Xiao Jun leaped to his feet, his features twisted in fury. “This doesn’t concern you!” he shouted. “The sect rules forbid it.”

Zhang Lifen inclined her head. “That’s correct. I am unfortunately quite restrained from interfering in this little slap fight you’ve started, Junior Brother Xiao.”

That was the last thing He Yu had wanted to hear from her. All hopes that she’d come to his—and his friends’—rescue died as Zhang Lifen spoke.

“However,” the core disciple continued, “you haven’t exactly been following the sect rules either, have you?”

“I’m an outer disciple,” he said, lifting his chin.

“And a third-year. Which means you are forbidden from interfering in first-year competition during the grace period.”

Xiao Jun’s expression darkened. How Zhang Lifen had known of his attack at the waterfall cultivation spot, He Yu couldn’t have said. But apparently, it was a serious enough breach to warrant her involvement in this. At least he hoped.

“What of it?” Xiao Jun asked.

“I could let the sect elders know,” she said. “Although I suspect they already do. I assume the only reason they haven’t yet acted is that nobody has made any fuss over it. Maybe they’re simply unconcerned and turn a blind eye to a fight among children. How much are you willing to wager on either outcome, Junior Brother Xiao?”

“This conflict doesn’t concern you,” Xiao Jun repeated.

“Oh, but it does,” she said. “We each have a junior here, do we not? And those juniors have a grudge to settle. Perhaps we ought to let them do so? Without interference from either of us, of course.”

Instantly the mood in the glade shifted. Xiao Jun looked thoughtful. Sha Xiang, eager. Tan Xiaoling visibly relaxed, and Chen Fei glanced at He Yu with unconcealed worry. For his part, He Yu tried to keep all the tangled mess of things he was feeling from showing—especially in front of Zhang Lifen.

It wasn’t much, but she had acknowledged him—at least in some small way. It had sort of been a given up until then that she was, what exactly? Mentor? Sponsor? He supposed it didn’t really matter.

That she’d recognized thus should have been cause for a celebration. It would have been under any different circumstances. However, it had also thrown him into direct confrontation with Sha Xiang, and done so long before he was ready. At the same time, this was a chance to prove himself. To finally put the grudge between Sha Xiang and himself to bed.

“Junior Sister Sha has a full stage’s advancement on Junior Brother He,” Xiao Jun said. He sounded oddly wary like he expected some trick. Given everything He Yu had seen from Zhang Lifen so far, it was probably wise of him to be cautious.

“She does, doesn’t she? I guess that simply means I am at a disadvantage in this,” Zhang Lifen remarked with an air of such utter indifference that He Yu couldn’t help but be a little stung by it.

“So those are your terms then,” Xiao Jun said, his voice still carefully even.

“They are.”

Sha Xiang slammed her gloved fists together with a crack of earth qi. “I’ll do it,” she said, fixing He Yu with a far too eager gaze.

Forcing himself to stand a bit straighter and summoning what shreds of courage he’d still left, He Yu thumped the butt of his guandao against the ruined earth of the glade. “I also accept.”

He was terrified. Even as he projected the sort of confidence he thought expected of him, he mentally scrambled for some sort of plan. Some trick, some way out. Something—anything that would let him gain enough of an edge to come out of this without every bone in his body ground to pulp underneath Sha Xiang’s earth-infused fists. He kept coming up blank.

“Excellent,” Zhang Lifen said. She moved to the edge of the glade and waved her hand. An ornate cushioned chair appeared from her storage treasure and she sat down with all the grace befitting a lady of her station. He Yu was still grappling with how he should feel about how unconcerned she was. It was as if she didn’t care if he won or lost either way.

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Xiao Jun moved to stand next to her. “No interference,” he said again, still sounding a bit wary but noticeably more confident than earlier.

“I, Zhang Lifen, swear upon my honor and position as twelfth-ranked core disciple of the Shrouded Peaks Sect not to interfere in this contest in any way that would affect its outcome.”

Xiao Jun nodded. “I, Xiao Jun, swear upon my honor and position as an outer disciple of the Shrouded Peaks Sect not to interfere in this contest in any way that would affect its outcome.” While he supposed he appreciated the gesture, He Yu didn’t think that Xiao Jun’s position as an outer disciple carried quite the same weight as Zhang Lifen’s.

“Begin,” Zhang Lifen said.

Sha Xiang launched herself at him, fists gathering golden earth qi. He Yu’s world collapsed to the now-familiar single point of focus. His limbs moved almost of their own accord as he brought his guandao across his body, ready to receive her attack. Qi surged through his meridians in accordance with the Eternal Mountain Root. He was far from mastering the technique, but it had already proved its worth in the duels he’d fought—and won—over the last few days.

A rippling golden fist lashed out at him, and he moved. He brought the metal shaft of his guandao up, cycling wind qi all along its length, calling the Bracing Wind. The impact sent out a blast of wind and earth qi whipping at He Yu’s uniform. Sha Xiang staggered backward for half a step, shaking out her fist.

“It will be an honor to exchange pointers, Sect Sister,” He Yu said, giving a shallow yet respectful bow from behind his weapon.

Sha Xiang let out an almost animal growl and launched herself at him again—this time, he did not defend.

As she leaped through the autumnal air, He Yu saw her with clear eyes. The days of cultivating the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment coalesced into a moment of perfect awareness. He saw the arc of her leap, the bunching of her muscles as she readied her strike, the flow of qi through her meridians, and the formation of her technique even before it had begun. The insight of the Cloud Emperor was fleeting, lasting for the time it took to draw a breath, but it was enough.

He Yu moved, catching her wrist with his guandao as he stepped aside. Sha Xiang’s eyes widened a fraction as she realized what he’d done. That was all the time she had to react. Wind qi burst out again—this time not in a clash of techniques, but in a formation of the Bracing Wind so perfect it could have caused him to weep. He twisted his weapon, catching her wrist in a lock even as the burst of wind forced her back and away. Sha Xiang cried out as her arm twisted unnaturally.

She was not seriously injured, he knew that much. As a Foundation stage since before he’d even arrived at the sect, she would have been cultivating the White Mountain Body Art far longer than he had, and the Eternal Mountain Root was well suited for strengthening oneself in the face of such injuries. He’d thrown her off balance though. He had a chance to go on the offensive, and he did.

Mountain qi surged through his leg meridians, and he kicked. He caught her on her upper thigh and sent her reeling. In a single smooth motion, he swept his guandao before him as he backed up, creating the ideal spacing for his weapon. He’d taken her measure so far, and easily guessed what she’d do next.

Predictably, she rushed at him, seeking to close the distance. He continued the follow-through of his previous strike, bringing the heavy weapon into position for an overhand strike.

“Bow before the Crashing Wind,” he said, confidence surging in every word.

The guandao fell, wind howling around its blade. Sha Xiang met it with a punch reinforced by both her own earth-aspected technique and the Eternal Mountain Root. Her fist crashed into the blade straight on, blood spurting from where she’d met its edge. The wounds were superficial and would heal in moments, but that was a trickle of qi she’d spend on something other than attacking him.

He Yu’s earlier resolve gave way to hope—he could see a clear path to victory.

He Yu drew his blade down, deepening the cut. Through his familiarity with his weapon formed in countless hours of training, he could feel the blade scrape bone. Sha Xiang grimaced and grit her teeth. Bringing his grip up closer to the blade so he could fight better at Sha Xiang’s range, he stepped in towards her with a quick thrust.

As he’d been meditating on Fang Yingjie’s lessons over the past weeks, He Yu had begun to grasp just how truly versatile and adaptive the guandao was. It was like he had four weapons in one. Now, he used it like a spear, performing a series of quick jabs, probing Sha Xiang’s defenses.

Any one of them would have been trivial for her to simply take, letting him score an individually insignificant hit. But that would bleed her of even more qi if she wanted to allow the tiny cuts to heal.

Otherwise, she could let them bleed—but that would just mean she’d be amassing a collection of tiny wounds that would eventually wear her down just the same. Of course, he’d no illusions about who would run out of qi first. She had a full stage advancement on him, after all. The longer this went on, the more it would favor her.

Sha Xiang let out a wordless roar and slammed her fists together. A crack like stone shattering accompanied a burst of qi. Her hands looked as though the skin had dried and hardened to some middle state between flesh and stone. Golden earth qi swirled around her hands, curling up her arms to the shoulder. He Yu could feel whatever technique she’d just used down to his bones. When she looked up at him with burning hatred in her eyes, it was all he could to keep himself from running.