Chapter 135: CUT THE SHADE

CHAPTER

135

CUT THE SHADE

JIEYUAN

—∞—

Jieyuan looked between Daojue and Anren.

Anren, who was in a relaxed stance, her sword up, the tip pointed at Daojue.

Daojue, who had taken a combat stance himself, both hands on Gleaming End, the spearhead angled towards Anren.

Daojue’s dark violet eyes were narrowed, fixing Anren with a stare so intense it was a wonder she hadn’t combusted on the spot.

Anren stared right back at him, thoroughly undaunted. Smirking.

Jieyuan pursed his lips, then tensed his legs, bringing the Shifting Feathers forward. He wouldn’t intervene or try to stop this.

Daojue had been wound tight to the Heavens and back from the moment Anren had brought up the Tianzijun Clan. If she hadn’t suddenly declared this impromptu duel, it would’ve only been a matter of time before Daojue started something.

The only question, here, was the outcome. Normally, it wouldn’t be in doubt. As far as Jieyuan could tell, everyone here was restricted to mundane parameters; and he couldn’t think of circumstances more favorable to Daojue.

Daojue’s bloodright made him an absolute monster. Agility, strength, reflexes; he had it all. Not to mention an absurd level of skill and a matching aptitude for combat.

Jieyuan was under no illusion that he’d stand a chance against Daojue right now. Not without Absolute Will Command or the Fatebloom Heart. Even Meiyao wouldn’t have had much luck; she had a bloodright of her own, but the Tianzijun bloodright seemed to have the Linzushen one beat as far as raw physical attributes went.

But there were two things that muddied the outcome.

The first was that Jieyuan wasn’t sure whether whatever improvements Daojue’s bloodright had made to his body would persist or if they’d also be nullified by whatever strange rules that governed this place.

The other was that Anren was clearly familiar with the Tianzijun, so she should know about the Tianzijun Bloodright and have an idea of what Daojue was capable of. And despite all of that, she seemed absolutely sure she’d win. Not just win, in fact, but wipe the floor with Daojue.

A recent event made both of those things likely: Anren’s clash against that sword shadow, where she’d moved far faster than a mundane should’ve been capable of.

That had left Jieyuan with two likely takeaways.

On the one hand, that pretty much proved the body enhancements from bloodright did still work here, which was to Daojue’s benefit. On the other hand, that’d mean Anren had a bloodright herself—which, in turn, meant she actually stood a chance at giving Daojue a run for his gold. (Not to mention she was supposedly a Violetsoul, something that Jieyuan was still trying to wrap his head around.)

So Jieyuan would let things run their course. But he was also ready to step in at a moment’s notice if things went too far. Anren was just about a total stranger, after all. She’d been all nice and friendly so far, but Jieyuan wasn’t about to take that at face value.

And, again—if Anren was to be believed, she was a Violetsoul.

Now, he wasn’t sure what exactly a violetsoul was supposed to be like, but Anren sure as the Heavens didn’t fit his idea of a cultivator at the highest realm.

It was Daojue who made the first move.

He kicked off the ground, lunging toward Anren, Gleaming End stabbing forward. He reached her in an instant; they hadn’t been far apart to begin with, and he was clearly going full-throttle from the get-go. Any lingering doubts that Daojue didn’t still have his bloodright-enhanced physique going for him were dispelled there and then.

Anren didn’t move until the last moment, when she stepped to the side, letting the spearhead cut past her. Even as she dodged, she dropped into a lower stance, her sword dipping under Daojue’s outstretched arms. Then she stabbed up, toward Daojue’s chest.

Daojue’s reaction was immediate. He stepped forward, shifting his weight forward to the side as he redirected his momentum, rotating the shaft of Gleaming End to block Anren’s strike.

The blade met the crystalline shaft.

Only for Anren’s leg to come in from the back in a high sweep. The kick struck home—not just that, it struck hard. Daojue was thrown forward by the impact.

And Anren, somehow not just maintaining her balance with only one leg, but using the force of her kick in her favor, completed her previously blocked stab.

The only reason Daojue didn’t get a few feet of metal through the chest was because she diverted her blade to the side, delivering a shallow cut to Daojue’s left side, across the ribs.

“First blood,” Anren said. Her voice came high, with a sing-song quality.

Jieyuan stared, wide-eyed. He’d been watching the fight from a distance, and even he had only caught Anren’s kick right before it struck.

Daojue didn’t retreat; rather, he leaned forward, bringing Gleaming End in a sweeping arc toward her.

But Anren didn’t seem interested in playing his game, and instead skipped back, disengaged. Daojue pressed in, redirecting his swing into a stab without missing a beat, but Anren batted the spearhead to the side with almost dismissive ease.

And then she looked up, away from Daojue and toward Jieyuan.

“So,” she said, “how much do you know about the Tianzijun?”

In the time it took her to say that sentence, Daojue managed ten different attacks, all of them lightning-fast. She fended all of them off, her eyes on Jieyuan the entire while.

“I…” Jieyuan felt like his eyes couldn’t go any wider.

Daojue’s attacks didn’t stop for even a beat, but Anren’s defense was nothing short of perfect. She wasn’t dodging, but blocking and parrying all his attacks, reacting to him like he was an open book.

Except Jieyuan knew from experience that Daojue had practically no tells whatsoever in combat. And Anren still hadn’t looked away from Jieyuan, not so much as a glance sent Daojue’s way as she held her ground against his offensive. Rather, she kept looking at Jieyuan. Expectantly, like she was waiting for his answer.

It took Jieyuan a second to remember her question. And, half-dazed and unable to think of anything else to do, he answered it, “Not much.”

Anren smiled. The high sound of metal and crystal meeting over and over—a ring, but also a low chime—filled the air. Both she and Daojue moved almost faster than Jieyuan could follow.

“Well,” she said, easily, in stark contrast to what she was doing right now, which was as far from easy as it got, “if there’s one thing you should know about them, is that they’re all about power. Even more than your average cultivator. Much more.”

Daojue was still attacking. Anren was still defending. Her legs and feet were in constant movement as she kept shifting positions, adjusting her balance and center of gravity as she blocked blow after blow. But she did it all without moving from the spot.

And without taking her eyes off Jieyuan.

“There’s only one language a Tianzijun knows, be they Juechenist or Fangxuanist, ” Anren continued, smoothly, each of her words followed by the clash of sword on spear.

“And it’s name,” she said, “is power.”

Just as she said so, she threw off another spear thrust to the side—and her gaze returned to Daojue.

She stepped inside Daojue’s guard. Daojue tried to bring Gleaming End in, but she counteracted the move, keeping the blade of her sword pressed against the shaft of the spear. She had both hands on the blade—but her feet were free.

One of her legs whipped up for a kick. Daojue immediately broke away, but then Anren surged forward, the leg she’d brought up slamming down, her sword spinning in from the side as her other leg  swung in from the side.

Jieyuan didn’t quite manage to catch what happened next. All he could really make out was as Daojue tried to react, bringing Gleaming End back in front of him. But then Anren’s sword struck down on the shaft, and then her kick landed. But at the same moment she kicked up with her other leg, toward the shaft, and both her second kick and her sword struck the shaft at almost the same time—

And then Anren had both feet back on the ground, and somehow Daojue had lost his grip on Gleaming End because it was in the air. Daojue reached for it, but he’d been knocked to the side by the kick, and Anren freed up one hand from her sword to snatch the spear.

And then she was spinning, holding Gleaming End with just one hand, and in one fluid twist she struck the butt of Gleaming End against Daojue’s chest.

Daojue staggered back. Anren, still wielding the spear with only one hand, stabbed out with its butt several more times in succession, faster than Jieyuan could track. It struck Daojue on the chest again, then the shoulders, then the head.

And it was this last strike that sealed the deal, knocking Daojue off his feet and down to the floor, onto his butt. Daojue tried to get up immediately, but Anren twirled Gleaming End in her hand lightning-fast, reverting her grip, and pressed the blade of it against Daojue’s throat. Keeping him from getting up.

She stared down at Daojue.

“None of that, now,” she said.

She was still smiling, but there was an edge to her smile now. Jieyuan could see both of their faces clearly from where he stood. Daojue’s eyes were wide as he looked up at her, his mouth slightly parted, showing as much emotion as Jieyuan had ever seen from him.

What emotion it was, Jieyuan couldn’t tell for the life of him, though he reckoned there was at least a good helping or two of utter shock to it.

“I’m stronger than you, violet eyes,” Anren said. “Are we clear on that?”

Daojue kept staring at her, not speaking. His eyes went from widened to narrowed, and his lips pressed tight. But he wasn’t frowning, either. Rather, Jieyuan got the impression Daojue was confused, if anything.

“You aren’t getting up until I hear you say it,” Anren said.

Daojue said nothing. She didn’t move the spearhead away.

A few seconds passed. Still nothing.

“Anren,” Jieyuan said, slowly. “I’m not sure—”

“You are stronger than I am,” Daojue said. His voice was cool, steady.

But Jieyuan wasn’t sure he’d only imagined the slight tremble to it.

“Hmmm.” Anren cocked her head. “Well, that’ll do, I guess.”

She stepped back, pulling Gleaming End away, and Daojue got to his feet. He kept staring intently at Anren.

Anren, for her part, shifted her gaze down to Gleaming End. Still holding it in one hand, she twisted the spear this way and that in the air as she looked it over.

“Interesting,” she said, quietly. She looked up at Daojue. “Quite the loyal spear you’ve got. It’s very rare for me to come across a weapon that doesn’t like me.”

She threw it over without further ado. Daojue grabbed it, gaze still firmly fixed on Anren.

For a moment, as Daojue held the spear in front of him, Jieyuan wondered if he’d attack. But then Daojue held it off to the side.

“Now, here’s how this’ll go,” Anren said to Daojue. “I’m not expecting you to obey my every command, but if I say something, you will listen. Is that understood?”

There was another few moments of silence before Daojue answered, “Yes.”

“Good. Keep playing nice, and maybe I’ll give you some pointers later.”

She then turned to Jieyuan. “Well, that’s one matter solved. Now, there’s something else. I’ve got the feeling you two don’t really know much about the Absolute Sword Trials.”

Jieyuan put everything that had just happened aside for the moment, focusing on Anren’s words. He glanced at Daojue, who unsurprisingly was still giving Anren that strange look. But before Jieyuan could come up with something, Anren cut in.

“Don’t worry. I get it,” she said. “Your master’s the eccentric type, right? It’s not my case, thank the Absolute, but I’ve heard rumors of masters who just throw their disciples into the sword’s path without explanation. What do you know? How bad is it?”

“That’s…” Jieyuan did his best to keep a straight face .

He gave Daojue another discreet glance, but the taller man didn’t look like he had any intention of speaking. It looked like whatever well he’d been drawing all those earlier answers from had dried up.

“That’s about right,” Jieyuan settled on. She’d just handed him an excuse on a golden platter. He wasn’t all that sure about it, but it was better than anything else he had right now. He knew too little about the situation to come up with a proper cover story. “We were just sent here without much explanation.”

Honesty wasn’t always the best policy, but in this case Jieyuan felt like toeing around the truth was their best bet.

“I knew it,” Anren said. “Well, that’s fine. It’ll take no time at all to get you two caught up.”

She tilted her head back, toward the massive but extremely thin shape in the horizon. “First thing’s first, then. We’re currently in the first stage of the trial, and it’s simple enough. Get to the Sword Tower.”

She turned back to them. “Let’s walk and talk. We’ve got a long way ahead of us.”

With that, she set off in the direction she’d just indicated.

Without even a second’s worth of hesitation, Daojue followed. After a few steps, though, he looked back, and sent Jieyuan—who had stayed put—a look that was just the slightest bit questioning.

This was the Daojue equivalent of screaming at him why he hadn’t gotten a move on yet.

Because of course Daojue would see nothing odd about following the awfully helpful stranger who’d moments ago just about beaten him to a pulp. And that wasn’t even getting into all the dozens of other things off about this whole situation, among them the fact that they were in another world and, if going by Anren’s words earlier, supposedly in competition with Violetsouls.

No, to Daojue, it was all business as usual.

And the worst part is that he’s right, Jieyuan decided as he took off after them.

Though he still felt like something was off about Anren, she seemed to be entirely on their side so far. And if her fight against Daojue was any indication, she wouldn’t have to go through all the trouble of acting and playing nice if she wanted them dead.

You don’t bite gifted gold, his old man used to say. Of course, the old Haoyujin patriarch also used to say how a gift too big was no gift at all and how the beggar suspects alms of gold.

His old man had been a man of many things. Consistency hadn’t been one of them.

Right now, though, Jieyuan couldn’t see any way to go but forward.

So he wouldn’t be biting the gifted gold. For now.

Besides, she’d mentioned giving Daojue pointers—and Jieyuan could really do with some instruction himself.

Violetsoul or not, Anren might just be the best martial artist he’d ever seen if her clash with Daojue was any indication. And then there was how she’d recognized the amphis earlier and implied she was trained in it.

Jieyuan kept his gaze on Anren’s back as they walked and she started talking about the trial.

This might all still be some really elaborate trap, sure. But if Jieyuan knew one thing, it was recognizing an opportunity when he saw one.

By the time Jieyuan got moving, Anren was already near the edge of the platform, and Daojue was halfway there.

Anren stopped just a few moments later, though, as she reached the black slice of void splitting the terrain.

Jieyuan sped up his pace to catch up to Daojue; but as they made their way over together, they both slowed their pace a bit. Jieyuan hadn’t forgotten about the shadow-like creature that had jumped out from one of those void lines earlier.

He put up his guard, bracing himself. Beside him, Daojue did the same, shifting his grip on Gleaming End.

When they were just a few steps away from Anren, she put an arm out, as clear a sign to stop as any. She didn’t look away from the gap between the platforms.

“Now,” Anren said, “here’s the second thing you need to know. I’m sure you saw the sword fiend I fought on my way here. I take it you don’t know what they are?”

“That’s right,” Jieyuan said.

“I told you how we’re at the first stage of the trial,” Anren said. “The sword fiends are the test. They spawn from these fissures in the floor—they’re called abyss lines.”

She gestured vaguely at the ground—or rather, the lack of ground—in front of her. The abyss line.

“Their spawning is random for the most part; you can’t really predict it. But they start popping up more and more the closer you get to the Sword Tower. Moreover, stay close enough to an abyss line, and they’ll appear eventually, regardless of where you are in the plains. This far away…”

She squinted into the distance.

“I’ll give ten minutes, at the most. Of course, it can happen any moment now. Now, we’ll be waiting here until it appears. J— It’s Jieyuan, right? I’ve seen what the Tianzijun can do, and you’ve seen what I can do, so I want you to take it.”

“Fine by me,” Jieyuan said. “Any advice?”

Not looking away from the fissure, Anren took a few steps back until she was standing by his side. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say after I see you fight. But for now? They’re called sword fiends for a reason. They’re swordsmen, and very good ones at that. Physically, they’re near the limits of what a non-bloodblessed can reach. You don’t have a bloodright, do you?”

“Unfortunately,” Jieyuan said. He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

She gave him a glance then—a quick one, so fast he almost didn’t catch it.  “Hmmm. I won’t deny they’re a massive advantage, but they’re not everything. My oldest brother doesn’t have one, and he’s the strongest cultivator I know.”

Her brother doesn’t have a bloodright?

Jieyuan wasn’t quite sure how that could be, unless one of them was adopted; given what Jieyuan had seen of her earlier, plus the way she’d just phrased that sentence, she definitely had a bloodright herself. Then again, he didn’t really know much about bloodrights; there could very well be some mechanics he wasn’t aware of.

Anren should be just the person to ask, given that she was a self-professed violetsoul with a bloodright. But now wasn’t the time for it, so he held back his questions for now.

Anren gestured with her head back to the line. “Anyway. Sword fiends. They’re skilled, fast, strong—but they’re dumb. No real tactics to them. Honestly, any cultivator good enough to be picked for the trial should be able to beat one in combat. The real challenge is later on, closer to the Tower, when they start coming at you in droves.”

“Got it,” Jieyuan said.

Dumb. He could work with that.

“Just one question, then,” he said. “You cut off the head of that one you fought. Is that the only way to kill them?”

Anren flashed him an approving smile. “That’s right. They’re limited to mundane parameters, except regeneration—where they’re no different from your average violetsoul. They’ll recover from anything short of beheading in an instant. Severed limbs, even a split skull. They’ll regenerate it all before you can even blink. So go for the neck. Don’t bother with anything else.”

Jieyuan breathed in sharply. Not because of the sword fiends’ regeneration rate, though. That wasn’t too much of a shock; he’d fought more than one beast in the Dome that was hard to put down, even if none could quite regenerate limbs instantaneously.

What Anren had implied, though—now that was a different business altogether. Jieyuan had known that violetsouls would have absurd regeneration (it didn’t take that much extrapolation, given how aura increased with soulsign), but he hadn’t thought it’d be at that level.

But— No. Later. Jieyuan forced his attention back to the abyss line. Still no sign of the fiend, but if Anren was right, one could pop up any moment.

Anren took a few more steps back, motioning for Daojue to do the same as she did. To Jieyuan’s surprise, Daojue immediately complied, joining her at the back.

“Now,” Anren continued. “In here you can’t access your aura, but you won’t grow tired here, no matter what you do. It’s one of the Laws of the trialworld. So no need to hold back.”

Interesting. That sounded good, but it did make Jieyuan think of a possible problem. “What about hunger and thirst? Do we need to find food, or—”

“No. There’s ambient chroma in the trialworld even if you can’t sense it, and chroma sustenance works normally. You could even cultivate, if you wanted to, but that’s a waste of time. And more than half of the competitors should already be at tenth-sign Violetsoul, anyway.”

A waste of time sounded about right. Jieyuan could cultivate on the outside world with prisms; using ambient chroma was much less efficient.

And there was no way he wasn’t taking advantage of becoming untiring all of a sudden. It meant one thing. Non-stop training. It was nothing short of a dream come true, even more so with Daojue and Anren for sparring partners.

“That’s about it. Like I said, you shouldn’t have any issues. But I’ll step in if it goes wrong. And worse comes to worst, there’s always your trial token, so it’s not like you’re at any real risk.”

That gave Jieyuan a pause. “My what? Trial token?”

He could feel it as Anren’s gaze returned to him. “Your master didn’t even explain that? It’s the silver coin with the sword on it. You must’ve been given one; it’s how you entered the trialworld. You know, when it lit up and you appeared here?”

Clearly, Anren believed that to be a given, because she didn’t wait for him to answer. “Anyway, if you take fatal damage, the token will save your life. However, it’ll break in the process, and you’ll be kicked out of the trialworld and returned to your original location.”

Jieyuan felt a spike of tension. He most definitely did not have any such thing on his person. Neither did Daojue, he was sure. And from the looks of it, they were the only two people here without it.

He recalled the words of the silver-eyed man that had sent him and Daojue here.

He could almost hear the Plunderer’s flat, deep, steel-like voice again: Should he survive, I will return him here.

“Being maimed won’t activate the token,” Anren went on, “but whatever happens here will be reverted once your regeneration is back to normal, so it’s no real issue; and if you’re hurt too badly to continue, just break the token and you’ll be out.”

“Right,” Jieyuan said, dryly. “The silver coin.”

Really, it wouldn’t have been an issue if nobody had the token, if everyone here was running the same risks. Up until a moment ago, Jieyuan hadn’t known those tokens even existed; he’d been more than prepared to put his life on the line.

But from the looks of it, only he and Daojue seemed to be in danger of death here. And of maiming, too. Because unlike the other competitors, the two of them weren’t, in fact, violetsouls. Fatebloom Regeneration was amazing, but he doubted he could use it to regenerate a finger, let alone a whole limb.

That complicated things. Because it meant that whatever trials must’ve been designed with the fact that contestants wouldn’t die no matter what in mind. Not to mention that if further down the line there was some dueling phase or something, he’d be up against people who were justifiably unafraid to die.

“Anyway,” Anren said, “I think—”

The abyss line shimmered—and a sword fiend surged out of it.

Jieyuan threw both his arms up, and the Shifting Feathers met the fiend’s sword.

Before, he hadn’t been able to properly see the fiend; it’d been too far away, and moving too fast. Now it was close enough that Jieyuan had no choice but to get a good look.

The fiend’s body was a featureless black, as unnervingly dark as the abyss it’d spawned from. So much so that the area around it seemed to dim, like it was swallowing the surrounding light.

It was humanoid, but only in outline: two arms, two legs, a head. Its sword seemed to be part of it; the weapon wasn’t so much as held in its hands as it extended out from its grasp, made of the same amorphous substance that comprised its body.

Anren hadn’t been kidding about its strength; Jieyuan found himself being pushed back even with both the Shifting Feathers holding off the blow.

The fiend broke off, pulling back, only to attack again, swinging its sword upward. Jieyuan swung his Shifting Feathers down just in time to block it again.

Again it disengaged and followed up with another attack; again, Jieyuan only barely managed to block. The strength of the blow had him taking a step back, and the fiend pressed forward, stabbing forward with its sword.

This time Jieyuan moved to the side, parrying the blow with a Shifting Feather. But as he swung the other shortglaive at the creature, it spun on the spot, dodging out of the way before coming at Jieyuan with a sweeping swing that had him jumping back to avoid.

The fiend didn’t give him a moment to rest, charging at him; Jieyuan stayed on the defensive, blocking and parrying its attacks. Any attempts to counterattack failed.

It wasn’t just a matter of strength and speed. The fiend had both in spades, but not so much Jieyuan couldn’t manage. When he wasn’t holding back, Daojue was both faster and stronger than the fiend—and he was the standard Jieyuan measured himself against.

No, the problem was that Jieyuan couldn’t read the sword fiend. Because you couldn’t read something that didn’t exist. There was nothing to read. The fiend’s head was just a black, oval shape. It didn’t have eyes Jieyuan could track, or any other tells he could exploit.

Even Daojue had tells. Far from obvious ones, granted; most of them, Jieyuan had only started noticing recently. But Daojue did have them: flashes of tension, subtle signs before an attack.

This wasn’t working. Staying on the defensive like this was a surefire way to lose. He thought back to what Anren had told him about the sword fiends.

Strength, speed, skill—but stupid.

He wouldn’t just take her word for it, of course, but she’d seemed to be on the level so far. And he could at least put it to the test.

Jieyuan stopped trying to read its movements; he didn’t bother trying to make another attack, either. He just fully focused on defending. And once he got the rhythm of it, he started experimenting.

Just after knocking aside a strike with both Shifting Feathers, he swung both shortglaives down at the fiend—leaving a glaring opening in his form, just over his shoulders.

And the fiend took it. Expecting it, Jieyuan pulled his head back, and the shadowy blade cut nothing but air.

Jieyuan grinned. He retreated, and the fiend followed. Behind him, Jieyuan heard footsteps—Daojue and Anren making space.

As the sword fiend lunged, Jieyuan launched an attack of his own. This time he left his right side wide open.

Sure enough, the fiend avoided the attack, and stabbed at Jieyuan’s right side, just over the stomach.

Jieyuan kept it up a little while longer, leaving more openings for it to take. Some obvious, some not so much.

The fiend was skilled, no doubt about that. It always noticed his openings, even the really subtle ones. But there was also no doubt that it was stupid—because it always went for the openings. No matter how obvious.

Not just that, he noticed something else. Sometimes he’d attack to leave an opening, and it always reacted to it. And that gave him another idea.

Breaking off from another clash, Jieyuan swung one of the Shifting Feathers, and the fiend reacted to it—only for Jieyuan to sacrifice the motion for momentum with the other shortglaive, bringing it in from the other direction.

The fiend managed to avoid the strike in time. But Jieyuan had figured out not one, but two things.

It always reacted to his attacks, including his feints. It didn’t distinguish between actual attacks and fake ones. That was what he’d wanted to confirm.

But he’d also noticed something else. Just like the wildshape fox that had taken Meiyao’s form, the way to kill the fiend was by cutting off its head. But it still reacted to all attacks, even though it supposedly could regenerate from anything short of beheading in an instant.

Its instincts were that of a mundane human. One without absurd regeneration.

And just like that, Jieyuan knew exactly how to end this.

He saw it so clearly that Huaxin might as well have sent him a sequence.

As the fiend crouched low, stabbing up, he angled his body away and swung one of the Shifting Feathers down at it, aiming for its neck. It rose up, cutting off its attack to defend.

And as the golden glaive met the black sword, the other Shifting Feather came at it from the side, targeting its waist. The fiend threw off the Shifting Feather it had blocked to stop the other one, and Jieyuan whipped a leg up for a kick just as it managed to block the other blade.

But now, as it reacted to the kick, swinging the sword down at his leg, Jieyuan brought the first Shifting Feather down at its neck again.

The fiend reacted, pulling its sword up, but it’d been midway a downswing.

It didn’t manage to reach up in time.

And the Shifting Feather cut cleanly through its neck.

Jieyuan pulled away.

The fiend’s head didn’t fall to the ground. It stayed in the air, floating. The body didn’t drop, either. Just stayed, frozen in place, its sword half-raised. As if frozen in time. There was a small gap between the body and the head, where the Shifting Feather had cut through.

And then it started fading. It started from the bottom for the head, and from the top for the body, the black substance making it up… vanishing. Disappearing into thin air. Just moments later it was gone. Like it’d never been there at all.

Jieyuan took a moment to steady himself, let his heart settle. Focusing on his body, he noticed how he didn’t feel any aches, any tiredness. He felt as good as new. This wouldn’t have been a surprise outside; a fight like this was far from enough to tire out a seventh-sign redsoul.

But he should be back to mundane parameters right now. So Anren had been right about this part too.

He turned around. Daojue and Anren were standing there, near the middle of the platform. Daojue’s face was the same as ever. Neutral, stony, expressionless.

But then there was Anren.

She was frowning at him, eyes narrowed, nose wrinkled.

“Anren?” Jieyuan asked, confused. Sure, he hadn’t beaten the fiend on the spot, but he didn’t think he’d done half that bad.

Once he’d gotten the hang of it, he’d ended it on the spot. And this was apparently a trial meant for cultivators from Violetsoul sects. For violetsouls, even if they’d be reduced to mundane standards.

And yet Anren looked nothing short of disgusted right now.

“That,” Anren said, slowly, “hurt to watch. What in the Absolute do you think you’re doing?”

“I— What?”

She stormed over to him. He stood his ground, but when she reached forward toward his hands, he pulled his arms back away—but it wasn’t his hands she’d been going for, but the Shifting Feathers.

She gripped the shafts of both glaives, just past the blades. Standing just inches away from him now, she met his eyes.

“Hands off the amphis,” she demanded. “You clearly don’t know what you’re doing with it.”