They are Cultivators - they are elevated above mortals by this very fact, honing and developing power that mere men can only dream of, learning to twist the Laws of Heaven and Earth and wield them as tools. Zhou Cheng can call upon the skies themselves, shape the winds and draw forth the power of Heaven itself.
But right now, instead of any of that, he is slugging his opponent with his fists like some ruffian in a back alley in the kind of knockdown street fight he hasn't had to engage in since he came to the Sect.
This is, perhaps, a mistake. Fighting hand to hand, up close and personal - it is not what he has trained to do beyond the foundational skills. Furthermore, this appears to be something his opponent has trained and built himself for, with his Metal Qi gliding along his skin in an oil-like coating that turns his hands into hammers. If anything, this is more reason for Zhou Cheng to create distance and use his usual techniques.
But if Zhou Cheng were to use his usual techniques, there would be… collateral damage.
And he will not be that kind of person.
The cultivator bares grey teeth in a vicious grin, and his Qi pulses through him - "All Swords Turn Away," he declares, his skin taking on an almost metallic sheen as he strikes again.
Zhou Cheng dodges easily enough, but this time when he goes to strike back, it feels like hitting a gong with his bare hands. Pain shoots back up his arm, but he doesn't let it show. If this bastard is a gong, then he'll just have to beat him like one - which is probably harder to do than it is to think.
He ducks under the retaliation swing, and strikes back with his palms, drumming out a beat against the Cultivator's iron belly. He strikes rapidly, feeling him out for something even resembling a weakness but there's nothing he can find. There's no change at all to the feeling of the impacts no matter where he strikes. Whether it should've been 'soft flesh' or 'hard joints', it all just feels like... iron.
His foe just laughs, completely unperturbed by his desperate attacks. "Just give up! If you kowtow now, I'll let you off with a few broken bones!" As he makes that declaration, he swings again, heavy iron fist arcing down from above in a scything blow.
He leaps backwards, eyes narrowing as the punch shatters the paving stones he'd been standing on a moment ago. Here he was, trying his best to avoid causing problems for everyone else, and this asshole was just throwing around stone shattering punches like it didn't matter whether they landed or not. Thoughtless bastard.
Still, just because his opponent was an ignorant barbarian, there was no reason for him to stoop to that level - and although he hated to admit it, he could not control the Breath of Heaven so finely that he could hit only him and nothing else. It would inevitably rage around these empty streets... and catch... no-one?
Ah. Right. Everyone saw a pair of cultivators having at it and decided to be elsewhere. It's still not enough for him to use a technique, because nothing he has is small - and there are still buildings to consider. The wind, once in motion, does not often stop, and if he blows it down the street, it will keep going for some time. He cannot see anyone, but that doesn't mean it won't slam into some unfortunate house, or rip up an unlucky soul who chose the wrong moment to step outside.
Fortunately, he's not the only one whose been holding off on using Techniques for fear of collateral damage.
"World of Ice and Snow."
Unfortunately, the other person is Kong Meiling.
Snow flurries around her, restrained enough that her own personal blizzard only extends a few feet from her in any direction, but it's enough to sweep both him and their unnamed opponent into the freezing winds. He knows her techniques well enough to know that the World of Ice and Snow is something of a trump card - it is arguably her most powerful technique.
The reason for that is made obvious as both he and his opponent feel the biting chill that pierces through to their very cores. In the World of Ice and Snow, everything slows to a standstill - breathing, movement, heartbeats.
Once, Hei Lian told him of a frog that could endure being frozen alive by slowing its body down so that when spring thaws came, it would return to life. Being frozen by World of Ice and Snow makes him feel like that frog.
The Metal Cultivator takes a deep breath, inhaling through his still working nostrils - and radiates heat. "Not bad, Fairy Sister," he taunts, grinning a little as he begins to move - still slow, but getting easier, faster each second, "But my heart burns with the heat of a forge!"
"How fortunate," Kong Meiling says calmly, "Then I can shape you into something more aesthetically pleasing."
It's hard to be angry at her when she's reminding him of why he was friends with her to begin with. He takes a deep breath of his own, focusing on his breathing and using his Qi to warm himself from the core out. His enemy has his back to him and whilst striking from behind would be dishonourable, losing would be worse.
And besides. They're already ganging up on him. Zhou Cheng just wants to get this over with in a way that doesn't destroy half the town - and hopefully, before Tian Mingfei joins in, if only because she's as liable to deliberately misunderstand that this is not a friendly little battle royale and decide to fight everyone at once for a laugh.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
As feeling returns to his extremities, he tries to rack up everything he knows into a coherent picture. From the smell of him, he'd guess some kind of Metal Qi style. He was able to radiate enough warmth to counter World of Ice and Snow - so he has to be good at Fire manipulation as well. Some kind of… Forge-based method or technique?
He curses silently. None of this is something he is all that good at dealing with and his blows aren't strong enough to get through his defense. Kong Meiling has more experience fighting up close, and she makes for a mesmerising sight as always, dancing gracefully around him as her fans rake across him, dodging the blows that come for her. Each 'slice' leaves crystals of ice in their wake, but draws no blood - but the ice doesn't last at all before it melts away from the burning heat.
She's holding her own at least, using her superior agility to avoid the blows, but he knows well enough that is a dangerous game to play. One mistake, and she's out, and what little advantage World of Ice and Snow is evaporating in all too literal sense. He has to think of what to do before that happens.
He can't bring his full power to bear without risking damage to the town… so he just needs to bring them out of the town.
He takes a slow, deep breath, building up Qi and power the longer he inhales. He can feel his lungs expanding to their limit, chest and back straining to contain all of it as he infuses as much Qi as he can.
Finally, he exhales.
The rush of wind whips around all of them, ripping his foe from his footing with a startled shout - and it takes him up as well, but he doesn't resist. Kong Meiling hesitates, resisting for a moment before allowing herself to be lifted off as well. The twister of air surges into the sky, lifting the three of them together in a whirling mass and throwing them haphazardly to the north, into the desert proper.
Years of experience let him control his descent, and her own familiarity and techniques give Kong Meiling a similar advantage.
Their opponent is not so graceful, and crash lands like a falling star, kicking up sand in a vast plume. Any hope that he was inconvenienced by his landing are quickly dispelled as he staggers up, skin glistening with an unblemished metallic sheen. If anything, the sand might've polished it some more - or perhaps that's the unfettered sun. "Is that the best you could do?!" he roars in challenge.
"No," he replies simply, raising his hands. A glance at Kong Meiling is enough for her to raise her fans, mirroring his position. "Let us show you."
They move in sync, his Breath and her Snow. Theirs is a practiced dance, giving and taking. Although he no longer trusts her, he knows the steps. Though she betrayed him, she knows the steps. Together, in harmony wrought with division.
"Bone Piercing Cold Wind."
It is as though a blizzard manifests from nothing, sweeping through the dune. Everything in its wake is frozen by the biting chill of the winds.
The sand, whipped up into peaks by the winds, is swiftly frozen into spires, monuments to their power. What little moisture is in the air sparkles gently as the light catches on the new flakes of ice that dance on the harsh breeze.
Their nameless opponent is no better - even he is frozen solid, despite the power of his own technique, his hubris enshrined in the ice that encases him. Against most opponents, he would consider this a victory.
But he has already proven capable of defeating World of Ice and Snow, so he has no intention of seeing if he can overcome Bone Piercing Cold Wind. Zhou Cheng rushes forward, and topples him with a flying kick.
Their combined strength brought together is not so great that they were able to completely freeze him to the core, but the ice cracks, and with it, his skin and flesh as he flies back into the sands.
"You…!" he wheezes, staggering out a second after. "Ghhrk…!" He is literally spitting blood at this point - Zhou Cheng can't tell if it's because he's so offended, or if it's just the result of the damage his body has taken. He has never actually seen someone spit blood from being offended, so he's willing to lean more towards the latter.
"Yield," he commands arrogantly, arms folded over his chest as he peers down at him, "Submit, and this can end here." There is an urge to lord their victory over him - but truth be told, Zhou Cheng has no desire to lord over a victory he had to achieve with Kong Meiling's help. Truth be told, he doesn't really have any strong feelings towards the man in front of him. He struck in order to protect his subordinate from unjustified retaliation.
The cultivator grits his teeth, eyes burning… but he bows his head. "I yield, Senior," he grinds out, and the Metal Qi that shimmers across his skin fades away, to reveal bloody, tanned flesh.
Zhou Cheng eyes him distastefully - at the blood soaking the sands, at his cracked, bleeding flesh. All this because he was audacious enough to lay a hand on Kong Meiling. Well. He can only hope that he will learn a lesson from this. He reaches into his qiankun sleeves and pulls out a small pill, tossing it haphazardly at the cultivator so it bounces off his head.
He blinks in surprise at it, a frown marring his features as he looks up at Zhou Cheng.
Must he explain everything? What use is his eyes if he cannot see? "It's medicine," he declares simply, "You're getting blood everywhere. It's unsightly." His reasoning given, he pivots on the spot and begins to march back to the city.
He had kind of hoped a fight might make him feel better - but he doesn't feel like he's achieved anything. If anything, he just feels tired.
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Tian Mingfei is waiting for them at the tavern. "Ah, Zhou Cheng, Kong Meiling! Good, good! I worried something might've happened - I heard some Cultivators got into a fight! How exciting! Ah, were I there to witness it…"
"It was nothing exciting," Zhou Cheng declares simply, not bothering to glance over at Kong Meiling. "The caravan?"
Tian Mingfei seems a little put out at that. He has never really understood her enthusiasm for fighting. He can understand the thrill of an audience, of showing off to the Elders and your fellow Disciples… but fighting that cultivator just felt like a chore. "Well, I've managed to get us attached to a caravan heading that way! We'll be leaving by first light tomorrow, so be sure to rest up."
He waits to see if there is anything else. But she just sits there, brightly smiling and waiting for them to make a move.
"I'm retiring to my room then." He moves to leave, and stifles the flash of irritation as he hears Kong Meiling make her excuses as well.
She waits until they're in the hallway to strike at least. "Thank you," she said calmly, "You did not have to get involved."
"The difference between you and I," he announced coldly as he steps through the doorway to his room, "is that I believe I did have to get involved."
He'd like to believe the expression on her face was at least partly due to shame at her own inaction, but privately, he held his doubts.