Xuan Jing lazily stretched his limbs, his body protesting with fatigue. He yawned again, blinking as if he had woken from a coma, the cold bite of the snow beneath him barely registering anymore. It felt like he had been asleep forever, yet his body was still weighed down, muscles sore as though he'd been running for days. Was this jet lag, or just the sheer exhaustion of existing? He rubbed his eyes, hoping to wipe away the lethargy, but all he managed was to make his vision blur.
Two figures approached, their presence almost too familiar. Feng Hao and Jiăn Lí, hands buried deep in their pockets, both wearing the kind of smug expressions that made him want to punch something. They stopped just in front of him, their boots crunching lightly in the snow. Feng Hao glanced at Jiăn Lí before speaking, his tone relaxed. "I need say nothing since you'll win regardless."
Jiăn Lí chuckled, chiming in immediately. "Haha, after you kick ass, let's go get some Gōngbǎo jīdīng."
Feng Hao cleared his throat, looking away. "Peking duck," he added, as if he wasn't already planning for the post-fight meal.
Xuan Jing looked up at the two of them, his eyes barely open, still bleary from sleep. Gōngbǎo Jīdīng? His mind barely registered the suggestion, but one detail stuck. Should he tell them he was allergic to nuts? He sighed softly, pushing himself to his feet. His movement made both Feng Hao and Jiăn Lí step back, tensing slightly as if bracing for an explosion. They quickly shut their eyes, expecting something violent.
"Mapo tofu," Xuan Jing muttered under his breath, shuffling past them without sparing a second glance. His steps crunched softly in the snow as he made his way toward the arena.
Feng Hao and Jiăn Lí exchanged a glance, silent smiles of victory passing between them. No sane person would casually strike up a conversation with Xuan Jing, but then again, these two were anything but sane. Their shared insanity made them perfect companions for a guy like Xuan Jing.
As Xuan Jing neared the frosty arena, something familiar hit his senses. A scent, something like himself—Hyacinth with a mix of Lotus. His brow furrowed slightly, eyes lifting to see a figure stepping onto the opposite side of the arena. The proctor's voice rang out, "Guŏ Suàn of the Azure Crest Institute."
Xuan Jing stared at the figure, tilting his head in faint curiosity. This Guŏ Suàn looked... similar. His hair was black, unlike Xuan Jing's, but his face wore the same impassive expression, as if neither of them had much interest in the world around them. Yet something about him radiated familiarity, a ghost of something forgotten.
The proctor's voice cut through the tension. "Before the match begins, Xuan Jing is forbidden from using the reckless skill he demonstrated earlier."
Xuan Jing's eyes narrowed slightly, his tired brain processing the words. He corrected the proctor with quiet authority. "It's called Unstable Nature."
The proctor didn't argue. Xuan Jing turned back to Guŏ Suàn, locking eyes with the man who stood as still as a shadow. "Did you partake in the demonstration earlier?"
Guŏ Suàn shook his head, not a single word escaping his lips. Xuan Jing nodded, understanding, and began to step toward the center of the arena. The tension in the air thickened like a fog, anticipation mounting.
Guŏ Suàn's aura shifted subtly as he moved, a shimmering mist swirling around him—Residual Veil. The element appeared like a translucent, flowing mist, with colors flickering inside it like embers: crimson for rage, pale blue for sorrow, soft gold for fleeting happiness. It was as if he carried with him the echoes of every emotion left unsaid, every regret that had lingered in the air of battlefields and ruins.
Xuan Jing, however, was unphased. His Eclipsed Essence pooled around his feet, tendrils of shadow-like mist curling and pulsating with faint, spectral lights. The tension broke as the proctor signaled for the fight to begin.
Xuan Jing wasted no time. With a sharp intake of breath, his form blurred. Wraith Step. He vanished into the shadows, slipping through the space between worlds, unseen, unheard, nothing more than a ghost passing through the mist. In an instant, he reappeared behind Guŏ Suàn, ready to strike.
But Guŏ Suàn's Eternal Vision flared in response. His eyes shimmered with a silvery-blue hue, a faint halo circling his pupils. He twisted just in time, barely avoiding Xuan Jing's attack. Their eyes met briefly, and Guŏ Suàn smiled—an arrogant, knowing grin.
"You're fast," Guŏ Suàn remarked casually, but his tone was mocking. "But I see everything."
Xuan Jing's eyes narrowed. He wasn't about to engage in pointless banter. With barely a gesture, the Eclipsed Essence shifted, forming a mass of tendrils. Spirit Devourer. The dark mist shot forward, coiling around Guŏ Suàn's legs like snakes, draining his energy, leaving him sluggish. Guŏ Suàn grimaced, his movements slowing as the cold, shadowy tendrils sapped his strength.
But Guŏ Suàn wasn't done. With a flick of his wrist, the Residual Veil burst into life, the colors intensifying. Deep crimson flared, representing rage. The mist reacted violently, pushing back against Xuan Jing's essence, filling the arena with swirling colors. For a moment, Xuan Jing faltered, but his resolve held.
He was done playing around.
"Enough," Xuan Jing hissed, his eyes hardening as he raised his hand, Eclipsed Essence condensing into a blade in his grasp. Soul Rend. The dark blade pulsed with malevolent energy, sharp enough to cut through flesh and spirit alike. He slashed at Guŏ Suàn, aiming to tear into the very essence of his being.
But as the blade swung toward Guŏ Suàn, something unexpected happened. The Residual Veil flared again, this time swirling with pale blue, sorrowful memories. Guŏ Suàn's eyes gleamed, and before Xuan Jing could react, the mist enveloped him.
Memory Echo.
Xuan Jing froze.
Images flooded his mind—his mother's face, her gentle smile, her soft voice. Then the scene changed, twisted into something dark and violent. The sound of swords clashing. Blood. His mother's body, crumpling to the ground. The clans slaughtering her before his eyes.
Xuan Jing's heart raced, the pounding in his chest deafening. He fell to his knees, clutching at his skin as if he could tear away the pain. His scream echoed through the arena, raw and primal. His breathing quickened, the horror of the memories overwhelming him. His mother's death played out in vivid detail, the helplessness he had felt as a child returning with brutal force.
Something inside him snapped.
In an instant, the world went dark. Xuan Jing's eyes turned black, his hair grew longer, floating as if caught in an invisible wind. The air around him grew cold, the temperature dropping sharply. His expressionless mask shattered, replaced by something terrifyingly blank—a void where emotion should be.
Guŏ Suàn took a step back, eyes wide, sensing the danger. "Oh, shit—"
Xuan Jing moved faster than thought, his form a blur of darkness and cold. He lashed out with Wraithfire Surge, blue-black flames erupting from his body, consuming everything in their path. The cold fire burned through Guŏ Suàn's defenses, searing his soul, leaving blackened marks in the air. Guŏ Suàn cried out, trying to summon the Residual Veil to protect himself, but the flames tore through it, relentless.
Before Guŏ Suàn could recover, Xuan Jing was on him. His dark eyes locked onto Guŏ Suàn's with murderous intent, the blade of Soul Rend raised, ready to strike again. Guŏ Suàn barely managed to throw up a defense, but Xuan Jing's power was too overwhelming.
Xuan Jing's blade stopped just inches from Guŏ Suàn's throat, hovering as if waiting for the final command to end it all. The arena was deathly silent, the only sound Guŏ Suàn's labored breathing as he stared into the abyss that was Xuan Jing's gaze.
"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You."