Wei Feng looked at her for a moment before responding, eyes raised in a manner that gave the impression of disbelief. His eyes flicked from her freshly drawn blade to her face, as though he failed to make the connection. Then he smiled.
“Well, well, well.” His fingers curled around his gilded hilt, drawing her eyes to its usual length for the second time. “If it isn’t the arrogant farm girl. Women do always have a habit of returning to me.”
He chuckled again as he unsheathed his own blade. Just a hair thicker than hers, and perhaps a single fist longer at the end. With his tall build and broad shoulders, it shouldn’t prove difficult to wield with but a single hand. Would his dexterity suffer then, should he do that? Mei Jian took a glance towards the thickness in his forearms, and decided against betting on it.
“Are you sure you truly wish to challenge this Young Master?” His smirk appeared again, as much a feature of his face as his leering eyes or the shadows that fell over it from his long hair. “I will be so generous as to offer you a chance to back out. It would be a shame to injure such a pretty face.”
A smile of her own matched his; forcing itself onto her face in a mix of barely concealed anger and liberation.
“Sorry, but I dislike hard fights. I’ll stick with you.”
She could see Wei Feng’s mouth open to respond, cut off when Master Chen’s voice rang out one final time. “Sharpening your blades is forbidden. Apart from that, do whatever you like. The inner sect members will intercede if needed.”
A cursory look revealed the edge of her blade was indeed dull, and her feet inched forwards, ever so slightly as she raised the blade to look at it. Turning her head towards the master, she inched forwards again as her opponent mirrored her in looking. Just a little bit more. From the edge of her eye, she sized up the terrain between them. A straight stretch, three large steps, perhaps two if the second was a lunge. Keeping her face fixed on Master Chen, she let her feet creep just a tiny bit more, feeling the ground beneath them, bracing herself.
The clap. She started moving right before his hands met, before the starting signal sounded. One step with her off foot, and then shoving off it, a lunge into a thrust. It was a weak attack, thrown out at the greatest possible range at the cost of everything else. That meant Wei Feng’s parry, thrown as the fastest possible reaction, hasty as it was, was more than enough to stop it.
Perfect. He took a half step back, as did she. Now Mei Jian stood in the only consistent area, the ground only having suffered minor weathering all around her. No matter which way she stepped, her eyes could remain fixed solely on him so long as she never strayed too far from this spot. She lifted up the tip of her sword, fixing it on his heart so that it needed to be addressed before he could move forward.
He let out another rich chuckle. “You are a sneaky one, aren’t you? I hope that you weren’t gambling on that being your easy victory.”
Her sword’s tip darted up and out, a jerking moment of only an inch, the very start of an aborted thrust. The young man flinched back at that, just a tiny bit. It wasn’t enough to break his stance, but her grin returned at the sight.
“It can’t be that the Young Master is scared of further attacks from this frail girl?” She took a half, no, a quarter-step forwards, keeping her right leg in front to match her sword arm. Their swords were only a fist apart from crossing now, both held out in front.
His mouth twisted at that as he responded. “And to think, you said my tongue was in need of mastering. I should think it could teach your impudent mouth quite a lot.”
Wei Feng gripped his sword in two hands, shortening his reach. That was almost enough to make up for the length of his arms and his longer blade. As it was, either of them could be in striking distance with only a single leap forwards, or a pair of more restrained steps.
He had the advantage of reach. And with the leverage provided by that handle paired with his greater strength, he had speed, power, and control well beyond her as well. They shuffled back and forth by tiny fractions of steps, blades darting out and up and back by only a single finger’s worth as they probed one another for openings.
A bead of sweat rolled down Mei Jian’s face. Did he have any weaknesses at all? In every area, she was outclassed. She found herself swallowing reflexively, and realized that she had at some point started to creep back instead of forward.
On instinct, she reached down inside her, drawing on her…No. It was too soon for that now, there wasn’t a chance. Keep a cool head, and take advantage of what you do have.
Her sword darted out, and the blades clashed for the first time. First towards his head, and then at the hand exposed when he raised up to block it, and then at the head again when that was slapped aside. All shallow, non-committed blows, not creating any meaningful gaps in her defense. He flicked each of them away without effort. His movements were sharp and fast, fluid without ever putting more effort in than he needed.
Her blade lashed out at his head, horizontally this time and with more power behind it. It was a feint, cutting off in the middle and swerving down to his off side, her step flanking Wei Feng in the same motion, trying to force him to step back, onto the uneven stones.
Instead, he moved forwards, and her opponent brought his own weapon down at her. Mei Jian jerked her sword back to catch the blow, and the moment it landed, it hammered into her just how large the difference in strength was.
Each finger rang like a bell, and a sharp pain shot through her wrist as she forced the strike to a stop. Another impact slammed into her blade, now with her off hand on the flat. Her arms were still forced down and back, bringing his edge close to her neck. She stepped back, slashing out to keep him occupied and prevent pursuit as she stepped just out of range. At least, what should have been just out of range.
Wei Feng swung anyway. She jerked her torso back, letting her posture disintegrate and sucking in her gut. It was barely enough as his sword caught for a fraction of a second in her robe, the dulled tip ripping free a ragged scrap of cloth from above her midriff with sheer blunt force.
A cool breeze touched bared flesh, and Mei Jian noticed just how heavily she had begun to sweat. Each breath was now fast and heavy from her mouth, all semblance of control lost.
How was he able to strike from out of range? Was his speed that great, to deflect her blow, step in, and throw a fully empowered strike before she could react? The young master didn’t follow up in her moment of confusion, giving her a chance to regain her stance as he held ground. No, he couldn’t follow up.
His grip had changed as soon as his swing took flight, gripping his sword only at the end of its abnormally long hilt, nearly doubling his reach in that instant as his arm stretched out. He returned to his two-handed grip now, lowering his sword out of stance and holding it casually in front of him, as he smirked once more.
“If your intention was to reject the flirtations of this Young Master, a piece of advice.” His eyes roamed over her torn robe. “Allowing yourself to be undressed in the midst of our match doesn’t exactly spell out a lack of interest.”
Heat rushed to her face once more, and her grip tightened as she started to step forwards. This arrogant, lecherous, pig of a man—She froze. That stance may look open, but in the time it took for her to cross, he would be able to change it twice over. A head on confrontation was exactly what he wanted, where he held every advantage. Of course, continuing at playing with range would allow that move to be used once more, but that was fine. That would be her chance. After all, there was no such thing as a flawless technique.
She opened with a standard slash up, stepping in and attacking from above his blade, where her opponent's sword needed to travel past her own and catch up before it could halt it. He knocked it aside anyway and cut back, first down at her hand, then up at her torso from below her guard. Mei Jian stopped both, meeting the end of his sword with the part of her own right above the hand, binding them in the pace where she had more leverage.
Circle around to the right, providing three slashes this time and catching two counterattacks, setting her hand ringing again before she circled back and out to the left this time, feinting to buy herself time to disengage.
Come on, use it. Another pair of cuts, this time high from both sides. Another series of strikes back, this time Wei Feng beating out a tune of five before she managed to break free. Her next exchange was shallower, stepping away as soon as their blades met for the first time, not even giving the young master a chance to strike in response.
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Just use it. She could see it, from how his attack pattern changed. He wanted to clash with her directly, craved the real exchange, the climax where he could use his moves freely. So Mei Jian continued to tease, throwing out another pair of strikes, this time both too shallow to do more than graze even if he hadn’t defended at all.
It wasn’t working. His movements were still controlled, still smooth. He wasn’t about to take a risk out of impatience alone, no matter how frustrating it might be. After all, she was the one moving about more, striking more, breathing more, sweating and panting and tiring herself out by the second.
Besides, even with her ploy at the beginning of the fight to steal the center of the level ground, her grasp over it was eroded a little more each time she moved. If this continued, it was only a matter of time before—
This time he was the one to initiate, lunging with a controlled thrust. She countered with a cut from the right, knocked his attack off center, and then made to step to the left. The moment he reacted, Mei Jian shoved off the ground with her newly planted left foot, springing to the other side and out of range once more. One more step for good measure, to place her fully out of reach.
Her foot hit a raised ledge, the other already out of measure, and her legs began to give out. Wei Feng lashed out like a striking snake, drawing his blade through the air at first with both arms to pick up momentum, and then letting his grip slide down to the end of the pommel, aiming to time the blow with the moment she caught her fall.
In that moment, he placed everything in the attack, perfectly placed in their fight at her greatest moment of weakness. His strength, the construction of his unusual sword, his hidden ace in the hole technique; all of them were thrown together at once, creating a blow that streaked towards her like a bolt of lightning thrown by the heavens themselves.
In other words, he took the bait.
Instead of arresting her plunge, she accelerated it, driving towards her opponent as Wei Feng’s blow whistled over her head. Then she struck, one hand on the ground to push her up as the other aimed for his outstretched arm. It didn’t land, but that moment was enough for her to spring to her feet again and attack once more.
A strike that came up, and a cut that came down. A slash from the left and another from the right. Four cuts in an instant, and Mei Jian’s blade still danced as she put the last drops of stamina she had left into this furious dance of steel and sparks.
The young master had shifted his grip, returning his hand to a normal position on the hilt. They should be roughly even then, the agility of her lighter blade canceled out by his greater muscles. She had seized the initiative, and the victory should follow as she rained cuts without giving him a chance to regain his grip or readjust his stance.
His ability to respond wasn’t natural. Or rather, it seemed overly natural, inhumanly so. Mei Jian couldn’t help but think of a cat, jumping around from branches and flowing with a raw fluidity and grace, or a dragonfly darting through the air, making impossibly sharp, sudden turns as though they had all been leisurely planned out ahead of time.
He slapped her sword up when meeting the next attack, and something twinged in her shoulder. As she brought it back down, delivering one more attack, she reached inside herself.
Deeper than her pounding heart, deeper than her burning lungs. Into the very center, the very core of what she was. The life and energy that thrummed within her dantian. She drew on it, bringing that power out of her torso, up through her arm, hastening and empowering the slash, and down through her sword. It was like her flesh and sword alike had become a cracking whip; all the speed concentrated to the very tip of her strike.
One that was guided gently to the side, past her opponent, the blow set to smash through his half-erected block and into his collarbone pouring its power into the air, before the tip graced the ground beside him with a sound that seemed far too quiet.
Master Chen stood next to them, the two fingers that had placed on the flat of her blade during the peak of its arc still extended into the air.
“If that attack had landed in the wrong place, there is a chance it may have been lethal,” he said. “I deemed that reason to step in.”
“I would have blocked it!” Wei Feng’s protest withered as the older man’s glare fell onto him.
“Is that blade properly dulled?”
Mei Jian let her own gaze follow both theirs, down the young master’s free arm. It was only when she saw it that her side registered the prick of cold steel from the dagger held against it. Her opponent yanked his arm back and presented the knife to Master Chen.
“Of course. I had it specially made just for sparring.”
That earned him a snort as the master stepped back.
“Alright, I suppose.” He paused for a second. “In that case, I’ll call this a draw. No way to know if the girl’s strike would have gone through your block, and no way to know if it would have been enough to stop you gutting her if it had. It doesn’t matter anyway, as passing isn’t based on victory.”
He let out a long sigh, tilting his head back for a moment. “You both can step out and wait. I’ll speak to the successful in a minute.”
Mei Jian resheathed her weapon and gave him a hasty bow as he left, struggling to stay on her feet. She groped for the half-drained waterskin Yi Ping had given her as she tottered out of the arena. The fingers of her sword arm didn’t want to respond, the final strike and heavy ringing blows having robbed them of the dexterity to do anything other than jerk closed. She untied it with her off hand instead, gulping down the whole thing until it crumpled the moment it touched her mouth.
Water had never tasted so sweet before. She made a mental note to thank the senior initiate the next time she saw him as she lowered it again after finishing. As tiring as it was, there was a strange sense of satisfaction from standing in the shade of the plum trees, drinking water as the breeze caressed her skin.
Everywhere the cool air brushed over skin felt like heaven. From her face that was soaked in sweat, to her arms that still burned from exertion, to her stomach that heaved up and down as she struggled to catch her breath in full. Wait, no. That last piece of skin wasn’t supposed to be exposed.
For the first time, Mei Jian looked down and took in the damage the barely-avoided strike had done to her robe. The tip had caught a fold right below her ribcage, and then dragged a jagged tear across and down to the other side of her torso. As a result, the whole front of her shirt now stirred gently in the no longer quite so refreshing breeze.
Her face reddened, and she cast her eyes around as she pulled the errant cloth back. Thankfully, it would appear no one was free enough to care, still occupied by the duels or their own recoveries. Yanking it tight against herself, she drew one end from the beginning of the gash and tied it tightly to the other. The rest still hung free, providing a slim glimpse of flesh whenever she moved, but at least now it gave a semblance of decency at first glance.
Apparel crisis averted, she let out a sigh of relief. Slowly, the courtyard began to fall silent as the final match came to a close. A slender woman holding a wooden staff stepped between the two combatants, and with one strike knocked both of their weapons to the ground before scolding them with words just slightly too quiet for Mei Jian to make out. After that, she escorted them out, back to the area from which they had come.
At the start of the first test, there had been over a hundred applicants. At the start of the second, slightly under half that. Now that number had been divided once again, leaving barely over two dozen people still standing as another one of Master Chen’s painfully loud claps resounded through the air.
“Alright, then,” he began. “I suppose that if you’re still standing here, I’m supposed to pass you. You can consider yourself an initiate of the sect from now on. You aren’t really a full member, but you are associated, or something.”
He paused, scratching his head. “Um, that means that anything you do will reflect on the sect and so forth. So don’t kill anyone who you wouldn’t be willing to boast about, I guess. You can have freedom to roam the main sect, the village, and the orchids all around us. Everywhere but the inner sect, I think. You can do tasks for contribution points, which will be stored at the main office.”
He paused a second time. “You can use them to buy a new weapon when you break your current one by acting like an idiot, or to buy medicinal supplies for when you get hurt acting like a fool, or other such things. Initiates all can eat and sleep for free in the communal main hall, but I guess you can spend points on luxuries like that too.”
Zhihao Chen let his gaze sweep over the exhausted crowd one more time before turning away. “Try not to get kicked out before next year, and you might even somehow do well enough to maybe get promoted.”
His words trailed off, already having started to walk away in the middle of his sentence. At first, the initiates stood around confused, before slowly beginning to trickle out of the testing area, following the long-gone master through the gates.
At the entry from the courtyard into the rest of the sect, a nondescript man in the purple and pink patterned robes of a member, checked her sect token, handed her a piece of paper and ushered her forwards. Mei Jian went past him hesitantly, awaiting instructions, but none were forthcoming.
A glance showed the paper was a list of that which could be purchased by the aforementioned contributions points, as well as where one could go to earn them. Folding it over her sect token, she made to tuck them both into her robe as she walked, at first trying to reach into the torn area by force of habit. Instead she placed them higher, over her chest. Mei Jian felt excitement start to creep in, the realization of her success landing at last. Colored by the setting sun, the entire Plum Blossom Sect seemed to be aglow with beauty, each building, courtyard, tree, or wall a work of art in its own right.
At some point, her walk took her around to the other side of the inner sect, its high walls not quite high enough to be covering the pavilions within it. A scent that drafted out filled her mouth with water, reminding her of her last meal that morning.
First things first. She could read the list in full and set up a plan later. Right now, she needed to find a place to sit down in peace before her legs gave out on her. Thankfully, the wide expanses of orchids gave space in private aplenty. Just a few minutes of walking, and she found herself away from the buildings, off in the well-maintained yet solitary woods.
The ground here was sandy, giving a unique aesthetic where the darker dirt beneath the plum trees blended and mixed with the sand, giving the appearance that they stained the ground like teabags in hot water. This was only further aided by the lanterns hanging at even intervals, casting a soft white light over the pale sands and dark trunks alike. The wind rustled through the flowerless trees, drawing her eyes upwards to the starry sky above.
Mei Jian felt a yawn slip from her mouth, and a sudden heaviness weighed on her eyes. This wasn’t the place to sleep, out here amidst the trees. She should really go back to the main hall, find a bed…But her eyes were already drooping closed, and the hard wood behind her may as well have been a gentle embrace.
Just a little bit couldn’t hurt, right?
She started awake, eyes opening to the night sky still in darkness. Slowly, Mei Jian took in the sight all around, and felt herself relax again. The pale, soft lights, casting themselves over the light and pristine sands, broken up by the elegant black trees. It brought to mind the image of calligraphy, perfectly placed dark strokes upon an unblemished canvas.
Unblemished, but for the spreading pool of blood and the body that lay within.