Suwan snorts at the extravagant carriage coming their way. She takes a glance at the girl by her side. Seeing Gao Mu’s sparkly eyes rove over the far too golden carriage she makes a mental note to teach the girl about style before she gets corrupted. She averts her head so the girl can’t see the smirk on her face when she gasps in surprise as the carriage stops in front of them. Clearly made of ancient spiritual wood it is enchanted to the brim, each line of every single array covered in gold until there is very little of the fine wood and expertly crafted formations visible beneath the gaudy exterior. Now there’s an apt analogy Suwan thinks as Fu steps out of it. With his ever carefree grin Fu lands on the ground before waving a hand towards the door to invite them in.
“Lord Jin, who are these people?” A finely dressed woman asks from within the door’s opening. Dark brown locks of hair fall over a modest reddish brown robe matching the metallic color of the fan she holds between her finely manicured nails. Her face sports subtly applied make up. Overall the attire seems humble yet refined, the sole exception being the large golden necklace draped over her chest. She looks down her nose at them, thin brown eyes glaring at them with barely disguised disgust.
“Fu, you didn’t…” Seeing his confused expression Suwan sighs in exasperation, to think he would invite them along on his date. She barely believes the extent of his density. Even for him this seems a bit much. Song and Gao both look at the man with disdain, heightening his confusion even further.
The man slaps his forehead, “Ah, how could I forget! I didn’t introduce you yet.” He smiles at the woman in the carriage, the powder on her face barely able to conceal her blush beneath her angry pout.
“This is my fiancee, Tong Jingyi. Lady Tong, this is my friend and benefactor, Suwan and her disciple, Gao Mu. They shall be representing our Jin clan during the gathering.”
The woman tilts her head slightly and puts a finger on her cheek as if deep in thought. She looks both of the other women up and down before finally settling on Suwan’s face, the blonde meeting her eyes with a long suffering smile. Jingyi’s eye twitches at the familiarity. Briefly glaring at Fu she huffs and sits back down. “Let us not delay then, Lord Fu.” She replies in a tone that could kill.
Utterly oblivious to his fiancee’s mood he puts a foot on the carriage’s upper step and offers them a hand. Suwan shakes her head and hops in without accepting his assistance, Gao Mu following her example with a pointed look towards the young master. He briefly raises a brow before he shrugs and closes the door behind him.
“So, Suwan, how have you all been since we last met? Managed to teach them anything yet?”
Mu crosses her arms and raises her nose. “Huh hu, This Gao Mu has reached Qi Gathering 8th Stage.” Suwan can feel Tong’s heartbeat quicken. The woman sits just the tiniest bit straighter than her already prim and proper posture. “Oh ho, impressive little Mu, ah, how old were you now?” Fu asks while ruffling her hair. With a pout Gao Mu slaps his hand away. “Don’t mock me, I know I'm slow and I'm not little, I'm nineteen!”
Jingyi’s eyebrows raise before she catches herself, she carefully considers her words, taking the master and disciple far more seriously than before. Fu on the other hand completely lacks the subtlety of his fiancee. “Hoh, you’re older than I expected, why you don’t look a day over fourteen!”
Sweat runs down his spine at the killing intent he feels before he even finishes his sentence. Despite it not being directed at them Mu and Jingyi can’t help but gulp. Mu stiffens. She looks at her master wide-eyed, utterly surprised that Suwan takes even more offense to his mockery than she does herself. Jingyi curses Fu in her head, praying that whatever set her off would not claim her life as well in the process.
“Jin. Fu. Are you aware of what you’re implying? You are aware of my methods, do you really believe I'd accept a disciple that is not yet mature?”
“Ahaha, I did not quite think that jest through now did I?”
Suwan snorts, the air lightening instantly. Leaning back into her seat she shakes her head. “Man, I still don’t get how you’re even oblivious to my spiritual pressure. There’s gotta be limits to density.”
“Oh I assure you I can feel it. There’s only so many times you can get scared by a giant scary dog barking at you before you grow used to it.”
“Ho ho, a dog huh.” She smiles and crosses her arms under her chest for emphasis. “You calling me a bitch, Fu?”
“I’m not saying anything, Suwan. How you choose to accurately interpret it is up to you.” They both laugh. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye Fu sighs contentedly. “Ah, I needed that. Too much work recently, I tell you.”
Seeing the chance to take the conversation in a safer and less stress-inducing direction Tong Jingyi perks up. “Lord Fu, has the issue with the bridge bandit truly caused so many difficulties?”
She decides to ignore the way he takes a furtive glance at Mu and the jealousy it makes her feel. “Nay, nay, I resolved that problem the day I arrived at the scene. Did you catch a cold, Suwan, why are you coughing? Regardlessly, that’s not the problem. The recent instability within the Steadfast Rock Sect has everyone worried about the viability of our route to the Xie.”
He conspiratorially leans forward, prompting the three women to lean in as well. Raising one finger he continues in a whisper. “After all, if the White Rose Sect wins we would not wish to be seen as accomplices to the Shen’s failures. Why, we’ll be discussing during this very gathering whether or not we might cut ties entirely and hitch our cart to their rise. That’s not to say we have to fear them off course, our Iron Fist Sect is more than a match for them after all.”
Straightening with the misplaced pride of someone taking credit for another’s abilities Fu reaches into the ice formation container at his side and pulls out an ornate bottle. “But enough about such serious topics, let’s have a drink!”
-----
“Zeng Jiahao, twenty three years old, 10th stage Qi Gathering. Please advise.”
Straining her ears Suwan can hear impressed mutters throughout the large room. The entire top floor of the most luxurious pavillion she’s seen in a while has been reserved for the banquet, each of the noble clans and wealthy merchants competing to have the most ludicrous outfit. She can’t help but smile at the upside down T shaped hat made of braided gold wire with pearls hanging on strings from both sides, a display of wealth to be sure but a grave offense to taste. Even this man with more money than sense casts an appraising look at the youth on the stage, face looking like he bit into a lemon.
“Oh ho he’s not gonna be happy, the Zeng have always been a thorn in his side. With such a genius descendant the old patriarch might just be on the cusp of his downfall.” Fu whispers a bit too loudly while leaning towards her, glee clear in his voice. She rolls her eyes, pretending not to notice the jealous look Jingyi aims at her.
“Is it really that impressive?” Gao Mu asks him, question marks practically visible in her eyes. The murmurs quieten immediately. Jingyi almost has a stroke when she realizes everyone in their surroundings heard. She looks at Suwan to see how she’ll handle damage control only to see her shrug and pilfer a snack from Fu’s plate. Fu chuckles awkwardly, opening his mouth only for the man on stage to raise his voice before he has the chance to.
The commanding young man looks down at Mu with sharp eyes, thick eyebrows above lending an air of authority to his face. Long black hair tied into a ponytail sways as he tilts his head back arrogantly and points the tip of his two-handed jian at their table.
“Then, would senior be willing to advise?” He speaks in a tone that could be mistaken for lacking sarcasm. Mu takes his words at face value and waves her hands in front of her in panic, speaking in an honest tone that only makes her words sting harder.
“No, no, I’m not your senior. I’m sorry if I said something wrong, I just wasn’t aware 10th stage at your age was impressive, this lowly one sincerely apologizes. I don’t mind fighting though, give me a second to ask Teacher if I'm allowed to.”
His eyebrow twitches at the blatant display of disrespect. Jingyi’s eye twitches as well, embarrassment coloring her face red even through the powder on her cheeks. Realizing that to speak up would undermine Suwan’s authority and by extension her benefactor’s, Jin Fu, she desperately hopes the blonde vagrant will have more sense than she appears to have.
“Eh sure, have fun.” Jingyi’s chopsticks snap in half, a vein pulsing on her forehead. She holds a serene albeit strained smile on her face before she covers the lower half with her fan to hide it, quickly making the broken chopsticks vanish into her pocket and retrieving a spare pair before anyone notices.
Already focused on the fight ahead Mu takes no note of the myriad eyes aimed her way as she stands up and makes her way to the stage. Square in shape their battleground is five meters across and composed of stone tiles set atop a sturdy foundation. Ignoring the stairs Mu hops the half a meter up it takes to land atop the gray tiles and makes her way to the center. She has to crane her neck to meet her opponent's eyes, when she does she bows her head and clasps her hands into a salute.
“Gao Mu, nineteen years old, 8th Stage Qi Gathering. Please advise.”
Now even the more important figures within the room take note, ceasing their conversations and dropping the veneer of indifference. Many throughout the room speak to their retainers in hushed whispers, sending them off to find out more about this new combatant and her relation to the Jin, plots and schemes contemplated before the duel even begins. Throughout it all Jingyi sits very still and takes a glance at Fu, revealing him lackadaisical as always. Suwan seems to borrow some of his uncaring veneer but Jingyi can nonetheless tell she is directing some of her attention to the stage, the moment she has the thought the blonde turns to face her and winks.
<Don’t worry, she’s stronger than she looks.>
For a moment Tong Jingyi forgets to breathe. Sending. The realization that the woman Fu is sponsoring is a Core Formation expert despite seeming younger than them shakes her to the core. She does not even consider that Suwan might have reached a higher realm, for such a thing is far beyond one so young looking nor would such a genius show up here.
The young man on stage greets Gao Mu back before both leap to their respective sides of the stage. The bell tolls to signal them to start. Mu dashes forward fast enough to make his eyes widen. Instantly on guard Zeng Jiahao meets her charge with one of his own and swings his long sword wide to zone her out. Mu crouches slightly, the man's eye twitching at the ease with which she goes under the blade. She draws her fist back before launching herself forward and striking at him. Her entire body forms a diagonal line from the the tip of her left foot to the knuckles of her right fist. The man narrowly manages to twist his sword to catch her blow on the hilt, the force sending him back all the way to the edge of the stage. Coming to a stop he raises his weapon in front of him and takes a more guarded stance.
“My apologies, Lady Gao. It appears I underestimated you, rest assured this one shall not repeat his mistake.”
They both begin circling, each time it seems like one is about to strike the other slightly changes their stance and the attack is aborted. Eventually they both go forward at the same time. Zeng uses a series of probing attacks while Gao dodges each and attempts to close the distance. They settle into a rhythm, each step Mu manages to take closer matched by one back by Zeng. She continues on and on hoping to back him into a corner. Nearly successful she pushes a bit harder. Her eyes widen when she sees the look in Jiahao’s eyes. She turns her punch into a spin just in time to turn his thrust into a glancing cut. Jiahao follows through on his cut and turns to face her, undoing her work and nearly cornering her.
Her eyebrows furrow. She takes a deep breath and decides to go all out. Jiahao raises his hands to the side of his head, sword pointed with the tip forward. His body tenses and he thrusts. His masterful strike has been practiced a hundred thousand times, each muscle moving with precision beyond the norm, a strike truly worthy of being a finisher. The air hisses as his blade cuts through it, enough Qi gathered in the tip of his sword to end Mu the moment it hits. It doesn’t. His strike finishes to find Mu missing, a crack in the tiles the sole evidence she was ever there. She slides to a halt several meters away. Her momentum dispensed she settles into an evasive stance while facing him once more.
“It appears I was still taking you too lightly, Lady Gao. This one has repented and shall cease holding back.”
Mu hardly hears him, every thought devoted to determining how she can win. Her cheeks nearly puff at the unfairness of his reach. At the Qi Gathering Realm one can not channel Qi beyond their bodies however it was rare that a sword cultivator did not bind his blade to him, rendering it a part of their bodies. Mu almost feels like it's cheating. Not only is his reach longer unarmed but now she cannot even parry or block his strikes by strengthening her hands with Qi for he could simply answer in kind and slice through them. The thought of him being able to extend his Qi outside his natural body while she can’t frustrates her. She grits her teeth as she recalls her teacher’s words, an idea beginning to form.
“Gao Mu, you need to stop using that technique, uhm, let’s call it a Qi Blast. You’ve been gathering qi at your acupoints until the very pressure breaks it open and sends it rushing forth. The fact that you managed to do this twice without damaging yourself is a miracle, mess up in the slightest and the backlash will strike you instead.
They both meet in the middle, tiles cracking under their feet as they kick off. They end up a meter behind each other, Mu with her fist outstretched and the man with his sword aimed low. Zeng spins around, his expression strained as his hand briefly goes to his side. Mu takes note of the cut on her ribs, just below the elbow. Red runs down her side as she dashes from one side to the other, zigzagging closer to the man. When she is but two meters away she dashes straight at him. At the last second she kicks off sideways, the tip of his sword scratching her cheek as she does. Using the momentum she hits him with a roundhouse kick in the side before he can get his guard back up.
She doesn’t give him time to recover, immediately rushing in to land another hit. Her eyes widen when he turns to face her just a moment sooner than she expects. She barely managed to channel enough Qi into her hand to slap the side of his Qi-enhanced blade. His strike diverts enough to slice her shoulder instead of piercing her chest. Instead of taking her distance to reevaluate her strategy she sticks close to him, limiting the strength he can put into his longsword. She takes cut after cut trying to keep up with his increased speed, both sides burning through their qi reserves at lightning speeds. Landing little more than glancing blows she decides to leap back after all. She takes a deep breath to replenish her reserves and prepares herself. She apologizes to Suwan in her mind and channels her qi into her fists as fast as it can replenish.
Going with the same move she’s made countless times before she rushes straight at him. Seeing him about to counter her she thrusts one fist to the side and messes up a qi blast on purpose. The recoil sends her careening to the side, yet pulling back her power at the last moment she succeeds at diverting her course less than a meter, just enough to slip past his strike. She rears back her other fist and roars with a ferocity that belies her small frame. Her fist hits him right in the gut, she twists it and looks him dead in the eye.
“Please brace yourself.”
Trusting his capabilities she unleashes her qi blast at point blank range. A meaty thud resounds as Zen Jiahao is sent flying. He crashes down beyond the stage and bounces several times before coming to a stop by jamming his blade into the floor. Blood trickles out of his lips as he forces himself to stand and bow his head with the last of his strength, coughing up blood all the while. Finally he falls to the ground, quickly sitting in the lotus pose to survey his battered internals and fix what damage he can. Atop the stage Gao Mu heaves for breath, hurriedly gulping in qi before she collapses from exertion. The banquet turns into an uproar, nobles debating and discussing what they just saw. It all goes unnoticed to the girl standing atop the stage, battered but not broken. She bows her head and clasps her hands before wobbling. Determined not to collapse on stage she takes one shaky step after the other towards the stairs, Suwan already awaiting her there.
“Well done.”
“Of course, for I am the disciple of-”
“Wan Su!”
The hall falls silent at the sudden outburst. A long-bearded old man flanked by two attendants steps towards the two with barely restrained anger. Suwan’s smile slips off her face as she turns to face him.
“...Zri.”
“You dare refer to the patriarch without honorifics? Unfilial brat!”
Suwan bellows out a hollow laugh. She mockingly wipes the corner of her eye before looking straight at them.
“I am not Wan Su, no more. I have nothing to do with any of you and I advise you to keep it that way.”
“You dare! Theft was not enough for you, now you resort to lies and hollow threats?”
Her hand reaches for her sword. She shakes with barely restrained fury as she hisses out her words.
“You have the audacity to call me a thief?!”
The patriarch straightens and strokes his beard, he regards her for a moment before scoffing and turning up his nose. Raising his voice he enhances it further with qi to ensure all within the banquet hall hear.
“Fellow Daoists. This mongrel before you was once the last scion of the Wan clan, Wan Su. Our Zri took her in as an infant, dressed and fed her for her entire life and how did she repay us? She stole our clan’s most prized possession: The Third Sword of Song Huan, the Bloodied Blade of Song!”
Gasps resound as Suwan draws the blade, its jagged form on display for all to see. With confidence bordering on arrogance she rests it on her shoulder before pointing at the old patriarch.
“Zri! You are a thief and a liar. The Bloodied Blade has always belonged to the Wan. It would never have changed hands had some clan not come to our aid just too late to aid us but right on time to claim our possessions, sound familiar?”
“Wan Su, who do you think you are! Such insinuations, you go too far, cur. Prepare to pay for your crimes.”
The old patriarch forms two fingers into a point, gray-silver Qi glinting at the tips. He thrusts them towards Suwan sending the qi blade straight at her. Fu begins to move before the old man even finishes forming his technique. As one privileged enough to be in the know it is no secret to him that the Zri patriarch was one of the few people within the Iron Fist’s domain to have reached the Nascent Soul Realm.
Remorse flows through his veins at bringing Suwan here, he only hopes she manages to leave this place alive. His life flashes before his eyes, he remembers the delinquent dressed too well for the slums talking down to him with no regard for his standing. He remembers the hand clasped in his own, a promise of brotherhood as equals. The cocky smile when she unwraps the gleaming piece of steel upon making her escape, the slight tremble he pretends not to notice. The relief he feels when she returns unscathed years later and far stronger than before. The support he receives and tries to pay back at every opportunity, resources even immortals would desire. Him, a genius? Bah, Suwan’s generosity is the sole reason he stands so far above his peers. Arms outstretched he uses every ounce of strength he has to push Suwan out of the way, his sole regret being leaving Jingyi alone. He realises in that moment that he truly loves her.
He feels like he crashed into a mountain. Suwan does not even flinch at the full force of his push, she casually swats aside the patriarch’s strike with her sword before placing her palm on his shoulder.
“Fu, my boy, I appreciate your help but sit the hells back down. This is my fight.”
“O- okay.”
For once utterly speechless he mechanically moves back to the table. Jingyi releases a breath she did not realise she was holding, squeezing his hand beneath the table just to reassure herself he is truly still there. Suwan lifts the battered blade off her shoulder, an ethereal trail of red forming a crescent proving its authenticity as she straightens her arm and points the blade at her enemy.
“Who do I think I am?” She asks, tilting her head with fury burning in her eyes as she lets her golden qi flare.
“I am Song Suwan, 8th Stage Nascent Soul, Wielder of the Bloodied Blade of Song and 47th disciple of Song Huan!”
I wonder if that fancy pavilion will survive?
And so begins the tale of the Fragrant Pond Pavillion's rise to the finest in the land, each that was finer accidentally getting destroyed by Song Suwan.
@Jinx The pavillion will probably be fine. Fine dust, that is.
@Luftwaffles27