oAi Mingxia gave the blunted spear she had been loaned a little spin. A bit more unwieldy compared to Taoyun, and certainly if compared to Hongmei, but usable. 

She hadn’t sparred for a long while, but it should be a good way to test just how much her Spring Gale Breath art had improved. She certainly felt like she had gotten much better, but she couldn’t really know until she tried, since she had promptly up and forgotten she could cultivate whenever she was in combat up until now. 

Si Ma Zhilian stood impassively next to her, a blunted training sword in her left hand. Opposite to them stood Guo Qiuyue and Luo Yanmei, both wielding practice swords in their right. Guo Qiuyue’s long hair, silky and unbraided, hung down his back, while Luo Yanmei’s brown hair had been tied up into a tall ponytail. Tall, muscly, and scattered with scars, Luo Yanmei certainly looked more threatening to the untrained eye, but Guo Qiuyue’s pristine yellow robes glimmered slightly in the air, and the poised confidence in which he held his sword promised a good fight.

Upon their arrival to the lessons, the two pairs had instantly been pitted against each other as they were almost exactly matched in terms of cultivation. Ai Mingxia could see the other disciples whispering excitedly to each other, some already taking bets. After all, Si Ma Zhilian and Guo Qiuyue were amongst the only four to have already surpassed Blossom, and Si Ma Zhilian especially was the recent talk of the town, as she rarely attended lessons and her earlier … stunt.

Ai Mingxia was the only spear wielder, which meant she’d probably be able to suppress Luo Yanmei even while holding back to seem only above-average at using it; she wouldn’t want Si Ma Zhilian to notice and be suspicious of the skill that she definitely shouldn’t have. Spears were rare amongst the cultivational world, most preferring swords, or less commonly sabres, in melee for a multitude of reasons: swords were more convenient to carry around, they were easier to ride in the air, they were more flashy and allowed for more flourish, and they were rare amongst the normal folk. Ai Mingxia had only learnt it from such a young age instead of the sword because her father had not thought her worthy of a sword. She couldn’t cultivate, so he’d deemed her to be of ‘the common rabble'.

However, despite Ai Mingxia probably outclassing Luo Yanmei at physical fighting, Luo Yanmei was probably much better at actually using cultivation in a fight even if they had roughly the same level of it. Still, Ai Mingxia had grown up alongside and then slaughtered cultivators for centuries. 

Elder Kang, standing at the side with his arms crossed and robes sweeping across the floor, spoke up. “When one receives a strike that I deem would be fatal with a real weapon, or enough small strikes have accumulated that it would be fatal, one shall be eliminated. No talismans, daggers, or other potential weapons that you have on you can be used. Are you ready?”
Si Ma Zhilian nodded slightly, gripping her weapon tighter in her hand. Ai Mingxia did the same.

“We’re ready,” Guo Qiuyue said, a note of excitement in his voice. Ai Mingxia could feel some brewing within her as well despite herself.

“Then, begin.” 

As soon as the words left Elder Kang’s mouth, Guo Qiuyue rushed towards Si Ma Zhilian, sparks of blue thunder already spilling out his hands and channelling through his blade. The brown-haired girl dodged the sword glare with a giant leap, a large flurry of wind propelling her into the air.

It seemed it was devolving into solo duels, then. Ai Mingxia had never been much good at fighting with others.

A smile spreading on her face despite herself, Ai Mingxia made her way across to Luo Yanmei in a few bounding steps. The other girl’s brows were furrowed in concentration, a faint green light pulsating. The art of the Hundred Tree Fortress. Her eyes widened as she saw Ai Mingxia’s spear pointed at her chest, and she only barely blocked it.

They quickly fell into a routine of block and slash and thrust and parry, Ai Mingxia’s steps fast, wide, and unceasing as the wind boosting her steps at an almost childish gait, Luo Yanmei’s defence as sturdy as the trees the art derived from. Neither’s moves were particularly well polished, nor could their clash be deemed a dance. She never took her eyes off Si Ma Zhilian and Guo Qiuyue pirouetting about in the air in bursts of wind, ice, and thunder, the true epitome of cultivational sparring. Ai Mingxia could hear the other disciples gasping in awe.

Luo Yanmei stepped forward uncharacteristically, sword sending out a blaze of fire. A feint. Ai Mingxia dodged instantly, and then propelled herself into the air to avoid the roots that came for her feet. Sending more gusts of wind through her hands, she sent herself into a horizontal position. 

Spring Gale Breath was a simple art, largely only focusing on granting the user fleetness of foot and quickness of action. But even the most simple of arts had their depths, and Spring Gale Breath especially so; Qi Niao had shown her that. And she’d always wanted to try this. 

Releasing the by far strongest burst of qi so far, Ai Mingxia propelled upwards towards where Guo Qiuyue would soon be. It was the strongest release she’d need for a while: after that, her momentum would guide her. 

Her spear found purchase on Guo Qiuyue’s metal sword. As she had expected. Pushing off of it, she sent herself back towards the place where she was last, before letting go of the spear and falling to the ground with a kick before she even looked. 

“What the fuck?” Luo Yanmei struck at her, but Ai Mingxia, still mid-air, grabbed the taller girl’s sword and pushed it right into her. The taller girl made a sound of surprise as the handle of her own sword jutted right into her stomach and she fell over. Ai Mingxia finally succumbed to gravity, but so did her spear. It lanced straight into Luo Yanmei’s stomach before clattering to the ground.

“Luo Yanmei, out.” 

The taller girl laid exhausted on the floor. Ai Mingxia swiftly picked the spear up, ignoring the sounds of cheering. Upwards, Si Ma Zhilian and Guo Qiuyue seemed to be at a stalemate, but without Luo Yanmei’s Hundred Tree Fortress, he’d tire quickly. Using fire, lightning, and a few periodic bursts of wind to keep up with his opponent at once wasn’t particularly sustainable after all. On the other hand, Si Ma Zhilian had only been using her wind to lead Guo Qiuyue around the air and occasionally defend from his blows, only going on the offence with her sword. Si Ma Zhilian’s mastery of wind was truly nothing to scoff at, probably the variations of Spring Gale Breath. There was a reason Ai Mingxia hadn’t disposed of her already.

Pulling her sleeve back down over her wrist before anybody could take closer notice, Ai Mingxia wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, since Si Ma Zhilian should probably be able to defeat him as soon as he slowed and trying to join in would probably interfere instead. Past the pounding in her ears, she could hear the sound of cheering. She was sure there were a few sighs of disappointment, but they were all drowned out. 

Only a few seconds later, Guo Qiuyue fell to the ground. Hard. Even Ai Mingxia winced slightly. It must be painful.

“Guo Qiuyue, out. The victors are Si Ma Zhilian and Liu Xiuying,” Elder Kang said calmly, ignoring the uproar coming from the seated disciples. “Thank you for an excellent show of growth. The four of you, please sit down.”

Si Ma Zhilian gracefully descended, hair and robes rippling majestically. Guo Qiuyue rubbed his head and groaned slightly, Luo Yanmei giving a small chuckle. Ai Mingxia found a gap in the crowd and sat there, watching the next spars quietly.

The day passed quickly, shadows soon falling. 

After dinner, Ai Mingxia and Si Ma Zhilian walked together quietly to the housing terrace a bit ways back from the rest of the disciples. Ai Mingxia hadn’t made much headway in figuring out whether Liu Xiuying had been hallucinating Si Ma Zhilian hurting her, but in the end, it didn't really matter, did it?

The sky stretched above, large and yawning. She could hear Luo Yanmei's choppy laughter ahead of her, Guo Qiuyue's genial chuckle, Wu Jianzhu's loud groan, and Lei Chonglin's faint one. Sighing, she lowered her gaze. The path she took now was smooth and well-trodden. More so than before. In the past, she had sometimes walked it with others … But often still alone. 

She absently hummed a few notes of a song she didn’t remember the rest of. She felt as though she should, but when she searched in the endless abyss of her memory, she could think of nothing. The melody was a planitative one, slow and mourning. Forlorn. Wanting. 

Out of a sudden, Si Ma Zhilian’s sword clattered to the floor. Ai Mingxia waited for her to pick it up, but it was as if the other girl was frozen in place. Ai Mingxia looked towards the sword, considering whether she should pick it up instead.

Her breath caught in her throat.

On the other side of Si Ma Zhilian’s otherwise fairly ordinary ornate hilt, the words Yue Niao were carved messily. She had been able to tell there were words on the other side, but she hadn’t seen been able to recognize them before —

How… How did Si Ma Zhilian have this? 

Qi Niao had promised — Well. It was no wonder she hadn’t kept it. No wonder at all.

After all, Ai Mingxia had stabbed her in the back and then became the cultivational world’s enemy. As chief cultivator, she had to hate Ai Mingxia. As somebody betrayed …

Of course she did. 

Maybe she had thrown the sword into a river, or sold it to a merchant for a few pieces of gold. Maybe she had tossed it into the sky, or simply into a rotting slum.

…

Si Ma Zhilian finally bent down and picked it up, almost cradling it in her arms. “Ah. This is Yueniao, a precious relic of the past.” She really didn’t know just how much those words rang true. If only… 

“Where did you get it?” Ai Mingxia asked despite herself.

“Somebody I love dearly once gave it to me,” Si Ma Zhilian replied slowly, almost as if savouring the words. A gentle breeze blew her hair, the faintest hint of moonlight washing over her.

Ai Mingxia had forged it and given it to Qi Niao so long ago… But Qi Niao definitely didn't love her dearly. Not anymore. 

“Who?” The words came out her mouth before she could stop them.

Si Ma Zhilian sighed. It was long and mournful, her whole being seeming to sink. “We do not speak anymore, and I haven’t seen her for a long while.” She paused, staring at the sky. Black, cloudless, and flat almost like fabric, stars embroidering it fully and a thin moon hanging still casting little light. 

Qi Niao had once told her that if the sky was clear enough and the dark deep enough, you could look up and catch a glimpse of the Moon God in her court of stars. She pointed at the full moon then. Ai Mingxia had looked at her hand instead.

So softly that Ai Mingxia almost didn’t hear her, Si Ma Zhilian spoke again: “I wish I could, but I doubt I will again.”

She might be acting, but Ai Mingxia wasn’t. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply hoped the darkness masked how artificial she looked, hoped Si Ma Zhilian couldn’t see her digging a nail into her palm.

And if a single tear fell down her face in the velvet of the night …

The moon was her only witness.

The pacing's kinda wack, I won't lie.