Steel clashed once more, the sound crisp under the open sky. Lao Xie's steps were unhurried, his golden-white hanfu swaying with each motion as he deflected the rippling arcs of Ming Yu's sword. His eyes, however, were steady and sharp, fixed on the man before him.
"Being talented makes you grow this much?" Lao Xie asked, voice low, his blade lifting with a slow, deliberate arc.
Ming Yu exhaled softly, his own sword circling back into guard. "If talent alone were enough, I wouldn't be standing here today. Effort carried me further than you think."
Lao Xie's smile was faint, but it never reached his eyes. "Effort? Then why not look for me? Did effort make you forget I existed?"
Ming Yu's sword trembled for a breath, but his gaze stayed firm. "Brother Lao, it was never like that. There was no choice—I never meant to—"
Before he could finish, Lao Xie shifted. His body surged forward in a blur, steel flashing. This time he wasn't content to defend. His blade struck like a sudden storm, carrying weight that pushed Ming Yu back step by step across the arena stones.
The crowd gasped, the quiet broken by a wave of voices.
"Look at those strikes—how can he move like that without a single star lit?"
"Ming Yu's sword is like flowing water, but Lao Xie… his force is crushing!"
"It's as if he's been hiding all this time…"
The murmur spread like wildfire, disbelief mixing with awe.
Back within the clash of steel, Ming Yu's jaw tightened. His sword caught another heavy strike, arms straining as the impact forced him back half a pace. "Ugh… your strikes are heavy. I've always believed you were talented, Brother Lao."
Lao Xie's laughter was soft, almost mocking in how calm it sounded. "Talented? Not more than you. I lit up nothing—not even a single star. But you…" His eyes gleamed, the words cutting as sharply as his blade. "Five stars. And above that—prodigies. Genius among geniuses. That is where you stand."
Steel rang again and again, sparks scattering as two figures crossed blades in the center of the arena. Each strike was followed by another—each word carried by the rhythm of clashing steel.
"You speak of prodigies," Ming Yu's voice steadied even as his sword wove in crescent arcs to meet Lao Xie's relentless blows. "But I am no such thing. I've never thought myself beyond reach."
Their swords met with a sharp clang, and Ming Yu pressed forward, his crimson-tinted hair catching the light as he moved. "Even back then, I refused to believe it. That you failed to light a single star during the talent evaluation. I thought the pillar was flawed, not you."
Lao Xie's expression did not change. He parried with a twist of his wrist, sending Ming Yu sliding half a step back. "Flawed?" His smile carried no warmth. "For years, I was called talentless. For years, the whispers said I could not cultivate, could not even sense qi. You didn't come to see me, Ming Yu—yet don't tell me you never heard those words."
The arena echoed with their strikes, the blades sparking as neither yielded ground. Ming Yu's breath caught in his chest. He could not deny it. His silence pressed heavier than the weight of Lao Xie's sword.
At last he spoke again, voice strained as his blade held off another heavy blow. "Then where did this strength come from, Brother Lao? This technique, this power… is this not proof of your talent? Or—" his eyes flickered, uncertain—"don't tell me you've resorted to a wicked path?"
Lao Xie's sword tilted slightly, his golden eyes narrowing, but before his reply could come, the clash of their blades rang out again, carrying all the way to the viewing platform.
The clamor of voices filled the disciple stands, but one corner of the seating remained oddly spacious. Elder Yao and Ling Ruxin sat side by side, the distance left around them almost unnatural. Outer disciples nearby shifted awkwardly, whispering in hushed tones, but none dared to approach. For all their curiosity, they kept their distance—who would willingly sit beside an elder of the sect, let alone when an inner disciple was at her side?
Ling Ruxin sat upright, hands folded neatly over her knees, though her attention never left the arena. Her brows had drawn faintly together without her realizing. Elder Yao's posture was serene, her lavender hanfu draping gracefully across the wooden bench, but her expression carried a shadow of thought.
The clash of swords rose and fell, carrying on the air. For a time, she said nothing. Then her voice broke the stillness, calm yet heavy enough to quiet even the whispers behind them.
"This fight is crucial for both of them."
Ling Ruxin turned toward her, startled, her lips parting slightly. "Crucial? Elder Yao, what do you mean by that?"
Elder Yao did not immediately answer. Her gaze stayed on the two figures exchanging blows in the arena, eyes reflecting a flicker of something softer than usual.
"Their friendship," she said at last. "What happens here may decide if it survives—or if it ends for good."
Ling Ruxin stilled, her breath caught. "Friendship…" she whispered.
"They shared much in their youth," Elder Yao went on, her voice almost quiet enough to be mistaken for thought. "But everything changed after the Talent Evaluation. Ming Yu shone bright—he lit five stars on the Pillar Test, and his results in the other trials were extraordinary. The Vice Sect Master took him in personally."
She paused, her tone lowering faintly. "But Lao Xie… he failed to light even one."
Ling Ruxin's heart sank at the words, and she glanced toward Elder Yao. The elder's eyes had not moved, yet there was something in them—regret, perhaps, or sympathy—that softened her usual calm.
"It is cruel," Elder Yao murmured. "A single test, and the paths of two close friends were torn apart. For a time, I wondered if he would simply vanish into obscurity… but now, seeing him again, seeing how he fights…" A faint glimmer of curiosity flickered in her gaze. "I cannot help but wonder how much he has hidden from us all this time."
Ling Ruxin pressed her lips together, her heart growing heavier as she looked back to the arena, where the clash between the two childhood friends only grew fiercer.
Elder Yao's tone lingered, as though weighed down by memory. After a moment, she exhaled softly, her hands resting atop her lap.
"To Lao Xie, it must have seemed as though Ming Yu abandoned him the moment he rose so high. They were inseparable before that day, yet from then on… Ming Yu never appeared at his side again."
Ling Ruxin's brows furrowed. "So it wasn't just the difference in talent?"
Elder Yao hesitated. Her gaze flickered toward her, then away again, as though reluctant to tread further. "Not entirely. There are matters within the sect that disciples should not burden themselves with. But…" she lowered her voice, quiet enough that it almost blended with the clash of blades below, "you should at least know this much—Ming Yu did not leave him by choice. It was the Vice Sect Master who forbade their meetings."
Ling Ruxin's breath caught. She turned quickly, her eyes wide. "Forbidden? Why would he—"
"Enough." Elder Yao's tone was gentle but firm, halting her question. "That is not something I can explain, not here. Just remember—what Lao Xie felt then was betrayal. A brother vanished without word, replaced only by silence. Whether Ming Yu wished it or not, that was the truth in his eyes."
The words sank into Ling Ruxin's chest, leaving her throat tight. She looked once more at the arena, where steel rang against steel in a storm of sparks. To the others, it was merely a contest of strength. But to her, after hearing Elder Yao's words, every strike now seemed burdened with unspoken grief—two brothers cut apart by fate, forced to meet again only as enemies.