Threads 22-Duels 2

“We begin now the challenge between Disciple 812, Ling Qi, and Disciple 790, Liang He.” The presiding elder was a short, rotund man with a wide, friendly face, a faint golden sheen to his skin, and drowsy, half-lidded eyes. He spoke in a cheerful drawl.

“In accordance with Sect rules, Disciple Liang He has chosen a challenge of direct combat. Let both competitors be at ease that this humble elder shall not allow either of you to come to permanent harm,” the elder continued, baring his teeth in a smile that stretched just a touch too wide. “This one hopes to see both of your youthful spirits released to their fullest extent.”

Ling Qi offered a respectful bow to the elder, just as her opponent did across the field from her. Liang He was a young man seemingly cut from the same mold as Kang Zihao. Well, that was unfair, Ling Qi supposed as she straightened back up and met her opponent’s steady gaze. She would compare him to Han Jian instead. He was tall and handsome with aquiline features and a serious mien. He had short cropped dark hair and grey eyes, though they were hardly visible at the moment.

Aside from his flowing silver robes, today, Liang He wore a featureless jade mask with dark smoked lenses that prevented her from seeing his eyes. A loose hood attached to the rest of his robes concealed the rest of his head. He hadn’t been wearing that yesterday when she had met him and made her challenge, nor had she heard anything about him wearing such a thing in the past. It must be some sort of talisman, but she couldn’t be sure of its function without a closer examination.

Despite the unwelcome surprise, Ling Qi could not help but feel a thrill of excitement. She was glad that she had made this choice. The urge to test how much she had grown in battle was strong. It would be nice to engage in a match where there was no previous enmity or resentment coloring things. She thought back to the previous day when she had met the boy to make her challenge.

When Ling Qi had straightened up, after having politely delivered her challenge to the young man as he exited the sealed training field she had tracked him to, she had found Liang He smiling earnestly as he bowed in return, clasping his hands in front of his chest. “It would be my honor to test my blade against you, Lady Ling! I am certain you have only grown stronger since your display of prowess in the New Year’s Tournament. I only hope that this humble swordsman does not disappoint.”

Ling Qi tried to ignore the way her cheeks heated at the praise…

<Stop embellishing, Sixiang,> Ling Qi thought sternly, keeping her expression even as she scolded the muse.

<Oh, c’mon, he’s cute, and he’s shaped just the way you like, too,> Sixiang complained.

<How do you even know that? He was wearing those billowy robes yesterday too,> Ling Qi thought in exasperation.

Sixiang scoffed silently. <Like that’ll stop me. The wind gets everywhere, you know?>

Through a great effort of will Ling Qi prevented her eyebrow from twitching. She almost felt her cheeks catch on fire as the elder shot her a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. Thankfully, her opponent was oblivious to her inner turmoil, merely sliding into a strong advancing stance as he drew the long straight sword from his storage ring in a flash of light. There was no sign of his spirit beast yet.

“The rules of this duel shall be simple,” the elder announced. “As requested by the challenged, there shall be no restriction on weapons, techniques, or spirit beasts. However, the duel shall be limited to this field and the space fifty meters above and below. This elder shall enforce the boundary fairly in a manner that shall prevent disruption of the duel. Are both duelists prepared?”

Ling Qi glanced around the wide grassy field and the stone boundary markers which marked its edge. The arena was one hundred fifty meters long and one hundred wide. Plenty of space to work with, even if she couldn’t just soar up out of range with her gown. Their starting positions were eighty meters apart, giving them plenty of room to fall back if they desired. It was as fair a field as any competitor could hope for.

This wasn’t necessarily great for her, but it was expected. With a flick of her wrist, Ling Qi drew her flute from storage. “I am ready, Honored Elder,” she said, echoing her opponent from across the field.

She put Sixiang’s teasing out of mind, and recognizing that the time for it was over, the muse desisted. This would be her first duel with her completed arts and new arts alike. She needed to test her abilities and see how far she could go now. Many challenges lay in the coming days, not the least of which was the situation with her mentor, and she needed to keep rising rapidly up the ranks to meet the goals set for her by the Duchess. Though a failure in a rank challenge would not be the end for her, she had too much to lose to stop striving with all her determination toward victory.

“Begin!”

As the elder’s voice rang out and his hand chopped down, the field exploded into motion.

Ling Qi raised her flute to her lips, and the first notes began to ring out, releasing the first strands of thick and cloying mist. Her opponent, Liang He, took a single step and blurred. There was a sharp crack as the field split open like it had been carved through by a giant’s knife, sending an explosion of dirt and rock outward.

Feeling a thrill of alarm and excitement, Ling Qi flooded her limbs with vital qi, activating her Deepwood Vitality technique just in time for the gleaming emerald light to intercept the diagonal slash that would have taken her full across the chest. Even through her defensive qi, she felt the impact and used its momentum to push her leap backward, sparing herself a wound as her defensive technique shattered. A streak of rainbow light caught her eye, and she twisted to the side, mostly avoiding the hiltless blade that carved through the air, glancing off the dark silk of her gown in a shower of sparking qi.

Ling Qi could feel Liang He’s spirit of burning skies resolving above her, thrumming with a heated joy for battle, but he had failed to stop her. Even as she dodged, she had never stopped playing. Her mist spread hungrily, drinking in the warm afternoon sunlight and casting the field in shadow, swiftly engulfing her opponent in the time it took him to bring his sword back up into a guard position. Her flying sword shot out in a spiralling flight, singing a ghostly echo of her melody, and he batted it aside as its blade reached for his heart. Ling Qi could feel the wispy strands of qi that clung to his sword and his hands though, ready to be strummed when the time was right.

Then a shrieking cry rang in her ears, echoing and reverberating as if to shake apart her skull until Sixiang’s comforting qi flooded out to wash it away. A burning white shape carved through her neck, and she burst into shadows, reforming a half meter to her right with no more than a few blisters marking where Liang He’s spirit beast’s wings had brushed her neck.

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She caught a brief glimpse of the falcon then. It was tiny for a spirit beast, only a half meter from wing tip to wing tip, but the plumes of its wings burned with blue fire even as its technique faded and it beat its wings to regain height. Liang He did not waste his partner’s opening. She felt his qi, sharp and brilliant, flare outward, and where he moved, her mist parted. It was a bizarre sensation to feel someone cut her mist, not with wind pressure or physical force but on a deeper, conceptual level. For an instant, in a line between where he had stood and her current position, the sun shone into the depths of the mist.

It wasn’t enough. The bare moment of breathing room she had gained from her dodge was enough to weave another technique into existence, and Ling Qi’s limbs faded, her form growing wispy and insubstantial, little more than another wraith in the mist. Yet her instincts screamed for her to move as that gleaming sword of his, its edge blazing white hot cut through qi and air alike. One strike, then a second she flowed around, saved by a hair as her gown once again deflected a cut, the sharpened blade rebounding from the silk with a hiss of heat.