Location: Zephyr Sword Peak Summit - Pre-Dawn
The world atop Zephyr Sword Peak existed in shades of indigo and charcoal. A frigid wind, sharp as a honed blade's edge, scoured the exposed rock, carrying the distant, mournful cry of a Snowpeak Condor and the faint, ozone-tinged scent of high-altitude lightning. Stars, diamond-hard and pitiless, still dominated the vast dome of the sky, though a thin band of bruised violet smudged the eastern horizon, heralding the sun's reluctant approach. Master Mo Tiancheng stood motionless near the precipice, his silhouette a study in stillness against the churning sea of pre-dawn cloud far below. His robes, deep charcoal grey, seemed to absorb the scant light, making him appear less a man and more an extension of the ancient, weather-scarred peak itself.
Gu Qingxi approached, the crunch of frost-laden gravel under her boots unnaturally loud in the profound silence. Chillspring, her spirit sword, rested securely across her back, its subtle hum a familiar counterpoint to her own racing heart. The air bit at her exposed skin, a stark reminder of the altitude and the task ahead. Master Mo turned, his face impassive in the gloom, eyes like chips of obsidian reflecting the starlight.
"Shifu," she greeted, her breath forming a plume of white vapor.
"Qingxi," Mo Tiancheng acknowledged, his voice a low rumble that resonated in the stillness. "The sky awaits. But mastery begins not with flight, but with understanding the currents that deny it." He gestured towards the yawning void beyond the cliff edge. "Gravity is the first teacher, the most unforgiving. Respect it, but do not fear it. Fear breeds hesitation, and hesitation…" He paused, letting the implication hang heavy in the thin air, "...is the true precipice."
For the next hour, beneath the fading stars, Mo Tiancheng dissected the Cloud-Soaring Sword Mantra with the meticulous precision of a master jeweler examining a flawed diamond. He spoke not just of Qi channels and spirit-steel resonance, but of the feel of the wind against the blade, the subtle shift in balance required when banking against a thermal updraft, the mental focus needed to merge intent with the sword-spirit until pilot and blade became a single, unified entity slicing through the air. He demonstrated stances – the Rooted Mountain, anchoring the cultivator firmly to the blade; the Soaring Crane, optimizing lift; the Dragon's Coil, enabling sharp turns. His movements were economical, graceful, each posture radiating an effortless command over the invisible forces surrounding him. He explained the crucial interplay between breath, Qi flow, and the intricate mantra syllables that resonated with the fundamental laws binding sky and earth.
"Understand," he concluded, his gaze locking onto hers, "the sword is not merely a platform. It is an extension of your will, your spirit. Command it with clarity, with unwavering intent. Hesitation is the crack that invites the fall. Now," he gestured towards Chillspring on her back, "summon it. Feel its readiness. Become its master before it becomes your wings."
Gu Qingxi closed her eyes, centering herself. She reached inward, touching the core of her Foundation Establishment cultivation base. A focused stream of Qi, cool and potent like a mountain spring, flowed down her meridians, awakening Chillspring. The sword responded instantly, a resonant hum vibrating through the leather scabbard and into her spine, a sound like a plucked chord on a celestial zither. With a thought, Chillspring slid free, hovering horizontally before her, its blade shimmering with captured starlight. It pulsed gently, awaiting her command.
"Step onto its truth," Mo instructed, his voice calm.
Heart pounding against her ribs, Gu Qingxi placed one foot cautiously onto the flat of the blade. Chillspring dipped slightly under her weight, then stabilized, its hum deepening into a steady thrum. She shifted her weight, bringing her other foot up. She stood, balanced precariously on a sliver of spirit-steel suspended over a kilometer of empty air. The world seemed to tilt slightly. She focused on Mo Tiancheng's teachings, on the Rooted Mountain stance, feeling the connection solidify. Chillspring felt less like an object and more like a part of her own foundation.
"Good," Mo murmured, a flicker of approval in his dark eyes. "Now, will it forward. Gently. Feel the air yield."
Gu Qingxi concentrated, projecting her intent. Chillspring slid forward, smooth as silk on ice, carrying her a handspan above the frost-rimed rock. She glided perhaps ten meters, maintaining her balance through sheer focus. The sensation was exhilarating – weightless yet anchored. She experimented with minute shifts, learning the blade's response. It felt… manageable. Daunting, yes, but not impossible.
"Lu Tianyu," Mo Tiancheng's voice cut through her concentration, calm and utterly devoid of inflection. "Prepare."
Prepare? Prepare for what? I'm the one flying! The thought flashed through Gu Qingxi's mind, a spark of unease igniting.
Lu Tianyu, who had been observing silently from a respectful distance near a cluster of wind-stunted pines, nodded sharply. His own sword, Skyrend, materialized beneath him with a sharp shing! He stepped onto it, a practiced motion, and shot downwards towards the mountain's midpoint, becoming a swiftly diminishing silhouette against the vast, shadowed slopes below.
"Proceed," Mo Tiancheng said to Gu Qingxi, his tone unchanged.
Before her brain could fully process the command, before she could voice a question or brace herself, Mo Tiancheng moved. Faster than thought, faster than the blink of an eye, his hand shot out. Not a gentle push, but a powerful, decisive grip on the scruff of her robe, lifting her bodily off Chillspring as easily as one might lift an errant kitten. There was no malice in the action, only terrifying, impersonal efficiency.
Then came the void.
The world vanished. Solid rock, the reassuring presence of her Master, the familiar weight of her own body – all gone. Replaced by gut-wrenching, soul-shattering nothingness. Her stomach lurched violently into her throat. The wind, previously a companionable whisper, became a shrieking demon tearing at her clothes, her hair, stealing the breath from her lungs. The jagged teeth of the mountain face below rushed up with horrifying speed, a kaleidoscope of grey rock, dark crevasses, and distant, impossibly green forest canopy spinning wildly as she tumbled. Pure, primal terror, colder than the peak's frost, flooded every cell. Her mind screamed a single, silent word: IMPACT!
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—" The raw, animalistic scream ripped from her throat, torn away by the roaring wind. Images flashed – shattered bones, pulped flesh, the brutal finality of stone meeting flesh at terminal velocity. This is it. Pancake. Verdant Peak Pancake. A cautionary tale for future reckless disciples.
JERK!
The plummet ceased with bone-jarring suddenness. Her collar dug hard into her throat, cutting off the scream. She dangled, suspended over the abyss, legs kicking uselessly in empty air. The world spun nauseatingly. Below, Chillspring tumbled end over end, a glittering shard falling towards oblivion.
"RECITE THE MANTRA, SHIMEI! NOW!" Lu Tianyu's voice, amplified by frantic Qi and proximity, slammed into her consciousness like a physical blow. It cut through the paralyzing terror, a lifeline thrown into a maelstrom.
Gasping, choking on fear and thin air, Gu Qingxi forced the Cloud-Soaring Sword Mantra through her panic-frozen mind. The syllables felt thick, clumsy on her mental tongue. Focus! Intent! Command! She poured her will, her desperate need to not die, into the mental command aimed at the falling sword.
Far below, Chillspring's chaotic tumble ceased mid-air. It hung, vibrating violently for a split second, humming like a plucked wire stretched to breaking point. Then, with a sound like a sigh of released tension, it arrowed upwards, slicing through the air with desperate speed, seeking its master.
"FOOTING!" Lu Tianyu commanded, his voice tight with strain. Simultaneously, he released his grip just as Chillspring shot into position beneath her flailing legs. She landed hard, knees buckling, but the solid, familiar thrum of the blade beneath her soles was the sweetest sensation she'd ever known. She wobbled violently, arms windmilling, but remained on her sword, hovering shakily over the terrifying drop.
Standing on Chillspring, trembling with adrenaline and residual terror, Gu Qingxi glared up at Lu Tianyu, who hovered nearby on Skyrend, his face pale but relieved. The terrifying piece clicked. "Prepare" meant: "Be ready to catch Shimei before she paints the mountainside."
"Again," Mo Tiancheng's tranquil voice drifted down from the impossibly distant peak above, utterly unchanged.
Goosebumps rippled across Gu Qingxi's skin. Deceptively serene, lethally pragmatic Shifu!
"It gets easier!" Lu Tianyu yelled over the wind, flashing a grin that was equal parts encouragement and remembered trauma. "Zephyr Sword Peak Flight Initiation! Fastest method known under the Nine Heavens! Brutal? Absolutely! Effective? Undeniably! Shifu caught Master Apprentice Brother when he was tossed. Master Brother caught Second Brother. Second Brother caught Third… Fourth caught Fifth… Fifth caught ME!" His grin widened, tinged with grim humor. "Now," he declared, thumping his chest, "it's my sacred duty to catch Shimei! The chain continues! Pass the tradition down!"
Ah, Gu Qingxi thought, the cold knot of fear in her stomach tightening into something else – grim determination mixed with a grudging respect for the Peak's homicidal pedagogy. A cherished, lethally efficient tradition.
The second flight ended quicker. Shoved off the edge by Mo Tiancheng's implacable hand, the plunge was no less terrifying, the wind's shriek no less deafening. But this time, the Mantra surfaced faster, fueled by the visceral memory of near-death. Chillspring responded quicker, surging upwards to meet her stumbling feet. Lu Tianyu's supporting Qi steadied her only minimally this time – less rescue, more a brief hand on her shoulder for balance before letting her find her own equilibrium on the humming blade.
The third time, desperation forged precision. Tumbling into the void, the Mantra was her lifeline, her anchor. Chillspring solidified beneath her feet almost instantly, a faithful steed answering its rider's desperate call. She landed clumsily, but on her sword, not in Lu Tianyu's grip! She hovered, shaky, breathless, but triumphant. She'd arrested the fall herself.
The fourth time, Gu Qingxi stepped off the cliff edge herself. Chillspring hummed reassuringly beneath her. She guided it down in a controlled descent, not plummeting, until she leveled smoothly beside a grinning, genuinely relieved Lu Tianyu. The paralyzing terror was gone, replaced by a fierce concentration and burgeoning confidence.
Hours melted beneath the climbing sun. Gu Qingxi wove serpentine paths over the back bamboo groves, practicing ascent, descent, banking turns against the thermals rising from the sun-warmed slopes. Lu Tianyu remained a vigilant shadow nearby, ready but increasingly unnecessary. Mo Tiancheng watched the slow, deliberate dance above his domain from his vantage point, a rare, soft smile touching his lips as the sun finally crested the horizon, bathing the peak in golden light, before he vanished silently back towards the main hall, his task complete.
Location: Zephyr Sword Peak Back Slopes - Midday
By midday, mastery had bloomed. Effortless glides became daring sprints. The pure, unadulterated thrill of slicing through the clouds, the icy wind buffeting her face, the dizzying freedom – it eclipsed any thrill she'd ever known. This was raw power, pure freedom beneath her feet, the world laid out like a magnificent tapestry. She landed near Lu Tianyu, flushed with exertion and exhilaration, eyes gleaming like captured stars.
"Shixiong! Come!" she called, the joy evident in her voice. "I'll carry you!" She beckoned eagerly, radiating the irrepressible delight of a child unveiling a wondrous new toy, wanting to share the experience.
Lu Tianyu chuckled indulgently. His beloved Shimei wanted to show off her newfound skill? To share the sky? How could he refuse? He stepped cautiously onto Chillspring behind her, mindful of the blade's balance. "Hold tight, Shimei," he advised, placing tentative hands on her shoulders.
"Huh?" Lu Tianyu barely had time to register the word.
LAUNCH!
Chillspring didn't glide; it catapulted. Vertical acceleration hammered Lu Tianyu's knees backwards with brutal force. He yelped, grabbing fistfuls of her robe just as a terrifyingly sharp DOWNWARD DIVE slammed his stomach into his ribcage. Wind howled past with freight-train force, tearing at his eyes, filling his mouth. Before his vision cleared from the g-force blur, Chillspring zipped through dense bamboo thickets at skull-rattling velocity. Leaves and twigs exploded like shrapnel against his hastily erected Qi shield. He emerged moments later coated in greenery, brain scrambled like a dropped egg, clutching his churning stomach, the world a nauseating smear of green and blue.
Just as vertigo peaked, threatening rebellion from his abused stomach, Gu Qingxi shot them skyward again, carving vengeful arcs through the cloud banks, her laughter ringing out, pure and euphoric against the vast blue canvas. She finally landed only when her Qi reserves thinned, flushed with exhilaration, radiating boundless energy.
Lu Tianyu stumbled off Chillspring, face parchment-white, swaying like a sapling in a gale. He leaned heavily against a thick bamboo trunk, visibly swallowing bile, his complexion tinged with green. He stared at Chillspring as if it had personally betrayed him.
"Shixiong? Are… are you alright?" Gu Qingxi's elation faded, replaced by dawning horror and intense familiarity. Oh. Oh no. I… became Shixiong. The terrifying exhilaration she'd felt mirrored exactly Lu Tianyu's usual flight style. She'd unconsciously replicated the Sky Terror.
"P-Perfect," Lu Tianyu rasped, forcing a weak thumbs-up, his voice thin and strained. "Truly… Zephyr Sword Peak disciple." He swallowed again, hard. "Our flight paths… truly share a soul!" Inside, a solemn vow crystallized: Never. Ever. AGAIN. Protect my stomach at all costs! My own Sky Terror is one thing; experiencing it as cargo is… harrowing.
"I'll fly smoother next time?" Gu Qingxi offered sheepishly, scratching her head, genuinely contrite.
"No need! Perfectly skilled! Utterly exhilarating!" Lu Tianyu choked out with desperate speed, waving his hands frantically. Internal screaming: NO MORE SHARED FLIGHTS! MUTUAL SKY RESPECT ONLY! DISTANCE IS SAFETY!
"Ah! New talisman buyers!" Lu Tianyu suddenly straightened, color miraculously returning as a spatial jade pulsed urgently at his belt. "Business calls!" He vaulted onto Skyrend like a hare escaping a fox, the blade leaping forward before he was fully settled. Profit, it seemed, was the ultimate restorative, transcending mere nausea. He vanished towards the marketplace in a streak of silver light.
Gu Qingxi stood alone, the thrill of mastering flight warring with the guilt of torturing her senior brother. Pride swelled nonetheless. She'd conquered the sky in half a day. A Verdant Peak tradition upheld, albeit with unintended collateral damage.
Location: Cliff Peak Commissary Approach - Late Afternoon
Later, soaring towards Cliff Peak for a late lunch, the mundane reality of her new stage struck her like a physical blow mid-flight. She jolted Chillspring to a halt, hovering over the verdant valley. Foundation Establishment. No Triple Inquiry Hall. No free meals.
A wave of profound, petty sorrow rolled over her, colder than the high-altitude wind. Her precious, hard-earned complimentary cafeteria access – gone! The sheer injustice of it! Her stomach, reminded of its emptiness by the sudden stop, rumbled its betrayal. Eat Fasting Elixirs forever? Pure torture for a disciple who appreciated the commissary's Spirit-Pig Belly Braised in Crimson Sauce. The memory of that succulent dish made her mouth water, intensifying the sting of loss.
Reluctantly, she retrieved the small vial of Fasting Elixirs from her storage bracelet. Popping one chalky brown pellet out, she bravely brought it to her lips, steeling herself. She'd endured worse. Probably.
BLECH!
She gagged violently, spitting the vile thing out over the valley below. Her eyes watered, her throat convulsing. The taste… it defied description. It was like licking the inside of a millennia-old bog mire inhabited by sulfur-breathing demons who exclusively dined on fermented gym socks and despair. It coated her tongue, a lingering assault on her very sanity.
What sadistic alchemist concocted this abomination?! she raged internally, reeling from the overwhelmingly pungent assault. Who decided cultivating immortality required gastronomic martyrdom?! The Ancestor's earlier laughter echoed in her mind, now tinged with vindictive glee. He knew! The wretched ghost knew!
Driven by primal hunger and profound disgust, Gu Qingxi urged Chillspring towards the Cliff Peak Commissary. She would pay. She would pay the outrageous spirit stones. But she would eat.