Sha Xiang took a step forward. She crossed a distance of more than ten feet in an instant, slamming a burning stone fist into the center of He Yu’s chest. A blast of qi accompanied the blow, and the next thing he knew he was sailing back, struggling to take even the shallowest of panicked panting gulps of air.

She’d gotten faster and shockingly stronger. Zhang Lifen had said that Sha Xiang had damaged her cultivation the last time she’d used this technique. There was no way that could be true if she was still this strong—because if it were true, He Yu didn’t want to think about what that punch would have done to him otherwise.

At least he’d gotten stronger, too. His robe and guandao, the months spent training under Old Guo, the fortune he’d spent on cultivation resources since his return—all of it added up. He caught himself with the Sky Dragon’s Flight and touched down on the far side of the arena. Already Sha Xiang was hurtling towards him, one arm pulled back and ready to launch another of her devastating punches.

He cycled qi to his lungs and his breathing steadied. It was an uncomfortable sensation, feeling his bones knit themselves back onto his sternum. It was also a massive expenditure of qi. He didn’t have much other choice. There was no way he’d have been able to put up any kind of fight otherwise.

He just needed to trust that all his training and medicines had done their job, and given him enough of a cultivation base to outlast Sha Xiang—because nobody would be stepping in to end the fight this time. The elders had all seen what she’d just done and probably knew exactly what her newfound power was. If they hadn’t stopped it already, they simply weren’t going to. He Yu was on his own.

Heaven and wind qi coursed through He Yu’s meridians, empowering the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering. He blasted across the arena with the Sky Dragon’s Flight, guandao raised, and met her in a crash of qi. Their presences slammed into one another. Clouds burst and released a deafening crack of thunder that rolled across the burning earth below. Lightning flashed deep within the darkened clouds, while something massive and wrong moved within the banks of steam that hissed away from the molten glowing rock. The earth belched fire, and molten stones erupted from steaming vents.

When the two of them broke off from their exchange, a cracked and broken crater marked the center of the arena, its center blackened and smoking. He Yu ached all over. His arms were sore and his hands were still a bit numb from taking so many blows on the haft of his guandao. His left eye was beginning to swell shut, and he tasted blood in his mouth. At least nothing was broken this time.

On the far side of the scarred flagstones left by their clash, Sha Xiang didn’t look much better. Her uniform had several more dark stains spreading across it and was covered in black scorch marks. Yet more blood dripped from her left arm, which dangled at her side. Her chest heaved with each breath, and she blinked sweat, dirt, and yet more blood away from her eyes. As she flexed and straightened herself once more, He Yu was a bit disappointed to see that she still had use of both arms. The injury would still slow her down, though.

“I’m gonna—” her words were half speech, half-animal growl.

He Yu wasn’t about to let her finish. His guandao slammed down on her with a blast of wind and with lightning sparking all around them. Although she managed to bring her arms up into a block, sending a wave of earth and fire qi out with the impact, the blow still caused her to stagger back. He Yu’s follow-up strike was aimed directly at her neck. He was dangerously low on qi and needed to end this.

Sha Xiang grabbed the haft of his guandao in both hands. She wrenched it aside, attempting to throw him to the ground. Although she did cause him to stumble, He Yu both kept his feet and a grip on the weapon. The Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering may have been focused more on speed than anything else, but along with his Third Realm body, it still gave him strength enough.

With another nearly animal snarl, Sha Xiang spat a gob of blood at He Yu’s face. Then she slammed her forehead into his nose. His vision burst into color and pain, and as he reeled back she used her grip on his weapon to shove him away. Something hard and hot hit him just below the ribs. Even before the air had fully left his lungs, another blow crashed into the side of his head. Then he was on the ground, his fingertips just brushing against the metal haft of his weapon. He blinked to clear his vision and froze at what he saw.

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Sha Xiang stood over him, bloody and nearly broken herself. The wrongful presence that had joined her qi upon activating the Four Demon Fists was more intense now. He Yu could practically hear it—howling laughter at the edge of hearing, thirsting for violence and the suffering of those it deemed lesser.

The shadow laid over her had been joined by a second pair of arms. They were still insubstantial, and not powerful enough to yet be of any use, but he could still clearly make them out with his spiritual sense. It was almost as if the sheer act of fighting was giving her increased mastery of her technique without needing to meditate on the insights. If she truly was growing stronger as the fight progressed, that was a huge problem.

Then, she pounced. Her hands were extended like claws, and the qi of her technique had formed black spikes at the ends of her fingers. He Yu poured everything he had left into the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering. Heaven qi danced across his skin as he moved. Sha Xiang slammed into the ground where he’d been an instant before, shattering the stones beneath her. Before she could attack again, He Yu called the winds.

The Crashing Wind curled around his blade, carrying tiny flashes of heavenly sparks. His dantian ached and felt empty. His meridians strained as he tried to push what little trickle of qi he had left into his attack. Sha Xiang reached up, aiming for the haft just behind the incoming blade. He Yu shifted the attack, flowing into a quick form of the Bracing Wind. His meridians screamed in protest.

The reinforced metal cap struck her in the side of the head, and He Yu looped the blade back around. From somewhere he somehow managed to find enough qi to activate one last formation of the Crashing Wind. Sha Xiang puffed to mist as his blade bit into her neck.

He Yu’s chest heaved and he had to brace himself on his weapon to keep from toppling over. He’d done it. He had fought her at full strength on even footing, and he’d won. Surely this would be the end of it. She could leave him and his friends alone, and they could go their separate ways cultivating in peace. It was a pleasant thought. As he turned to face the pavilion and deliver a salute to the elders, he stumbled. Then, he hit the ground. The world went dark as his qi finally sputtered out.

When He Yu awoke, he was in the medicine hall. He’d been here enough times to recognize it easily. He was alone, and he’d no idea how long he’d been out. He looked down at himself and then took a deep and steady breath. He was mostly healed—there were a few bruises that would fade with a night’s worth of cultivation.

He could feel the last bits of medicinal energy crackling through his meridians. Whatever the inner sect healer had given him, it had been of a far higher quality than anything he’d ever had before. He groaned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Outside in the hall, he heard a brief exchange of whispers.

A moment later, a soft but confident knock came at the door. “Sect Brother He,” came the voice—Tan Xiaoling.

“Come in,” he said, scrambling to figure out what she could possibly want.

She was alone. He’d hoped that maybe she’d come with Chen Fei. She stood at the door, regarding him with that sharp, appraising look of hers, before giving a brief nod.

“I’m glad to see you’re well,” she said.

“Same,” he answered, still not used to how fast he’d recovered. “Pardon, but why are you here.”

“I won my match against Sect Brother Cui easily enough,” she said. Somehow, that didn’t surprise him in the least. “We will be facing one another in the finals tomorrow.”

“But that’s not why you’re here,” he said. The Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment had indicated as much, and he had his suspicions about why she’d come. He let her say it herself, though.

“Once the match has begun and I have struck a decent blow, you may surrender without losing face. I won’t be so crass as to shame you and ask your surrender in the arena, but I wanted you to know that the option remains.”

He Yu didn’t know quite what to feel about that. On the one hand, she clearly respected him enough to—in her mind, at least—allow him the pretense of standing as her equal. At the same time, it was more than a bit insulting that she thought he needed such an out. That he was so weak that he wasn’t worth even fighting.

“Why,” he demanded. It had come out with a good measure more heat than he’d intended, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Tan Xiaoling considered him for a moment. She remained still. Poised. The picture of propriety and a lady of the Way. At length, when she did speak, she did so slowly as though she were carefully considering her words. “I do not want to hurt you. More so, I do not want to hurt Chen Fei.”

He Yu blinked. That hadn’t been at all what he’d expected.

“She cares about you,” Tan Xiaoling continued before He Yu could say anything. “She was—very upset today. After your fight. She is my friend,” the princess said. Her voice was a bit strained, as if this were something she had difficulty giving voice to. At least to him. “I don’t want to see her upset. I don’t want to cause her any undue distress.”

“So you want me to throw the match.”

Again, Tan Xiaoling was quiet for some time. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, yet earnest. “I am royalty of the Jade Kingdom. I am the only child of Tan Zihao. When I fight, I do not hold back.”

“With all due respect, princess, I don’t either.”

Tan Xiaoling nodded. “Just so,” she said. “Rest well, then, and consider what I’ve said. For Chen Fei’s sake, if not your own.”

With that, she turned and left. For a long time, He Yu sat on the edge of the medicine hall bed, unsure of exactly how to feel.