Threads 223-Family 3

Ling Qi let out a sigh.

“Your peer retainer is dramatic,” Lao Keung said dryly.

“He is,” Ling Qi said with a small smile. “But people remember dramatic declarations, don’t they? Certainly, the history books do.”

It was funny. So much of her recent efforts were propelled by knowledge of the past, but internally, Ling Qi did not feel like she had ever stopped facing forward. Perhaps that is why she felt some of the appeal in Meng Diu’s ideas. Trying to stay still was futile and deadly, but that did not mean she had to ignore the path behind her.

“I suppose they do.”

“What is a White Serpent, towering and imperious in the center of the battle line, but dramatic?” Meizhen interjected. “A leader must be seen to lead, else they will soon have no one to rule.”

“Yes, Gan Guangli’s rhetoric has improved. My inspection of his followers was more than satisfactory,” Cai Renxiang praised. “He will be an able officer and greatly inspiring to our soldiers.”

“Lady Cai should not be so humble,” Ling Qi said. “You can be very inspiring as well when the mood takes you.”

She had convinced Ling Qi after all, despite everything. She wouldn’t let the girl who she had spoken to with the first real blood on her hands disappear.

There was a beat of silence in the box as Gan Guangli’s victory and the next match between Ma Jun and Han Jian was announced.

“It is unseemly to talk of one’s own virtues too much,” Cai Renxiang finally said.

“But it is not wrong to accept compliments,” Bai Meizhen said airily. “I think that the future of the Cai is growing more secure.”

The two young Bai men looked confused at the interplay.

In the arena, Han Jian faced her old bodyguard on a field of dunes. Han Jian looked a little taller and a little more serious.

“Hey, miss, I’m sorry about this,” Han Jian apologized.

The starting gong sounded.

The air cracked, and a wave of sand kicked up around the glowing scar that formed in the ground between where Han Jian had stood and Ma Jun. He stood behind her, sword held out to one side.

The girl stood bewildered, her hair askew in the whirling wind and sand. She slowly reached up to touch the faint line of red across her throat.

“I yield,” she said in a wavering voice.

Ling Qi blew out a breath. If Gan Guangli reached the finals, he would have his work cut out for him.

“The Han are in good form this year, it seems,” Cai Renxiang commented. “It is good to see a strong showing from the east.”

“Yes, it shows their resilience,” Bai Meizhen agreed.

“The next Han is rather less fortunate in his pairing though,” Xia Anxi said with a grin. “Alas for him, he must face our Xiao Fen.”

“Han Fang is strong and canny,” Ling Qi said. “But the match is certainly much less in his favor.”

She had never really seen Xiao Fen fight outside their mock spars. It would be interesting to see her face a peer.

Mist curled among the reeds in the muddy waters. The sound of chirping crickets and buzzing insects filled the fen, and two cultivators faced off across the sluggishly flowing waters. The simulated environment of the match seemed to be pulled from the northwest of the province. A slight advantage for Xiao Fen.

Truly, the Sect was still forced to play a careful balancing game this year with so many interests in the tournament.

Xiao Fen proffered a polite and formal bow to her opponents, the loose black silk of her gown rustling in the wind. Between the quiet viper and the mute tiger, no words needed to be traded.

<Feeling poetic, huh?> Sixiang chuckled.

Han Fang returned the bow and shrugged off the sand colored tunic he wore, baring a muscular chest. The air shimmered, and the jade head of a warhammer slapped into his palm. Han Fang grinned fiercely, a challenge clear in his stance.

Xiao Fen was not so obvious, but Ling Qi caught a small smile playing about her lips as she took a combat stance, hands held as stiff and straight as blades.

“Xiao Fen is very expressive,” Lao Keung commented.

“Something I have encouraged in her,” Bai Meizhen replied, offering no explanation.

Han Fang’s chest swelled with a deep breath, and a roar shattered the stillness of the fen. Wood shattered, mud flew, and water was blown away in an expanding circle some ten meters wide, and Xiao Fen leapt back, allowing the wind to carry her away from the blast wave. She landed atop the roots of a young banyan tree, crouched and ready.

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Han Fang was gone.

In the audience, Ling Qi caught a flash of his movement among the treetops. He was using the branches to avoid the muck and water below, and he had twisted the wind like a cloak around himself, deflecting light to become nigh invisible. She saw, too, the shadow slipping away from him, stepping into shadow and vanishing. How familiar.

Xiao Fen paused only a moment on the roots of the tree before leaping gracefully back down to a sandbar which emerged from the churning waters. Her hands wove through a brief kata as black flames bloomed on her gown, burning upward into an eight-pointed crown. Eight golden lights bloomed in the darkness.

“The Vermin Extermination Stance?” Xia Anxi asked.