Chapter 56: NOT TO WASTE

CHAPTER

56

NOT TO WASTE

JIEYUAN

—∞—

For once, Jieyuan neither rushed out nor stood his ground against an incoming rush. Rather, after the proctor called the duel and got off the stage, he began walking toward the center, in no particular hurry. And as if they’d agreed upon it beforehand, Yongyi did the same, coming from the opposite direction.

Jieyuan wouldn’t go so far as to call their walk casual—they both kept their weapons up, forms ready for a fight, a stalk-like quality to their advance—but it certainly lacked the tension, the fervor, that had filled all his other fights. Most of the ones he’d witnessed, too.

They met in the middle, both of them coming to a stop at just the same time, at about the same distance they usually started their spar—just a handful of yards or so apart. Neither of them had particularly showy powers that needed a lot of space. They barely used a fraction of the space available in the stages back in the Gleaming Stone Palace, to begin with. And the less said about the one they were currently on, the better.

But now they were at the right distance to start off things properly.

Jieyuan drew up tension and drove it into his muscles, arms and legs and core, as he settled into a lower, firmer stance, spreading his feet out underneath him. Yongyi followed suit, leaning forward.

There was a beat, then two, as they just eyed each other. Then Yongyi gave him a subtle nod.

And Jieyuan burst into motion, rushing in, the Shifting Feathers singing.

A sharp ring cut through the silence as Yongyi met the blow firmly with his sword, parrying both blades at the same time. Jieyuan immediately flowed into his next move, striking out with both half-glaives again, and Yongyi moved in tandem, putting his sixth-sign speed to good use as he fended off Jieyuan’s attacks.

They quickly fell into a rhythm. Jieyuan attacking, Yongyi defending. A familiar rhythm. For all that the duel had started out unlike their spars, now Jieyuan felt right at home as they went through their usual routine, their usual dance. Take away the glowing brightgold that surrounded them, and they could’ve been back in the Gleaming Stone Palace.

This wasn’t the real fight. Not yet. Jieyuan didn’t expect any of his attacks to actually land, and Yongyi didn’t go out of his way to sneak a strike in. This was the prelude to the real thing. They were warming up, getting their blood flowing, pumping, setting the right mood.

They’d usually spend a brief while like this until one of them chose to break the mold and kick things off for real. Sometimes it was Yongyi, but it was usually Jieyuan that did so. He was a Firesoul, after all, and he had a reputation to live up to.

This time would prove no exception

As Jieyuan swung his right arm, he moved in closer, bringing his other arm in from the other side, cutting at Yongyi from both directions. Yongyi caught on immediately, eyes narrowing as he fell back a step, moving faster than before as he snapped his sword out, parrying one of the Shifting Feathers with the butt-end of his sword, and the other with the blade.

Yongyi then pulled his sword back and in quick succession stabbed out again. Jieyuan twisted to the side, Yongyi’s sword kissing his robes, before attacking again.

Back on the defense, Yongyi parried his next few stirkes, all the while pressing forward, making Jieyuan retreat even as he weaved one swing to the next. Chest, shoulders, neck, waist—he switched it up, targeting different locations, often going for two different locations at the same time, one with each Shifting Feather.

Yongyi parried it all, unceasing, yellow eyes wide and alert, staring straight into Jieyuan’s own as he deflected every attack. Usually with his sword, and when that proved impossible, with his fullgauntlets.

But then Jieyuan managed to lock Yongyi’s sword on his left to block an upward sweep, even as Jieyuan brought down the other Shifting Feather from above. And just as it seemed like it’d land—not even a sixth-sign’s speed would be enough—Yongyi’s eyes flicked up, to the sword.

Jieyuan immediately swerved the Shifting Feather aside, pulling the blow, as a gleamstone barrier appeared where the blade would’ve struck.

Realmskills were on, then. Yongyi stabbed at him, and Jieyuan drew back—and now gleamstone barriers started popping up all over the place, one at a time, winking in and out of existence. Jieyuan wielded two weapons at the same time, but Yongyi might as well be doing the same with those gleamstone barriers of his.

If Yongyi had the edge before, now he was dominating—no longer just defending and reacting, but all-out attacking. And though the heart of the Gleaming Stone Sect’s martial arts was defense, it was merciless when its user went on the offensive. Each lightning-quick strike was precise, targeting weaknesses and flaws.

Jieyuan only managed to hold on because he was so used to being on the receiving end of Yongyi’s blows.

That, and because of something he’d figured out a while ago.

Seeing Yongyi’s eyes flick again, toward his left-hand Shifting Feather this time, Jieyuan once again pulled the strike as a barrier appeared in place.

What he’d figured out was simple. Users of Gleaming Stone Containment would always look directly toward the spot where they wanted to put up a barrier. It wasn’t a tell specific to Yongyi. After he’d noticed the pattern, Jieyuan had reviewed his memories of his fight with the inner disciple Sunqiu in the Gleamstone Valley, as well as every time he’d seen Palace Head Yiming use it. They always did it—which made him fairly certain it was some sort of requirement or limitation inherent to the realmskill.

But even then… Jieyuan was more than three-fourths the way to his end of the stage, and it got closer with every exchange. Soon he’d be driven off the stage—which was one of the cases for defeat. The stage, which had seemed so unnecessarily massive before, didn’t seem nearly as big now.

By virtue of experience, Jieyuan was holding on. But he wasn’t winning. No. Far from that. He was losing, and in all honesty, he couldn’t really say he was surprised.

The truth of the matter was that he was nowhere near as skilled with the amphis as he was with a spear. He wasn’t even using the unusual weapon properly, to begin with. He was just bastardizing a style with the pair-forms, as that was the best he’d been able to manage in such a short time, having not even begun to wrap his head around how to properly wield it in single-form.

Even if he’d been using his spear, it wouldn’t have been enough. After he’d advanced to fourth-sign and gotten the Shifting Feathers, he’d still used his spear against Yongyi a couple of times while sparring. He’d managed to beat a fifth-sign Yongyi, but he’d still lost to Yongyi at his full strength—and even Yongyi at fifth-sign had still managed to eke out a few wins. And that was with the spear. With the amphis, he’d yet to defeat Yongyi with his power suppressed to fifth-sign even once. And that was without Yongyi using his new sword’s prime skill—or Gleaming Stone Protection to the full extent he knew him to be capable of.

Still. Jieyuan kept on fighting, kept on attacking, while Yongyi drove him back. Giving up didn’t cross his mind. He didn’t stand a chance, sure—but he hadn’t stood a chance against a lot of the other cultivators he’d faced so far, and he was still there, whereas the others weren’t.

All that giving up would do was ensure defeat. As long as he didn’t? He might not stand a chance—but all that meant was that victory was above him, and that if the opportunity presented itself, he could drag it down to his level.

Yongyi suddenly threw both his arms up, over his head, and then down. An unusually broad move from Yongyi, but Jieyuan brought both his blades ups to block it all. And as Yongyi’s sword landed on the paired blades of the Shifting Feather, Jieyuan caught Yongyi’s eyes flick up.

A sign he was about to use his realmskill. But why? Both Shifting Feathers were already—

The gleamstone barrier appeared. But not to block anything. Rather, it appeared over Jieyuan’s forearm, right underneath his left wrist.

No. Not over. Around it. Locking it in place.

A lock-barrier.

There was a brief pause.

Yongyi’s lips quirked up in a small, apologetic smile.

Reeling, Jieyuan could only swallow down his surprise as he maneuvered his right hand down to block Yongyi’s next strike. A stab, aimed at his side.

With only one arm to withstand the strength of a sixth-sign’s two arms, the half-glaive was thrown aside, and Jieyuan just barely managed to twist out of the way. But still it wasn’t enough, and Yongyi’s sword cut a shallow line into his waist. All the while his left arm remained up, over his head, locked into place by the unmovable, unbreakable gleamstone barrier.

Yongyi’s smile was gone, but the apology lingered in the way he attacked. Not nearly as fast as he could’ve been, allowing Jieyuan to just barely get his right-hand Shifting Feather in place to defend. If Yongyi had been the sadistic type, Jieyuan would have thought this to be some ploy to prolong the fight and his suffering. But this was more like Yongyi apologizing for what he’d just pulled off.

Jieyuan had known Yongyi wasn’t using his realmskill fully. But he’d been expecting something more along the lines of trip-barriers, summoned between his legs, or step-barriers, platforms Yongyi could step on to give him more maneuverability. Lock-barriers were a far more advanced application, one he’d had no idea Yongyi had gotten down.

So much for a straightforward fight. Yongyi had had a trick up his sleeve all along. Even as Jieyuan struggled to defend himself, he couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect. He could appreciate a hand well played, even if it were against himself.

And in a way, this was a gesture of respect from Yongyi, if not an act of kindness. Yongyi could’ve won without the lock-barrier. He hadn’t had any need to play his hand like this. It’d have been much better, much smarter,. to save the technique for the next duel. But this way, Yongyi could say he’d gone all out against him, that he’d held nothing back to defeat him. Jieyuan suspected any moment now he’d be using his sword’s prime skill, too.

Fighting with one of your arms locked in place up in the air was a strange experience. Not only did it throw Jieyuan’s balance off, but it also greatly limited his movements. Yongyi was no longer pushing him back because Jieyuan couldn’t retreat. His arm would only stretch so far.

And even with Yongyi holding back, Jieyuan still needed to make full use of his right-hand Shifting Feather’s prime skill to hold on. Dropping its weight when swinging it so he could move faster and match Yongyi’s speed, and then spiking it up right at the moment so it’d hit harder and match Yongyi’s strength.

But this wouldn’t go on for long. Sooner or later, Yongyi would kick things up a notch again. And that would be the end of it.

What could he do? Giving up still wasn’t an option—he’d fight to the very last breath. But he hadn’t managed to come up with something even when both his arms were free. Now, with one of them bound and useless? His odds couldn’t have been worse.

So useless was his left arm, in fact, that Yongyi wasn’t even watching it anymore. He didn’t have to. There was nothing Jieyuan could do with it. It was locked—completely immobilized...

Or was it?

Parrying another strike, Jieyuan tested his wrist with the smallest of motions.

It moved. Cleanly. Freely.

He still had full range of motion.

A plan wrote itself on the spot.