Threads 207-Opening Day 5

Ling Qi looked down at the rings filling up for the second round of the preliminaries with mild interest. In this set, there were even fewer people who she knew by name.

Han Fang and Ma Jun were both acquaintances from last year. Looking at Han Fang caused her to pause, staring at the squat young man beside him. Recognition flickered. That was Fan Yu, Xiulan’s former fiancé. She had never much cared for him, but by the end, most of her dislike had guttered out into pity. It looked like he had managed to achieve the bronze physique, if only barely, so perhaps Xiulan’s final exit from their arrangement had helped him focus.

The other person she recognized was Lu Feng, Sun Liling’s subordinate from last year. She had never interacted with him much, but he had been instrumental in defeating Gan Guangli in last year’s tournament and had been heading his opposition this year. She wished him the illest luck.

“Anyone of interest in these rounds?” Xia Anxi asked. “I see one of the grandsons of the Butcher’s pet Lu, but none who might oppose him in his ring.”

Lu Feng was, unfortunately, a match for Gan Guangli at the third stage of the third realm. She assumed the Sun family or even just his own family had funnelled resources to him.

“There is the Han scion,” Ling Qi introduced politely. “We were sparring partners once or twice last year, and he has a good tactical mind. I might also suggest the zither girl in the third ring with bells in her hair.”

Ma Jun looked more confident and less shrinking than the last time Ling Qi had seen her, having achieved a full third realm breakthrough. Her gown was more flattering, and Ling Qi had seen her trading flushed smiles with that other fellow, Gun Jun, as they passed one another in the intermission. She supposed that Gan Guangli wouldn’t let anything untoward happen under his watch.

“What marks that one out from the rest of the early green contestants?” Lao Keung asked.

“She was something of a subordinate of mine, and it looks like she has been both hardworking and fortunate in the last year,” Ling Qi answered. “I only mean to wish her luck. Excuse the personal fancy.”

Lao Keung made a grunt of acknowledgment.

“Does the baroness intend to assemble a troupe?” Xia Anxi asked, amused. “I have heard of the efforts you have gone through to promote your bound spirit’s song.”

“That is not my intention, but collaboration with other musicians is enjoyable from time to time,” Ling Qi riposted. “I have a small group. Would you care to join us in the future?”

“Perhaps. It might be entertaining,” Xia Anxi allowed. She wasn’t entirely sure if he meant it or not.

Below, the matches were starting.

Ling Qi looked down, switching her attention from one scene to another in turn. Ma Jun was slipping behind a colonnade of rock formations in a fungi lit cavern, her fingers beginning to pick out the first notes of a song. Han Fang sped through a forest of scrubby trees in a river valley as a large feline shape emerged from his shadow, and Lu Feng stood in a flower filled meadow with his eyes shut and his arms crossed over his chest.

These matches, Ling Qi thought, did not have the same tension. The majority of the third realms seemed to have been in the first set, although, scanning the arenas, she was quite sure that there were still at least two in each. Many of these third realms were only partially in the third, like Fan Yu.

“What a lovely beast,” Xia Anxi commented. “The black tigers of the east are often reluctant partners from what I hear. The Han prefer the more bombastic breeds.”

Ling Qi focused on Han Fang as his hammer bent another disciple over double, and the lithe black tiger at his side licked one of its paws, streamers of dispersing mist the only sign of the unfortunate disciple’s own companion. She then sped past both humans, a blur of crimson eyes and black fur, to shred apart a crooked tree with a swipe of her paw and a hair-raising roar, sending the disciple hiding in it tumbling through the open air.

“Han Fang is unusual. He is more like a Viper for his cousin, the heir’s son,” Meizhen explained calmly.

“Hoh, how sensible,” Xia Anxi said.

“It looks as if you have a follower in more ways than one, Baroness,” Meizhen continued.

“Oh?” Ling Qi wondered, turning her eyes to follow her friend’s gaze.

In another ring, she saw a spear thrust through Ma Jun’s chest, and the sharp head emerged from her back in a burst of pink and crimson. The sound of a zither and the soft ring of bells echoed in the cavern as her whole frame came apart into an expanding cloud of brightly colored petals and blossoms. Her opponent, a girl with dark hair and boyish clothes, spun her spear desperately, wind blasting away the densest cluster of petals, but it was not enough. Where the whirling blossoms touched skin, they left behind thin cuts and a soporific scent.

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The girl with the spear whirled around, searching for Ma Jun in the cloud of flowers and shot off, carving a corridor through the mass to strike at the shadowed figure of Ma Jun. Again, she exploded into petals, and this time, the spear-wielding girl was too slow to deflect the descending wave of blossoms.

“She’s really come far,” Ling Qi praised. The aesthetic was certainly different, but she felt flattered anyway.

“You must be a frustrating foe,” Lao Keung mused.

“I try,” Ling Qi said. “If I infuriate the enemy enough, they may forget my lady’s saber.”

“A fatal error indeed,” Meizhen said. The corners of her lips quirked up in a smile.