Fang Jingxue watched her prized crane flee in terror, trailing loose feathers like a grotesque plume. Fury, hot and humiliating, surged through her. "Order your abomination to release it!" she shrieked, pointing an accusatory finger at Gu Qingxi. "Your monstrosity attacked first!"
"The instigator bears the shame!" Gu Qingxi's voice cut through the lingering avian panic, sharp and cold as winter steel. She stepped closer, her gaze locking onto Fang Jingxue's with unnerving intensity. "Next time your venomous tongue spills filth, I'll personally sew it shut." The threat hung in the air, chillingly matter-of-fact. Only then did she turn, her expression softening infinitesimally as she placed a hand on Fluff's sturdy wing. "Release it."
Fluff instantly obeyed, its massive bill snapping open. The Heaven's Chasm crane stumbled backward, emitting a final, pitiful squawk before scrambling away, wings flapping erratically in its haste to escape.
Clack-clack-clack! Fluff shook its head vigorously, the sound echoing its profound satisfaction. Its large, seemingly vacant eyes held a distinct glint of triumph.
Gu Qingxi allowed a small, approving smile to touch her lips. She patted Fluff's rough head. "Go play. Return at midday."
Fluff gave a decisive nod, then waddled off towards the vibrant meadow with an air of avian nonchalance, leaving Fang Jingxue trembling with impotent rage.
"Gu Qingxi!" Fang Jingxue's voice was a strangled shriek, her finger jabbing accusingly. "Mark my words! Three months hence, at the Fresh Disciple Sparring Tournament! I challenge you! Prepare yourself!"
Gu Qingxi merely glanced at her, a single, dismissive eyebrow arched. A soft, derisive puff of air escaped her lips – a sound more cutting than any verbal retort. She turned away without another word, gesturing for Xu Baozhu to follow her into the Hall of Triple Inquiry.
Fang Jingxue stood rooted, her entire body vibrating with fury. That look! That infuriatingly dismissive snort! It wasn't the physical threat that stung most; it was the sheer, unadulterated contempt. It screamed that Fang Jingxue wasn't even worth acknowledging as a serious opponent. The sheer, insulting disregard was a wound deeper than any blade could inflict.
Xu Baozhu practically bounced beside Gu Qingxi, her eyes shining with unabashed admiration. "Qingxi! That was… incredible! So fierce! So decisive! And that phrase – 'The instigator bears the shame!' – absolute perfection!" She fumbled in her robes, pulling out a small, leather-bound notebook and a charcoal pencil. With lightning speed, she scribbled down the phrase. "Must remember this! Pure gold!"
Gu Qingxi watched her friend's enthusiastic documentation, a flicker of amusement warring with mild embarrassment. Such fervor for… conflict catchphrases?
***
The Hall of Triple Inquiry was vast, its high ceiling supported by intricately carved pillars depicting scenes of celestial battles and profound meditations. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating rows of simple bamboo mats laid out on the polished stone floor. The air hummed with the quiet anticipation of over fifty newly admitted Inner Sect disciples.
Their primary instructor for foundational knowledge was Shan Yinshui, the Head Disciple of Heaven's Chasm Peak – effectively the senior disciple of the entire Sect. He possessed a serene handsomeness, his features gentle, his demeanor radiating a calm, approachable authority. He embodied the phrase 'warm jade' – smooth, unassuming, yet inherently valuable. A dual cultivator of both Sword and Elemental Arts, whispers placed him at the very cusp of Core Formation Great Perfection, a hair's breadth from the profound realm of Nascent Soul.
Shan Yinshui lived up to his reputation. His voice, clear and patient, guided them through the fundamental principles of cultivation: the nature of Qi, the pathways of meridians, the delicate art of sensing ambient spiritual energy, and the critical first step – Drawing Qi into the Dantian. He shared his own early struggles and breakthroughs with disarming honesty, offering practical insights absent from dry texts.
The disciples listened with rapt attention. Xu Baozhu, true to form, diligently scribbled notes in her little book, her brow furrowed in concentration. Gu Qingxi observed her friend's studiousness with quiet approval. Perhaps beneath that bubbly exterior lies a genuinely dedicated scholar?
Following the theoretical session, the atmosphere shifted. The instructor for the practical segment was a stern-faced Senior Martial Brother from the Sword Hall. His presence commanded immediate silence. Without preamble, he drew his blade and launched into a demonstration of the Nine Celestial Swords – the foundational sword art mandatory for every Tian Qing Sect disciple.
As the Senior Martial Brother flowed through the nine stances, his movements crisp and imbued with controlled power, Gu Qingxi's internal calm shattered. Her expression remained impassive, a mask of polite observation, but her mind raced.
Impossible!
The footwork, the subtle weight shifts, the precise angles of deflection in several of the Nine Celestial Sword forms… They bore an uncanny, unsettling resemblance to sequences within her own family's legacy art – the Thirteen Cloud-Dragon Forms!
No. Not just resemblance. It felt… derivative. Truncated. As if the Nine Celestial Swords were fragmented echoes, pale shadows cast by the more profound, more complete movements enshrined within the Cloud-Dragon manual gathering dust in her Spatial Bracelet.
How? The question screamed silently within her. How could the foundational sword art of this world's cultivation Sect share such striking similarities with a technique passed down through generations in a world devoid of Qi?
"The Nine Celestial Swords form the bedrock of Tian Qing swordsmanship," the Senior Martial Brother declared, sheathing his blade with a sharp shink. His stern gaze swept over the assembled disciples. "Today, you learn only the First Stance: Heaven's Awakening Point. Observe closely. I shall demonstrate three times at reduced speed. Commit it to memory. Henceforth, you will report to this plaza every dawn and execute five hundred repetitions. Diligence is non-negotiable."
A chorus of respectful affirmations answered him. The disciples dispersed across the plaza, wooden practice swords in hand, attempting to mimic the stance they'd just witnessed. Most struggled, their movements awkward, disjointed shadows of the original. The Senior Martial Brother, despite his intimidating exterior, moved patiently among them, offering quiet corrections and adjustments.
Fang Jingxue, fueled by competitive fire and natural aptitude, was the first to grasp the stance's essence. Her execution, while still rough, held a recognizable structure. The Senior Martial Brother offered a curt nod of approval. "Acceptable."
Fang Jingxue's chin lifted, a surge of triumph warming her cheeks. Her eyes instinctively sought out Gu Qingxi, eager to bask in the glow of superiority… only to find her rival standing motionless, the practice sword held loosely at her side, her gaze distant, lost in profound contemplation. Utterly oblivious to Fang Jingxue's achievement.
Fang Jingxue's triumph curdled into bitter frustration. Ignored! Again! She clenched her wooden sword until her knuckles turned white. Three months. Just wait three months. At the tournament, I'll force you to acknowledge me! I'll crush you beneath my blade!
***
The morning session concluded. Xu Baozhu bounded over, linking her arm with Gu Qingxi's. "Lunch?"
The Hall of Triple Inquiry operated on a half-day schedule. Afternoons were reserved for personal cultivation – disciples could return to their respective Peaks for solitary practice, seek guidance from their Masters or Senior Martial Brothers, or utilize Sect resources. Gu Qingxi appreciated the flexibility.
After a simple meal in the bustling dining hall, Gu Qingxi bid farewell to Xu Baozhu. Mounting Fluff, she guided the Shoebill on a leisurely aerial tour of Tian Qing Sect's sprawling peaks and valleys. Partly fulfilling her promise to Wan Ling, partly seeking space to process the morning's unsettling revelation about the sword forms.
"Anything?" she projected inwardly, scanning the majestic landscape below – the cascading waterfalls, the dense forests clinging to steep slopes, the distant glint of training grounds.
"Nothing definitive," Wan Ling's voice echoed back, thick with frustration. "The resonance is maddeningly elusive! I swear it permeates this mountain, yet its source dances just beyond my grasp!"
"We'll search again," Gu Qingxi assured him mentally, guiding Fluff back towards the familiar emerald sea of Zi Lin Peak. "Patience."
***
Zi Lin Peak offered a stark contrast to the organized bustle of Heaven's Chasm. No bustling crowds of Outer Sect disciples performing chores, no dedicated attendants. The reason was brutally simple: Poverty. Hiring and maintaining even basic support staff required resources Zi Lin Peak simply didn't possess. Self-sufficiency wasn't a choice; it was a necessity.
Seated on a worn stone bench beneath the ancient tree in her courtyard, Gu Qingxi retrieved several worn volumes from her Spatial Bracelet. These weren't new acquisitions; they were relics from her past life, meticulously preserved. She ran her fingers over the familiar, slightly frayed covers.
One book drew her immediate focus: Thirteen Cloud-Dragon Forms. She'd studied its pages until the ink seemed etched behind her eyelids, practiced its sequences until muscle memory surpassed conscious thought. Yet, seeing the Nine Celestial Swords today had cast its familiar contents in a startling, disturbing new light.
She set the sword manual aside, her mind churning. Her fingers brushed against another, thicker volume. This one bore no title. Its pages were filled with meticulously recorded formulas – Alchemical Recipes. Many listed ingredients Gu Qingxi recognized from her previous world's pharmacopeia, though some names were archaic or obscure. She'd always assumed it was a legacy from some distant ancestor who dabbled in Daoist alchemy – a pursuit notorious in her world's history for its often lethal results.
But here, in this world brimming with Qi, she'd discovered counterparts to many of those herbs. The manual wasn't just a historical curiosity; it held practical, potentially potent knowledge.
"Hmm? Interesting…" Wan Ling's voice intruded, tinged with surprise. "That alchemical compendium… its contents bear an eerie resemblance to a collection I once gathered centuries ago."
Gu Qingxi's hand stilled on the page. "Resemblance? To a manual you possessed? Here?"
The implications were staggering. A family heirloom from a Qi-barren world, containing sword forms mirroring a foundational Sect art, and alchemical recipes echoing the knowledge of an ancient Demon Dao Patriarch from this realm? The threads of coincidence were fraying rapidly, replaced by the unsettling possibility of a connection far deeper, far more inexplicable than she'd ever imagined.