“Hello, my name is Kun Si.”

She introduced herself, as she was taught to do, with a slight tilt of her head.

“Qin Xiulan.”

The name was not said, it was announced. It rang in the air with the force of proclamation. It was spoken as though the name itself required no introduction, it was just an affirmation of grandiosity and authority. Kun Si thought it quaint, Qin Xiulan didn’t speak like anyone else she had ever heard speak.

“You are pretty, Qin Xiulan. Like a flower.”

She had been taught to try her best to compliment those she spoke with. The words slid easily from her mouth, and Kun Si was happy to hear her own voice without the unsteadiness that had plagued it. Complimenting Qin Xiulan’s beauty came easily, because she was beautiful. Kun Si thought that she had done quite well for herself in terms of conversation when the air changed.

The feel of it changed against Kun Si’s skin.

She flung her body to the side as a ribbon of bright red tore through the space she just inhabited.

“Oh.”

Qin Xiulan’s stance shifted from taut to easy almost instantly. Her blood red ribbon retracted into her sleeve till only half its length remained, which she lazily swung at her side. Xiulan’s facial expression hadn’t changed. Kun Si frowned, she thought good impressions had been made. She must have been wrong. Perhaps it was best to try another compliment.

“Your throw, the form was very good.”

Soft to sharp.

The air changed again, from the sensation of loamy soil to a jagged edge.

Twin threads streamed toward Kun Si’s neck. Several inches of hair were sheared off as she ducked, but her neck remained entirely intact. Kun Si was happy at its continued attachment, but she had been slow. She would have to be faster next time. Xiulan’s stance was more tense now, the plastered-on smile replaced with a thin line of determination.

“Agitator it is then.”

Kun Si hadn’t sought to agitate, but it was now apparent that Qin Xiulan thought she was an agitator. It seemed that a misunderstanding had formed, and Kun Si would have to correct it in due time. From her understanding, misunderstandings were a reciprocal partnership, however, so Xiulan would have to do her best to remedy it as well.

“But one with potential.”

There was a lightness in Xiulan’s words, before she drew her ribbons across her own wrists, adorning the room with a spray of her lifeblood. The two still-conscious disciples that had not moved from their kowtow now recoiled in horror, screams forcing themselves from their lips.

“Scurry away, but remember your duty. You are not worthy of my attention now but there will come a time when I expect appropriate cooperation.”

Xiulan did not look down at the cowering disciples as she spoke the words, again as proclamation. Their cause-and-effect had been flipped. If words were the revealers of intention, Xiulan’s words were instead the record keepers. Her intention had been fulfilled, it had been ordained, and now as they were spoken they were written in stone. Her words were a record of the past that sealed the future.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

As it was written, so it shall be.

The cowering disciples scrambled to their feet and fled, dragging the bodies of their fallen compatriots with them.

“The distractions are all gone now.”

Streaks of red poured from Qin Xiulan’s wrists, falling for a moment before gravity’s control over them was suspended by what must be Xiulan’s own will. The tide of crimson reversed, pressing tightly against her hands and writhing till they formed ruddy gauntlets.

And the air changed again.

But Kun Si would not be slow this time, launching herself forward and under as Xiulan sprang towards her. She braced for contact, but Xiulan’s body never connected with hers. The other girl had stopped her momentum on a dime, avoiding Kun Si’s tackle but leaving herself flat-footed. Si would not miss such an easy opportunity, and her blow followed her certainty.

She did not miss.

The strike to the chest launched Xiulan several feet backwards before she regained her footing, blood dribbling down her chin. Kun Si’s feeling of satisfaction was cut short by a premonition of danger. Her senses screamed for her to move, but her attack had left her open. There was no time to evade, so she tensed her body to accept the blow she knew was coming. Her only question was from where?

Pain exploded in her back, pinpricks of light forming in her vision as the wave of agony assaulted her. Kun Si could feel the beads of blood trying to worm their way further into her body, Xiulan’s ostentatious display had not just been for show. Scanning her surroundings, she picked out several other patterns of blood, each a ticking bomb.

Gathering power into her legs, Kun Si took a lightning quick step forward before veering sharply off to the side. Qin Xiulan had reacted instinctively to the first step, following Kun Si’s presumed path with a vicious lunge in time with the detonation of one of her blood traps. The combined assault would have skewered her without her preliminary movement, instead the commitment allowed another opportunity. Driving her leg into Xiulan’s side, Kun Si delighted in the flexion of her muscles as she powered into the follow through.

Scarlet spurted from Xiulan’s lips as she crashed into the wall, but the splash of red almost instantly twisted in an impossible direction. Barbs of blood sliced through the air and found purchase in Kun Si’s stomach. She felt her legs buckle from the trauma, falling to her knees for a moment before springing backwards to recover.

A continued assault had felt dangerous.

Qin Xiulan herself returned to her feet, her once steady breaths reduced to labored rasps. She gripped her left side, a garish splotch of red now staining her pristine white robe.

“Your blood, Kun Si. It’s unpalatable.”

Xiulan’s words were in time with her motion, a swift jerk of her hand causing the rest of the blood traps laid around the room to explode simultaneously. Kun Si leapt directly upward, the only direction not covered by Qin Xiulan’s explosive attack. Rivulets of blood tore apart the entire contents of the room, tables and chairs were dashed to pieces and the walls were scored with penetrating marks. Xiulan had taken grievous injury from her seemingly suicidal attack, impaling herself against the far wall with a spike of her own blood. Her arms were splayed outward, pinned against the stone by the bloody buckshot.

Kun Si stepped gingerly toward her opponent.

She didn’t even feel the air change.

Qin Xiulan’s arms moved at impossible angles, the sound of bone cracking the only harbinger. Puppeteered by the sanguine barbs she had inflicted on herself, Xiulan moved with a speed that Kun Si could not compensate for.

A flower of crimson.

Kun Si felt the line of Xiulan’s strike, cutting lengthwise across her torso.

It didn’t hurt, she only felt the heat of her own blood.

She saw Qin Xiulan looking down at her.

She must have fallen.

“Submit. Supplicate. It would be…”

Labored breaths as Xiulan found the words she was looking for.

“A waste.”

Kun Si thought. She thought on her Master’s words, as she often did when she was forced into deep contemplations. Conflict and consolidation.

Consumption.

“I’d rather you kill me.”

She wondered if Xiulan saw the sparkle in her eye.

“How magnificent.”

Then black.