The sword flashed like a phantom, a sharp whistle tearing through the air as it carved an arc of steel toward Jingliu. The sound reverberated like a distant storm, humming with deadly intent.
Yanqing's eyes sharpened the instant Jingliu struck at Felicity. He recognized the woman's mastery at a glance—this was no ordinary opponent. Without a moment's hesitation, he unleashed his full strength.
Blades of light materialized, a tempest of sword shadows descending upon Jingliu from every direction, like falling stars. Yet Jingliu remained unshaken. Calm and poised, she closed her fingers with a subtle motion—ice coalesced at her command, forming a crystalline blade as if summoned from the very breath of winter.
With a casual flick, her sword swept out a streak of frigid energy. The chill in its wake was bone-deep, the air around it cracking with frost. In a single strike, it shattered Yanqing's six converging blades, scattering them like brittle glass—and the momentum carried forward, the frozen edge cutting straight toward Yanqing.
His pupils constricted in an instant of shock. Reflex took over; he raised his sword to intercept the blow, but before the impact, another figure surged in front of him like a sudden breeze.
It was her.
The secret soldier the General had mentioned. Felicity.
Yanqing's breath hitched. She gripped a wooden sword—plain and unadorned, as if plucked from the earth itself—and swung it lightly, as if to test the air.
Could she really be a master of the blade, capable of turning a humble wooden sword against such lethal force?
That fleeting thought barely took shape before the ice-infused strike sheared straight through Felicity's wooden weapon, splintering it like dead wood. The blade of frost struck true, landing on her body with a muted, yet chilling impact.
A gash marred her side, not too deep, not too shallow—but frost crept across the wound like ivy, a sight that made even Yanqing's stomach twist.
Even Jingliu paused, eyes narrowing in surprise. She had measured her strikes precisely, ensuring that even the attack on Yanqing wouldn't overstep his limits. Hurting Felicity had not been her intent.
"You..."
Yanqing's voice faltered as he tried to speak, but then—Felicity moved.
With a serene, almost teasing smile, she dusted the ice crystals clinging to her robes. A soft pat, and the frost shattered like fragile glass. Before Yanqing's wide eyes, the wound vanished, flesh mending seamlessly beneath unblemished fabric, as if it had never been.
This...this was—
Jingliu's expression darkened, her head tilting ever so slightly. A memory stirred—an all-too-familiar scene of a friend's body healing again and again, beneath a relentless storm of blades, centuries ago. Yet Felicity...was not him.
Her aura shifted, a palpable wave of ferocity rolling out from her frame. Where once she had been restrained, she now stood like a revenant from a forgotten nightmare, her presence suffocating, her killing intent an oppressive stormcloud. If her earlier duel with Yanqing had been a measured dance, now she was an avenging specter, raw and unrelenting.
Even Yanqing, battle-hardened and seasoned by countless skirmishes, felt a chill seep into his bones. He could not stop the shiver that ran down his spine.
"...Abundance," Jingliu muttered, her voice low, dangerous. Raising her blade, she pointed the tip toward Felicity. The ice sword gleamed in the cold light, a silver crescent catching the glow of the surroundings.
Her original plan—to test Yanqing, gather information about the "Blade," and leave—fractured in an instant. Now, she had to know: friend or foe?
"I must verify it with my own eyes."
Felicity's voice was soft, almost warm, as she responded. She turned slightly, her smile sweet, even innocent. Her gaze drifted to Yanqing, and she spoke in a tone as light as spring rain.
"The Xianzhou Luofu...surely it does not despise those who follow the Path of Abundance, does it?"
Yanqing swallowed. The question caught him off guard, and he answered without thought.
"...The Xianzhou Luofu has patrolled the stars for millennia, and we have always struck down only the ancestors of plague, disaster, and those who bring ruin. If practitioners of Abundance merely heal the sick, save the dying, and bring peace, they are our allies...our honored guests."
Yet even as he spoke, unease coiled in his gut. A faint premonition gnawed at him, a sense that things were not so simple.
General Jing Yuan had met with Felicity personally—surely, with the General's sharp gaze, if she were an enemy, she wouldn't have been allowed to act so freely.
That was the hope he clung to, though it felt thin and fraying.
"That's wonderful to hear." Felicity's smile blossomed wider. She lifted the broken wooden sword, and before their eyes, roots sprouted from the fracture, curling and weaving until the blade reformed, whole once more.
She had her own temper, it seemed.
Jingliu's breath caught, her fingers tightening on the ice blade. Her other hand rose to her head, as if to steady herself, to quiet the storm inside—but the familiar presence radiating from Felicity only fanned the flames of her rage.
A low howl of wind—
Jingliu moved. Her body became a streak of blue light, faster than before, faster than when she had crossed blades with Yanqing. Each step left frost in her wake, ice blooming beneath her feet. She was a streak of winter incarnate, a blade of moonlight.
But as she neared Felicity, ready to strike her down, Felicity...let the sword drop.
A sword was never her true weapon. In Felicity's hands, even the sharpest blade was little more than a hammer. She didn't need it.
If she had chosen, there was no room for regret.
Emerald radiance unfurled from her body—verdant, lush, alive. Buds bloomed in an instant, weaving into slender vines that coiled protectively around her, intercepting Jingliu's descending sword.
Yanqing's eyes widened in disbelief. He felt it again, that unmistakable Breath of Abundance. It was not the Ambrosial Arbor...but it was Abundance all the same.
His throat went dry, his hands trembling. He had no idea what to do.
"A Blade of Moonlight!" Jingliu roared, leaping backward. She raised her blade skyward, her body arching in the air, poised like a dancer at the peak of a spin.
The ice blade erupted, a storm of sword energy surging down with an intent that could only be described as lethal. It fell like a crescent of winter itself, a roaring, killing moon.
Yanqing's breath caught in his throat. The sheer pressure of the attack made him feel as though his chest might cave in. A single thought pulsed through his mind: If that sword fell on him...he would die. Instantly. Without even a chance to resist.
Yet he raised his sword anyway, six blades orbiting in formation, his own weapon crackling with violet light. But deep down, he knew: that attack wasn't aimed at him.
It was Felicity who would bear it.
Yet Felicity...simply watched with a curious glint in her eyes.
She felt the threat. This blade—this was the peak of mortal swordsmanship, a strike that could cut the heavens.
But it wasn't enough to kill her.
With a deafening boom, the sword energy slammed into the earth, carving a deep mark into the ground. Semi-arc-shaped ice crystals spread outward in jagged patterns—but at the center, where the blow had struck...there was an empty space.
The size of a person.
Felicity had vanished, without a sound, without a trace.
Yanqing's head whipped around, scanning frantically—then Bailu's scream cut through the air.
He turned toward the sound, and his breath caught in his throat.
Jingliu, who just moments before had been an unstoppable force, now found herself pinned against the wall by a pale hand clutching her throat. Felicity pressed in close, her lips curling into a serene, amused smile.
"Got you."
"..."
Jingliu's lips parted, but no words emerged.
"...Enemy or ally?" she asked at last, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
Felicity tilted her head, a question mark seeming to hang above her brow, confusion flickering in her eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"...An outsider?" Jingliu murmured. Beneath the dark veil covering her gaze, there was a flicker of realization, of something she could not quite name.
The possibility of a disguise remained, but...
Jingliu thought of the one who had once borne a hole in his chest like hers, who had been forced onto the Path of Abundance, and her lips tightened.
Regardless of Felicity's true nature, it changed nothing.
"..."
Felicity frowned, irritation tightening her features. She loathed riddles, always had.
But before she could speak, a new presence stirred—a ripple of Abundance, blooming like a whisper across the battlefield. A voice, gentle and serene, drifted into the air, its cadence soft yet firm, cutting into Felicity's thoughts like a blade into silk.
"——Abyss Flowers Bloom."
--+--
T/N: Last chapter for the day. My laptops running outta battery.