The gentle embrace of a cloud wrapped around Zhao Mi, temporarily granting him respite from his snickering sect mates.

The frosty dew that condensed on his bare chest carried relief across Zhao’s burning muscles, mingling with his sweat and seemingly pulling fatigue out of him.

The silence stretched as the vapor passed by, muting even his heartbeat, until the mist parted to reveal the valley below. Pausing his routine, Zhao took a moment to appreciate the copper rice stalks that shone between the wooden pagodas under the sunrise.

The fantastical atmosphere shattered a moment later as the sounds of training returned to the plateau, quickly followed by the snide comments of the fools behind him.

Zhao was subject to all the classic insults, country bumpkin, muscle head, and hairy monkey, alongside a few more creative ones. His favorite nickname, grasshopper, was called out as he performed jumping jacks.

The words fell away from Zhao, slipping off his mind like the perspiration on his skin. Recovering from the distraction, he redoubled his focus on the routine; plyometric pushups into knee pushups, Bulgarian split squats into drop squats, prone w-raises into supermans… his awareness receded.

Zhao’s Qi flowed through his body evenly, making each movement easier than it should have been and revitalizing flagging muscles. For a peaceful eternity Zhao lost himself, until he was inevitably interrupted.

“Brother Zhao, at it again as always!” a deep and boisterous voice boomed, breaking Zhao’s concentration.

With a suppressed sigh Zhao rose out of planking to address his companion. “Brother Tai,” he said with clasped hands and an appropriately minor bow. “Good morning.”

Tai Yang roared with laughter that drew the ire of every other person on the training field. “Brother Zhao, you're always so formal!” he declared.

Clasping his hands over his heart, the rugged disciple added, “Every morning I ask you to treat me as a brother, but I’m always scandalized the next day when you greet me like a stranger.”

Zhao couldn’t help letting a smile escape him, despite the glares the duo received. “Well,” he said, playing into the act more than he should have, “you see it's just routine now.”

Motioning at their sect mates Zhao continued, “Look, see how everyone knows to shoot us looks?”

“We all have a part to play,” he concluded with a grin.

Tai Yang once again rumbled mirthfully before slapping Zhao’s back with a meaty hand. “How true!” he agreed. “Now, why don’t you show me another one of your unique exercises. Then we can spar.”

Against his better judgment Zhao nodded, ignoring the gleam in the massive man’s eye at the prospect of violence.

The two settled on the ground for a workout. But as he was preparing to demonstrate a pushup variation, Zhao paused at the sound of gnashing teeth and approaching footsteps.

Twisting around for a glance at its source, Zhao winced at the sight of Li Tingfey. The young master was adorned in fine silk and golden jewelry from the toe rings on his pedicured feet to his ornate hair piece.

Though the youth was obviously incensed, Zhao turned and greeted Li Tingfey in the same manner as he greeted all his sect mates: a modest bow that could not offend.

Next to him, Tai Yang remained seated while resting on one of his thick arms. The other was indisposed, cleaning his ear with a pinky.

Unlike Zhao’s careful greeting, Tai Yang merely gave the young master before them a broad smile and casually intoned, “Yo Li! How’s it going today?”

Standing in front of them, Li Tingfey’s tight smile faded at Tai Yang’s greeting. “You should know to address me by my proper title, meathead!” he spat.

Before Tai Yang could respond the young master waved his finger in an accusatory manner. “And,” he seethed, “since you asked, it is not going well today because two buffoons insist on disgracing my sect and embarrassing their sect mates with noisy banter and useless techniques.”

Tai Yang chortled. “Useless techniques?” he repeated, his eyes taking on a dangerous light. “Perhaps we should test that theory, Young Master Li.”

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Stepping between the two, Zhao raised his palms. “Please brothers, we each have our own path,” he counseled in hopes of defusing the situation.

Facing Li Tingfey, Zhao bowed. Groveling, he lowered his head and apologized, “Please forgive us for disturbing your training Young Master. Perhaps you could find it in your heart to pardon our insolence.”

Unfortunately, from the ground Tai Yang let loose riotous applause as he rose and mimicked Zhao in an exaggerated bow. With a burning face he contorted Zhao’s words to match his perception of the interaction by saying, “Yes, Young Master Li please forgive us- and our parents- oh, and our ancestors too please!”

Zhao stopped himself from slapping the brute, and instead made a decision upon seeing the stony look of Li Tingfey. “Allow this lowly one to accept some pointers from his superior on behalf of his foolish brother.”

In his mind, he imagined that a light spar that ended amicably would result in less resentment than the bull that was Tai Yang breaking Li Tingfey in half over petty insults.

Apparently, Zhao’s phrasing had helped offset the slight in Tai Yang’s words as Li Tingfey’s trembling hand stilled. “Of course,” he said with a cruel smile. “I will deign to teach you a lesson. Choose your weapon.”

Giving his most pleasant smile, Zhao placed a hand on Tai Yang’s shoulder. The latter’s already opened mouth snapped shut, another incorrigible outburst locked away.

“I practice unarmed combat, Young Master,” Zhao said honestly.

Li Tingey’s smirk only widened at the declaration. He quickly waved over the senior disciple on duty to supervise their match.

Tai Yang leaned down to Zhao and asked him to ‘beat the bastard silly’ before stepping back as the two combatants took their customary places facing one another and bowed.

Around them every disciple on the plateau had sidelined their training, while some new spectators rushed up the mountain stairs to crowd around the edges of the training ground after having been informed of the brewing fight.

Bodies clad in blue robes tightened to form a circle around the edges of the plateau, and Zhao had an inkling that he had lost control of the situation.

The senior disciple recited the rules, but Zhao wasn’t listening as blood pounded against his eardrums.

Despite appearances, he certainly did not enjoy fighting. In Zhao’s experience it was a necessary skill to have, whether in this cultivation world or his last. It would have been foolish not to know how to defend oneself.

Zhao paused at the thought, questioning why he had put himself between Tai Yang and Li Tingfey. The action was a major violation of his self imposed Golden Rule against interacting with those whom Zhao deemed 'important characters' in the world he found himself in.

He belatedly realized that training with Tai Yang was already a minor violation of that critical rule. Before Zhao could question how he had made such an oversight, his ears caught the disciple refereeing their brawl exclaiming a start to the violence, causing his burgeoning self justifications to cease as the fight started.

His racing thoughts vanished as Li Tingfey’s bare feet shifted unnaturally across the ground. A movement art brought him to Zhao in seconds, his bejeweled blade similarly quick in its draw.

Zhao ducked under a strike that would have taken his head off and swept a leg out towards Li Tingfey.

In a display of skill, Li Tingfey stepped over the sweeping gesture before bringing his sword down in a strike reminiscent of scything grass.

Surprised, Zhao rolled away from the blow but found himself pursued with a repeated strike. Again he dodged, and again the same strike followed.

And again, and again.

From the audience that had surrounded the duel Tai Yang’s unmistakable laughter rang, eliciting a frustrated roar from Li Tingfey.

“Get up off the ground you miscreant!” he raved. “How dare you make a fool out of me!”

Obviously irate, Li Tingfey closed the distance between them and stabbed down towards Zhao.

Instead of backing away, Zhao shifted closer to his opponent and kicked up while pushing off the ground with his hands, successfully breaking Li Tingfey’s grip on his sword.

Before it could be recovered Zhao swept the sword off the field towards Tai Yang’s boisterous cheering of, “Hell yeah Zhao, beat his ass!”

Li Tingfey disengaged after losing his weapon, uncertainty warring against pride on his young face. Zhao barreled down on him, and the scion’s ego forced him to meet the charge head on.

Fists flew for a handful of seconds, all deflected or dodged until Li overextended himself.

A fist connected with Li Tingfey’s charming face with a crunch that knocked him over.

There was suddenly a flash of light, heralding a spike of adrenaline that muddled the pace of time.

Wide eyes took in the spectacle of their fight, the cheering onlookers rejoicing at Zhao’s strike.

Blurring, the senior disciple rushed forward to impose himself between the fighters.

In front of him, Zhao watched in horror as a golden mist glowing with Qi far more powerful than Li Tingfey’s cultivation enveloped him in agony.

The victorious young man’s vision went black before he could process what was happening.

As his consciousness faded, Zhao concentrated on the question of why he had intervened between a battle maniac and a young master in spite of his self imposed rule.

The answer came to him easily. For all his faults, Zhao considered Tai Yang a friend.