"Cough, cough—you… you're using that wooden token to lure us here?" Fei Du's eyes widened, realization dawning. Zhao Xunan nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"So, you're the heretic they've been hunting," Fei Du hissed, his face flushing with anger. "Sneaky, underhanded—how fitting for an abomination!"
"An abomination?" Zhao Xunan's brow furrowed. "Where's your proof? Stirring the stars to harm the world? Defying the Heavenly Dao? If that's heresy, then what of you—killing innocents in the name of 'divine will'?" His voice rose, sharp as a blade. "I was born into a scholarly family, raised on classics and propriety. When have I ever harmed a soul? You call this 'defying Heaven'? Nonsense!"
The remaining Heaven-Menders paled, their earlier bravado crumbling. Fei Du, his body already failing, staggered backward. "You… you're no mere scholar. You're—"
"Enough," Zhao Xunan cut him off. "Tell your 'Heavenly Dao' I'm coming. Next time, bring more than seven cowards."
With that, he turned and left, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
At the Tianqi Sect's headquarters, Mount Qinlong, Mo Yin stared at the shattered soul lamps, his heart sinking. Seven souls—annihilated. This "heretic" wasn't just a Qi Refinement cultivator—he was a monster.
"Report to the Star Lords," he muttered. "This threat… it's beyond my authority."
Back at the post station, Zhao Xunan bandaged his wounds and changed into fresh robes. The moon hung bright outside, casting silver over the tiled roof. He sighed, recalling his parents' faces. One day, he thought, I'll stand at the peak of this world and crush the Tianqi Sect like a bug.
The next morning, the convoy departed late. The scholars, still shaken, needed rest. At noon, they gathered for a meal—paid for by the scholars themselves. The guards, who'd risked their lives, were toasted warmly.
Among them, the head guard clinked cups with Zhao Xunan. "Master Zhao, your martial arts… I've fought in a hundred battles, but I've never seen such skill. If you joined the army, you'd be a general!"
The scholars laughed. Zhao Xunan, after all, was the top scholar of Qingliang Prefecture—destined for a life of ink and scrolls, not swords. But Zhao Xunan only smiled, raising his cup. Scholarship and martial arts, he thought, are two sides of the same coin. To master both… that's the true path.
Reaching the provincial capital, Flower City, the scholars scattered to find lodgings. The best spots near the exam hall cost ten taels a month, cramped and noisy. Zhao Xunan, however, rented a quiet, spacious house ten li outside the city—for the same price.
"Master, you're only sixteen!" Zhao Ping'er fretted, tugging his sleeve. "Wandering the streets at night? You'll catch a cold!"
Zhao Xunan chuckled, pinching her cheek. "Come on—I'll buy you cosmetics. Let's see if there's a 'flower wine' worth drinking."
They strolled through Flower City's markets, Zhao Ping'er gushing over silk and powder. Zhao Xunan, however, had one goal: finding a sword. The tales of Su'e, the "Moonblade," haunted him. A blade that glows like the moon, forged in a hidden realm…
They passed countless shops, but Zhao Xunan dismissed them all. "Too small," he said. "Not worthy."
By midday, Zhao Ping'er's legs ached. "Master, if you want wine, just say so!"
"Patience," Zhao Xunan smiled. "The best things take time."
At dusk, they found it: a ramshackle blacksmith's shop on the edge of town. Inside, an old man ground a knife, sparks flying. On the wall hung blades—none glowing, but one caught Zhao Xunan's eye: a curved sword, its metal dark but humming with latent power.
"Su'e," he breathed.
A man in a leather jerkin entered, his gaze locking on the sword. "That's mine," he said, voice rough.
Zhao Xunan stepped forward. "I'll buy it."
The man frowned. "Ten taels."
"I'll give you fifteen."
The man hesitated. "Why so eager?"
"Because it's mine by right," Zhao Xunan said simply.
The man laughed. "Bold words. Let's test your mettle. If you win, you take it. If not…" He trailed off, flexing his fists.
Zhao Xunan nodded. "Fair."
In the shop's backyard, under a canopy of peach trees, they faced off. The man—Sun Shice, he introduced himself—threw a punch. Zhao Xunan dodged, countering with a sweep of his leg. Sun Shice stumbled, then lunged again.
Clang!
Sun Shice's fist met Zhao Xunan's palm, and he flew backward, nose bleeding. "You… you're a martial artist?"
"Scholar first, fighter second," Zhao Xunan said, sheathing his sword. "But I'll take Su'e. Consider it a gift—for your honesty."
Sun Shice gaped. "Why?"
"Because a sword deserves a master who values it," Zhao Xunan said. "You do. I can see it."
Sun Shice beamed. "Master Zhao, you're a gem!"
As they left, Zhao Ping'er pouted. "You gave away a treasure!"
"Treasure belongs to those who appreciate it," Zhao Xunan said, grinning. "Besides…" He glanced at the shop. "There's another blade there. Called Tian Gnomon. Maybe it's meant for you."
Zhao Ping'er's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really," Zhao Xunan said, leading her back. "Let's see what the stars have in store."