Ban Do had always felt close to the sword.
Not to any particular sword, mind, and certainly not to any of the lengths of steel he had ever held in his hands. No, he was close to the ideal.
It was possible that he was somewhat strange for this. His martial brothers always shot him perturbed looks when his blades shattered and he simply picked up a new one; it seemed that most of his peers formed some emotional connection with their favoured blades, something that he had never understood. From where he stood, one weapon was as good as another – a sword was a sword, after all. The value was in the end, in the cut, not in the means to make it.
Perhaps that was why he got along so well with Kai Hiien. Because that man also cared for the ideal over the substance, if in an almost opposite manner.
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Kai did not think much of Ban Do when he first laid eyes on the man. He had the careful appearance of a garden’s rose-wall; bristling with sharp thorns, yes, but not truly strong. Something that would wither if left to its own devices.
But even as Kai was sizing his opponent up, said opponent was doing the same. He drew his sword with a flourish, the blade plain and unadorned in contrast to its wielder’s painted face and fine robes.
“Are you ready to begin, martial brother?” The words were much like the lips that spoke them: red, taunting, demanding attention.
Kai’s own sword jumped into his hand with the slightest motion. “I am, senior brother. Please, when you are ready.”
The man’s smile was not wide, and it showed no teeth, but Kai could tell his jab had landed. Ban Do’s feet left the ground in a rush of wind, closing the distance between them in less time than it took to blink.
Kai merely angled his sword, and shoved the man’s strike to the right. He gestured with two fingers, and his own wind art cut into the man’s side-
Steel passed close enough to his eye that his lashes were cut as he leaned away. Not his torso. Just his robes.
They twirled away from each other, their senses still grappling even as their bodies stood silently for a long second.
Then they charged in again, steel-on-steel sounds joining the cacophony of the two-dozen other disciples in the yard as they did their level best to maim each other.
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Kai Hiien would duel him many times over the following years. Much more than any other disciple; it seemed that something about him got the other swordsman’s blood up.
He couldn’t imagine what, since he was a delight to be around. “Hmm, you’re favouring a higher block today, brother.”
The man’s mouth was a line. “You as well, brother.”
They exchanged another series of blows, and as he disengaged to strike out with a lash of flame Ban Do frowned.
Am I..? Qi and a chop of his sword cut through the revenge art fired from his martial brother’s right hand, and he looked back on the fight. Hmm, I suppose I have been. Let’s correct that.
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The chamber was beautiful, in a stark sort of way. A floor of beaten copper curved gently under his sitting form, then more harshly a few metres away where it transitioned seamlessly into a wall, then a ceiling. The whole room was shaped like a fat disk, or a very squat round pot, the curved surfaces causing rays of sunlight from the small opening in the roof to scatter and surround whoever was meditating. It was not quite tall enough to stand in, not that one should be standing in this room except to enter and exit.
It was a place dedicated solely to cultivation, and it served its purpose well. With one last breath, his dantian viscerally compacted.
As he ascended from fifth to sixth realm, qi bonding his mind and body and soul together with ever increasing strength, Kai suddenly noticed things about himself he had never thought to question. It was a rush of pure epiphany; his face was smoother than he ever remembered it being, the callouses on his hands rougher, and at some point the holes in the lobes of his ears had sealed up from neglect.
But it was not only his body that stood out to him. Almost equally as obvious were the ways that his own thoughts had changed, alien to the person he had been as an outer disciple. Somewhere over the past five decades, he had stopped seeing his sword as an end in itself, a goal to reach. Looking down to the blade at his side, long and tempered blue as the deep sea, he could only see it as a tool.
It was perturbing, to look at himself and notice details that had slipped his notice for years. When did I change? I can’t see any clear transition point. Do I even know what I’m aiming for, anymore?
He could not answer his own question, which was terrifying.
Kai Hiien sat in the cultivation chamber for another hour, very nearly without thought. Then, like a serpent rising out of deep water, a light shone out from his eyes.
No, my goal hasn’t changed. Not truly.
He stood, his motions smooth and unwavering despite him not having moved for days. I still desire to understand the sword. I’ve simply… matured.
Steel jumped into his hands, and he cut. There was no thought to his motion, but it wasn’t muscle memory or instinct guiding his hand either – he had no words to describe what he did, what force parted the copper wall like soft butter. It was not a spell, or the strength of his arm that imparted force.
In fact… He dropped his sword. Deep Soul, the blade he had cherished like his own child since the day he had received it, clattered noisily to the ground. But he simply raised his hand, and slashed a second time, his palm flat. The copper parted just the same, a long valley opening from ceiling to floor, and the room brightened as more light poured in.
My mind is a sword. My body is a sword. I, Kai Hiien, have become my own sword.
The thing at his feet was only a shallow imitation of his soul. He did not need it anymore.
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When his martial brother went into the pickling jar, as it was known, Ban Do was smug. He himself had ascended to the peak of the inner realm well over a year ago, and Kai Hiien needing to pay for a qi condensing chamber was simply more proof that he was maintaining his lead.
But of course, he set his smugness aside – temporarily – in order to properly play the part of elder brother, and guard his junior’s cultivation cave. It was no great nuisance; Kai Hiien would almost certainly ascend within a month or two, which was no time at all for men of their stature.
And the sect had servants for him to entertain himself with, anyway. Ban Do spent the next five weeks lazing around just outside the chamber, more for the novelty of it than any actual fear his brother would be interrupted. He prepared a number of responses for when the man emerged, ranging from congratulatory to ‘congratulatory’ – he would select whichever one took his fancy in the moment.
But when Kai Hiien opened the sealed chamber and walked out, a dense cloud of qi billowing in his wake like a cape, all of Ban Do’s preparations fell from his lips. An emotion welled up from his gut, curling around his spine with a sensation like ice-water before crashing up and into his head.
Ban Do felt himself in awe, and found he disliked the sensation.
“…A Path? So early?”
“Is that what this is?” Kai looked at his hand, almost like a toddler recognising its own body for the first time.
His blue-painted lips thinned. My brother, such a country bumpkin. With a wave of his hand his newest sword flew from a stand he had set up, and he snatched it from the air. I wanted to turn this into a whole show, but now that the moment’s arrived I find myself not nearly patient enough. The steel, packed full of the best enchantments his money could buy, fit in his palm like he had been born holding it.
His sense flared, and his brother’s attention drifted lazily to the bare weapon in his hand. Then his own sense roared back, and without a word they took their stances.
The sect charged him an arm and a leg for the damage they both caused, but it was worth it. Going all the way to a training hall would have entirely ruined the moment.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
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As he aged, Kai found himself leaving the core sect both more and less.
More, in terms of frequency; there were always more missions than there were disciples to carry them out, and when he was putting his nose to the grindstone the number of times he passed through the sect gates in a day reached the two-digit mark easily.
But less, in terms of absolute time. In the lower realms it sometimes took weeks of travel to reach where he needed to be, but now he could flit from one end of the continent to the other over the span of an afternoon. There was much to do, yes, but the bounds of his power had outstripped his responsibilities long ago.
This was not a coincidence. As one ascended, the time and effort it took to reach the next step increased exponentially, and the sect was well aware of this. Where inner disciples lived much like mortals, in the core sect it was not uncommon for particularly diligent individuals to disappear behind closed doors for months, sometimes years on end. The mechanics of cultivation demanded long stretches of free time, and so as much time was made free for them as possible.
Kai did not dislike this. But, neither did he like it. Mainly because it gave his brother an excuse to pester him.
“I’m telling you, they’re hiding their true intentions. Badly. The main training grounds, then half the medical wing, now this? Elder Persimmon pushes too far.”
One of Kai’s eyes opened to squint at Ban Do’s back. “Persimmon lacks enough focus to keep his own people in line, let alone grasp at power under anyone’s nose. These happenings are simply a prelude to war – with the Darkglass Sect, most likely.”
His brother shook his head, face sour. “Absolutely not. This is an internal conflict – I can smell it on the wind. Goldenseed has been wanting to merge the alchemy and enchantment wings for centuries now, everything lines up if you look at it from the right angle!”
A sniff. “Don’t bring those rumours up to me. You sound like that deluded Low Fot, who tries to convince every passing servant that special operations is populated by devils wearing human skin.”
Ban Do prickled at the comparison, and sparks flew where their senses crashed against each other. Both of their eyes sharpened and Kai began stringing together arts as his brother’s hand went to the hilt of-
They were interrupted by a polite knocking on the front door. Both of their senses reoriented, now pointed at the grey-robed servant outside like a double-line of spears.
The woman blinked. “Apologies, young masters. I did not mean to intrude.”
Ban gave him a sly look, and Kai answered with a shake of his head. Before his brother could do anything, he spoke loud enough to get through the heavy door. “Your apology is accepted. For what reason did you seek me out?”
The servant bowed. “Elders White Knuckle and Winding Wind request your presence in the inner sect. Disciple Ban Do as well.”
Another sly look, another shake of the head. “Thank you. We will be down shortly.”
With a sigh, Kai began preparing a pouch for either an invasion or a coup attempt. Whatever happened Ban would be insufferable, so he made sure to pack his good earplugs.
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Another reality. This is beyond anything I could have fathomed.
And it had somehow tripped ass-backwards and landed inside their mountain. What were the odds? Kai marched at his side, still fuming – almost literally, his sense roiling with suppressed violence. Ahh, brother. So much anger, the moment someone touches the sect. His junior was more concerned with rescuing that unfortunate outer disciple, so it fell to him to see the bigger picture.
“This is probably going to end up killing us, you know.”
“Nonsense. The last one barely lasted a month; if precedence has any sway, the Heavens will have it in pieces this time next week.” So we need to go quickly, he didn’t say.
“I’m not so certain. Do you still have burns on your soul from that mud?” He endured a silent side-eye. “Exactly. And I haven’t seen any priests around, have you?” Again, no reply. “Exactly brother, exactly.”
They spent the rest of the short trip back to the core sect in silence.
But the moment the door closed behind them, he spoke up again. “I’m not going.”
Kai’s nostrils flared as he shot him a look of layered affront. “Do not play games. I’m in no mood.”
“I’m being serious.” The amusement left his voice. “Serious serious, Kai. You’re being short-sighted – the sect isn’t going to hand this over to the holy men without a fight. We’re ticks clinging to a carp as it eyes the waterfall.”
“The Patriarch would not risk the sect.” Not so close to success, he didn’t say.
“Steadfast Heart is the sect. A risk to the carp and a risk to the tick are not the same thing.” Kai was silent, but Ban Do could tell he was unconvinced despite his incredible skills with analogy. “We can go with the second wave. This is basically just testing the waters; once the scouts do their job, it will be time for proper disciples like us to take the field.”
And what if there isn’t a second wave, Kai’s expression said.
“Look, if I’m wrong I’m wrong. But can you honestly say you’ll be any help next to Winding Wind’s kids?”
Kai chewed it over, and after a moment’s thought opened his mouth. “You have been distressingly right about certain things in the past. But if White Knuckle asks for core disciples, we’ll go.”
“We’ll go,” he repeated back. “I know I can’t stop a sword from cutting.”
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It had always been the two of them, from the very start. Even back when they had been little second realm children, it had been each pulling themselves up to surpass the other; Heaven was so far, how could it entice? No, it was always the two of them.
Ban Do started with a lead, and so Kai pushed himself up to third realm.
Then Ban not only matched him, but went up to fourth and entered the inner sect. So he trained twenty hours a day, until he was at fifth, enough to crush his rival to dust when they met again. And so on, and so on.
Kai Hiien looked down at his brother’s mangled corpse with an emotion he couldn’t name. It was not grief or sadness, not exactly. Remorse perhaps was closer, though that word too seemed to fall short. The soul held between his hands still pulsed with life, but it was growing weaker with each second – the atmosphere of this world was poison, and neither of them had enough qi left to repair the body.
Something exploded off to his left, a building-sized hulk of metal bursting apart on the edge of his awareness, and still Kai Hiien did not move.
Qi. I need more qi. He was not ready to let go, would never be ready.
With the sword named mind, he cut forms into the fabric of his brain so he wouldn’t be able to forget them. Then, his dantian began to disperse. Qi came off the crystal structure in waves, gaseous at first but then becoming more like crashing water as the space in his suit filled up. He went from eighth realm to seventh, from seventh to sixth, from sixth to fifth.
But this was not a quick process. The soul in his cupped palms continued to sublimate, dying a little more with each passing second. Its sense speared into him, enraged at what he was doing to himself, but there was no stopping it now.
By the time he had enough qi to reverse death, Kai’s soul was a flake of ash, glowing with only residual heat. There’s not enough of him left now. Not enough to retain his personality. If he had been lower realm even the barest wisp would be fine, but an eighth realm cultivator kept very little of themselves in their brain.
So the sword cut itself even deeper. His arms went numb, then his legs, his body, and finally his head. His sense wrapped up the ragged chunk of soul, less than half but more than a third, and shoved both it and the flickering ember into the corpse.
Then he pushed qi into the channels in his mind, lighting up the thousands of forms like bright stars.
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The man’s eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was a giant of steel swordfighting a more human-sized figure.
Something about the situation was so funny, the way the giant needed to bend down like it was battling a mouse holding a sewing needle, he couldn’t help but laugh. He heaved out great gasps of air, then bloody bile as something solid lodged in his innards came loose. He coughed it all up, going down to his hands and knees, and when he raised his head the fight was over.
The pale figure stood, his armour in pieces and great wounds cutting across his body. Scattered about were the corpses of four mighty giants, limbs and wire-like guts cleaved apart, strange sparking organs spilled onto the dusty dry ground. His arm held no weapon, but for a moment the man's eyes flickered and it was like the limb itself was a blade.
“Kai,” the man's mouth said, though he wasn't sure how he knew the name.
Kai turned, blood dripping from his temple where a piece of shrapnel lodged. “Ban.”
Is that my name? The man shakily stood, his eyes darting around. All around them were men and women in white armour, like Kai’s, mopping up the last of the giants. I feel weak. I must have been struck on the head..? That sounded wrong, but the inside of his skull was too jumbled a mess to straighten out.
I’ll put things together later. On the ground near his feet was a spike of mirror-like metal, a fragment of a slain giant. Something about its shape called to him, and as Kai slowly walked to his side he bent to pick it up.
“You are well?” The man’s voice was weak but steady, like a small trickle of water that had carved a deep canyon over the ages.
Ban – yes, that sounded right, that was indeed his name – hefted the spike. “I’m not sure. But I’m feeling better than I was a moment ago.” The long piece of metal cut through the air as he swung. It felt good. Correct, even more than relearning his own name.
“Then come. We need to get you inside before the next wave comes.”
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Across from them, seated uncomfortably in a too-low chair in front of a too-low desk, sat a man with empty spectacles over tired eyes. He was in white armour, accents of gold and black tracing symbols where the joints met.
There was a woman, too, leaning against the wall. She was dressed more like them; rags, worn but clean. Kai knew her name: Jiendao, one of the juniors who practiced fist arts.
The man bowed shallowly, and Kai reciprocated. “Kai Hiien and Ban Do, yes? Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Of course, junior brother. I assume it has something to do with our unfortunate status?” It was no secret what had happened to Jiendao, though the aftermath was shrouded in rumour.
“It does. Pardon, how rude of me; I am Lan, a scholar of the inner sect, and it is entirely possible I am the most knowledgeable man on the subject of consumption on the entire planet.”
His smile was almost pained – not a boast, then, but rather an admission of shared ignorance.
“Consumption.” His eyes went to the woman again. “I thought those experiments yielded nothing?”
“You are correct.” His smile became slightly more real. “But we used energy that had seeped through the breach for those. It seems that a better environment was required.”
At his side, Ban leaned in. “Pardon, but I’m a bit lost. Amnesia and all that, you know how it all is.” Despite his brush with death, the man’s spirit had not changed; his voice was as playful speaking on his own infirmity as it was correcting a junior’s katas.
Lan blinked. “Oh? My apologies again. Let me start from the beginning, in that case…”