020 Bonfire Banter

[POV: Guo Yimu]

Guo Yimu might have shaved his head until it gleamed like polished jade, swapped his lavish young master robes for plain monkish gray, and trained his tongue to spout humble sutras, but at his core he remained the same arrogant scion of the Guo clan. He spent as little time as possible inside the monastery walls, and his performance had been convincing enough to fool even his senior brother and his father. Yet his grandfather was not so easily deceived. That was why Guo Yimu now found himself here, playing the part of a repentant disciple in the domain of the mysterious Senior Wo Li.

After Xing Ning finished giving them a tour of his workshop and pointed out the simple quarters where they would sleep, Guo Yimu could no longer hold his tongue.

“Amitabha,” he intoned with exaggerated solemnity, clasping his hands together. “This humble monk appreciates the shelter provided by the senior’s boundless compassion. However… these beds are harder than the stone heart of a heartless elder. One fears that even a night upon them will leave this disciple’s bones aching like those of an ancient tortoise.”

Xing Ning scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile. “It was a hasty job, Young Master Guo—er, Brother Guo. At least we have somewhere dry to rest our heads. The next time I head into town, I’ll look for something softer to cushion them. Or we could ask Senior Wo Li to grow some moss for padding.”

Yuck! Moss!

Guo Yimu barely suppressed the grimace that threatened to twist his freshly shaven features. After the brutal punishments his grandfather had inflicted and the even more shocking experience of his recent resurrection, he had learned, at least outwardly, the value of restraint. It was hard to admit, and he preferred to tell himself that nothing had truly changed, but the truth was inescapable: everything had changed for him.

Li Ming crossed her arms and fixed him with a sharp look. “Guo Yimu, drop the act already. I can see right through that fake monk nonsense. Save the sutras for someone who actually believes them.”

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[POV: Li Ming]

The sleeping quarters consisted of a single modest room containing three separate beds. Li Ming felt a faint flicker of discomfort at the thought of sleeping so close to two men close to her own age, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside. She could handle herself just fine.

Both Guo Yimu and Xing Ning were stuck at the seventh stage of Qi Condensation, while she had recently broken through to the eighth stage. The advancement had come from raw desperation and the surprisingly willing guidance her grandmother had offered in recent days. Li Ming took quiet pride in her cultivation and her own ability.

She turned to Xing Ning with a challenging glint in her eyes. “Since we’re all staying here under Senior Wo Li’s protection, why don’t we test our skills? Spar with me, Xing Ning. I want to see exactly what kind of helper the senior has taken in.”

Secretly, she harbored a deeper ambition. It was to become the top disciple in this place, or at least something equivalent. Her grandmother had spoken of Senior Wo Li in unusually lofty terms, even calling the silver-haired man a sage.

Xing Ning blinked, looking genuinely confused for a moment. “A duel? Right now?” He shrugged lightly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

They stepped outside the workshop. Guo Yimu lounged against a corner post, watching with mild interest. Li Ming drew the sword Xing Ning had given her. She had already had it appraised in secret and knew just how valuable the blade truly was; her grandmother had strongly encouraged her to keep it if possible.

“Thank you again for the sword, Xing Ning,” Li Ming said, raising the weapon into a ready stance. “Now I will use it to spar with you. Hopefully, you won’t mind if I show no mercy.”

Xing Ning simply nodded. “I wouldn’t mind.” He reached to the side and casually picked up a sturdy wooden stick, twirling it once as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Guo Yimu burst out laughing, slapping his knee. “Hah! Look at this guy! Senior Wo Li’s precious helper is going to fight with a stick! Li Ming, you might as well just beat him senseless and save us all the embarrassment. A real man would at least pick up a proper weapon instead of playing farmer!”

Li Ming noticed Senior Wo Li watching quietly from the raised platform of his treehouse, his expression one of mild disinterest. She frowned and pointed her sword at Xing Ning.

“Take this seriously, Xing Ning. I’m not here to play games.”

Xing Ning met her gaze evenly, still holding the simple stick. “I am taking this seriously.”

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[POV: Xing Ning]

Xing Ning took the spar seriously. Of course he did. Swinging a sword was one thing; knowing how to swing one properly was something else entirely.

In the past couple of years living in Senior Wo Li’s forest, Xing Ning had spent long hours contemplating questions he had never bothered with before. He had learned far more from his frequent sparring sessions with the silver-haired senior and from his small adventures battling beasts and spiritual beasts throughout the woods.

The most annoying among them was undoubtedly Roo, that damn kangaroo had a habit of beating opponents senseless, then patiently waiting for them to recover just so it could beat them senseless again. Something about forcing one to create their own rivals, the beast had once implied in its own brutish way. That relentless training had taught Xing Ning the deeper philosophy of martial arts, a subject most cultivators looked down upon in favor of flashy spells and qi techniques.

The Steel Sky Sect, where he belonged, was different; it respected true martial arts. The Guo Clan of the Serenity Cliff Sect held similar views. Martial arts were not useless, since they carried an unpopular reputation. They represented the rawest, most violent side of humanity, and for that reason, martial artists were often dismissed as nothing more than barbarians who knew only bloodshed. That perception tainted how many viewed cultivators in general. They were not all raging, murder-seeking lunatics like those from the Hidden Village of Leaf, the Serenity Lake Sect, or even his own former sect.

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“Hah! Look at this fool,” Guo Yimu called out from the sidelines, unable to resist. “He’s not even taking this seriously! Using a stick against a proper sword? He’s clearly making fun of you, Li Ming. Just admit it, country boy—you’re scared of a real fight!”

Xing Ning internally sighed. Well, maybe with the exception of Guo Yimu being a lunatic. He had not forgotten how this same arrogant young master had once nearly killed him in a duel, all because Xing Ning had supposedly made him look bad in front of Li Ming who they had both mistaken for a mere village girl at the time. How the tables had turned.

“You’ve slacked off on your training, Guo Yimu,” Xing Ning said calmly, his voice carrying across the clearing. “You no longer hold that same relaxed and solid stance you had during our duel a couple of years ago. As for you, Li Ming…” He shifted his gaze to her. “Your qi is finer in quality, I’ll give you that, but you’re failing miserably at hiding your intentions. I see your posture and all I see are flaws.”

Before either could retort, Xing Ning suddenly jabbed forward with his sturdy wooden stick. Li Ming swung her sword with clear intent to cut the offending weapon in half. At the last moment, Xing Ning reinforced the stick with a thin layer of qi, dropped low into an almost full split, and thrust the tip sharply into her torso, earning a pained cry from Li Ming.

“I haven’t even used my Tempest Steel Sword Art yet,” declared Xing Ning evenly.

Li Ming retaliated instantly, flicking a sharp burst of sword qi from her fingertip. Xing Ning bent one knee and leaped gracefully to the side, dodging with ease. If she could already manifest sword intent, it meant she possessed genuine talent for swordsmanship, but talent alone would not be enough here.

With light, flowing steps, Xing Ning danced around Li Ming’s increasingly frustrated swordplay. He noticed faint illusory techniques woven into her strikes, but he saw through them without difficulty by focusing on the smallest details such as the subtle shifts in footwork, the faint tremble in her grip, and the way her eyes betrayed her next target. Senior Wo Li had beaten those lessons into him countless times with his staff, and the senior’s Shedding ability had taught Xing Ning never to trust surface appearances. Look closer. Always look closer.

The one-sided beating unfolded with almost comedic precision.

Xing Ning’s stick smacked Li Ming squarely on the shoulder with a loud thwack. She yelped in surprise.

A second strike tapped her forehead, causing her to stumble back with an indignant “Ow!”