Stillness descends on the general area, unnaturally quiet as if all the wildlife in the vicinity has fled. Only Lan Xiaohui’s breathing and the periodic buzzing of the powered formation can be picked up, especially when the formation annihilates motes of sword energy that contain principles of my [Fractured Sword] scripture.
In the absence of Lan Xiaohui’s qi — utilized for its higher-order natural attributes — the thin blade has lost its cohesion and focus, becoming like a wave washing out over the trench that had already been excavated. The glittering particles of sword energy fall from the sky like gentle snowflakes that disappear before they reach the ground.
Purple flashes of light cascade from the trench in the ground and up into the air, where they briefly illuminate the otherwise invisible spiritual construct of qi that forms the matrix of the formation.
Amidst these flashes of light, Lan Xiaohui’s and the bird’s shadow produce grotesque images in the fading afterglow of the formation that is about to fail critically. Due to the nature of its construction, I cannot simply cut off the qi supply — doing so would result in a backlash that would prove troublesome even for my optimized features.
“No matter what,” I tell Lan Xiaohui, as I prepare myself for the worst and begin attempting to unravel the mechanism that is feeding the formation with the qi produced from the annihilation of motes produced by my [Fractured Sword] scripture. “You must stay within three hundred steps of the eye of the formation.”
At this, Lan Xiaohui narrows her eyes and her heart rate becomes elevated. She grips my hilt tighter and lowers her center of gravity.
I understand why her demeanor exudes very little confidence. Not only does she know something about this creature that I do not know, but even I can tell that this Qianyan Kongju is a machine of optimized destruction.
But even so, why is there such hesitation in her heart?
A crackle of lightning pours into the area and the unfocused blade of sword energy comes together in such a way that it sends a beam of sword light across the sky, blowing away the clouds before dispersing into more glittering motes of energy.
At this very moment, my owner dashes forward, floating above the ground like a fairy; her left arm is extended forward, index and middle finger pressed together, as if aiming at the bird’s neck, while she conceals her right arm and my form behind her back — obscured from the bird’s vision.
Before the beam of light even has time to disperse, Lan Xiaohui has crossed the distance to the bird and her attack is just as swift and decisive.
— Heartless Blood Lily: Storm Cleaver!
The moment Lan Xiaohui’s feet touch the ground, a surge of lightning dances around her ankles and she transfers the entire kinetic force of her approach into her swing. A shock-front of sword energy forms along my edge, compressing into a deadly edge that can cut through steel with ease.
The arc of my trajectory is abruptly stopped before it can complete its intended half-circle by a layer of wind, metal, and lightning energy that forms around the edge of the bird’s raised wing. The impact feels soft and elastic, yet incredibly hard as if my blade is grinding against steel in the recoil of the blow.
Lan Xiaohui’s eyelids twitch, as surprised as I am by the fact that even though she managed to strike directly, with one of her most destructive techniques no less, and that it was stopped as simply as that.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The bird’s feathers are not merely feathers — this close, their sheen and glimmer betray their exotic nature of something between crystal, metal, and organic material. Soft, yet incredibly tough and sharp — like carbon fibers or kevlar, but even stronger.
The feathers on the wings spread out, and the bird slashes out with its raised wing, like a fan of steel and ceramic blades that pushes against Lan Xiaohui’s weapon and strength.
Here, Lan Xiaohui’s gold core pulses with energy, and her sword domain deploys immediately to stop the wing slash, even pressing her left hand into the spine of my vessel for support.
That is when I sense the core of the bird’s technique — and even observe it directly. A beam of green light forms on the leading edge of the wing, where the air compresses into a blade of pure pressure and sword energy, operating on the same principle and to the same degree as a shaped explosive charge.
This unique combination of lightning and metal energy, revolving around the core of wind energy, is capable of producing a localized pressure blast powerful enough to cut even through my exterior alloys.
As the surface of my blade, in the region of contact, begins to heat up and degrade, Lan Xiaohui realizes what is about to happen before I even have an opportunity to warn her.
Lan Xiaohui jumps back just as the scythe of invisible air cuts through the space where she stood a moment ago and a ripple of wind blasts outward that is completely inadequate to describe the extreme danger that this blade of air poses to Lan Xiaohui’s continued existence.
Even so, a trickle of blood cascades down Lan Xiaohui’s cheek where a sliver of wind energy grazed her face and inflicted a small, negligible cut.
Here, strangely enough, Lan Xiaohui’s shoulders relax and she exhales her held breath. Whatever hesitation, awe, and respect she held in her heart toward this creature disappears into the void of her [Empty Moon Prana].
Even being just moments from certain death, Lan Xiaohui’s heart rate does not elevate, but instead, becomes steadier. The trembling in her fingers disappears and her heart and mind both become focused — even more focused than the blade of air that nearly took her life.
My owner — woefully inadequate in this civilization’s modern interpretation of cultivation, as she possesses neither heavenly-gifted roots nor the legacy of ancient and prosperous sects or clans — is truly a sword cultivator through and through. Though the current times may not regard her as a genius, I am certain that if she was born a thousand years prior — when cultivation was a lonely path with its foundations built on the myriad biological scrap of defeated opponents — she would be considered the hope of entire generations.
What kind of deviant fears life more than death?
In moments like these, I cannot help but praise Lan Xiaohui; a machine that is my connection to appreciating the art of motion, and the death that lurks in stillness.
A broken machine that should not exist, with no purpose or function other than this one peculiarity that is capable of making me question the objective nature of value and re-examine my commitment to preserving her existence.
In other words, in these moments, I perceive Lan Xiaohui as art.
“Qianyan Kongju,” Lan Xiaohui says, shifting her position so that her left side faces the bird. “As a sword cultivator, I respect you. Don’t resent me for wanting to defeat someone I respect!”
With those words, Lan Xiaohui begins tracing a circle with the tip of my vessel, and when the inky outline is complete, the shattered empty moon pulses behind her. It is the same as back then, not long ago; within that inky, black line I sense the laws of nature collapsing — not as extreme as it was back when she fought the princess — but it is still enough to make me realize what it truly is; the higher-order principles of [Fractured Sword].
Lan Xiaohui’s fusion of [Fractured Sword] and the [Transient Sword] is most obvious here, in this technique from [Finality Moon, Liminality Flower]’s third layer: Liminal Starflower.
“Limitless Stardust Blade,” Lan Xiaohui whispers, and her sword domain expands across the space, fusing with the technique that she is performing.
“First form: Void Boundary.”
The colors wash out of the world as the natural laws distort under the gravity of this technique. Immediately, subprocesses inform me of a cascade of measurement errors; objects closer than they appear, or farther than they should be. It is most obvious in the way that Lan Xiaohui's sword intent diffuses through my core and expands to form the domain, yet the area I observe does not match up with the length of the boundary.
My sentient core nearly explodes with a newfound appreciation for Lan Xiaohui at what may be the first time I have directly observed non-Euclidean geometry.
My owner has once more shown me a beautiful sword.