“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” Zeran’s opponent sneered as her wolves flanked Zeran and cut off any form of retreat. “Trust me, if you don’t surrender, then you won’t have the time to do so soon.”

Zeran stayed silent. She knew that if she could take out just a single one of the wolves, then she could win. If she could circle around and get them on the defensive, she could win. But she couldn’t do either of those things.

The Twin Beast cultivator roared when she saw the look in Zeran’s eyes and the fight picked up once again. Zeran defended as best as she could but every move she made gave at least one of her opponents an opening. And whenever she tried to attack the Twin Beast disciple, the wolves would defend their masters. Each of their attack only did minimal damage but the scrapes and bruises were starting piling up. Worse, Zeran had maybe a quarter of zhen left before she would collapse.

It wasn’t for nothing. The wolves were in a world of hurt as well. Unlike their master, they had to defend against attacks with their bodies. More specifically, they took Zeran’s attacks with their head, trying to avoid damage elsewhere. And now, their heads were a mess. She was halfway shocked that they were still alive, let alone fighting, but then one of the wolves would perform a particularly nasty attack and she’d lose all sympathy.

Things started becoming a blur. She could hear that, in the background, the crowd was roaring. Everyone was chanting her enemy’s name, while the demonic cultivators looked on, sullen and silent.

She began thinking less and reacting more. She blocked, parried, and counterattacked. Over, and over, and over again. Her robes had turned red, and she was breathing heavily. One of the wolves had come up behind her, cutting away any chances of escaping by leaving the stage. The now-red sand reflected the uncaring sun overhead, as she finally realized that she would die here.

She had no escape. No more options. No more clever plans. That was when she considered forfeiting the match and having the demonic elder swoop in to put a stop to all the misery.

But there was something stopping her. Even though her vision had already begun to blacken around the edges from the blood loss, the world just a buzz in her ears, and the constant smell of iron every time she took a breath, Zeran didn’t want to quit.

She wasn’t just fighting a Twin Beast cultivator. She was fighting herself. After the accident with the pill explosion, she had thought it would be better if she just became a mortal to end all of this suffering. But something inside of her forced her to stay in the sect and try to cultivate with broken spirit channels.

That led to her encounter with Xun, the plan to run in the direction of the spirit farm, and the days of training with him on the farm. For what was probably the first time since she joined the Nine Thunder Sect, Zeran felt a peacefulness while she was on the farm. It was hard training, sure, but it was also the happiest time she’d known.

Now, if she surrendered, it’d be like saying that the happiness was all just a dream. That despite putting her blood, sweat, and tears into the journey, she still couldn’t succeed.

As the cultivator raised her weapon to deal the final few strikes, Zeran despaired.

There was enough zhen in her aperture for one, maybe two strikes. And then she’d be out while the Twin Beast cultivator still looked as collected as before. If there was a time to surrender, it was now. She felt the wind rustling her clothes and the sand under her torn sandals, perhaps these were the last sensations she’d have in this life.

Zeran took a step forward and slashed out.

At that moment, she felt it. Something deep inside of her, coiled within her aperture, had just awakened. And she knew that it was a part of her. When her spirit channels had been destroyed, a sort of black liquid had poured into her aperture. And then it settled down at the bottom.

Now, it reacted to her. No, it reacted to her desperation and flooded her core.

Suddenly, she understood. The wind that had impeded her could guide her. The sand under her feet was no obstacle, but a friend she had known since eternity.

Time had come to a standstill as a plant bloomed within her core and sprouted one infinitely sharp leaf.

Zeran smiled, forgot everything else, and attacked with the full force of her desperation.

—

“And the winner of Stage Three is Disciple Zeran of the Sacred Gate Sect!” The voice of the elder presiding over the stage boomed throughout the valley as a bloodied Zeran stood over the unrecognizable remains of her opponents. “Is there anyone who wishes to challenge her? You have thirty minutes before this arena is declared locked.”

The demonic disciples were cheering, united for once, while the orthodox cultivators looked down at the arena with a mixture of disgust, awe, and trepidation. No one wanted to be the next spectacle, especially not in the state her opponent had ended up in.

Zeran, dripping with blood that was mostly her own, stood grimly and waited for the next opponent that would come and finish her off. Xun smiled.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

She doesn’t know what kind of impression she just left. Only a lunatic would dare to swing their sword at her after the warrior goddess they saw down there… I wonder what happened? I had expected her to find her Sword Sense, but this was far more potent than what I expected. Determined to ask her later what happened, he nudged the awestruck Zhanghao and Pengzi to follow him down to the front of the stage.

In the end, no one dared to challenge Zeran. Shortly afterward, a very happy demonic elder projected his voice across the whole region. “Stage Three is awarded to the Sacred Gate Sect!”

—

Xun’s friends and a freshly cleaned up Zeran walked towards Stage Four as they discussed her fight.

“Spirits above, Zeran! I never knew you could fight like that…” Zhanghao exclaimed. “I would love to have whatever all of that was.” She pointed vaguely back at the arena.

Zeran went a little green, remembering how the stage had looked after she had come out of her trance. “I’m not sure about what exactly happened, to be honest. One moment I knew I would die… and then something within me changed.”

Xun glanced toward the leaderboard and smiled. He pointed up at it and everyone began to exclaim at Zeran’s rank.

Rank Five: Zeran, Sacred Gate Sect, Sword Cultivator. A sharp sword is never satisfied with a single display of power.

“Wow, Zeran. You have a quote behind your name,” Pengzi said, a little awestruck. He pointed at the other names on the leaderboard. “Only the top ten get a quote like that. It’s probably from the elder who watched your fight.”

“I didn’t ask for that. I…” Zeran stuttered.

“It’s okay,” Xun said. “It’s a good thing. People will think of you as someone who they don’t want to challenge without good reason. That means you’ll have less trouble, but when you do have trouble, it’ll be the serious kind.”

“Right,” Zeran said. She checked her aperture, something she hadn’t yet done since coming out of her trance. “Xun? Xun!”

Xun paused in his steps and looked over at Zeran, waiting for her to finish her thought. When Zeran said nothing, Xun pushed Pengzi. “Peng, go fetch a healer to see —”

“I’m fine, don’t worry! It's not that…” Zeran interrupted him. “It’s just that my aperture, there’s something inside of it. A weird plant sprouting within it.”

Xun looked around and made sure there weren’t any other cultivators too close. He signaled to Pengzi who began walking around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation.

“Can you describe what you see?” Xun asked.

“It’s weird,” Zeran said hesitantly. “It’s a plant with a single leaf. It looks strange, the edges of the leaf look sharp. And it doesn’t have roots. It’s just floating in my aperture.”

“That’s odd.” Xun looked as if he wanted to check Zeran’s aperture himself before thinking better of it. He turned to Zhanghao and said, “Can you check if the healers missed anything with Zeran? See if she was poisoned. Probably not, but it never hurts to be careful.”

Then, Xun walked over to Pengzi.

“How are you feeling about fighting on the individual stages?”

Pengzi paused. “I don’t think I could do what Zeran just did. She… that was scary. The way Zeran kept cutting up the cultivator even when she was already dead. And the wolves. I wonder if Rice Twenty-two…”

He didn’t need to finish that thought. The chicken shuddered as it remembered what Zeran had done to the other spirit beasts.

“I think you’ll do better than you expect,” Xun said and could see the confidence take root in Pengzi. “The only question you have to keep in mind is whether Rice Twenty-two is your friend or your subordinate.”

Pengzi nodded and the two of them rejoined the others.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s poison. I’m not too sure what the thing in her aperture is. I can’t see it. And she isn’t displaying any symptoms,” Zhanghao reported when Xun came back.

“Okay, we’ll have to figure this out another way. Zeran, are you feeling okay?” Xun asked.

“I’m fine. It doesn’t seem like this is something that’s harmful. It feels like this had been a part of me for a long time. I don’t know, there’s a sense of familiarity with it,” Zeran replied.

“Alright, we’ll look into it later. For now, let’s go get ready for the next stage,” Xun said as he nudged Pengzi.

“Hey, love, if something happens, just know that I love y-“ Pengzi said but had to abort his thought mid-sentence.

Zhanghao hit him, hard. “Don’t you dare utter those words right before you head into battle! I swear, if you die, I will travel to the spirit realm simply to strangle you myself.”

Soon afterward, her expression turned to worry as Pengzi stood on the stage, alone with just Rice Twenty-two against a Purple Flower cultivator.

—

Rice Twenty-two knew who its master was. Unlike the other chickens in the coop, it knew that its master was the person who brought delicious food and even the spirit rice that it liked. It also knew that the other chickens believed themselves deserving of such treatment simply because they were spirit beasts and no longer mortal animals that couldn’t cultivate.

And when the master finally got angry at the flock and took away their food, the other chickens rebelled against him. The roosters would crow in the middle of the night and try to wake him up. The hens would refuse to give him their eggs and instead smash them before the master could collect them. Yet despite everything that they had done, the master never raised a hand against them. In theory, he didn’t need to. He had the other human, the one with a sword, doing all the fighting for him.

Rice Twenty-two had been the first of the flock to submit to his master. He had been shunned by the others, but when they finally came around to accepting their master, he also became their leader. He was stronger, faster, and more importantly, his feathers were brighter. The hens loved him, and the roosters were all inferior when compared to his plumage.

Now, it was time to repay his master.

Rice Twenty-two stared at the unfamiliar human opposite to the master. She looked a bit like the master’s companion, but also different. Her scent wasn’t sweet and instead had a tinge of sourness to it. And, she was dressed in purple, his least favorite color.

So when the master gave the order to fight, Rice Twenty-two rushed forward, running along the side of the stage where it would attract the least amount of attention, and got behind the new cultivator. Then, he bid his time, watching his master fight against the woman, matching her blow for blow.

When she showed an opening, he acted. Flapping his wings, he flew like a bolt of lightning, so fast that he crossed the gap in less than a split second. He kicked up his spurs at the last moment and felt them make contact with his target. When the attack was done, he turned around and saw that there were now huge bleeding gashes where there was once unblemished flesh.

Rice Twenty-two went in for another round of attacks, slower this time given how little run-up there was. But it didn’t matter. The woman wasn’t like the person with the sword that he was used to fighting. She didn’t seem that strong.

So when his master’s opponent threw a cloud of white powder forward, he leapt right into it.