The dull glow of red veins running along Sha Xiang’s arms slowly pulsed as she spoke. “I did what I had to.”

The voice was hers, but different somehow. Crueler than it usually was, but He Yu realized that in some way this was who she’d always been. Whatever the Four Demon Fists had done to her, it was as suited to her as He Yu’s arts were to him.

He’d been a fool to attempt peace with her. A lesson learned on the path of an emperor.

In the time of their brief exchange of words, Sha Xiang’s followers had rallied. With the insight of the Peerless Judgment, He Yu could see the flow of qi in their meridians as the effects of the medicine they’d consumed took hold. All four of them readied their weapons and activated their techniques. Then, they attacked as one.

He Yu responded by activating his newest technique—Heaven’s Descending Blade.

His guandao swept out before him, trailing lightning in its wake. A sheath of heavenly qi extended from the end of his weapon, easily doubling its length. Mo Zhiqiang was the first in its path—the first to feel lightning’s bite. His left arm fell to the ground with a thump, blood gushing from where it had been severed just above the elbow.

The noble joined his severed limb on the flagstones. He screamed as he clutched at his stump, trying desperately to stanch the flow of blood. The other three froze. Despite the aggression they’d displayed towards others since coming to the sect, this was a step beyond.

A cold sharpness hung over the garden, joining the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. As He Yu’s killing intent settled over the fight, he cycled qi to the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering. With a single step, he crossed the space between himself and Da Ning, banishing his guandao back to his storage treasure.

He Yu reached out and grabbed Li Heng’s jian by the blade, wrenching it from Da Ning’s grip. “This never belonged to you,” he said.

Then he punched Da Ning in the chest. The blow released a crack of thunder. Lightning forked away from the impact. He Yu had hardly been aware he’d cycled qi into the blow. It was just instinct after his month of training in the hills with Zhang Lifen.

Da Ning flew back dozens of feet. When he landed, he didn’t rise. The flow of his qi indicated that he still lived, but he was badly injured. The impact had shattered most of his ribs. It would take more than a simple restorative pill to bring him back to fighting shape.

With the weaker two of Sha Xiang’s followers dealt with, He Yu turned back to her and Cui Bao. He sent Li Heng’s jian into his storage treasure for safekeeping and recalled his guandao. As he cycled his qi into both the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering and the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment, he felt the same clarity he had when he’d faced Tan Xiaoling during the tournament as his Wayborn Seed resonated with his actions.

Heavenly qi crackled along the length of his guandao and up along both of his arms. His presence rolled outward in a bank of black clouds. They brought with them flame-quenching rain and columns of brilliant lighting. The air grew heavy and thick, in much the same way that it did back in Shulin when late afternoon thunderstorms rolled in from the east.

“Stand down and swear an oath,” He Yu said. He stood opposite Sha Xiang and Cui Bao, his guandao held in one hand. “You can’t win here, but I take no pleasure in beating those weaker than myself. Swear to leave me and my friends to our peace. We won’t bother you, and you can attend to your injured.”

“Fuck you!” Sha Xiang screamed. Her features were twisted and feral, just like her qi. With a pulse of earth and fire, she surged forward. Golden-brown earth qi tinged black with the shadow of the Four Demon Fists rippled along her arms.

A formation of the Spring Rain Mirror flashed into place, deflecting the first blows of Sha Xiang’s barrage. Cui Bao activated a movement technique and maneuvered himself to the opposite side of He Yu. With a burst of flame and a shower of embers, he attacked. He Yu darted back with the Sky Dragon’s Flight. The speed of his body art allowed him to easily avoid the Sha Xiang’s attacks, and to get behind Cui Bao. A blast of the Bracing Wind knocked Cui Bao off balance, and a quick smash with the end-cap of the guandao sent him to the flagstones.

He Yu backed off once more, holding himself about a dozen feet off the ground with the Sky Dragon’s Flight. He gazed imperiously down at the scene below. Mo Zhiqiang had crawled off to a corner and had curled up on himself, cradling what was left of his arm to his chest. Da Ning lay on his back, gasping shallow breaths and staring at the sky. Cui Bao lay limp where he’d fallen.

The garden itself was ruined. Black scorch marks from both lightning and flame marred the flagstones. Only a pit in the flagstones remained from where Sha Xiang had lifted the very earth for her earlier technique. Everywhere he looked, there was some evidence of damage, whether it be blood, ruined plants, or cracked stonework.

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“It’s just you and me,” he said. He released his technique and dropped to the ground. It seemed prudent not to be literally talking down to her at the moment. “Do you really think you can prevail alone?”

“I’ve always been alone,” Sha Xiang growled. “Every step of the way. Everything I have, I clawed from this world with my own hands—with my blood by my effort. This power is mine, and I won’t let anyone take it from me. Not even you.”

He Yu didn’t need the Peerless Judgment to see all the things wrong with her words. She hadn’t done anything on her own. Every step of the way she’d had help. Whether it came from Xiao Jun, from whatever power that allowed her the use of the Four Demon Fists, or from the support of the coterie she’d gathered around her, she had had help. Every step of the way.

Just like he had.

That was the difference between them. He Yu recognized that he’d had help. That he’d never truly stood on his own. It was true even now. The whole reason he’d come to the garden wasn’t because of anything Sha Xiang had done to him specifically. It was because of what she’d done to his friends.

The certainty of his intent settled over him, and he saw the liminal pathways traced by his actions and made manifest with the help of his Wayborn Seed. He took a step forward, cloaked in that certainty. He recalled the images he’d seen in his meditations during those first days at the sect. Visions of himself standing alone atop a mountain. Visions of himself standing with others on the nearby peaks. He’d known then which he preferred, and he knew now.

“No,” he said. His voice was surprisingly soft, even to him. Sad, almost. “You haven’t been alone. But soon, you will be.”

They both moved at once.

He Yu flashed with the fury of heaven. Lightning crawled along his guandao and up his arms. Wind churned in his wake and stirred the dust and detritus of the garden. His presence rolled over the fight like a summer storm, bearing thunder and rain on heavy black clouds. His qi moved freely through his meridians, guided by his intent and assisted by his resonance with his Way. For perhaps the first time since his final bout against Tan Xiaoling in the tournament, he acted with that same ease of purpose.

Sha Xiang roiled with the heat of the molten earth. The gold-tinted earthen qi of her Earth Sundering Fist technique had been all but obscured by the demonic influence of the Four Demon Fists. Great gouts of steam rose from the land rent by her passing and exuded the same wrongness He Yu had felt from her all the times before. But now it was more intense. The only other aspect to her presence besides the earth and fire was the sense of want—a sense that He Yu knew wasn’t strictly coming from her.

A storm broke over a scorched and burning land. He met her blow-for-blow, and with each exchange, the burning earth cooled that much more. She would lash out with a barrage of punches—a flurry of blows that mere weeks ago He Yu would have been hard-pressed to defend against. Even so, each of her blows was a rising crescendo. More of the Sunset Empress’s influence bled into each successive strike.

Now? He simply summoned the Spring Rain Mirror. The technique flashed into the space between them, and Sha Xiang’s fist would crack against it. He would banish the technique and in the same instant, then manifest it again to block her follow-up. It was almost effortless. Her movements seemed sluggish to his Fourth Realm senses, such that he probably could have defended just as easily without the aid of the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment.

It was a tempting prospect, but Zhang Lifen’s lessons had remained with him. He wasn’t about to get into the habit of giving anything less than his all. So he poured qi into the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering. He summoned Heaven’s Descending Blade once again. He rushed forward on the wings of the Sky Dragon’s Flight, and he called forth the Five Crescent Winds.

A golden disk appeared before Sha Xiang. He Yu slammed into it, and a sound like a gong cascaded over the garden. It redoubled upon itself a thousand times, and with it came the overwhelming presence of a Sixth Realm immortal.

A single star shone in the sky above. Under its blinding radiance, all of He Yu’s techniques crumbled. The golden disk faded, and he saw that Sha Xiang’s techniques were likewise gone—and without them she fell to her knees, bloody and broken. The newcomer’s presence did not abate, however. It took nearly all of He Yu’s strength, physical and spiritual, to remain standing.

From the shining sky above them, First Disciple Yi Xiurong descended. She rode upon her peacock feather, just as she had when she’d come to He Yu’s rescue out in the wilds. Except here there was no protective barrier from another Core Disciple to shield him. He was fully at the mercy of her power. Had he not advanced to Golden Core, he would have been in no better state than Sha Xiang, he was certain.

As she stepped off her feather, Yi Xiurong merely looked about, saying nothing. She kept her hands folded within her sleeves, and her features were cold and unreadable. After a moment, she finally withdrew her spirit and spoke.

“I will not permit a talent such as yourself to jeopardize his future by killing a fellow disciple. Not even one so detestable as Sha Xiang. You will stand down now, Junior Brother He. You have what you came for. Go. Return to Junior Brother Li his sword.”

He Yu swallowed. Although he wanted to protest, to insist that it was his right to finish things once and for all, he dared not. All he could do was press a fist into his palm in salute. “Of course, Senior Sister.”

Turning to the path leading back to the inner sect proper, Yi Xiurong said, “You may come out now, Sect Sister Zhang. This is all clearly your doing, so I trust you will now take the time to instruct your disciple.” As Zhang Lifen stepped from where she’d obscured herself, He Yu couldn’t help but feel that things were much more serious than he’d first thought, given Yi Xiurong’s tone.

As he was about to leave, Sha Xiang grunted and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m not done yet,” she half-growled. Her qi trembled as the cycled the beginnings of the Four Demon Fists once again.

Yi Xiurong crossed the space between them with barely a flicker of movement. Several quick strikes at Sha Xiang’s acupressure points saw her collapse once more. “You are quite finished, Sha Xiang.” First Disciple Yi turned to He Yu and Zhang Lifen once more. “Go,” she commanded. “I will deal with things here.”

Leaning in to He Yu, Zhang Lifen whispered, “You’d best listen. She’s very angry, after all.”