Chapter 57: LET HIM DOWN

CHAPTER

57

LET HIM DOWN

JIEYUAN

—∞—

Jieyuan didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to consider it. As Yongyi came at him again, still sandbagging, he didn’t parry but went for a riskier dodge. Yongyi’s blade cut into him—another line across his ribs to match the one on his right—but it freed up his right hand, which he swung at Yongyi’s sword.

Yongyi immediately shifted positions, bringing his sword back and up to block it. And that was when Jieyuan dropped the weight of his left-hand Gleaming Feather to one-tenth, snapped his left wrist hard, and increased the half-glaive’s weight to the limit as he let go of it.

The weave crashed down at Yongyi, who immediately turned to look at it, eyes wide. A gleamstone barrier appeared in its path, blocking it.

And the gleamstone barrier around Jieyuan’s wrist vanished—only one could exist at a time.

Taken aback, caught completely off-guard, Yongyi’s attention was taken up with the half-glaive he’d summoned a barrier to block. Meaning he was no longer paying attention to Jieyuan’s right-hand amphis, which he’d just parried.

Jieyuan got it past Yongyi’s still-raised sword, into his guard, and brought his right-hand Shifting Feather down across Yongyi’s chest. Tearing robe. Tearing skin. Not a deep cut, but a cut all the same. The first one Yongyi had suffered yet in the tournament, as far as Jieyuan knew.

Yongyi’s head whipped back in Jieyuan’s direction to focus on him as Yongyi instinctively stepped back. And Jieyuan took that time to bend low, grabbing the Shifting Feather he’d thrown from the floor—and immediately lunging at Yongyi.

Yongyi snapped out of it in time to block the attack with his sword. And the ones that followed. But though Yongyi wasn’t retreating, neither was Jieyuan.

Jieyuan was back on the offensive, revitalized, a fire burning in him. Mind blazing, shooting out thoughts. He’d just pulled himself away from the very maws of defeat—and if he had no intention of losing before, he had even less so now. He was going to win this.

The initiative was Jieyuan’s again, and he’d squeeze it for all it was worth.

Jieyuan was fully alert for Yongyi’s eyes now, tracking their movements. Soon Yongyi got back into rhythm, and gleamstone barriers started appearing again. But only parry-barriers. Jieyuan wasn’t taking any chances, though, and made sure to get himself out of the way of wherever Yongyi focused on. It made his fighting style far more erratic than he was used to, but needs must, and Jieyuan was nothing if not adaptable.

But there was something else Jieyuan was watching out for, even as he was trying to come up with a plan. The trick he did know Yongyi had, but had yet to use.

It came only a few beats later, as Yongyi swung his sword at him. Jieyuan brought his Shifting Feathers in front of him to block—only for the gear-shroud over Yongyi’s sword to drop to the floor as Yongyi’s sword passed right through the blades of the half-glaives, as if it were an illusion.

Then, with his sword now below the Shifting Feather, Yongyi crouched low and stabbed upward. The sword struck out at Jieyuan’s ribs, its blade now bared, dark gold in color and elaborately ornate in design.

This was something Jieyuan had been watching out for all along, though, and he rapidly stepped back, the strike missing him by a hair’s breadth, though cutting a neat little tear into his robes.

Yongyi’s sword’s prime gear-skill did only one thing. It could turn its blade temporarily intangible, physically and chromally. Still visible, still perceptible, but it’d pass through anything.

A sneaky kind of gear-skill. One that didn’t fit Yongyi all that well. But you couldn’t call it a bad fit, either—not when Yongyi made it work.

Though Jieyuan had managed to avoid the strike, he lost his momentum—while Yongyi had only built his. Now Jieyuan was back to retreating and Yongyi back to advancing.

Jieyuan kept on thinking, furiously, trying to find a way out, a path to victory. Yongyi should have revealed all his tricks now. If Yongyi had something else he hadn’t shown yet, that would mean Jieyuan’s sense of Yongyi’s character was very off the mark.

He wouldn’t win in a straight fight, that much was clear, and he wasn’t even remotely interested in fighting that way anymore. He’d need to win as he’d won all his previous duels, all his previous fights. Spot an exploit, and make full use of it.

He’d decided even before the duel began that if he got the opportunity to do something inspired, he wouldn’t let it pass. But now he was determined to create that opportunity for himself if it wouldn’t come.

Limitations. Weaknesses. Jieyuan kept turning over every detail of Yongyi’s power in his mind, over and over. There had to be something. The Gleaming Stone Sect’s martial arts, Gleaming Stone Protection, his sword’s prime skill… He kept on turning them over and over in his head, letting instincts take over as he parried Yongyi’s attacks.

Then Yongyi’s sword went intangible again as Jieyuan made to block one of his attacks. Like before, Yongyi finished the swing, getting the now-intangible blade past Jieyuan’s weapons, before going for an attack—another stab.

This time, Jieyuan didn’t move as fast as before, and the tip of the sword nicked him before he managed to pull his body.

Jieyuan spared a quick thought for the wound, decided it wasn’t serious—it shouldn’t be more than an inch deep—and shifted his focus to Yongyi’s sword’s prime gear-skill. Its mechanics. How both times Yongyi had freed up his sword, he’d only made it tangible again when it wasn’t overlapping with anything else.

And it became clear that Yongyi couldn’t re-solidify his blade if any part of it overlapped with something else.

That sounded obvious enough—but as Jieyuan thought about it, a not-so-obvious idea came to him.

One worth a toss.

It had been the second time Yongyi had gone for that move, and with greater success than the first. So as they re-engaged, Yongyi once more barraging Jieyuan with attacks, Jieyuan didn’t need to wait long for the third time to come.

Just as Yongyi’s sword got past his amphis, intangible, Jieyuan pushed himself forward, into its path. The tip disappeared into his body—intangible still, and unable to go tangible again.

To his credit, Yongyi reacted quickly, throwing his arms up, bringing his sword up and out of the way—but that was exactly what Jieyuan had predicted he’d do. And he brought both Gleaming Feathers up at the same time, both blades striking dead at Yongyi’s wrists, weights augmented by tenfold on impact.

Yongyi’s arms flew back. A lesser man would’ve let go of his weapon, but Yongyi held on to it.

Not that it mattered.

Jieyuan immediately pivoted, shifting forward, bringing his right-hand Shifting Feather down on Yongyi’s shoulder.

Off-balance, form unsteady, Yongyi could only summon a gleamstone barrier to block it.

But Jieyuan had two arms, two Shifting Feathers, and he’d reoriented his other one down and to the side even as he brought his right one down, and now it was coming down onto Yongyi’s neck.

Yongyi’s unprotected neck. One he had no means of protecting, what with both arms still up, hands barely gripping onto his sword, and a gleamstone barrier already stopping the advance of one Shifting Feather.

Jieyuan reduced the weight of the half-glaive to its minimum just as it was about to land home, and stopped it dead just as the blade made contact with Yongyi’s neck shroud.

Arms up over his head, gleamstone barrier over one shoulder, a Shifting Feather kissing his neck, Yongyi didn’t move, going statue-still. His eyes, yellow and bright and wide, stared straight into Jieyuan’s black ones.

Silent, Jieyuan stared back, keeping his left-hand Shifting Feather pressed against Yongyi’s neck. He saw the shock in Yongyi’s eyes, the disbelief—and was pretty sure it was mirrored in his own.

He’d won. That had been his intention, and while part of him roared, blood thumping in his ears like war drums, another part was catching up still, hung up on how he’d pulled it off.

Then Yongyi laughed. “You did it,” he said, sounding incredulous.

Jieyuan gathered himself, summoned a smile. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. I did tell you to prepare yourself.”

Yongyi only gave another incredulous laugh, shook his head, and then turned to the side of the stage, down to where the proctor was observing them. “I forfeit.”

The proctor was beside them in moments, blurring in the way tenth-sign redsouls did. She said nothing for a moment, instead just staring hard at Jieyuan. Though she looked as inscrutable as ever, Jieyuan could feel the weight of her consideration. She hadn’t expected him to win. Jieyuan could hardly blame her. Jieyuan hadn’t, himself. He doubted anyone had.

Then the Radiant Gold Sect elder looked up at the viewing floor, and declared, voice carrying, “Winner, Haoyujin Jieyuan of the Gleaming Stone Sect.”

Jieyuan immediately pulled back both Shifting Feathers, just as the gleamstone barrier that had been over Yongyi’s shoulder vanished. Yongyi then readily slid his sword back into his sheathe, and gave Jieyuan an appraising look, gaze lingering on the many tears he’d made on Jieyuan’s robes. Jieyuan had only managed one, himself, across Yongyi’s chest.

It wasn’t as rough as his win against Caoluan—where he’d barely hung on while Caoluan walked away unscathed—but between the two of them, Yongyi looked much more like the winner.

And he very well could have been. Bitterness found its way into Jieyuan at the thought. In a way, Yongyi had handed him the win. Held back after locking him up, then using his sword’s prime skill when he didn’t need to, giving Jieyuan the opening he did need. If Yongyi had kept pressing on like he had at the start, Jieyuan would’ve lost.

Yongyi cocked his head, then walked over to him. Jieyuan turned around, Yongyi joining his side, and they set off walking.

After a few steps, Yongyi leaned in and said, quietly, “You realize you won, right?”

What was that about? “Yes? I do.”

They jumped off the stage.

“Then drop the frown. Or do you think your victory wasn’t sound enough?” Yongyi said as they continued on to the exit, his expression and tone subtly teasing.

But then Yongyi’s steps halted for a moment. Jieyuan turned back to look, and found Yongyi’s eyes narrowing. Yongyi quickly resumed walking, burning yellow eyes piercing into his.

“You’re actually thinking that, aren’t you? Gleaming Heavens, you’re impossible. Do I need to remind you are a fourth-sign, and using a weapon you’ve only just gotten your hands on? Do I need to remind you that I’m a sixth-sign—and, modesty be chipped, an inordinately powerful one? And…”

Yongyi dropped the volume of his voice even lower. “Impossible as that sounds, I’ve got the feeling you haven’t used everything you have. That you’re holding something back, for some reason. Tell me I’m wrong.”

The bitterness vanished on the spot. There was a significant soulsign gap between them. And Jieyuan was using a weapon he’d picked up barely a week ago. More than that, he had fought without tapping into his real advantages, Absolute Will Command and the Fatebloom Heart. A laugh escaped Jieyuan’s throat. The things perspective did for you. “You’re right. I’m being stupid. Thank you.”

“No. That’s not how this works. You want to thank me? You defeated me. So the least you can do now is win this whole chipped thing.” There was a vividness, a ferocity, to the way Yongyi was speaking now that Jieyuan had never seen in him before.

And Jieyuan realized that Yongyi was the scion, of the Liangshibai Clan, the greatest talent of his generation, and probably had never lost before. Not like this. For all this talk, Yongyi was probably still reeling from his defeat.

Yongyi then gave a subtle nod in the direction of the section of the viewing floor right ahead of them. Jieyuan followed it to the Gleaming Stone Sect’s party.

“My sister’s fighting Dayang,” Yongyi went on. “And Daojue’s fighting Yunzhu. I don’t think either of your old teammates will lose this round. With the way things are set up, you’ll be fighting one of them next round. And I don’t care if my sister and Daojue are just as absurdly talented as you are. If you beat me just to lose to another fourth-sign, I’ll chip you down to size, Jieyuan.”

Jieyuan focused on two outlines on the upper floor, indistinct in the brightgold glare—but unmistakable by where they stood. Meiyao and Daojue. Who’d gotten just as far as he had. And like him, had done it without realmskills or using any other special ability they might have.

They’d gone a step further, even. Jieyuan had been relying heavily on Shifting Feather’s prime gear-skill to match the speed and strength of his opponents so far, but neither Meiyao nor Daojue had used their weapon’s prime gear-skills yet.

Meiyao had gotten a new saber from the Radiant Light Atelier, and Daojue… the less said about Daojue and Gleaming End, the better.

No, his two former teammates had gotten this far on their overwhelming martial talent alone.

But Jieyuan couldn’t let Yongyi down now, could he? It was like Yongyi had said.

He owed him that.

First place.

Jieyuan turned back to Yongyi as they entered the corridor leading to their stairway. A Firesoul’s fire, ambition made flame, cradled his heart. “Wait and see,” Jieyuan said, and it might as well have been a promise.

Yongyi grinned fiercely. “I’ll be holding you to that.”