Chapter 3: The Whisper of the Red Vein
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting Yusheng in a crimson glow that mirrored the faint pulse of its Red Tiānmài. The village settled into a quiet rhythm, the day's Awakening Ritual fading into the chatter of evening meals and the clink of pottery. But for Rin Seiryuu and Amaya Yukihana, the weight of the day lingered like a storm cloud, heavy with promise and peril.
Rin sat cross-legged on the wooden porch of their modest home, the cherry blossoms swaying gently in the evening breeze. His yo-yo spun in a slow, deliberate arc, its cyan-glowing string humming with a faint resonance of Pseudofire. The ghostly flame flickered at the edges, not hot but alive, vibrating with an energy that seemed to whisper secrets only he could hear. His cyan eyes, sharp and focused, followed the yo-yo's motion, but his mind was elsewhere—on the jeers of the crowd, the pity in the elders' gazes, and Amaya's unyielding faith in him.
Inside, Amaya stood by the low table, her flute-sword resting in its lacquered stand. She traced the carved vines on its surface with a delicate finger, her crimson eyes distant yet piercing. The air around her seemed to shimmer with the echoes of her elements—Wind, Water, Fire—blending into a quiet aura of dominance. She was no longer the girl who had boldly claimed Rin at three years old; she was a force, a cultivator whose awakening had marked her as Yusheng's greatest hope. Yet her thoughts were not on her own power but on the man outside, the one the village dared to mock.
The door slid open, and Amaya stepped onto the porch, her robes rustling like falling leaves. She held her flute, its soft glow catching the starlight. Without a word, she raised it to her lips and played a single, haunting note. The sound wove through the air, carrying a trace of her Music Dao, a melody that calmed the heart yet stirred the soul. Rin's yo-yo slowed, and he looked up, meeting her gaze.
"They think you're a joke," she said, lowering the flute. Her voice was soft but edged, like a blade wrapped in silk. "They're wrong."
Rin's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Let them think what they want. It changes nothing."
Amaya's eyes narrowed, a spark of Fire element flickering in her irises. "It changes everything if they disrespect you. You're mine, Rin. They don't get to decide your worth."
He spun the yo-yo once more, its string tightening into a bowstring as it transformed into its bow form. The Pseudofire flared briefly, casting eerie shadows on the porch. "I don't need their respect," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "I need time. And power."
Amaya nodded, a rare softness crossing her face. "Then we'll take it. Together."
Their moment was interrupted by a sharp knock at the gate. Rin's bow reverted to its yo-yo form, and he stood, his posture alert but unhurried. Amaya's hand rested on her flute, ready to draw its sword form if needed. The knock came again, insistent, and a voice called out—gruff, familiar, and laced with barely concealed disdain.
"Seiryuu! Yukihana! The elders summon you!"
It was Toren, the blacksmith who had led the mockery at the ritual. His burly frame loomed at the gate, his eyes glinting with a mix of resentment and unease. Behind him stood two younger men, their faces eager but nervous, clutching simple spears—combat weapons, but basic, likely paired with a single element like Earth or Water.
Amaya's lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. "Toren," she said, her voice dripping with authority. "You knock like a man who forgets his place."
Toren's face reddened, but he held his ground. "The elders want you at the Hall of Ancestors. Now. It's about the ritual… and him." He jerked his head toward Rin, his tone making it clear who he meant.
Rin's expression remained unchanged, but his fingers tightened slightly on the yo-yo. "Lead the way," he said, his voice even.
The walk to the Hall of Ancestors was silent, the village streets empty save for the flicker of lanterns and the distant hum of the Red Tiānmài. Toren marched ahead, his spear slung over his shoulder, while the two younger men flanked Rin and Amaya, their eyes darting nervously. Amaya's presence was a weight, her every step radiating a quiet dominance that made the men keep their distance. Rin, by contrast, seemed almost invisible, his calm demeanor blending into the night.
The Hall of Ancestors was a modest structure, its wooden beams carved with faded runes and its roof tiled with weathered clay. Inside, the elders sat in a semicircle, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of spirit lamps. Master Wei, the chief elder, sat at the center, his weathered hands folded in his lap. To his left was Elder Mira, a stern woman with gray hair and a staff that pulsed with Earth element. To his right was Elder Korr, a thin man whose eyes gleamed with the sharp cunning of Wind.
"Rin Seiryuu. Amaya Yukihana," Master Wei began, his voice heavy with authority. "Your awakenings have stirred the village. One for its brilliance…" He nodded toward Amaya, his eyes respectful. "And one for its… peculiarity." His gaze settled on Rin, tinged with doubt.
Amaya stepped forward, her crimson eyes locking onto Master Wei's. "Speak plainly, Elder. What do you want with us?"
Mira's staff tapped the floor, a low thud echoing in the hall. "Mind your tone, Yukihana. Your power does not exempt you from respect."
Amaya's smile was icy. "Respect is earned, Elder Mira. And I give it where it's due."
Rin placed a hand on her arm, a subtle gesture that calmed the rising tension. "What is this about?" he asked, his voice steady.
Master Wei sighed, his eyes flickering to the yo-yo at Rin's side. "Your awakening, Seiryuu. A yo-yo, even with its dual form, is… unconventional. The village questions your place beside Amaya. Some say she deserves a stronger match, one whose weapon does not invite ridicule."
The air grew heavy, the Red Tiānmài's pulse seeming to falter for a moment. Amaya's flute hummed faintly, its vines stirring as if alive. "Some say?" she repeated, her voice dangerously soft. "Name them."
Elder Korr raised a hand, his Wind element stirring the air with a faint breeze. "Enough, Amaya. This is not about your loyalty, but about Yusheng's future. A prodigy like you could elevate our village, draw the attention of greater sects, perhaps even claim a stronger Tiānmài. But tied to a cultivator with… a toy…" He trailed off, his eyes flicking to Rin with thinly veiled contempt.
Rin's cyan eyes met Korr's, unflinching. "You think my weapon makes me weak," he said, not a question but a statement. "Test me, then."
The elders exchanged glances, surprised by his boldness. Toren, standing by the door, snorted. "Test you? With what, boy? A child's game?"
Amaya's flute flashed into its sword form, the blade gleaming with icy light. "Careful, Toren," she said, her voice a low growl. "Your spear won't save you from me."
Master Wei raised a hand, his voice firm. "Enough! This is not a duel. Rin, we do not doubt your potential, but your weapon… it raises questions. And your third element—Pseudofire, you called it? It's unknown to us. We need assurance you can wield it, that you're worthy of standing beside Amaya."
Rin nodded, his yo-yo spinning once, twice, the Pseudofire flickering like a ghostly star. "Give me a chance to prove it," he said. "Name the test."
Mira leaned forward, her staff glowing faintly. "The Red Tiānmài has been weakening," she said. "Our scouts report a disturbance in the forest, a beast tainted by spiritual corruption. It's been killing livestock, threatening our fields. Slay it, and you'll silence the doubters."
Amaya's eyes narrowed. "We'll slay it," she corrected. "Rin and I, together."
Master Wei hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. But know this: the beast is no ordinary creature. It's drawn to the Tiānmài's energy, and it's stronger than anything Yusheng has faced in years. Succeed, and you'll have our blessing. Fail, and the village will demand… other arrangements."
The threat hung in the air, unspoken but clear. Amaya's grip tightened on her sword, but Rin's voice cut through the tension. "We'll return by dawn," he said, his tone unshaken.
As they left the hall, Toren's voice followed them, low and mocking. "Don't trip over your toy, Seiryuu."
Rin didn't respond, but Amaya paused, her crimson eyes glinting. "When we return, Toren," she said, "you'll choke on those words."
The forest beyond Yusheng was dense, its trees gnarled and heavy with the scent of moss and earth. The Red Tiānmài's pulse was stronger here, a faint red glow weaving through the roots like veins of light. Rin and Amaya moved silently, their steps synchronized, their senses sharp. Amaya's flute was in her hand, its vines pulsing faintly, while Rin's yo-yo spun in slow, rhythmic arcs, its Pseudofire casting eerie shadows.
"Do you trust them?" Amaya asked, her voice low.
"The elders?" Rin replied, his eyes scanning the darkness. "No. They want you, not me. This test is as much about separating us as it is about the beast."
Amaya's lips curved into a faint smile. "Let them try. I chose you, Rin. No elder, no village, no beast will change that."
He glanced at her, his cyan eyes softening for a moment. "I know. But we need to be ready. This beast… it's not just a test. It's a message."
The air grew heavy, the Tiānmài's pulse stuttering as a low growl echoed through the trees. The ground trembled, and a shadow loomed ahead—a massive creature, its form twisted, its eyes glowing with a sickly green light. It was a boar, but no ordinary beast. Its tusks were jagged with spiritual corruption, its hide pulsing with dark energy that clashed with the Red Tiānmài's glow.
Amaya raised her flute, a melody weaving through the air, sharp and commanding. The notes carried her Music Dao, stirring the Wind element to create a swirling barrier around them. "Ready?" she asked, her voice steady.
Rin's yo-yo transformed into its bow form, the string taut, an arrow of Pseudofire forming in his hand. "Always," he said, his cyan eyes locked on the beast.
The boar charged, its roar shaking the forest, and the battle for Yusheng's future began.