Chapter 6: Sparks of Rivalry
Gray clouds rolled over the Iron Banner Sect, sunlight a rumor behind the chilly dawn. Jiang Wei rose with the bells, the ache of yesterday's labors a reminder that every morning here meant a new struggle. Still, he felt it—a slender thread of excitement braided into his fatigue. He caught Ming Xue already practicing sword forms outside, her movements like the edge of mountain wind, while Han Zhi murmured quiet encouragements to himself nearby and Yao Ping shuffled out, rubbing his eyes and trying to smile.
The main courtyard buzzed with anticipation. Elder Hui awaited, flanked by two older disciples with sashes bearing blue and green stripes. "Today is not for those who seek comfort," Hui announced, his voice clear. "Cultivation means rivalry—striving not just with yourself but with those beside you. That is how blades are tempered and spirits rise."
He gestured, and the older disciples began pairing the newcomers. Ming Xue stood undaunted against a hulking teenager from another village. Yao Ping was set against a wiry girl who cracked her knuckles in warning. Jiang Wei's heart skipped as his opponent was revealed: Su Lin, a youth notorious for his quick strikes and biting words.
"Peasant," Su Lin smirked, spinning his blade casually, "try not to embarrass yourself."
Jiang Wei just nodded, settling his stance as memory and instinct stitched together—the teachings of the Iron Banner, and that odd current in his veins, coaxed by the warmth of the stone at his wrist. Elder Hui's command cut through the tension: "Begin!"
Su Lin lunged instantly, his wooden sword a blur. Jiang Wei barely countered, feet slipping but balance holding. Su Lin pressed his edge, confidence plain in every mocking attack, but Jiang Wei—drawing from the pebble's persistent pulse—read into Su Lin's rhythm: a habitual pause before each high arc, a careless opening in his left side.
On the third exchange, Jiang Wei twisted, letting Su Lin's thrust slide past. He pivoted and, with a sudden clarity, tapped Su Lin's chest with his own blade. For a beat there was only stunned silence.
Su Lin glared, cheeks flushed, but Elder Hui's voice broke through. "Enough. Well-matched. Both, remember—pride cuts deeper than any blade."
Elsewhere, Ming Xue won her bout, her opponent bested by fierce precision. Yao Ping's duel was a comedic scramble, but through wild luck and tenacity, he eked out a win. Han Zhi lost, but retreated with wisdom, minimizing bruises and earning a rare nod from his teacher.
As the morning faded, Elder Hui addressed the group again. "Skills are tested in contest, but character is forged in what you take from victory and loss alike. Here, all rivals. Tomorrow—companions, and next month, perhaps enemies again. That is the way of our world."
With matches done, the crowd thinned, most disciples drifting toward chores or training. Su Lin approached Jiang Wei, his earlier arrogance faded. "Lucky hit," he muttered, but then, after a pause, "Not bad. Let's spar again sometime."
Jiang Wei met his gaze, sensing respect behind the words. "Anytime," he said simply.
Later, under the spreading branches of his favorite juniper, Jiang Wei reflected on the day—a hazy blur of clashing blades and unspoken lessons. He cradled his mother's pebble in his palm and closed his eyes, feeling its warmth as if it drew strength from every test and every bruise.
He saw for a moment a vision: two swords striking sparks on ancient stone, the world brightening with each collision. In his heart, Jiang Wei understood—rivalries were not just challenges, but keys that would unlock his power, his fate, and perhaps the path to ascendancy that waited, distant but beckoning, atop every mountain.
Night came on quietly, the air fragrant with pine and lingering excitement. Tomorrow would bring new trials—but for now, Jiang Wei felt himself stronger, more certain.
Each test, each rival, was another ember set to the forge of his destiny.