-crest was trapped in three directions, he couldn't leave the ring or he would forfeit the match. But orange-crest had paid close attention to all those boring rules. A cultivator was expected to control their powers. Jiang Yan's sword couldn't leave the ring either.
The sword took orange-crest in the side, cutting deep. But then it slowed, pulling back before it flew free of the arena's bounds.
"Stop!" Orange-crest roared, pouring his qi out into the world.
Jiang Yan froze where he stood. His sword did the same.
Orange-crest twisted, wincing at the pain in his side, and hefted his spear like a javelin. In one smooth motion, he hurled it at Jiang Yan, and turned to grab the hilt of his sword with both hands.
"Gack." Jiang Yan staggered, as he took yet another blow to his stomach.
For a moment, orange-crest flew with the sword. It wanted to return to its master, but the monkey clinging desperately to it was not light. Slowly, it ground to a stop.
"A clever." Jiang Yan started, before a cough interrupted him. "trick." He finished, wiping bloody spittle off his chin.
"But you are a fool, if you think my sword is any less a threat to you in your hands than it is in my own."
Orange-crest smiled wildly, showing his teeth. He still didn't get it.
"I told you." The monkey spat, wrestling with the furious sword. "I'm taking this seriously."
The sword twisted and lunged, like a serpent trying to bite him, but orange-crest forced it to the ground. Jiang Yan had picked up his staff, but when fear finally flashed in the man's eyes, he was too far away to do anything.
Flying swords were special. A sword cultivator cared about their weapon. They didn't treat them like orange-crest treated his staff, as a disposable tool.
That made them a weakness.
Orange-crest placed one foot atop the center of the blade. He pulled upward on the handle. The sword didn't make a noise as it bent like green wood. But Jiang Yan cry gave voice to its suffering, a pained keening. Steel bit into orange-crest's foot. He didn't have much fur to protect him there. But he pressed harder, trusting in the body his master had built.
Even the most flexible of wood breaks, if you bend it far enough.
The sword snapped into three pieces. One underfoot. One in orange-crest's hand. The last sent flying from the force of the break. The crowd roared with shock and fury.
"No. You didn't." Jiang Yan's voice was hollow. Almost inaudible, beneath the roar of the spectators. For a moment, orange-crest felt a little bad. He had no grudge against Jiang Yan, and he would have felt terrible if the human had smashed the gourd Daoist Enduring Oath had made for him.
Orange-crest crushed that feeling, and charged. Jiang Yan rose. He hefted orange-crest's staff, lifted it into the shape of a defense. But there was no heart in it. Orange-crest dipped under his guard, leading with his fist.
When the heavy blow took Jiang Yan in the gut, he folded like paper, and did not rise.