A hush fell. Jang found himself leaning forward ever so slightly from the shadows.
For a moment, neither combatant moved. The air between them was taut as a drawn bowstring. Sister An's sword was lifted in a high guard; Master Yi's hovered low at his side. Sunlight glinted off polished steel.
Then a raven cawed somewhere overhead—an abrupt, harsh sound. It was like a signal. Sister An blurred forward, her sword lashing out in a silvery arc. She was fast—far faster than Jang's eyes could fully follow. In a blink she closed the distance, striking directly at Master Yi's heart.
He met her blade with his own in a shower of sparks. Clang! The force of the impact sent a sharp crack echoing through the pavilion. Many of the Outer Disciples gasped at the sheer speed and power on display.
Jang's heart thumped wildly. He could barely track their movements. The two figures danced across the lotus emblem in swift strides, swords whirling. Steel met steel again and again in ringing clashes that stung Jang's ears.
Sister An pivoted gracefully on one foot, sweeping her blade at Master Yi's knees with lethal precision. He leapt above it as lightly as a leaf on the wind. Mid-air, Master Yi twisted and drove a thrust toward the top of Sister An's exposed shoulder.
Instead of dodging, Sister An exhaled a sharp cry and struck upward with her palm while still holding her sword in the other hand. To Jang's astonishment, a pulse of invisible force—visible only as a brief shimmer in the air—shot from her bare palm and intercepted Master Yi's strike. It was as if a wall of wind had erupted between them. Master Yi's attack rebounded off that unseen barrier, throwing him back. He flipped and landed deftly a few yards away, skidding on the slate.
"That's Heaven's Energy…!" a servant beside Jang whispered in awe. Jang realized his own mouth had fallen open. Qi—raw, potent Qi manipulated with such ease. Sister An had projected her internal energy beyond her body, something only masters could achieve. Heaven's Energy indeed; it was as if she commanded the breath of the sky itself.
Master Yi didn't seem perturbed at his opponent's feat. In fact, his grin only widened. "Good! Again!" he barked, and the duel resumed with renewed intensity.
This time, Master Yi was the aggressor. He moved so fast that to Jang's eyes he became a dark blur darting around Sister An, probing for an opening. The courtyard rang with each exchange of blows. Stray arcs of energy cracked against the stone floor, leaving scorch marks and fine spiderweb fissures. Gusts of displaced air whipped outward from the center, ruffling the bystanders' robes. Jang had to raise an arm to shield his face from the whipping dust.
Sister An remained a centered presence amidst the storm. She flowed from stance to stance, deflecting Master Yi's flurries with economy of motion. Each time his blade came within a hair's breadth of her, she redirected it with a flick of her wrist or a subtle sidestep.
But Master Yi's attacks only grew stronger. With a roar, he channeled his Qi into his sword—dark tendrils of energy crackled along the blade. He swung down in a two-handed slash. Sister An crossed her sword above her head to parry. The impact was thunderous. A shockwave blasted out from the clash, rippling outward. Jang felt it hit his chest like the tail of a tempest, forcing the breath from his lungs. The servants and Outer Disciples nearest the duel staggered backward.
Under the force of Master Yi's empowered strike, Sister An buckled to one knee. Her sword arm trembled as she held off his blade locked inches from her face. Sweat beaded on her brow.
Master Yi pushed down, teeth bared with effort. "Yield!" he growled.
Sister An's jaw clenched. "Never," she hissed through her teeth.
She let go of her sword with one hand, still holding the lock with the other, and drew a quick circle in the air with her free palm. In that instant, a surge of pale blue light burst from her body—an aura igniting around her like ghostly fire. The sudden flare of Qi sent ripples through the very atmosphere. Gasps rose from the audience. The hair on Jang's arms stood on end. She was tapping deeper into her dantian, unleashing more of her inner strength.
With a defiant cry, Sister An surged back to her feet, shoving Master Yi's sword aside with a burst of that blue flame-like energy. Master Yi staggered, momentarily off balance. Seizing her chance, Sister An struck. Both palms thrust forward in unison, fingers splayed. The aura around her condensed and shot forth in a focused blast—an azure shockwave that shimmered like a mirage.
Master Yi's eyes widened. He managed to twist his sword down and ground its tip against the slate just as the blast hit. The wave of energy split around him, slamming into the floor and pillars beyond with an explosive whump. The very ground quaked. A section of the painted lotus design was scorched black from the heat of that Qi blast.
For a heartbeat, neither fighter moved, both breathing hard. The audience was utterly silent, stunned by the display.
Master Yi lifted his sword again, ready to continue—when Elder Choi suddenly raised both hands. "Enough!" his voice rang sharply. "The duel is concluded. The match is a draw."
Master Yi hesitated, chest heaving, then slowly lowered his blade. Sister An's glowing aura dissipated by degrees, flickering out as she too eased out of her combat stance. She gave a respectful bow to the elder, though her fists were still clenched with residual adrenaline.
A collective exhale swept through the pavilion. Excited whispers erupted among the disciples. Even some Inner Disciples looked awed by what they'd just witnessed.
As the combatants exited the circle—Master Yi laughing and clapping Sister An on the shoulder for a fight well-fought—Jang finally released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His entire body tingled with exhilaration and disbelief.
He had known in theory what Qi could do. He'd heard tales of masters who could shatter boulders or create gales with a gesture. But to see it with his own eyes, here, so close—it was like witnessing gods at play. In that moment, the world of cultivators felt like a completely different realm, separated from Jang's existence by an impenetrable wall.
The servants around him began murmuring as they gathered their cleaning tools, preparing to slip away now that the spectacle was done. Snatches of their whispers reached Jang:
"...I've never seen such power..."
"Years of training, and talent besides..."
"People like them are born for it, blessed by Heaven..."
Blessed by Heaven. Jang lowered his gaze to the ground, where charred and cracked stone bore testament to the clash. Blessed by Heaven, indeed. He thought of Sister An wreathed in blue flame, and Master Yi wielding his lightning-swift blade. These were humans, but they might as well have been stars given human shape—distant, shining, unattainable.
As Jang bent to pick up his bucket, he caught two Inner Disciples passing nearby, speaking in low tones.
"Rumor is Sister An's grandfather was a Grandmaster from Shining Crane Temple," one said.
"Explains her aptitude," the other replied. "And Master Yi's father was a renowned warrior who served the old king. Blood shows."
They moved on, not even noticing the servant eavesdropping behind them. Jang remained crouched, the bucket's handle gripped tight in his hands. Blood shows.
In Ironshadow Sect, and across Murim, one's lineage often opened or closed paths. Talent could emerge from anywhere, but how often did someone with talent and no connections get the chance to rise? Jang had no illustrious bloodline. His parents were simple farmers who'd perished in a bandit raid when he was small. He and Kwan had survived by luck and grit, nothing more. They had no family techniques, no secret arts, no storied ancestors. Just a shared name and an unremarkable one at that.