Li Heng stood before Sha Xiang and Da Ning, jian at the ready. His body enforcement technique, Raiment of the Frozen Soul, caused hoarfrost to spread outward from where he stood, creeping across the ground. As much as he wanted to go after Cui Bao and give Yan Shirong the proper opportunity to escape, it was more important he held these two villains back.

With the adoption of his Wayborn Seed, his presence had expanded and become ever more the symbol of night and winter. A full moon shone down over a snowy field. Ice clung to rocks and trees. There was no wind. No sound. No life. All within his domain was silent, still, and cold.

Da Ning’s spirit was hardly worth mentioning in comparison to his. Sharpness and gleaming metal. That was all—and it became brittle and easily shattered as it froze over. He was nothing.

Sha Xiang was different. All fire and stone, plumes of toxic smoke, and an all-too-familiar feeling of want. She fared better than Da Ning did, but her presence still had to claw for influence as frost crept across the sundered landscape of her spirit.

“I’d issue a challenge to fight me honorably, but I have no confidence you’d accept, Sect Sister Sha,” he said, peering at her down the length of his jian.

“Shut up and fight,” Sha Xiang said. “You want a duel? Register one with the commission office when you’re out of the medicine hall.”

With that she surged forward, drawing back an earth and fire-infused fist. In the same moment, Da Ning moved to flank him and then shifted into his own attack. Moving with his Way, flowing between the two extremes of caution and aggression, it all seemed too easy.

Sha Xiang reached him first, if only by a fraction of a second. Her fist glanced off his blade, and Li Heng twisted with the momentum, catching Da Ning’s attack an instant later. He flashed behind Da Ning with the White Hare Dance, and his blade faded to mist. The Darkmoon Strife tore open three black scars upon the world, and blood sprayed from Da Ning’s back.

“So that’s what that was,” Sha Xiang said as she readied another attack.

“Count yourself lucky that I showed mercy,” Li Heng said.

“That was your first mistake.”

She moved with a speed that exploded up from the ground, through her legs, and into her fist. Heat radiated from her, and a sense of profound heaviness accompanied her spirit. Her fist crashed into his jian, and the sword’s weight increased a hundredfold. Panic spiked as Li Heng recalled his time away from the sect last winter. When his techniques had all but failed him, and he’d been unable to keep up with He Yu—someone who should have had trouble keeping up with him.

Li Heng spun away from the blow and released the Winter Moon Reflection. A river of silver qi streamed off the blade. The panic faded, replaced by relief as his technique worked as it was intended. His Way was balance. He settled into his stance, a well-practiced position honed over thousands of hours of training and diligence.

A fist slammed into the side of his head. Stars exploded in his vision and the world spun. It was only his instincts, honed by practice, that allowed him to flash away in time to avoid the next blow. He shook his head clear and resumed a guard position. Just in time, too.

Sha Xiang rocketed towards him. In the exchange that followed, she pressed him like nobody had before. Except perhaps Princess Tan. With each blow she landed she became more frenzied. Almost feral.

Although he’d seen her Four Demon Fists, he’d never been on the receiving end of it. He had been a bystander when she’d first used it against He Yu, and he had never faced her in the tournament. It was all he could do to deflect her barrage of strikes. Each blow was stronger than the last, and he was having trouble deflecting them.

It injured his pride that much more. As he used the White Hare Dance to create some space between Sha Xiang and himself, he had to admit that she was at least his equal. He had been surpassed by another commoner. Fractionally, his shoulders slumped as shame took root in his heart.

In a burst of sulfurous steam and oppressive heat, Sha Xiang was on him again. He brought his jian up in time, but instead of a controlled deflection, this attack sent him sprawling back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Too much for you to handle?”

Li Heng shuddered at the sound of her voice. It was distorted, almost as if there were two of her speaking now. Not to mention how she sounded practically animal, the words coming out in half growls.

“Whatever it is you’ve given yourself over to, you’ve made a mistake,” he said. “Whatever power you think you wield, it’s going to destroy you.”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Sha Xiang laughed. It was frenzied, only half sane, and full of malice. “Not before I destroy you, He Yu, and all the rest.”

Again she attacked. Again he raised his sword.

Pain—white hot and sharp as steel blossomed in his side. He’d forgotten about Da Ning, thinking him out of the fight.

He barely managed to deflect Sha Xiang’s attack. Moonlight flashed over snow as he activated the White Hare Dance. Blood stained his robes, making them cling to the wound and his skin. From where he’d appeared on the roof of a nearby building, he looked down at Sha Xiang and Da Ning. The other noble’s jian was red with blood. His blood. Despite the wound in his side, his brows drew together. Angry mostly at himself for being so careless. He should have known that Da Ning would have used the opportunity to take a restorative pill.

“Cowards,” he called down at them, trying to inject bravado he didn’t feel into his words. “You can’t face me individually, so you must rely on your numbers.”

Sha Xiang laughed again. “Seems pretty clear to me that I can take you myself. I’d challenge you if you weren’t still ranked six hundred thirty.”

That had stung more than he cared to admit. “Afraid you’d lose?” he asked. It was stupid, but it was the best he could come up with.

“Come down here and find out.”

His eyes narrowed. Obvious bait if he’d ever seen any. There was no way either of them actually needed him to come down. He’d appeared here simply to give himself enough space to catch his breath. Sha Xiang could just jump if she didn’t have a movement technique, and he’d no doubt the same held true for Da Ning.

“You’re the one who started this by attacking Sect Brother Yan. I’m under no obligation to continue should I choose not to.”

“Fine,” she said. Her legs flexed as she made ready to jump. It had been easier than he’d expected.

The moment she leaped, Li Heng activated the White Hare Dance. He appeared in the air behind her. His blade, invisible to all but him, passed through her as though she weren’t there. Then the three black scars of the Darkmoon Strife opened her flesh, and he flashed away.

Sha Xiang fell, roaring all the way down.

Li Heng appeared before Da Ning. The other noble looked considerably less confident now that he was facing Li Heng down alone, but he still put on a brave face.

“Even if you manage to prevail today, I will reclaim my pride,” Da Ning sneered. “From both you and He Yu.”

“I had nearly forgotten who you even were,” Li Heng returned. “If you’d let the minor slights of the outer sect stay where they belonged, I wouldn’t have to show you your place a second time.”

“More words,” Da Ning spat. “When Lady Sha—”

Li Heng attacked. He wasn’t so foolish as to let Da Ning distract him. Sha Xiang wasn’t out of the fight. His last attack would only buy him a moment and he needed to use it well. Da Ning was the weakest of them all by far, and dealing with him quickly was the only chance Li Heng had. Even then he wasn’t sure he’d be able to prevail on his own. As much as he hated to say it, he needed help. Hopefully, Yan Shirong had gotten away, and help would arrive shortly.

Immediately Da Ning was on the back foot. While they were both in the late Third Realm, only one of them had formed a Wayborn Seed, and only one of them had suffered the training of a hidden master for an entire season—and it wasn’t Da Ning. For a moment Da Ning was at least able to defend, but Li Heng would overcome him with another two to three attacks at most.

Molten stone slammed into Li Heng’s back, just above his kidneys. He stumbled forward, the normally smooth flow of qi through his leg meridians going wild before, thankfully, returning to normal. His legs still felt numb, but he could stand. The damage was severe, easily enough to have crippled a mortal. He could still walk thanks wholly to his advancement, but this fight was effectively over, and he knew it.

He turned in an attempt to bring up his jian. All that he managed was to give Sha Xiang an open shot at his throat. Her hand closed around his neck, and then she squeezed. Da Ning’s jian sliced across Li Heng’s sword arm and his ancestral jian clattered to the ground. Blood pattered onto the path next to it. Li Heng sagged as the lack of air began to take its toll.

“Arrogant prick,” Sha Xiang sneered. “Now who’s getting put in their place?”

She drew back a fist but paused with the arrival of a third spirit. It was an angry flame, full of violence and malice. For the briefest moment, Li Heng dared to hope—but then Cui Bao stepped into view.

“He got away,” Cui Bao said.

Sha Xiang released her grip and turned to Cui Bao. “Did he get out another message?”

Li Heng sagged to the ground, fingers scrabbling for his sword. Blackness began to creep in at the edge of his vision.

“Beats me. Best to get this over with quick.”

“How could you let him get away? I told you not to let him out of your sight.”

“Hey, you try keeping up with him. Don’t worry though. I ran into one of Mo Zhiqiang’s little friends on the way back. He should be on his way.”

Maybe it wasn’t lost after all. Princess Tan could at least fight them off if she arrived. Give him time to take a pill. His hands closed over the hilt of his weapon.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Sha Xiang’s voice was sharp. She stomped on his wrist, and he felt a dozen bones shatter.

“We should disperse,” Da Ning said. “If Sect Brother Mo arrives in time, the four of us might be able to hold off Princess Tan so long as she’s alone. If Yan Shirong got word out to her, it would be prudent to assume he also got word out to the others.”

Silence stretched out for much longer than Li Heng would have expected. Why wasn’t Sha Xiang immediately berating his idea as cowardice? She had never displayed anything close to what he’d call discretion—except in the face of overwhelming strength.

“Right,” she said at length. “We stick to the plan. Take ‘em one at a time. Which means we deal with this one before we go.”

Li Heng tried to summon what strength he had left and roll over so he could make a grab for his sword with his off-hand. Sha Xiang grabbed him by the robe and hauled him to his feet. Da Ning stooped down and picked up the Li family sword, sending it to his storage treasure with a self-satisfied smile.

Sha Xiang looked into Li Heng’s eyes. “Get ready, asshole,” she said. “This is going to hurt.”