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Chapter 14: Fighting for Face

  The world shifted around Han Wei as he waited for the last of his disciples to arrive. Colours bled into impossible hues, the air itself shimmered with unseen currents. His newly unlocked sense unfurled like a phantom limb, strange and unfamiliar, sending ripples through his consciousness.

  He was still adjusting to his new sense, but he had quickly realised that it was not the temporary substitute for his divine sense that he had been aiming for.

  He could see souls now - not as solid forms, but as flickering embers nestled within the chests of those around him. But they were embers that held a vast depth beneath the surface.

  Han Wei was still wary of looking too deeply as he couldn’t shake the feeling that his mind could be dragged down by the hidden currents.

  And then there was the energy - threads of translucent mist curling through the air, the remnants of dispersed qi. It was so unlike the way he could sense qi with his divine sense, it was as if instead of sensing the qi directly he was seeing the echoes it left behind.

  It was not what he had hoped for, but perhaps this new sense would be something better. It was an entirely new way of seeing the world and one that would hopefully still be useful in concert with his divine sense, not merely a temporary crutch.

  But with it came side effects. His spiritual body still ached from the torture of integrating the lotus and even just using his disguise technique caused slow waves of pain to flow through him. It had also left a physical mark.

  He now sported a stylised lotus mark on his forehead, directly at his Third Eye acupoint. To Han Wei’s eyes it looked like an extremely ill-advised tattoo.

  His new sense also came at a cost. The more he reached out, the more he tried to see, the more the world pressed back, a suffocating tide of information that threatened to overwhelm him. He flinched as he once again reached out too far and forced his soul sense to retract.

  Xiao Lan leaned against a stone pillar, her bladed fans resting on her lap. Her expression was calm, but her fingers tapped restlessly against the metal. Tie Zhu sat cross-legged on the ground, polishing his spear with meticulous care, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  Lan Feng finally arrived, he was jittery with nerves and couldn’t seem to stand still.

  “Master,” Lan Feng began, his voice trembling slightly, “what if we’re not ready? What if we embarrass you in front of the sect?”

  The day of the sparring matches had arrived and Lan Feng did not feel ready.

  Han Wei regarded him with a measured gaze.

  “The purpose of this match is not to prove your strength to others, but to test your own limits. Win or lose, what matters is what you learn from the experience.”

  Tie Zhu snorted softly. “Easy for you to say, Master. You’re not the one who’ll be humiliated if we fail.”

  Han Wei’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Humiliation is a temporary state. Growth is eternal. Remember, you are not just fighting for yourselves - you are fighting for each other.”

  Xiao Lan nodded to herself, her expression so rigidly blank that it was clear she was hiding her nerves. “We won’t let you down, Master.”

  Lan Feng stopped pacing, his expression conflicted. “What if… what if I lose control again? What if it happens again during the match?”

  Han Wei stepped closer, placing a hand on Lan Feng’s shoulder. “Your Wild Fox Spirit bloodline is a part of you, but it does not define you. You will eventually learn to control it, and you must not fear it. Whether you activate it or not in this match, you can be sure it will not harm you.”

  Lan Feng nodded, though his eyes still held a flicker of doubt.

  They arrived to find that the Silvermist Ravine Sect’s training grounds had transformed into an arena of spectacle. Disciples from both the inner and outer sects crowded the edges of the courtyard, their murmurs creating a low hum of anticipation.

  Han Wei stood at the periphery, his expression calm but his mind racing. His disciples were about to face their greatest test yet, and the weight of their performance rested heavily on his shoulders.

  Elder Zhang stood opposite him, his arms crossed and a smug smile playing on his lips. His disciples, Zhang Wei and Li Ming, stood at his side, their confidence radiating like a palpable force, while Liang Rong - Elder Liu’s disciple - stood slightly apart, his face unreadable.

  Han Wei’s disciples stood together, their nerves masked by determination. The stakes were clear: this was no mere sparring match. It was a battle for reputation, for pride, and for the fragile trust they had built with their master.

  Han Wei’s disciples stepped forward, their nerves masked by determination. Xiao Lan’s fans gleamed in the sunlight, Tie Zhu’s spear rested firmly in his grip, and Lan Feng’s hands trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists.

  Elder Zhang’s voice rang out, dripping with false warmth. “Let the first match begin. May the best disciple prevail.”

  The first match began with Xiao Lan stepping into the arena, her bladed fans glinting in the sunlight. Her opponent was Liang Rong, Elder Liu’s disciple. He was a tall, wiry disciple with a reputation for speed and precision. He wielded a pair of hooked daggers, their edges gleaming with a faint spiritual aura.

  Han Wei knew next to nothing about Liang Rong, but he could tell at a glance that Liang was in the Qi Refining stage just like Xiao Lan. Han Wei was still struggling to interpret his new sense, but he suspected that Liang was in the middle of Qi Refining, a minor realm above Xiao Lan’s early Qi Refining cultivation.

  At a sharp gesture from an inner disciple, the two combatants lunged at each other.

  Xiao Lan’s fans whirled through the air, their movements fluid and graceful, like a dancer in a deadly performance. Liang Rong’s daggers slashed and stabbed, each strike aimed with lethal precision. The clash of metal against metal rang out, sharp and discordant, as the two disciples fought with everything they had.

  Xiao Lan’s heart pounded in her chest as she parried a flurry of strikes. Liang Rong was fast - faster than she had anticipated - and his attacks were relentless. She could feel the strain in her arms as she blocked another strike, the force of it sending a jolt through her body.

  But she refused to falter.

  She had trained for this. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let her master down.

  Xiao Lan deflected another strike and this time she spun with the blow. Her sudden burst of speed caught her opponent off-guard as her fans sliced through the air in a wide arc towards him.

  Liang Rong leapt back, but not fast enough - the edge of her fan grazed his arm, drawing a thin line of blood. The crowd gasped, and Liang Rong’s eyes narrowed in frustration.

  The fight continued, each strike and counterstrike more intense than the last. Xiao Lan’s movements became sharper, more deliberate, as she began to anticipate Liang Rong’s attacks. She could see the patterns in his movements, the slight hesitation before he lunged.

  She spun in once more and the crowd let out a shout as she took a brutal wound to her left arm. But at the blow Xiao Lan finally let a smile through her blank mask.

  With a decisive strike, Xiao Lan disarmed Liang Rong, sending both of his daggers skittering across the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers at the move.

  Liang Rong tried to recover but Xiao Lan was relentless in her chase and without his daggers he ended up in the sand with a bladed fan pressed against his neck.

  Xiao Lan stepped back, her chest heaving but her head held high.

  Han Wei gave her a subtle nod of approval, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with pride. Xiao Lan had won, but the cost was clear - she was exhausted, her spiritual energy near completely depleted.

  Elder Zhang’s soul presence was radiating fury in Han Wei’s soul vision. Outwardly Zhang was coldly impassive, but this initial loss had sent his emotions reeling - clearly he had expected Liang’s higher cultivation to lead to an easy win.

  He kept a close watch on Elder Zhang as the next match was announced. He didn’t have the best handle on his new senses but he was sure that there was something different about Elder Zhang’s energy. Something strange that he just couldn’t put his finger on.

  The second match began with Lan Feng stepping into the arena, his sword trembling slightly in his grip.

  His opponent, Li Ming, was a tall, muscular woman in the Qi Gathering realm with twin short swords. Her movements were confident, almost predatory, as she circled Lan Feng like a wolf sizing up its prey.

  The signal was given, and Li Ming lunged forward, her swords slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Lan Feng barely managed to dodge, his soul cultivation-enhanced senses allowing him to dodge the attack at the last moment. But Li Ming was relentless, her strikes coming faster and harder with each passing second.

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  Lan Feng’s heart raced as he struggled to keep up. His sword felt heavy in his hands, his movements clumsy compared to Li Ming’s precision. He could feel the weight of the crowd’s expectations pressing down on him, the whispers of doubt and ridicule fueling his anxiety.

  But then, as his anxiety spiked to near panic, something shifted.

  Lan Feng’s Wild Fox Spirit bloodline stirred, a faint glow appearing in his eyes. He could feel the emotions of the crowd - their excitement, their judgment, their disdain - and more he could feel Li Ming.

  It was overwhelming, but it also gave him an edge. He could sense Li Ming’s movements before they happened, allowing him to evade each strike by the narrowest of margins.

  The fight became a dance of shadows, Lan Feng dodging and weaving with increasing confidence. But Li Ming was no fool. She could see the strain in Lan Feng’s movements, the way his breath came in ragged gasps. With a sudden burst of speed, Li Ming closed the distance, her swords slicing through the air in a deadly arc.

  Lan Feng barely managed to block the strike, the force of it sending him stumbling back. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. The crowd fell silent as Li Ming pressed her advantage, her swords poised for a final strike.

  But then, Lan Feng’s eyes glowed brighter, and a wave of unease washed over the crowd. Liang Rong hesitated, her movements faltering as if gripped by an unseen force as fear struck her out of nowhere.

  It was just enough for Lan Feng to recover, his hand darting out to retrieve his sword.

  But even with his blade back in his hand the momentum of the fight was against him. He could read the incoming strikes but his soul cultivation couldn’t provide him the strength or speed he needed. Hecould barely move fast enough to keep ahead of them, and even though he could see openings, they were always out of reach.

  Slowly Li Ming ground down his defenses again and, with another burst of speed, she disarmed him once again.

  “I yield.” Gasped out Lan Feng conceding to the inevitable. Li Ming pulled hier strike, glared at him for a long moment, then turned away dismissively.

  Han Wei could see the disappointment in Lan Feng - it rolled across the surface of his soul like turbulence churning beneath the surface. Meanwhile the satisfaction he could see in Elder Zhang looked slick and oily.

  The final match was between Tie Zhu and Zhang Wei, and the tension in the air was palpable. They entered the arena like distorted reflections of each other. Both moving with confidence, both shouldering spears, both entirely focused on the other.

  But where Tie Zhu was solid and stocky, Zhang Wei was slender and refined, where Tie Zhu was wearing practical martial artist robes, Zhang Wei was wearing ornate daoist robes, and where Tie Zhu was determined Zhang Wei was smug.

  The signal was given, and the two disciples lunged at each other, their spears clashing with a resounding clang. The fight was intense from the start, each strike and counterstrike delivered with brutal force. Tie Zhu’s strength and endurance were on full display, but Zhang Wei was no slouch - his movements were precise and calculated, his strikes aimed to exploit any opening.

  First blood was Tie Zhu’s. A graze along Zhang Wei’s forearm, just deep enough to stain his pristine sleeve crimson. The crowd gasped and Zhang Wei’s smirk flickered - just for an instant - before he forced it back into place.

  Tie Zhu didn’t let up. His footwork was heavier than Zhang Wei’s flowing steps, but what he lacked in elegance, he made up for in sheer, bulldozing momentum. He feinted left, then drove forward like a battering ram, his spear shaft slamming into Zhang Wei’s ribs. The air left Zhang Wei’s lungs in a sharp whoosh, and for the first time, he staggered.

  The crowd sensed it too. The underdog was winning.

  Tie Zhu struck again and again, the crash of spear against spear like thunder. His weapon was a blur, each thrust a declaration of raw power. Zhang Wei parried, but the force sent him skidding back, his refined footwork barely keeping him upright.

  The crowd roared as Tie Zhu pressed forward, his relentless assault driving Zhang Wei toward the arena’s edge. They watched in rapt attention as the two disciples fought, the twin spears a blur of motion.

  But then, something changed.

  It started barely perceptible, the slightest slowing. Then a sluggishness in Tie Zhu’s limbs, as if his blood had thickened. His next strike, which should have sent Zhang Wei’s spear flying, instead landed with half its usual force.

  Tie Zhu’s movements began to slow more and more, his strikes losing their power. He could feel something wrong - his spiritual energy was draining faster than it should, his body growing heavier with each passing moment.

  Zhang Wei noticed the change immediately, his smirk widening. “What’s the matter, Tie Zhu? Can’t keep up?” he taunted, his voice slick with false sympathy. "A pity. I thought you’d last longer."

  Tie Zhu gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his spear. He could feel the weight of Zhang Wei’s words, the sting of his taunts. But he refused to give up. He had promised his master he wouldn’t fail.

  Tie Zhu’s vision blurred at the edges. He gritted his teeth, and with a final burst of strength, Tie Zhu lunged forward, his spear aimed straight at Zhang Wei’s chest.

  Zhang Wei showed a moment of panic as he hurriedly raised his guard and took a brutal blow on his shoulder as punishment for his arrogance.

  Then his own spear struck Tie Zhu’s side with a resounding crack.

  Tie Zhu stumbled, his spear slipping from his grasp as he fell to his knees. And Zhang Wei held the tip of his spear to Tie Zhu’s throat signalling his victory.

  The crowd erupted into cheers as Zhang Wei raised his spear. But Tie Zhu knew something was wrong. He could feel it in his body, in the way his spiritual energy had drained so suddenly. He looked up at Han Wei, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and betrayal.

  The world spun, but through the haze, he saw it - the faintest shimmer of ink on Zhang Wei’s wrist, the telltale mark of a draining talisman.

  Cheat.

  The word burned in his throat, but his voice was drowned beneath the roar of the crowd. Zhang Wei raised his arms in victory, basking in stolen glory, while Tie Zhu’s fingers dug into the dirt - a silent vow.

  This wasn’t over.

  Han Wei’s expression was grim as saw Tie Zhu unable to rise. He had seen what had happened by the tell-tale fluctuation of Zhang Wei’s soul when he activated a talisman that was clearly above his cultivation level.

  But it was not against the rules. So he said nothing.

  His gaze locked on Elder Zhang who was smiling beatifically at Zhang Wei. Han Wei shifted his weight slightly to disguise him sketching a character in the sand with his foot. Flooding it with qi he watched with satisfaction as Zhang Wei staggered from the backlash of his talisman breaking.

  Freed from the drain, Tie Zhu staggered upright and, exhausted, staggered over to his fellow disciples.

  Elder Zhang said nothing, his smile never wavering.

  The sparring matches had ended, but the atmosphere in the Silvermist Ravine Sect remained charged. Disciples from both the inner and outer sects lingered in the training grounds, their voices buzzing with excitement and as they re-hashed the matches.

  Han Wei’s disciples stood together in a quiet corner of the courtyard, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and disappointment.

  Xiao Lan leaned against a stone pillar, her bladed fans resting at her side. She stared at the ground, her jaw clenched tightly. “We didn’t win,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “After all that training, all that effort… we still lost.”

  Lan Feng sat cross-legged on the ground, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched his sword. “I couldn’t even hold my own,” he said, his voice filled with self-reproach. “If it weren’t for my bloodline, I would have been defeated outright.”

  Tie Zhu stood a few steps away, his arms crossed and his expression dark. He said nothing, but the frustration in his eyes was unmistakable. He had come so close to victory, only to have it snatched away by sabotage. The memory of Zhang Wei’s taunts and the sudden drain of his spiritual energy still burned in his mind.

  As the three disciples wallowed in their disappointment, a group of outer sect disciples approached, their voices filled with admiration.

  “That was incredible!” one of them said, his eyes wide with excitement. “You guys were up against Elder Zhang’s disciples and still held your own. If it weren’t for you running out of qi in that last match, you might have won!”

  Xiao Lan looked up, her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? We lost.”

  The outer sect disciple shook his head. “You don’t get it. Everyone knows that Elder Zhang’s disciples are the best in the sect when it comes to combat. The fact that you held your own is amazing!

  “And you beat Elder Liu’s disciple - that’s huge! Everyone’s talking about it.”

  Lan Feng’s eyes widened in surprise. “They are?”

  Another disciple nodded to him. “Yeah! Especially you. That move you pulled at the where you just looked at him and he staggered - no one’s ever seen anything like it.

  “And Xiao Lan the way you just effortlessly took apart your opponent was so cool! And Tie Zhu, you totally dominated until… you ran out of qi.”

  Tie Zhu’s expression softened slightly, though the frustration still lingered. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

  The outer sect disciples continued to heap praise on them, their words slowly lifting their spirits. By the time the group dispersed, Xiao Lan and Lan Feng were standing a little taller, their disappointment tempered by a newfound sense of pride.

  Han Wei watched his disciples from a distance, his expression unreadable. He had been watching their reactions, their disappointment, their frustration, and how it looked as if they were going to use this loss to spur them on further rather than let it crush them.

  He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in his chest. They had performed far better than anyone had expected, and that was no small feat.

  As the crowd began to thin, Han Wei approached his disciples. “You’ve done well,” he said, his voice calm but filled with genuine warmth. “Better than I could have hoped for.”

  Xiao Lan looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly. “We still lost, Master. Did you really believe we stood no chance?”

  Han Wei’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “You faced disciples who have been training under two of the most senior elders in the sect. And do not forget Xiao Lan that you won your own match.

  “The fact that you held your own is a testament to your strength and determination. Victory is not always measured by the outcome of a single match.”

  Lan Feng’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his expression remained uncertain. “But I still don’t know how to control my bloodline. It helped this time, but I had no idea what I was doing?”

  Han Wei placed a hand on Lan Feng’s shoulder. “You will learn. Just as Tie Zhu will learn how to counter underhanded techniques, and Xiao Lan will learn to celebrate her own victories. This is only the beginning of your journey.”

  Tie Zhu’s jaw tightened. “During my match, Zhang Wei… he did something. He used a talisman to cheat. I could have won!”

  Han Wei’s expression turned serious, but he nodded. “I know what he did. But using a talisman provided by another was not against the rules of this match - merely dishonourable. And I will deal with it.

  “For now, focus on what you’ve accomplished today. You’ve earned the respect of your peers, and that is no small thing.”

  His disciples nodded, encouraged by his words. But as they turned to leave, Han Wei’s slightly smile faded, replaced by a look of deep concern. The attention his disciples had garnered was a double-edged sword. While it was a sign of their potential, it also drew unwanted scrutiny - scrutiny that could expose his own weaknesses.

  As he turned to leave Han Wei found himself approached by Elder Zhang. The senior elder’s expression was calm, but there was a coldness in his eyes that sent a shiver down Han Wei’s spine.

  “Elder Han,” Elder Zhang said, his voice smooth, but Han Wei thought he could detect an undercurrent of menace in it. “Your disciples performed… admirably. It seems you have a talent for teaching.”

  Han Wei inclined his head slightly. “Thank you, Elder Zhang. They are hardworking and determined.”

  Elder Zhang’s smile did not match the emotions in his soul and his eyes lingered on the new lotus mark on Han Wei’s forehead. “Indeed. But let us not forget our places in the sect. You are, after all, only a guest elder. It would be a shame if your… ambitions were to lead you astray.”

  Han Wei met Elder Zhang’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “I have no ambitions beyond serving the sect and guiding my disciples.”

  Elder Zhang’s smile widened, but it was devoid of warmth. “See that it remains so. The sect does not take kindly to those who overstep their bounds.”

  With that, Elder Zhang turned and walked away, leaving Han Wei standing alone in the gathering darkness. The warning was clear, and the threat was unmistakable. Han Wei’s mind raced as he considered his next steps. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but he knew one thing for certain: he could not afford to falter.

  His disciples’ success had drawn attention, and with it, enemies. Han Wei would need to be more careful than ever if he was to protect them - and himself - from the shadows that loomed on the horizon.

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