Optimistic as I was earlier, I didn’t lose my grip on the reality of our situation. We were being watched, always. The Martial Arts Alliance had the means and the motive to do so, and my stunt had just put me in the crosshairs of some people.
I hadn’t outright fomented a rebellion, but even just the suggestion that our primary loyalties should be to each other was sacrilegious enough in the setting of a martial arts sect, where all loyalties were to the sect’s creed, not in any individual.
But what little I had perpetrated today couldn’t compare to my worth to the Alliance. I was indispensable: the Abbott had my back, apparently. And I was involved with business dealings with the Beggar Saint now. Killing me for what I had done was a terrible trade-off, and not one that I expected any of the higher-ups would make.
However, I could recognize that I was pushing the boundaries of acceptability. But it was a worthwhile trade. My classmates needed to recognize that we were a unit. I knew what they were all thinking; each and every one of them had the potential to become a hero useful to the Alliance, and they had to reach that point by using the rest of their classmates as stepping stones.
That was only natural to them. Ours was the most accelerated class in the school, the highest ranked school in the city. No one, not even the dimwitted cronies that Wenhao lugged around, were stupid per se. Just opportunistic. Greedy.
And main characters in their own subjective worlds. Every one of them. That should have been a given, but there were people out there that were easily content with giving up authority over themselves to others. None of the people in this class were like that. Even Wenhao’s friends would have been the boss bullies if they went to other schools. The fact that they took their cues from Wenhao only proved how much more charismatic and dominant he was.
All of us were bred for someone else’s idea of glory and excellence, and while all of them needed to take some time to come to that realization on their own—that their direction in life never belonged to them—the best thing to do for them now was to inspire them to embracing the more social aspects of life, community values.
I was sitting at a round table at dinner next to Mei Ying, and Zhou Hao. From my past life, I remembered him as the self-styled rival to Wenhao, and he had a reputation for being an underdog. Wei Jingshu, in the meanwhile, had always been lowkey. Until he had explosively shaken our internal hierarchy by becoming the Wudang sect’s favorite, despite Wenhao being the most talented swordsman to have emerged since the Sword Saint himself.
Theirs was the rivalry that had been the precursor to the first Civil War, obviously with Wenhao as the aggressor.
The others in my table talked and laughed uproariously. The boys, at least. Besides Zhou Hao was Du Lin, the guy who had become the finalist alongside Wenhao and I in the battle for the Eye of Sages. He was a quiet boy, but a thoughtful one, and could read a room or situation well. He read the situation when we fought against Wenhao, for us to team up with each other to give each of us a chance to win.
Then there was Li Ren, who had ended up coming dead-last in the hierarchy at the time of the sponsorship event, and he had ended up losing what little he even received from the sects.
Finally, there was Su Jian, who was the one causing all the laughs. He was a funny kid, full of life, and interesting to listen to.
As Su Jian launched into his story, his eyes danced with mischief, and a mischievous grin stretched across his face.
"Alright, guys, get ready for this one," he said, excitement bubbling in his voice. "So, picture this: it's the day of our school's talent show, right? And let me tell you, the hype was real. Everyone was buzzing, trying to outdo each other with their talents."
Su Jian leaned in closer, his hands animated as he spoke. "Now, me and my crew, we weren't about to let this opportunity pass us by. We had a plan—a crazy, awesome plan to steal the spotlight and make our mark."
He paused for dramatic effect, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "We decided to bust out a synchronized dance routine to some old-school '70s jam. We'd been practicing in secret for weeks, staying up late, perfecting our moves, you name it."
With each word, Su Jian's enthusiasm was palpable, drawing us in closer, eager to hear more.
"So, there we are, on stage, ready to show the world what we've got," he continued, his voice brimming with excitement. "But then, just as the music starts pumping, disaster strikes!"
The table erupted into laughter as Su Jian described the hilarious series of events that followed—the forgotten steps, the accidental collisions, and everything in between.
"But you know what?" Su Jian exclaimed, his laughter contagious. "Even though it was a total trainwreck, it was the most fun we ever had. And in the end, isn't that what high school's all about? Making memories and laughing till your sides hurt?"
“Fuck you, Su Jian,” Li Ren said, his expression torn between mirthful and surly. “I told you we should have practiced more!”
The waiter arrived with two bottles of baijiu and glasses for everyone on the table. Su Jian immediately lunged for the bottle. “I don’t know about you, but I feel like I have it down pat, now. Will anyone here challenge me to—”
“Sit down,” Zhou Hao groaned.
“Will anyone here challenge me to do it?”
Eh, fuck it. “Sure,” I said. “Before you go on, can I ask what you’re about to do with that bottle? And please don’t do what I think you’ll do.”
Su Jian gave me a shit-eating grin, uncorked the bottle and drank so deeply of it that the lychees at the bottom actually made it over the neck. In under ten seconds, he had killed a third of the one-liter bottle.
He dropped the bottle on the table hard.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
I took the bottle and filled up my own glass, and passed the bottle on to the rest of the table, who were staring at Su Jian with shock.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Do you need the music?” I tried to recall the talent show. He was playing some western song that I had only heard there. I couldn’t remember every single lyric, because I probably hadn’t heard them right, but I could recall the general tune a little bit. I started humming the song, and Su Jian started howling in laughter.
“Oh my god, you remember it?! How can you remember?! My confidence is at an all-time low!”
I started drumming on the table the right beat. While I did that, I took a quick drink and sang the few lyrics I could make out. “I feel like bustin loose! Bustin loose! Bustin loose in the evening! Busting loose make feel good!”
Su Jian began to bob his head with my music, slightly off-beat, but enough to begin on his choreography. “I made sure there would never again be a repeat by training relentlessly!”
The resultant dance?
Genuinely impressive.
He ended the dance on a split and a Michael Jackson-esque shriek to the applause of our table and some adjacent tables as well that had seen the spectacle.
Li Ren slammed his fist on the table and stood up.
“Sit down, idiot,” Zhou Hao said in between fits of laughter.
“No!” Li Ren said. “I must redeem myself as well! It was his fault that we sucked! Tianming, play the beat!”
I took another swig of the baijiu and started humming and drumming.
Li Ren danced well, too. Not just well. To a professional standard. He shouldn’t be so good at dancing, as someone who had specialized in academics, not athletics. And yet his body moved almost perfectly to his mental choreography.”
“How are you so good?” Mei Ying asked, as she herself stood up. “No, this I’ve gotta see for myself.”
She began dancing, but stopped abruptly, as though it was a false start. Several times, until she got into her groove and started dancing like an idol from a music video.
Her dance made Li Ren stop dead on his feet and slink back into his chair in embarrassment, as every eye was on Mei Ying’s perfectly-executed douyin dance.
The table exploded with appreciation and laughs aplenty. Even I couldn’t help but grin along.
This was how life was meant to be lived: by having fun.
It's In The Details: Interior Art for Kindar [https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wEna6T86--o/UT-buNLIw9I/AAAAAAAAAz8/aZy5fbTUYUo/s1600/Interior+Art+Sword.png]
Xinyi POV
Xinyi paced back and forth in her room, her thoughts swirling with self-doubt and shame. After the humiliation at the sponsorship event and the brutal confrontation with Tianming, she felt like a shadow of her former self. The memory of Tianming's cold stare and tear-filled expression haunted her, reminding her of the violence she had faced. The remorse he seemed to carry was so strange, at odds with his brutality. It made her genuinely regret going up against him with all her heart. She had no business fighting like some common thug, anyway.
Why was she being made to do this? What Gods had she angered in her past live to even deserve this? She shivered with revulsion at both Tianming and herself for being so traumatized by him, kicking her legs while she was down, systematically disabling her and robbing her of all she was worth.
A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts, and she hesitated before opening it to find Jingshu standing there, accompanied by a servant. The servant announced Jingshu's purpose of visit with an imperious air.
“Disciple Wei Jingshu has arrived with some items of value that he wishes to give to disciple Liu Xinyi.” He took a step back and stood there, not intending to leave, probably out of some sense of protection, or propriety. Either way, she didn’t relish having a stranger witnessing her conversations, and she didn’t think Jingshu would harm her, so she just dismissed him with a bow of her head.
“You may leave, servant.” The servant, thankfully, didn’t put up a fight, instead pivoting sharply and leaving.
"Xinyi, how are you holding up?" Jingshu's voice was gentle, filled with genuine concern.
She hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "I...I'm managing," she replied softly, her gaze shifting to the floor.
Jingshu stepped forward, handing her a pouch and a Horsetail Whisk. "I brought these for you. There's seventy-five years worth of qi in the pouch," he said, his tone earnest.
Xinyi's eyes widened in shock, feeling a mix of gratitude and reluctance at his gesture. "Jingshu, I can't accept this," she protested, her voice tinged with a hint of resentment at having to be bailed out. Once again. No. Not like this.
He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Please, Xinyi. I want you to have them. Consider it a gift," he insisted.
Despite her initial reluctance, Xinyi accepted the pouch, her heart heavy with gratitude for Jingshu's sacrifice. "Thank you, Jingshu. Is there anything I can do to return the favor?" she asked.
Jingshu's expression softened, and he shook his head. "There's no need for that. You don't owe me anything," he said, his voice gentle, and his cheeks slightly flushed.
Just like Tianming that day, but different. Tianming hadn’t asked her of anything except for respect, and Jingshu too didn’t have any material desires. But the two were utterly different. After all, it had become abundantly clear that Tianming had no interest in her whatsoever, but Jingshu… she’d always held a soft spot in his heart, hadn’t she? At times, it was hard to differentiate that with him being gentlemanly or in love, but the latter wasn’t unlikely. After all, a gentleman wouldn’t seek out a single girl that he would then lavish with gifts. He would have shared this seventy-five years with everyone else.
No, there was no question about it. He liked her. She could take advantage of this.
Lead him on? No. That was a high-risk gambit that wasn’t worth the reward. It would implicate her in time and cause a rift between them, which was a bigger bother than she wanted to deal with. Especially considering a gentler approach could bear just as many fruits.
Friendship. There was no entitlement in a friendship. If he eventually demanded more from her, then it would be his fault for having read her signals wrong. In a friendship, she wouldn’t need to feel pressured to return any of his affection beyond just an appropriate amount of friendly favors.
Xinyi considered his words for a moment before an idea formed in her mind. "Well, how about this? We train together, learn from each other," she proposed. “I have the Crown of Unity, so martial arts comes naturally to me. I’m sure I can help you out with your own training, if you gave me the time.”
Jingshu's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "I'd like that," he replied eagerly.
As they discussed their plans for training together, Xinyi couldn't shake the feeling of opportunity that lay before her. Jingshu was already by her side, but what about Wenhao? What if they all trained together, along with Wenhao’s friends, as well?
All her dread and depression disappeared like a clearing mist as her soul was filled with a new purpose: to build a power bloc strong enough to rival Tianming, and one day, take revenge for having lost everything so early.
Never again would she lose so handily. Never again would she be made to feel so powerless. And when she thought of herself in the far-flung future, with Wenhao by her side and in his protective grasp, so strong and and smart and able to protect her from even the sky if it were to fall... even that dream, that unlikely scenario where the boy returned her feelings... it was enough to keep her going. Enough to continue training and preparing for violence, in spite of the likes of Tianming, in spite of the monsters in the world that would seek to destroy her in turn.