Menma's index finger swished out, and the world split into two. Relying on pure instinct alone, Aaron dropped to the ground moments before a wave of energy swished past and exploded into the wall behind him. It ran a deep and rugged line across the temple wall, cutting deep into the stone.

It was a simple wind-blade technique, empowered beyond all Aaron perceived possible. It contained spiritual energy and Chi—flawlessly balanced. It made his techniques look like awkward flailings in comparison.

More concerning, however, was that he felt a keen sense of danger from the attack. No physical attack was supposed to be able to affect him in this form. Spiritual attacks, however.

Aaron’s mouth went dry. “You can attack astral projections.”

“You’re made of spirit energy are you not?”

Another blade of wind arced out, nearly twice as fast as the first. Aaron half-floated, half-cartwheeled out of its path.

Aaron whipped out a fast punch, willing air forth, but nothing came forth. Uncle Menma raised a brow at the display.

‘Of course, it didn’t. You can’t bend while astral projecting.’ Slowly, he was beginning to realize how foolhardy his plan to delay his uncle was.

If only he’d had more time with Dopi. She could’ve taught him how she managed so fluidly without a physical body. He’d managed to pull it off in the spirit world, but what he did was expensive. He couldn’t continue to abuse White Flash without quickly running out of energy.

Uncle Menma’s hand shot out, sending a shimmering tunnel of air forward that sent Aaron flying through a wall. His spiritual body writhed from the unseen pain.

When he gathered himself and returned to the yard his uncle had disappeared. He took to the air and scanned his surroundings until he spotted him.

Uncle Menma was rapidly closing in on a small group of soldiers galloping away from their hideout with Misha in tow.

‘Fuck, fuck.’

He shot off, chasing after his uncle but his flight was only a fraction of the speed of the much older Airbender.

Desperate to catch up, he layered spirit and Chi and wrapped it around his form. He accelerated like a ball shot out of a canon. His ethereal body turned snow white as he rapidly ate up the distance between them, but it was not enough. He fed even more energy into the technique, gritting his teeth as a headache came on and a spirit-deep ache threatened to knock him out.

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He’d never flexed the technique this hard before.

Far ahead, Aaron heard Uncle Menma speak to the fleeing group as he hovered in front of them.

“I would’ve been appreciative of your loyalty to my nephew had it not come at such an inopportune time. The Monks teach us to hold our vow as sacred. Have you all chosen to desert the cause at this crucial hour?”

Xing moseyed his steed forward. “No disrespect, sir, but I and the boys know about what the old man did to the Avatar. We can’t be a part of that.”

Menma frowned. “Your words and actions do not surprise me, bounty hunter. However, yours do.” His gaze panned to the rest of the ghosts and settled on Misha.

“I have to put my son first,” she said slowly. “As a parent, you must understand.”

Uncle Menma nodded. “And they’re the very reason why I’m giving all of you one last chance. Return to the temple, and I’ll pretend like none of this happened.”

Misha's face turned with some emotion. “I am sorry, but I cannot do that.”

Aaron’s speed tapered off as he flexed his limited control over White Flash and reduced the input of Chi and Spirit energy.

He shook his head. “Then you only have yourself to blame.”

Unsurprisingly, he sent another wave of splitting wind at Aaron. Aaron willed his body downward, sending his spiritual body swinging low as he floated toward the ground. He landed unsteadily beside Xing, who'd pulled out his daggers.

“Go,” Aaron yelled to Misha. She only hesitated for a moment before she yelled.

“You heard him, we ride for safety.”

Uncle Menma observed both of them with an unimpressed look. “You should’ve stayed down, nephew.”

“You spent the last eight years teaching me to do the exact opposite of that,” Aaron said as he assumed a fighting stance. “It was you that said passivity and hesitation doomed the Air Nation. Phantoms should never fear a fight.”

Menma shook his head. “I also taught you to flee a battle when you recognize it's lost.” Menma leaped at Aaron, his hand glowing white. The latter prepared to phase through the ground to avoid the attack. But at the very least second, Menma pivoted and struck at Xing instead.

Xing’s face went white with surprise, but he managed to dodge it somehow, his body contorting unnaturally as his daggers whipped out, one aiming for Menma’s hand and another his chest.

Both blades were nearly ripped from his hand as a seemingly invisible film of the air sprung up at the very last second, pulling him radically off-balance.

Menma’s palm struck out again, but Aaron arrived just in time to rescue his friend. He focused on making his form as solid as possible as the hit struck. The blow sent him skidding several meters back, the white film surrounding him flickering

Menma raised a brow. “Fascinating,” he muttered. And that was when Xing struck. His leg whipped out in a spinning kick, which Menma casually blocked without ever taking his eyes off Aaron. His hand twisted around Xing’s limb, motioning to seize it, but Xing moved fast.

His second leg kicked off the ground, pushing him up and away just in time to avoid the death grab.

The fight had barely begun, but Xing was panting.

“How are you doing that?” Menma asked Aaron, genuinely curious.

“If I told you, would you agree to let Misha and the rest of us go?”

Noting the look of displeasure on his Uncle’s face, he shrugged. “I’m keeping my secrets to myself, then.”

“I swear by all the spirits, I’ll kill you if we get out of this alive, Aaron,” Xing panted.

“Get in line,” Aaron said with great effort. More than one-third of his energy reserves had been evaporated by both of his Uncle's strikes, and his previous stunt with White Flash had drained him even more. His consciousness felt fainter every second he channeled the skill. On top of that, his fractured mind struggled to juggle multiple abilities and skills. Compared to what he was capable of when he was whole, he was like a toddler. Yet, he was determined one nonetheless.