As he watched Song Mingzhen go, Ning Feiyun’s brow furrowed, lips pressing into a slight frown.

There was something strange going on with him.

By now, anyone would be able to see it— but in Ning Feiyun’s opinion, Song Mingzhen hadn’t seemed quite right even during their brief meeting at Ruijian Pavilion a few months ago. He couldn’t quite place exactly what it was, though… after all, he couldn’t exactly say that the two had been close before Song Mingzhen’s injury. They’d only met a few times before, during the war— but that first meeting between them had left quite the impression upon Ning Feiyun.

Seven years ago, Baidong Mountain had come under siege. Though the war was now said to have begun a year earlier, with the sudden appearance of a group of rogue cultivators at the Immortal Clans’ Conference, at the time the true threat posed by the Nameless was still unknown. The growing menace of rogue cultivators was attributed simply, as ever, to those small bands of evildoers that appeared here and there throughout the jianghu, menacing patrols and merchants for spiritual tools and supplies. Thus far, beyond that singular appearance a year prior, everything else had been fairly standard activity.

Some, of course, worried that the attacks upon the clans’ outposts and patrols seemed to be growing more frequent, and that even some young cultivators had disappeared seemingly without a trace. Still, who would have thought that the Nameless had already amassed enough strength to challenge one of the cultivation world’s greatest strongholds?

At that time, Ning Feiyun was eighteen years old, and had yet to become the mountain patrol commander. If the present Ning Feiyun had a reputation for being overly serious and unyielding, he was even more so as a youth. Desperate to prove himself to Ning Jianlin and the cultivation clans of Yinshan, every moment not otherwise occupied by some official matter was spent training, studying, and meditating within the spirit caves. He had been diligent like this even as a child in Mengshan Temple, caught up in a never-ending informal contest with a boy whose natural talents far surpassed his own— and now with the resources of the cultivation world at his disposal, he would surely take advantage of each one.

Ning Feiyun had already managed to surpass the Zhuji boundary, and while his skill in combat had yet to reach the level of his commander, he could hold his own well enough while sparring with Ning Zhifeng. Despite his worries, he had earned the admiration of the entire mountain patrol, as well as that of his adoptive family, and all placed a great deal of trust in him.

Like everyone else, he had heard of the growing troubles with rogue cultivators. It was common enough for such people to attempt to flee into Yinshan’s mountains and valleys when they ran into trouble in neighboring Dayuan or Cuijiang, so as the deputy commander of the mountain patrol, Ning Feiyun would encounter them from time to time.

Back then, he was far more sympathetic toward such people— perhaps it was because he was still young, or because among those called “evil cultivators” there were a few he had once called friends— and so he would show leniency against those he encountered, at least those who hadn’t caused grievous harm. If he happened to cross paths with them while out on patrol, and it wasn’t during an attack or robbery, he was inclined to simply turn away, as though he’d never seen them there.

They were considered little more than a nuisance back then, after all, and many seemed quite poor and destitute— their cultivation, too, was rarely above early Ningqi. Rather than fearing them, Ning Feiyun was more likely to pity them.

Had he known what kind of threat these people would pose in the future, he might have taken things a bit more seriously.

If he had, then perhaps the specter of the invasion of Baidong Mountain wouldn’t hang so ominously over his head today.

On the day of the attack, the sky was clear after a bout of storms that had lasted several days. Ning Feiyun was away from the mountain with a small patrol, checking the mountain roads in the storm’s aftermath. Rainwater pooled among the rocks, and a breeze whisked away the crystalline droplets still clinging to the branches of trees as the smell of petrichor rose up from the ground and hung in the air. Aside from a few fallen branches here and there, little was out of the ordinary, and the morning held no portent of the evening’s troubles.

Ning Feiyun’s mind was preoccupied that day. He had been troubled as of late, and he was eager to quickly return to the mountain once they’d finished clearing the roads. Though the sun had been shining brightly all day, clouds began to gather once more as the patrol began to return. The nearer they came to Baidong Mountain, the thicker the clouds became, and Ning Feiyun felt a sense of anxiety beginning to grow within him.

As they came into view of the mountain, though, they halted mid-flight. The nigh-invisible barrier array that surrounded the mountain suddenly shone with bright silver light, a tremor racing outward across the mountains— turning from a haze of mist to an impenetrable wall through which none could enter or leave!

Feelings of anxiety turned to chilling dread at the sight of a signal firework rising into the sky above Baidong Mountain. Ning Feiyun commanded his Shuangci spear to fly faster, carrying him swiftly toward the mountain barrier with the rest of his patrol not far behind.

In five hundred years, there had never been an attack on Yinshan’s stronghold. Now, that peace was broken, and the full strength of the barrier array had been engaged. All along the mountainside, the forests had been set ablaze, a cloud of thick smoke and ash released into the air to mingle with the cloud. Ning Feiyun looked down to see a crowd of rogue cultivators gathering around the barrier. Some possessed spiritual weapons that allowed them to fly up around the mountainside, but most remained on the ground. They appeared as a chaotic collection of individuals with no single uniform or defining trait, most armed with ordinary swords, spears, and bows, some of which had been crudely fused together with spirit stones to imbue them with spiritual power. Some wore silk robes, but many were dressed in rough-spun peasants’ clothing, and among the crowd were men and women, youths and elders.

Their numbers were at least a hundred but probably more— Ning Feiyun had never seen this many rogue cultivators together in one place, gathered together on the mountain road and hovering around the barrier, looking for any gap to exploit.

Ning Feiyun landed on the mountain road that led toward the stronghold, forming a seal with his fingers and summoning his spear to hover before him, radiating with silvery light. The members of his patrol landed at his heels. Here, just before the barrier, the greater part of the attacking force had gathered— their incursion apparently stopped in its tracks by the activation of the barrier array. On the ground were stains of red blood and scorches of flame, and ash fell from the sky like snow upon fallen corpses— some wearing the attackers’ nondescript clothing, others dressed in the Ning and Qin clans’ grey and white.

The Qin clan’s cultivators generally didn’t specialize in combat, and most of the Ning clan’s fighters were spread throughout the region— it would take time for them to see the signal firework and return here. Once the battle had begun and the strength of their enemies was made known, it had no doubt been decided to retreat to the mountain and seal it until reinforcements arrived. Ning Feiyun’s patrol had come a few moments too late and several shichen too early. It was only he and four others, all of whom had reached the middle of Ningqi at the highest— though most of these rogue cultivators were comparable at best, they were vastly outnumbered, and no aid would come to them from inside the barrier.

Ning Feiyun should have been more careful before approaching. He should have taken a bit more time to consider the situation and its possible outcomes— it was a common criticism he had of the decisions made in his youth, that they were too impulsive— but he was inexperienced at the time, and caught off guard by the sudden attack on his clan’s stronghold.

This was the first battle that Ning Feiyun had faced, apart from a few skirmishes with rogue cultivators or bandits in the mountains. He’d never seen anything of this scale before. The moment they landed, though, the attention of the invaders whose way forward had suddenly been cut off turned on them.

Ning Feiyun knew immediately that he’d rushed in too quickly. “Go,” he ordered his patrol, “We’re outnumbered— go to the southern, eastern, and western watchtowers and—”

Before he could finish giving orders, a powerful spiritual blast rippled through the air, striking him and sending him stumbling backwards and his companions falling to the ground. His face pale, his heart pounding wildly, he looked up to see who it was that had struck out at them, reaching out to call the Shuangci spear back to his hand.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Among the crowd was a young woman dressed all in black, with a tall, willowy figure and angular shoulders. She had an air of chilly elegance about her, and a commanding presence, carrying herself with much the same air as a cultivation clan’s young master would, though with a particular dangerous edge. A half-mask of copper filigree covered the left side of her face, from which eyes glistened like pools of deep water beneath a fine, dark brow. Her presence was commanding, and it was immediately clear that the one who led this attack was none other than her.

When she saw Ning Feiyun, the corner of her lip twisted up into a smirk that was equal parts teasing and bitter. “Ah… I had expected there would be a straggler or two running for the mountain, but too late to reach it,” she said, voice ringing like a bell over the distant crackle of flames. “I didn’t expect, though, that it would be you. It’s been so long since we’ve met, A-Qian— so much has changed.”

Ning Feiyun’s eyes widened in shock. A-Qian… it was the name he had been given at Mengshan Temple, Luo Qian. Even though almost everything about her had changed since they last met, Ning Feiyun still recognized her as soon as he heard that old name— the one leading this attack was none other than one he’d known before his adoption into the Ning clan: Qiu Wei.

Out of all the temple’s orphans in Ning Feiyun’s cohort, it was he and Mo Yuan that showed the most potential for cultivation, whether that be due to natural talent or hard work. Directly on their heels had been Qiu Wei. Unlike Ning Feiyun, who had been too young to remember the day he arrived at Mengshan Temple, Qiu Wei was already older when she arrived. For the first year, she was completely silent and sullen, shutting out the others and ignoring any attempts to play with or befriend her, and eventually most of them decided it was best to just leave her to herself. Mo Yuan, though, had taken a liking to her, and eventually whittled away at the walls she’d placed between herself and the world— and because Ning Feiyun was often together with Mo Yuan, he ended up spending time with her as well.

Qiu Wei was a little older than Ning Feiyun, and always at least a cun or two taller than he was. There was a scar on the left side of her face which she often kept hidden beneath wrapped bandages. Even after befriending Mo Yuan, she remained quiet and withdrawn, so though she and Ning Feiyun were often in each others’ company, they rarely spoke between themselves. Qiu Wei didn’t speak of her life before coming to the temple. Once, Ning Feiyun had foolishly asked about it, and after that incident the girl refused to meet his gaze for several days. Out of the three of them, Mo Yuan was by far the most talkative and charismatic— and Ning Feiyun honestly couldn’t say for certain whether he and Qiu Wei had actually been friends back then, or if they’d simply been drawn together by the circumstance of catching Mo Yuan’s interest. Ning Feiyun even remembered that he had felt a little annoyed by her presence at first, when Mo Yuan started to include her in their games— though he gradually came to accept her presence.

Now, though her face was the same, she was almost unrecognizable in temperament— her chin was held aloft, and eyes that once seemed to be haunted by unspoken memories now burned brightly and proudly amid the rain of ash.

Had they met under different circumstances, Ning Feiyun might have been glad to see her again. As it was, though, he’d already seen the flames in the valley and the bodies that lay along the path. This was no time for pleasantly greeting an old friend. It was clear that the two now stood on opposing sides.

Because of this, Ning Feiyun refused to acknowledge the familiarity that once lay between them, refusing to lower his guard or stand down.

“I am Ning Feiyun, of Yinshan’s Ning clan,” he announced instead. “Why have you attacked Baidong Mountain? What is your intention?”

Qiu Wei seemed a little surprised at first by his lack of familiarity, and maybe even a bit hurt. “So, you truly belong to them now,” she murmured, thoughtfully resting her hand against her chin. Her gaze flicked toward the ground, then back up to Ning Feiyun, the look in her eyes suddenly cold. “If that’s so, then I suppose you and I are now enemies.”

Ning Feiyun narrowed his eyes.

“San-gongzi, do you know this person?” one of the patrolmen who stood at his back asked in a low whisper.

Ning Feiyun clenched his jaw and was about to reply, but before he could speak, Qiu Wei made her decision. She made a sharp gesture to the others accompanying her.

“Subdue them and bind them— but don’t underestimate them. Their leader is far from unskilled.”

A chorus of agreement came from the rogue cultivators that surrounded the small patrol, and they immediately moved in to attack. Their coordination wasn’t the best, and most of them weren’t very strong, but the five-person patrol was vastly outnumbered. Ning Feiyun fought as well as he could, but in the end it was no use— they were subdued, their arms bound with spirit-binding thread and their weapons and spiritual tools confiscated, carried out of reach on Qiu Wei’s orders.

Throughout their struggle, the barrier remained solid, without a single flicker. Though they were just outside, none issued forth to aid them.

It would be unwise to open the barrier now, when so many assailants were poised and ready to press the attack— but Ning Feiyun still couldn’t help but find it strange that no one at all had come out to aid them, even though they were just outside the barrier. Little did he know that further disaster was already transpiring within the mountain itself.

“Qiu Wei!” Ning Feiyun cried out as he was pushed down to his knees, spirit-binding thread wrapping tightly around his arms and upper body. “What are you doing all this for?”

Qiu Wei, who had been standing by watching the fight, raised her brow upon hearing his question. Fingers tapped rhythmically upon the hilt of her sword— a spiritual sword of fine craftsmanship, one that was almost certainly forged by the cultivators of Ruijian Pavilion. Ning Feiyun had no idea how she could have obtained such a weapon.

She approached him, that cold look still in her eyes, and swiftly formed a hand seal. There was a flash of blue light, and Ning Feiyun felt something like an icy hand clasping around his throat, lifting him up from the ground to dangle in the air.

“A-Qian… no, Ning-gongzi,” she began, his new form of address dripping with resentment as it left her lips. “Who do you think you are, to question what I do? What if I said that we were simply tired of being hunted?”

Ning Feiyun’s heart was pounding. With his arms bound, he couldn’t reach up to pry the invisible hand from his throat— but it wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Qiu Wei’s cultivation was at least as strong as his, if not more so, and his spiritual power was restricted. He couldn’t even resist.

“Wei-jie, you shouldn’t do something so rash,” he gasped, shutting his eyes tightly, “This is one of the cultivation world’s greatest strongholds— you can’t hope to win! This will only make things worse for you! Please, let’s at least talk first!”

Qiu Wei’s eyes flashed. Despite Ning Feiyun’s pleas, both of them knew one thing for certain.

“The time for talking has already passed,” Qiu Wei said in a low voice. The next thing Ning Feiyun knew, she’d released her grip on him and he fell to the ground, coughing and choking.

“Just… go now,” he murmured weakly, his head spinning. “You can still escape, if you leave before reinforcements arrive…”

“Be quiet!” Qiu Wei snapped, her gaze flickering toward Ning Feiyun’s patrol, who were staring in shock at his seemingly traitorous words. She released a short, bitter laugh. “I’ll do you at least one favor, on account of our past together.”

She gestured toward the men who were guarding the other four. “Kill them.”

“What— wait!” Ning Feiyun’s eyes widened, but the command had already been given.

Within a moment, the guards had unsheathed their weapons, slaughtering Ning Feiyun’s patrol before his eyes. His entire body felt cold, his mouth hanging open as their bodies fell to the ground, blood pouring from their wounds. He was struck speechless, and all the while helpless where he lay on the ground, ears still ringing.

“You offered to let me escape,” Qiu Wei stated, her voice flat and expressionless, “So I thought I would at least return the favor. This way, no one will find out about your treacherous words.”

Ning Feiyun’s breath was shaky, the beating of his heart like a drum. In an instant, his patrol was dead, all because of those words he’d said… no. Struggling to lift himself up from the ground, he took another look at Qiu Wei’s cold expression and realized that in the end, she would have killed them anyway. He’d just given her a reason.

She was much different than the quiet girl from Mengshan Temple now, but that resentment she carried was the same. Now, it had grown all around her like vines, consuming her thoughts and her actions.

“You… no matter how much you wish to strike against the cultivation world, you must know this won’t end well for you,” Ning Feiyun could hardly hear his own words over the pounding of his heart and the rasp of his breath. “You’ve only brought ruin upon yourself—”

He stopped abruptly. In a flash, Qiu Wei had unsheathed her sword, its tip resting sharply against Ning Feiyun’s collarbone, pressing in just enough to draw a single bead of crimson blood.

“You expect that I’ll listen to you now?” she asked, voice low and threatening. “You’re part of an orthodox clan now, so you’ve forgotten all your old friends. Why shouldn’t you be perfectly happy to leave us behind?”

“Wei-jiejie…”

“Who’s your jiejie?” Qiu Wei snapped. “You should be grateful that I’m allowing you to keep breathing.”

Ning Feiyun fell silent, and Qiu Wei did as well. The sky above had turned pitch-black, and the ground beneath them had started to tremble. All around, an ominous feeling was rising up, creeping out through the spirit veins beneath the mountain and radiating up through the rock and soil. All of a sudden, the silver light of the barrier burnished copped, then turned blood-red— and then, all at once, it shattered!

Lightning struck from the heavens, the deadly force of a heavenly tribulation raining down upon Baidong Mountain!

As the barrier array broke, a great spiritual blast rippled away from the mountaintop, causing nearby cliffsides to crumble and putting out the fire in an instant. Qiu Wei and the other rogue cultivators braced themselves, piercing the rock with their weapons to keep from being blown away. Not all of them, though, managed to keep their footing. Some were caught up in that concussive ripple of dispersing energy and thrown back, down the mountain road or into the flame-scorched valley below.

Among these was Ning Feiyun, bound with spirit-binding thread with his weapon far out of reach.

He tasted blood in his mouth as the blast struck him, sending him falling back, then tumbling across the ground. He tried to catch himself with his legs, but even the stones he tried to brace himself against had been shaken loose by that spiritual blast—

Then, a great bolt of heavenly lightning struck the ground only a few zhang from where he had fallen. The ground cracked and crumbled, opening up into a yawning chasm beneath— and Ning Feiyun, with his upper body still bound, plummeted over the edge!