Chapter 61: TO PREDICT

CHAPTER

61

TO PREDICT

JIEYUAN

—∞—

It was Jieyuan’s seventh time on the arena floor—and if he had his way, he’d be back again tomorrow.

He was on the center stage, standing on one end of it. His opponent had already taken up position all the way across from him, though they’d arrived together. The proctor was between them, droning on. The brightgold that surrounded them glowed and glared as obnoxiously as always. Familiar sights and feelings all around—by this point, the stage felt like home, really, brightgold and all.

The coming duel promised to be even more familiar. Because it was Meiyao who shared the stage with him, and it was hardly the first time he’d ever faced her—not in person, and even less so in his head.

Jieyuan let his arms drop and hang with the trusty—and delightfully, blessedly variable—weight of the Shifting Feathers, his hands closed around the midpoint of their shafts.

Theirs was the first duel of the day, the first of two, and Jieyuan was ready—ready for the duel, and to fight a thousand more of them if needed. Anticipation and apprehension burned inside him like rising surges of twin flames, feeding each other, growing stronger. Filling him with a heady, breathless sort of warmth. Of heat, giddy and tingling.

Meiyao. That was what it came down to—what his mind kept coming back to, over and over, echoing numbly against the beat of his heart. Pretty much from the moment he’d heard about the Summit tournament, he’d started courting the idea of fighting Meiyao and Daojue in it. To face them on the big stage, to pit himself against them. To measure how far he’d come since they’d so handily beaten him in the Gleaming Stone Sect’s entrance trials all those months ago.

Today he’d be facing Meiyao. And if he won, if he played his cards right, tomorrow he’d get Daojue.

Two for two, he thought to himself, reaffirming his conviction. Meiyao today, Daojue tomorrow. Two for two—that was what he was after.

Against Yongyi, Jieyuan had been prepared to lose—he wouldn’t have liked it, but he’d have been fine with it. So much so that he hadn’t even bothered coming up with a plan for the sixth round—he’d just gone straight into the duel, half-resigned from the get-go, looking for a fair fight he was likely to lose.

But he’d won, and the stakes had changed. There was his promise to Yongyi—half-serious as it’d been—as well as his own desires and ambitions. This time around, he was playing to win.

In preparation for the fifth round, Jieyuan abused Absolute Will Command’s combat simulations to steal a win from Caoluan. Now, if there were any rules that said you couldn’t play the same card twice—well, Jieyuan certainly hadn’t heard them. A winning hand was a winning hand, and winning was what Jieyuan was all about here and now.

Over on the other side of the stage, Meiyao was working her wrist, twirling her saber lazily in the air. Even from this far away, she was a sight to behold, her brown hair loosely bound, the green pinpricks of her eyes putting both jade and emerald to shame. The proctor was over halfway through the terms of engagement for the duel.

Like with Caoluan, he’d managed to find the one scenario in which he won against Meiyao. It hadn’t been nearly as easy, though. It’d taken him much longer to come up with a solution than it had back when he was simulating his duels with Caoluan. That was despite the fact that Meiyao was one soulsign lower than Caoluan, couldn’t use any powers besides her weapon’s prime skill, and was less willing to grievously wound Jieyuan—or at least he hoped so—than Caoluan had been, which severely limited her options.

Not to mention that Jieyuan’s mental model of Meiyao was very accurate, probably only losing to his model of Yongyi. He’d seen her fight several times already, and had long since lost count of the number of spars they’d had. That should have made it easier to find a solution, and it probably did—which made it all that much more significant the fact that it took the whole of yesterday and the better part of this morning to find a winning scenario.

Seeing that the proctor was almost done, Jieyuan tightened his grip on the shafts of the Shifting Feather and straightened himself up into proper posture. At roughly the same time, Meiyao stopped twirling her saber, and like him snapped into a fighting stance, getting combat-ready faster than a coin flip.

The plan itself was straightforward. All it required him to do was get a very specific combination of blows out. Meiyao would react accordingly, and near the end she’d end up giving him the opening he needed to seize the win.

He wouldn’t even have to get himself stabbed this time—and not for a lack of trying. He’d attempted to get himself stabbed—or, more precisely, hacked into, as sabers weren’t meant for stabbing—into several times in the simulations, hoping it might give Meiyao a pause and catch her off-guard, like he’d done against Caoluan, but it never played out right. His simulation of Meiyao would always pull her saber back or snap it off to the side before the blade could burrow itself inside him.

It turned out that Meiyao’s unwillingness to deal him significant harm worked against him about as much as it worked in his favor. Just as it limited her options, it also limited his—in terms of the riskier, half-suicidal moves he could’ve pulled off. Bummer, that.

The proctor nodded her head. “BEGIN!”

It was like they’d planned it beforehand, like they’d acted it out ahead of time. As soon as the proctor was off the stage, he and Meiyao set off, rushing at each other, steel-clad feet drumming against the brightgold floor.

Meiyao was faster—they met some ways off the center, closer to his end of the stage than hers. He was ready for it, and threw his arms forward without breaking stride, channeling all his momentum into the Shifting Feathers as he swung them out. Meiyao’s saber crashed against the half-glaives’ twin blades.

They locked each other in place, both of them coming to abrupt halts. Meiyao’s eyes were on his, green and vibrant as the height of summer, full red lips curled at the edges, a wild, exultant quality to her expression. If he hadn’t grown so used to sparring with Meiyao—used to seeing her like this, high on battle lust—he might have lost there and then, struck dumb.

The stalemate didn’t last long.

Meiyao didn’t have the edge on him in just speed. She was also stronger. Noticeably so—enough so that he felt his arms straining under the force of her saber. He could’ve increased the weight of the Shifting Feathers, and that’d have allowed him to hold on longer—but it’d have tired him faster, and the half-glaives weren’t in the right orientation to properly take advantage of that.

More importantly, he had a routine to follow. One that required him to back down right now. So back down he did.

Jieyuan threw both half-glaives to the side, and Meiyao’s saber along with them. Meiyao reacted immediately, of course. In one snappy movement, she had her saber slashing at him again. Lowering the Shifting Feathers’ weight, he pulled both weapons back in front of him, blocking the strike.

What followed was a one-man act that Jieyuan had practiced plenty these last few days. He made full use of the Shifting Feathers’ prime skill to match Meiyao’s speed and strength. Dropping their weight as he swung them for speed, surging their weight just before collision for strength.

It was the same strategy he’d used against all his opponents so far, the one that had allowed him to match opponents at higher soulsigns—and now, to match an opponent at the same soulsign.

Seriously, he had no idea why others bothered to spare him any attention when there were monsters like Meiyao and Daojue around.

Meiyao kept on swinging her saber, setting a pace so frantic he barely got any hits in. The few attempts he did get around to making didn’t come even remotely close to landing. She wasn’t quite as aggressive as she’d been against Dayang last round, but she wasn’t all that far from it, either. She usually only got this way near the end of their sparring sessions—but this was a duel, not a spar, and Meiyao was taking this seriously.

If there was one saving grace here, it was that Meiyao was unlikely to use Radiant Light Cut in their duel. She knew how much he’d taken to the Shifting Feathers—he doubted she’d destroy them like she had Dayang’s sword. Besides, Radiant Light Cut was prohibitively expensive to use. It cost way too much chroma, an obscene half a prismful per second. As a fourth-sign, Meiyao would only be able to use it to a count of eight before she ran out of chroma, and that was assuming she started with her soulprism topped up.

But from the looks of things, it wasn’t as if she needed to use it, anyway.

Every time the Shifting Feathers met a swing of her saber, his bones rattled like he’d struck a metal wall. Somehow, Meiyao was stronger than the fifth-sign Caoluan had been, and not that far from sixth-sign Yongyi’s level. There was something to the way she moved, swinging with her whole body, that packed far more power into her blows than a fourth-sign had any business dishing out.

It wasn’t a trait of the Gleaming Stone Sect’s or Viridian Death Cult’s martial arts, either. No, it was something entirely unique to her.

Jieyuan narrowly dodged a swing that could’ve very well taken him on his side—he only managed it because he’d known that it was coming several moves back. If he hadn’t simulated this duel to exhaustion, he’d have long since lost. Lost fast and hard. He wasn’t the only one that had benefited from their spars. The Gleaming Stone Sect’s style of martial arts was all about targeting the opponent’s flaws, and Meiyao had grown awfully acquainted with his.

But then the moment he was waiting for came, and it was beautiful. Engineered to perfection over the course of their last several dozen clashes. All for this moment.

Meiyao’s saber was locked in place with his right-hand Gleaming Feather. He’d managed to parry it at just the right angle to free his left-hand Gleaming Feather to strike at Meiyao from the other side.

Like a blur, Meiyao pushed his right-hand Gleaming Feather away and slammed her saber into his incoming left swing. Just as he’d known she would. Jieyuan threw his body forward and snapped his right leg out like a whip at Meiyao’s side, twisting his body.

Meiyao would’ve been caught by surprise—none of the local cabals made good use of leg attacks. She’d have been disoriented, even if briefly, and he’d have been able to take advantage of that to put her at his mercy. He’d seen the sight of it hundreds of times, simulating this moment over and over to ensure he’d gotten it perfectly right. To leave absolutely no room for error.

What happened instead was Meiyao exploding in a burst of speed, spinning on her feet as her left leg lashed out to meet his just as her saber hit his right-hand Shifting Feather.

And the one that ended up disoriented was himself.

Meiyao grinned, teeth bared, lips stretched hungrily wide. Jieyuan slammed his left foot back on the floor, grounding himself. Meiyao paused a beat, just long enough for him to steady himself, before she came down upon him like the wrath of the Heavens.

She was faster. Heavens almighty, she was faster. Faster than he’d ever seen her before. If she was like a blur before, now she was a blur proper.

Jieyuan didn’t stay dumbstruck for long, but the realization he came to was almost enough to knock him back over again.

He’d thought he’d seen the best Meiyao had to offer against that first gleamstone wolf, and then later when the three of them had fought Qingshi together, and even more recently when she overwhelmed Dayang in the previous round.

But no. None of that had pushed her to the limits. All this time, she’d still been holding back.

Meiyao’s feral, predator grin only widened as she pressed onward, the green of her eyes so vivid they were almost glowing.

His mental model hadn’t been accurate—no, it’d been hopelessly inadequate.

He’d lost. Heavens take it all, he’d lost. It didn’t matter that the fight had yet to be called—he couldn’t win. But Jieyuan forced himself to smile back despite the bitterness that filled him, to match Meiyao’s gaze. 

Because he might be going out—but the Heavens knew he wouldn’t go quietly. No, he’d stand his ground until the end, go out with—

LEFTCUTHESITATERETREAT.

A surge of half-formed thoughts slammed onto him like a stampede.

Jieyuan staggered back, and Meiyao pulled her attack, the blade of her saber halfway to his stomach—and it said much of her control that she managed to do so—her smile slipping, her brows furrowing. She stayed her hand, unmoving as she looked at him searchingly, puzzled.

Were the circumstances any other, the touch of concern in her expression would have sent Jieyuan’s heart racing a marathon a minute. And his heart was racing, drumming against his chest like an unbroken chain of thunderclaps—but Meiyao, for once, had absolutely nothing to do with it.

It wasn’t just Jieyuan’s heart that raced. His mind was also hard at it as Jieyuan scrambled to make sense of the situation. His body’s movements he surrendered to his instincts, barely aware of what he was doing as he took up a defensive stance, bracing himself for Meiyao to resume her onslaught.

What’d just happened—it’d been Huaxin. Huaxin had sent him a sudden, instantaneous blast of impressions. And as Jieyuan pushed his mind to compile the facts, he realized that what Huaxin had sent him, Meiyao had done.

A cut from the left. Hesitation. Retreat.

His heart—the Fatebloom Heart—didn’t ease up any. It kept on pumping blood through his body in a mad rush, making his blood thump in his ears like the crashing of waterfalls, so loud it almost drowned out his thoughts. Through his bond with Huaxin, he could feel its gleeful anticipation. Pure in its simplicity and honesty, but laced with a healthy dose of battle lust. Like a disturbed, psychopathic child jumping up and down in their eagerness for bloodshed.

Meiyao came at him again, closing the distance faster than he could blink, saber swinging out.

SIDETWISTTURNSLASHRETREAT.

It struck him again. The next few moments, whole seconds, compressed into a single instant. Jieyuan parried the strike, and as Meiyao twisted her body—exactly as he’d just seen—he brought both Shifting Feathers a cross-slash, and Meiyao aborted her motion, back-stepping.

Meiyao’s eyes were wide, wary. Suspicious and uncomprehending. Jieyuan reckoned his eyes were just as wide, but for entirely different reasons. He gripped the shafts of the Shifting Feather so hard he could distinctly feel the engravings on it dig into the palm of his hands.

There was always some margin of error when he relied on his simulations for predictions—even when he got it right. Fine adjustments to be made on the fly. It also locked him into following a specific set of actions to get to a point he wanted. 

This was different. What Huaxin was sending him were proper predictions—predictions that took into account not only what his opponent would do, but also what he would do. The outcome he saw in them was the outcome he’d get.

He’d wondered what exactly it was that Fatebloom Intuition did, and it seemed like he finally had his answer.

Meiyao re-engaged, launching her at him again.

She was still halfway to him when Jieyuan suddenly knew—knew—that he’d just won the duel.

SWINGCOUNTERSTEPSLASHBREAKSTRIKESTOP.

He didn’t need to search for the right scenario amid thousands—tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands—possibilities and variations. It’d just been handed straight to him, falling on his lap on a silver platter and with a lovely little red bow on top.

The path to victory was outlined for him, blazing and radiant and glorious, and Jieyuan stepped straight onto it.

Meiyao swung her saber at him—he countered, having started moving even before she’d made her attack, slamming both Shifting Feathers onto the incoming blade in a perfect parry.

Then he stepped closer, inside Meiyao’s guard. As she tried to move her saber back into position, he threw his right arm out, and the right-hand Shifting Feather’s blade caught onto her saber and pushed it up and out.

Meanwhile, his left arm was coming in at Meiyao in a downswing. She tried to twist herself out of the way, but he’d already accounted for it and redirected the trajectory with a split-second abrupt reduction of the half-glaive’s weight.

His left-hand Shifting Feather’s blade came to a sudden stop just an inch off Meiyao’s collarbone.

And that was that.

The first burst of Intuition had staggered him. The second had allowed him to defend. The third time had won him the fight. It turned out that third time was indeed the charm, after all.

The incredulous look on Meiyao’s face was not unlike the one Yongyi had given him at the end of their duel the previous round. The short, bark-like laugh, chock-full of disbelief, that escaped her lips next was also just like the one her brother had given.

The smile that came last, though—the sharp, half-wild grin, paired with those gleaming, fathomless emerald eyes. Like a predator eying her prey, but in a good way—the best way possible. No Yongyi there. That was all Meiyao

Huaxin, you glorious organ, Jieyuan thought, focusing on his bond with the deranged, probably psychopathic, sentient blood pump that had made itself home inside his rib cage. I swear to the Heavens, I’d give you my heart if you hadn’t already eaten it and taken its place.

What he got in reply from Huaxin was a confused sort of amusement. Then came what felt oddly like a yawn

EXHAUSTION.

Jieyuan felt his heart rate slowly fall, his blood no longer thumping thunderously in his ears. He could still feel Huaxin’s high—one that matched his own—but it was undercut by a growing sense of weariness, of fatigue.

His connection to Huaxin grew slightly dimmer. It was still there, and he could tell that Huaxin was still conscious—but resting, sedate. Or whatever passed for conscious and resting to a sentient organ, at any rate.

Well, as long as Huaxin taking a break didn’t mean his heart stopping altogether, Jieyuan was fine with it. It certainly deserved some rest after what it’d just pulled off.

Because of it, he’d won. Meiyao might have not gone all-out, might still have several cards up her sleeves, but the same could be said about him. He wasn’t her match, be it physically or skill-wise, but Fatebloom Intuition let him bridge the gap between them. He’d take the win.

Jieyuan looked away from Meiyao, barely paying attention as the proctor climbed onto the stage, and toward the viewing floor. He squinted his eyes against the glare of the brightgold, focusing on one, unfairly tall, orange-robed form on the Gleaming Stone Sect’s side of the floor, seemingly alone.

There it was. There he was.

Jieyuan had won. His prize? Facing Daojue tomorrow.

That was probably the last thing most of the disciples here would’ve wanted, given how soundly Daojue had beaten everyone he’d faced so far.

Jieyuan, though—he couldn’t ask for more.

Meiyao and Daojue. One down, one to go.

Two for two.

He’d see it done.