Chapter 54: A CLEAN WIN

CHAPTER

54

A CLEAN WIN

JIEYUAN

—∞—

“BEGIN!” the proctor announced before getting off the stage.

Jieyuan set off running forward. Caoluan similarly bounded forward, long legs eating up the distance in swallowing strides, pushing her fifth-sign speed to the limit.

This exact sight was one Jieyuan had seen before. Many, many times.

The moment they reached each other, Caoluan threw her arms out, stabbing at him—with a sword that wasn’t there. Jieyuan brought both Shifting Feathers in front of him, and there was a loud, ringing noise with a scratching quality to it as they seemingly struck empty air.

Jieyuan concentrated, barely seeing the shimmering outline of a blade as Caoluan drew her arms back, before swinging them across at him. Jieyuan once again parried with both amphis.

It was only in the previous round that Caoluan had revealed her weapon’s prime skill—the ability to turn borderline invisible. That, on its own, would’ve been plenty handy, in Jieyuan’s opinion. It wasn’t all that the prime skill did, though. Rather, that was just a consequence.

Again he heard a loud, scratching noise as the Shifting Feathers met the near-invisible blade. Scratching noises caused by the compressed chromal wind enveloping Caoluan’s blade.

Wind that increased its cutting power.

The shimmering outline of the blade suddenly grew as Caoluan struck at him again.

Wind that Caoluan could manipulate, expanding it, increasing her weapon’s reach.

Having been expecting it, Jieyuan managed to deflect the strike again—and the ones that followed it. The Xiyunfeng style of martial arts was fluid, leaning heavily on offense. But there were clear patterns to it, if you knew how to look for them. Patterns that Jieyuan had gotten very acquainted with.

Specific sweeps led to specific thrusts. Entire chains of successive moves in reaction to particular attacks. Jieyuan was less fighting, and more enacting a routine, knowing exactly how the invisible blade would strike next.

It was after he’d blocked a good twenty or so blows—the Xiyunfeng style was much more easily parried than dodged—that Jieyuan caught Caoluan’s frown. And he braced himself, well aware of what was about to come.

So far Caoluan had only really been testing the waters. Now she’d be getting serious.

As she swung her sword at him again, her figure seemed to blur a little, and a hissing noise filled his ears. He just barely managed to catch the invisible blow. In front of him, Caoluan seemed to shimmer much like her sword did, though she was still visible. And as she drew her sword back she seemed significantly faster than before. A constant sharp hiss came from her direction.

Sibilant Wind Blessing. The Xiyunfeng Clan’s sole realmskill. Its first form, Sibilant Wind Touch, worked much like Caoluan’s sword’s prime skill, enveloping the user in a layer of chromal wind that emitted a constant sibilant, hissing sound. It didn’t render the user invisible, but it did greatly increase its user’s speed and agility, on top of imbuing their entire body with cutting power.

Caoluan’s normal speed was already the limit of what Jieyuan could handle. Now she was even faster than your average sixth-sign redsoul. If this had been his first time fighting her, he’d have lost within three strikes after she used her realmskill, no question asked. But he deflected each and every one of the flurry of strikes she launched at him.

Because while this was her first time fighting him, this wasn’t his first time fighting her. It wasn’t even the hundredth one. He’d spent pretty much all of his waking hours the previous day and this morning fighting her in his head, over and over. Dying, over and over.

But each and every time a different way, because Jieyuan learned from his mistakes.

Dead. Dead. Dead. He saw his death in each strike he deflected. He had died to each one of them. What was happening this very moment was something Jieyuan had managed to reproduce almost exactly, over countless times, each death taking him just a little bit further.

And this was the best he could do. As he defended, he found himself being pushed back, retreating, back-stepping, as Caoluan only grew fiercer in her attacks. He even had to lower the Shifting Feathers’ weight as he swung them, returning it to normal as they impacted against Caoluan’s sword, all so he could match Caoluan’s speed.

But that was fine. In all of his simulations, he’d only managed to win in one specific scenario. And that’s what he was biding his time for. Waiting for it. It wouldn’t be a clean win—far from it—and it’d depend on Caoluan playing along as he hoped she would, but as long as she had some sense in her, she would—

There was a bursting sound as the Shifting Feathers met Caoluan’s invisible sword, the half-glaives being thrown back. Bewildered, off-balance, Jieyuan only barely managed to step back as Caoluan swung her arms down in front of her—and it wasn’t enough, his robes tearing as Caoluan’s invisible blade cut a line across his chest. Blood splattered erratically, buffeted by the rapid wind currents wrapped around the blade.

When Meiyao fought a Xiyunfeng in the first round, the man had pretty much thrown the match. Clearly, though, Caoluan wasn’t playing by that same rule book. Not against him, at any rate. The woman was holding nothing back.

Focus. Jieyuan caught onto the pattern again and parried the next blow, ignoring the blood he could feel welling up in the gash across his chest. The wound wasn’t deep—far from incapacitating. As for what had just happened… Jieyuan focused again on the invisible blade, wary of a repeat of what just happened.

So Caoluan still had a trick up her sleeve. He doubted her sword had more than one prime gear-skill, though, so that explosion… a rapid, violent expansion of that wind coat, maybe?

Jieyuan grimaced, teeth gritted, half from effort, half from where his thoughts led.

He could still win this, but victory had just gotten a great deal more dangerous if Caoluan could send out air bursts like that—especially given what he had in mind for his winning move.

Caoluan kept on driving him back, and for once Jieyuan was grateful for the sheer size of the stage.

Now that she’d played her hand, Caoluan seemed to have no qualms about using that air burst again, because she kept interspersing more of it between her attacks. And even though Jieyuan now knew to watch out for it, she still managed to land another attack, resulting in another wound—a tear just above his earlier cut, also on his chest, slightly deeper, though shorter.

But then the moment—the moment, the one he’d been waiting for all along—came. Caoluan angled her body lower, shifting her weight back, and thrust her arms out, her invisible sword coming at him as a low thrust. It was a strike that was mostly meant as a feint. One that he was meant to parry, which she’d immediately follow up with a slash to his upper arm.

Twisting his body to the side, he leaned in, making no move to block the attack—and the invisible blade burrowed into his side, over the waist. As he stepped forward, Caoluan’s sword dug further into him, its wind sheath tearing at him from the inside, shredding flesh. But only flesh. His intestines were only inches away from where the blade ran through him. He’d ensured as much, repeating this particular move well over a thousand times until he could always get the angle and distance right.

Caoluan’s usually narrow, sharp eyes widened—and he took advantage of her surprise to snap both Shifting Feathers forward.

Caoluan tried to draw back, but it was too late—he held the two Shifting Feathers with their blades at a cross barely an inch away from Caoluan’s neck, scissor-like.

He could feel the layer of wind wrapped around Caoluan buffeting against the two blades, coming from all directions, but he kept the Shifting Feathers firmly in place. Sibilant Wind Blessing was primarily an offensive realmskill—the defense it provided was more of an afterthought.

Jieyuan stared straight into Caoluan’s eyes. The pain from the stab wound was a constant thing, much stronger than that from the earlier cuts, but nothing he wouldn’t have normally been able to ignore. Right now, he barely even felt it. The satisfaction he felt left little space for it.

“Concede,” he said, the words coming out smooth. This close he could hear the hissing of her realmskill even clearer, see the curtain of shimmery wind over her body even more clearly, like he was looking at her from across a screen.

Her eyes narrowed to slits, her expression tightening. “If I use a wind pulse—”

“I’ll die,” Jieyuan cut in. She didn’t even need to go that far, really. Her sword was at tenth-sign, and it could cut through him as if he wasn’t even there. All she had to do was shift it any which way, and he’d be filleted. Her air burst, though, would be even worse—it’d probably blow him apart, or at the very put a massive hole in his body. “But do you think you can do it before I snip your head off? Moreover...”

And he tilted his head to the side. “Between the two of us, there’s only one of us that can get away with murder. And it’s not you, windy.”

Caoluan sent a glance in the direction he indicated, and her expression darkened even further—which Jieyuan was actually glad to see, because it meant she understood the consequences.

He’d pointed in the direction of the Radiant Gold Sect’s delegation. More precisely, where Envoy Guodan was standing on the viewing floor, watching their fight. And everyone knew how much importance the envoy placed on him, Meiyao, and Daojue because of their heavenly affinity.

Again, not a clean victory. Far from it. But this was the only way out he’d found. A win was a win—and he’d take what he could get.

Caoluan looked back at him, matching his gaze. She still hadn’t stopped using either her realmskill or her sword’s prime skill, his side still being shredded, his arms straining to keep the Shifting Feathers steady. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

“For what it’s worth, this is the only way I found of beating you,” Jieyuan said, seeing the dark, ponderous indecision playing across her face. “Had I done anything else, you’d have won. But I didn’t. This is my win. So I’ll say it again. Concede.”

Eyes still locked with his eyes, Caoluan shifted her chin up by a fraction, then down, almost touching the pair of blades hovering under her neck. A nod, or the closest approximation of what she could do right now, with the Shifting Feathers pressed against her throat.

And then the hissing sound vanished, the sight of her becoming clearer, and he felt the wound in his side ease up.

“I concede,” she said, loudly, firmly. Stepping back, she drew her sword back, smoothly, the blade now visible again, gear-shrouded and slick with his blood. To him, she added, in a lower voice, “Good fight.”

Jieyuan almost tipped over, but forced himself to remain standing. “Same to you,” he said, and though he wasn’t sure she’d meant her words, he most certainly meant his.

The irony of how he, the winner, could barely stay on his feet, whereas she, who’d lost, was pretty much unharmed, wasn’t lost on him.

The proctor reached them moments later. After looking between the two of them briefly, the Radiant Gold Sect elder looked up at the viewing floor and announced, in her usual, resounding monotone, “Winner, Haoyujin Jieyuan, of the Gleaming Stone Sect.”

Jieyuan closed his eyes, taking a few moments to just center and gather himself. When he opened them again, Caoluan was walking away, her back facing him as she made off toward her end of the stage. There was blood on the ground, he noted then. Quite a lot of it. And all of it his. Between each duel, the elder would activate some inscript to wipe the stage clear.

Turning around, Jieyuan saw Palace Head Yiming walking over, already on the stage. The man must’ve started heading down even before Caoluan conceded.

“Come on, kiddo,” Yiming said, and before Jieyuan could react, Yiming had wrapped an arm around his shoulder and was pulling him along as he headed back, practically carrying him away.

“I can walk,” Jieyuan protested. He’d have pulled away, but Yiming was a tenth-sign, and the man’s hold on him was unbreakable.

“Sure you can,” Yiming said. “Be glad I don’t have you on a cradle carry. Now open wide.”

“What—”

There was a blur, Yiming’s other arm snapping in front of him, and Jieyuan felt something being pushed past his lips and into his mouth. Something round. A pill.

“Down the gullet,” Yiming said, still half-carrying him away. “It’ll get some basic healing done until we can find out how bad the damage is.”

By this point Jieyuan mostly trusted the man—medicine force-feeding notwithstanding—but he still felt for the pill’s spirit-song for a moment, looking for any obvious signs of danger. Not finding any—not that he’d become an expert on pills overnight, but he should be able to sense any poisonous properties—he swallowed it down.

They were already in the corridor, nearing the stairway.

“I’m not feeling like much of a winner here,” Jieyuan couldn’t help but say as the palace head helped him up the steps.

He felt light-headed. Caoluan’s sword must’ve done him more damage than he’d thought. Then again, in none of the simulations he’d stayed around long after being stabbed like that. He was tempted—very much so—to use Fatebloom Regeneration, but managed to retain enough presence of mind to figure that’d be a bad idea.

“A lesson for next time, then,” Yiming said. “Want to be treated like a proper winner? Then win properly. Instead of stabbing yourself with your opponent’s sword. Because that’s just idiotic.”

“I prefer inspired.”

The palace head gave him a withering look, orange eyes hard. “Your preference is duly noted. And summarily ignored. Do you have any idea of how close you came to death?”

It was then that something occurred to Jieyuan. What he’d done might seem a lot worse to anyone who didn’t know how many times he’d practiced getting stabbed safely. Or as safely as you could be stabbed, at any rate. “It’s way worse than it looks. Trust me.”

Then he blinked, feeling his thoughts slow down even further, his head get even lighter. “What…”—the word left his lips slowly, slurring, and he had to force the next ones out—“What was in that pill?”

“Hmmm? Oh, right. It’s also a sedative. Meant to stop severely wounded patients from worsening their situation like idiots.”

“It’s a what?” Jieyuan felt even fainter, thoughts drifting. “And… And I told you, I’m— I’m not—” The sentence died each time it reached his lips. “I am not severely—”

And then they were stepping off the stairway and into the viewing floor. And Jieyuan caught sight of Meiyao’s furious face, green eyes alight, as she stormed over to him.

His very last thought before passing out was that it might actually be a good thing he wouldn’t be conscious much longer.