Xuefeng, blissfully unaware of the wheels turning in his father's mind miles away, approached the solitary bookcase on the fifth floor. The room was eerily quiet, the weight of its secrets pressing down on him like a lead blanket.
"There are only ten Rank 5 manuals in the Liu Clan's possession," Wuying said in low voice. "Most of them are incomplete. But the Sword Art is whole—you might want to take a look at it."
Ling's voice slipped into his mind like a shadow through a crack. Gather them all anyway. They'll be helpful when I start creating new Arts for you.
"Fine," Xuefeng muttered, his voice barely above a whisper in the suffocating silence. He reached for the Rank 5 Sword Serpent Steps manual, its cover cold and rough against his fingertips. Infusing it with his Qi, he felt the drain immediately. The manual drank deeply, taking two-tenths of his reserves in a single breath.
The vision struck him like a lightning bolt. Shadowy figures danced in his mind, their swords slicing the air with a precision that made his pulse quicken. Five moves in total, each more devastating than the last. By the fifth, a mountain shattered, crumbling like a child's sandcastle before an angry tide.
A decent Spirit Art, Ling mused, her voice tinged with approval. I can use it as a base later.
Xuefeng snapped the manual shut, his expression unreadable. Wuying watched him, her lips parting in disbelief as he placed it back on the shelf after mere minutes.
"Are you even—" she started but stopped herself, her words falling flat in the heavy air. Instead, she watched in stunned silence as he moved down the row, picking up one manual after another, his movements methodical, almost mechanical. Each time, the process was the same: a brief pause, a flicker of concentration, and then the manual returned to its place.
By the time he finished, twenty minutes had passed. Xuefeng turned to her, a boyish smile breaking through the intensity of his focus. "I'm done."
"Done?" Wuying repeated, her voice hollow with disbelief. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "The manuals here are too profound for me. We can leave whenever you're ready."
"Good," Xuefeng said, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starving. All this knowledge is eating me from the inside out." His laughter was light, but his face betrayed exhaustion, his Qi reserves nearly bled dry once again.
They made their way back down the spiraling staircase, their footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness. Two hours had slipped away in the tower, and Xuefeng felt a pang of guilt. Princess Shan had been left alone all this time. She was his lifeline, his only hope of surviving past this month. Neglecting her wasn't an option, so he quickened his pace.
The main road was bustling, but not in the usual way. They immediately realized something was wrong. Groups of young men and women raced past them, their faces alight with urgency. Some shoved and jostled, their shouts blending into a chaotic hum.
The fourth group shoved its way through, nearly knocking Wuying off balance. Xuefeng stepped forward, grabbing the arm of a boy who looked barely out of his teens. "What's going on?" he asked, his tone firm.
The boy scowled, ready to bark back, but recognition dawned in his eyes. His expression shifted to one of begrudging respect. "Oh, Young Master," he stammered. "There's a—uh, a super sexy lady fighting on the training grounds. She's taking on clansmen left and right. Everyone's going to watch."
The boy shrugged off Xuefeng's grip and bolted, his companions trailing behind him like leaves caught in a gust.
Xuefeng exchanged a glance with Wuying, the same realization sparking in both their eyes.
"Let's check it out. She probably got bored and started causing trouble at the Training Grounds," Xuefeng said, shaking his head, though a flicker of excitement sparked in his chest. He'd never admit it, but he was eager to see a real fight.
Beside him, Wuying smiled, though it wasn't her usual calm expression—it was sharp, with an edge that hinted at her thoughts. If Princess Shan had gone too far, the Shadow Guard would contact her. She hoped they wouldn't. Wuying had been itching for a confrontation with Shan ever since their paths first crossed.
You started this fight, and now I've got the perfect excuse to finish it, Wuying thought, her lips curling into a smirk.
As they neared the Training Grounds, the atmosphere grew charged. More and more cultivators hurried past, their faces alight with anticipation. The buzz of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps formed an undercurrent of chaos. By the time they reached the grounds, a dense crowd had gathered, forming a tight circle around the arena.
Just as Xuefeng and Wuying pushed through the throng, a loud thud echoed, followed by a collective roar of approval. The energy in the air was electric, tinged with the primal thrill of combat.
Without hesitation, Wuying released a subtle pulse of Spirit Qi, an aura of authority rippling outward. Those near her shuddered and parted instinctively, creating a clear path for her and Xuefeng. He followed behind, impressed by her quiet dominance.
When they reached the front, the scene before them unfolded like something out of a legend. A man lay sprawled on the ground, his clothes rimed with frost. His friends hurried to drag him away from the frozen patch beneath him.
Standing in the center of the arena, utterly composed, was Princess Shan. Her sky-blue dress shimmered in the light, untouched by dust or the heat of battle. Perched on her shoulder was an ice-blue katana, its surface gleaming with a menacing chill. She smiled, her confidence palpable.
"Anyone else?" she asked, her voice like a velvet glove concealing a blade.
"Me, me! Pick me!"
"Over here!"
Hands shot up, voices calling eagerly. Despite the humiliating odds of defeat, the allure of fighting such a beautiful opponent was irresistible. Shan had removed her veil, and her beauty was on full display—an almost otherworldly radiance. Even Xuefeng couldn't help but notice the elegance of the slit in her dress, revealing a toned leg that seemed to taunt the onlookers.
"Miss Wuying..." A voice called from the crowd. The defeated man, still shaken, spotted her and his eyes lit up with recognition.
Wuying's expression darkened. She recognized him too—a subordinate of the Shadow Guard and one of her strongest fighters, having reached the Spirit King stage. He wasn't supposed to lose.
Her fury simmered as blood-red daggers materialized in her hands. "I'll fight you," she declared, stepping forward with the quiet ferocity of a predator.
The crowd erupted, cheering wildly. A duel between two beauties? The stakes had never been higher. For most, Wuying was simply the Young Master's enigmatic maid, rarely seen in combat. This was a spectacle they wouldn't miss.
Princess Shan's surprise at Wuying's appearance lasted only a moment before she smiled slyly. She glanced past Wuying, catching Xuefeng's eye, and blew him a playful kiss.
"To think you'd volunteer to be humiliated," Shan mocked, lowering her katana and shifting into a ready stance. "I've been waiting for the chance to teach you a lesson."
Xuefeng felt a flicker of concern and opened his mouth to intervene, but Wuying shot him a sharp look. "I hope you won't interfere. This was bound to happen eventually."
"Right," Shan chimed in, swinging her sword with a flourish. "We'll keep it clean, no need to worry."
Xuefeng sighed, his concern deepening. "You say that, but now I'm even more worried. If either of you gets hurt, I'll step in and end it."
The crowd, however, was too enthralled to notice his unease. Their murmurs carried over the ring like ripples in a pond.
"Is that Princess Zhen Shan? The rumored beauty?"
"She's staying with the clan because she fell in love with the Young Master, didn't you hear?"
"She took off her veil for him. My brother said she vowed she'd only do that for her future husband."
"Seriously? I thought we had a chance…"
"Chance? Get real. You'd need Black Talent for a shot."
Hearing the chatter, Xuefeng frowned. He'd grown used to having Wuying and Shan around, but their constant rivalry was another matter. If they keep fighting like this, things will only get more complicated.
As the duel loomed, the crowd's noise faded into a hum in the back of his mind. His focus narrowed to the two women in the ring, their eyes locked, their postures taut with unspoken challenges.
If there's no clear winner after a few moves, I'll stop them myself, he decided, his jaw tightening.