Late night at the academy.
Xuán Chén and Xiǎo Chén stood at the courtyard gate.
Moonlight had sunk low.
The wind from the outer yard
Pressed into the cracks of the walls.
A life-and-death pact was pinned coldly to the arena gate—
Red lacquer still wet,
Like blood stuck in everyone's throat.
Before parting,
The sandglass hadn't emptied.
Talisman breath still lingered.
But it felt like a silent blade
Hovering behind their backs.
Xiǎo Chén walked alone,
Down the side corridor toward the Sword Hall.
The night wind carried the scent of burnt lamplight.
His thoughts drifted to the death matches of recent days—
Killing had been forced.
Survival, instinct.
But today—
For the first time,
He stepped onto a platform
Meant to divide life and death.
Since entering the academy,
He had never fully revealed the pulse of his fate scar.
Except for Suàn Wúyí,
That remnant soul had only offered half a technique.
—The Star Scar Fragment left by Nì Línhǎi,
Hidden deep in his qi meridians,
Like a blade never fully sharpened.
It stirred faintly with his breath,
Never truly unsheathed.
Suàn Wúyí's five-year method taught him to "slow,"
Taught him to "hide."
But now—
He was being forced to "break."
His steps were steady.
His heart pulse undisturbed.
But as he looked up at the Sword Hall's gray tiles,
Moonlight reflected off them
Like a sword still sheathed.
Xiǎo Chén stood at the door.
He exhaled,
Raised his hand and knocked—
Voice low and direct—
"Disciple seeks guidance—
If I want to hide my spear intent,
And release it only to kill—
How should I train?"
From inside,
Xuānyuán Dié's voice came cool—
"Enter."
The door opened.
Xiǎo Chén stood still at the threshold.
Moonlight fell across his shoulders.
Blood stains hadn't dried.
The wooden door creaked.
Xuānyuán Dié stood beneath the eaves.
Her gaze landed on his face first.
She asked calmly—
"Why do you suddenly want to learn this?"
Xiǎo Chén pressed his lips,
Voice low—
"To survive."
Xuānyuán Dié raised a brow—
"Then tell me—
If you were facing me,
What survival method do you have left?"
Xiǎo Chén froze.
No answer.
Xuānyuán Dié chuckled,
Tapped the doorframe with her sword sheath—
"If your opponent is about as strong as you,
Hiding your edge helps."
"If they're one tier above—
Hiding an inch might save you."
"But if they're two tiers stronger—
Do you think hiding makes any difference?"
Xiǎo Chén lowered his gaze,
Silent in thought.
Xuānyuán Dié glanced at him—
"You're thinking about the arena match next month, aren't you?"
Xiǎo Chén nodded.
Xuānyuán Dié
snorted—
"What you need now isn't concealment.
It's to push everything you have to the limit."
"With your foundation,
Same-tier opponents aren't worth worrying about."
"This is an academy, not a battlefield.
They won't pit you against someone far above your level.
Understand?"
She paused.
Her gaze softened slightly,
Then added—
"If you ever face someone too far above you—
Outside these walls—
You run."
"Charging into a fight you can't win isn't bravery.
It's stupidity."
"When you've grown strong enough to return and kill—
That's bravery."
"Keep the mountain.
You'll always have firewood."
"If your life remains—
Everything else can follow."
Seeing Xiǎo Chén still standing outside,
She snapped—
"Get in here. Now."
The cold command jolted him from his thoughts.
He stepped into the hall, spear in hand.
His footsteps were silent—
But his mind still echoed her words.
To hide your edge… you must first have something worth hiding.
As he thought,
His spear began its form.
Three trial moves.
Xuānyuán Dié didn't unsheathe her sword—
Only used the blade's body to block and pressure.
Xiǎo Chén's spear turned instinctively,
But his focus was still tangled in her earlier words.
His killing intent hadn't fully locked in.
Her sword flicked upward.
She snapped—
"Focus."
"Losing focus in combat is a fatal mistake.
It's also disrespectful to your opponent."
The sword light pressed in.
Xiǎo Chén's brow trembled.
His spear tightened.
The Star Scar Fragment stirred in his meridians—
A thread of qi hissed,
Piercing toward the back of his skull.
Xuānyuán Dié glanced at him,
Voice colder—
"And your spear intent—
It's not ruthless enough."
Her tone was soft as falling ash.
Then her blade twisted upward,
Striking along his meridian.
Xiǎo Chén's spine chilled.
His spear spun like a star wheel,
Rising against the flow.
One inch of meridian pulse
Was shattered and reformed.
His spiritual breath surged—
Drawn out like a hidden tide,
Rushing toward the seal of his fate scar.
A technique never taught by the remnant soul
Seemed to tremble out of him in that instant.
Xuānyuán Dié's eyes lit up.
She sheathed her blade,
Stood firm—
"Again."
—
Dozens of moves later,
The candlelight flickered.
Spear shadows roared across the wooden floor like a star river.
Xiǎo Chén's breath surged.
His arms ached.
His palms split.
His stance faltered.
One breath missed—
He dropped to one knee,
Spear tip bracing the ground,
Panting.
In his mind,
A voice from long ago echoed—
"If you want to hide deep—
You must first hold full."
Xuānyuán Dié
didn't retreat.
Her blade slashed coldly toward his chest.
Xiǎo Chén gritted his teeth,
Lifted his spear.
His blood surged.
Heart pulse thundered.
His chest roared like a beast.
One breath pierced through his spine,
Flooded his hundred meridians.
Old seals shattered like thin ice.
Fate scars surged like cresting waves.
His qi exploded—
Then locked down,
Tightly sealed.
Boom!
A deep sound.
Cracks formed in the wooden floor.
His spear stood firm.
Light flickered in his eyes—
The "slow and thick" of a ten-mark body.
Once the gate breaks,
Outsiders see only mid-tier fate scars—
But inside,
A peak blade remains hidden,
Ready to push one more inch of life.
Xuānyuán Dié stepped forward,
Tapped his chest with her knuckles—
"Your meridian's open."
"But if you don't know how to hide it,
You'll show too much."
"Those watching will see your unstable realm—
And come knocking."
She turned,
Drew her sword half an inch.
The blade gleamed in candlelight,
Then vanished—
"A sword can be hidden.
So can a spear."
"Hiding isn't suppression.
It's movement."
"Breath tied to meridian—
Like a blade in its sheath."
"You draw it inch by inch—
Not all at once."
She pointed to his abdominal and chest meridians—
"Inside,
You seal with meridian gates.
Coil excess qi into your bones—
Like a green snake wrapped around your heart,
Hidden in blood, unmoving."
"Outside,
You bluff."
"Show only surface momentum—
Don't let them see
How many layers you still hold beneath."
Her voice sank,
Blade slicing coldly—
"Remember—
Qi is a blade."
"To seal is to hide life.
To break is to take life."
"If you can't hide—
Your edge is dull."
"If you can't break—
Your edge is hollow."
Xiǎo Chén nodded.
His spear trembled in his grip.
The remnant soul's whisper
Had gone silent.
What Suàn Wúyí never taught—
Xuānyuán Dié had given half.
The rest—
He'd have to finish on the arena floor.
Seeing his resolve,
Xuānyuán Dié spun her blade.
Its cold edge sliced a line through the candlelight—
"If you understand—
Don't just nod."
"Draw your spear.
Again."
Her blade hadn't fully unsheathed—
But she stepped back three paces,
Clearing space.
Xiǎo Chén reignited his spear intent.
His meridian breath churned in his bones,
Then locked down with his breath.
Sword met spear.
Each inch clashed in echo.
His spear fell,
Qi sealed but unbroken.
Meridian gates opened and closed.
Hidden breath seeped into bone.
He thought—
Hiding isn't suppression.
It's depth unseen.
Keep the killing breath—
That's true concealment.
His grip had gone numb.
But a blood breath settled in his chest—
Colder, steadier.
His momentum no longer leaked.
Only flecks of cold light
Fell to the floor—
Like the roots of his fate scar
Anchoring deeper into bone.
Late at night.
The Sword Hall's fire had gone out.
Xiǎo Chén stepped outside,
His chest meridians still settling.
Starlight seemed to sink into his bones.
At the stone steps beyond the courtyard,
Xuán Chén stood beneath the moon,
Turning an invisible hourglass between his fingers.
Ash clung to his sleeve—
Talisman dust not yet fully scattered.
Inside the Sword Hall,
Xiǎo Chén was stabilizing his meridians,
Hiding his breath.
Outside,
Xuán Chén was sealing spells,
Unraveling formations.
The arena's barrier wasn't dead.
Under moonlight,
He traced talisman lines again and again.
But his mind worked a deeper calculation—
Not just to break,
But to preserve,
To conceal.
Break for the enemy on the arena.
Preserve for those outside.
Conceal for Xiǎo Chén—
As a hidden blade.
He thought silently—
I'll sever the blade in plain sight.
He must hide the one in shadow.
That's a true double edge.
The hourglass turned, then stopped.
Talisman breath faded in his sleeve.
Xuán Chén looked up
And saw Xiǎo Chén walking into the moonlight,
Sweat still clinging to his brow.
"Can you hide it?" he asked softly.
Xiǎo Chén glanced at him,
A cold smirk tugging at his lips—
"If I can hide it—
I can keep my life."
Moonlight fell between them—
Silent as a blade.
—
Next morning,
The courtyard still slept.
Xiǎo Chén practiced spear forms in the Sword Hall.
Xuán Chén sat cross-legged in the outer formation,
Talisman ash like sand,
Hourglass turning in silence.
Shī Tóngbǎi, the informant,
Still ran errands,
Delivering news to both.
But too many eyes,
Too many words—
He was noticed.
And that planted a seed of trouble.
Three days later,
White Profound Society caught him.
Accused him of "spying on the inner court."
They pinned him to the rear courtyard steps—
Beat him through the night.
Blood soaked into the stone cracks.
Shī Tóngbǎi bit his collar.
Never made a sound.
—
When word reached them,
Xuán Chén and Xiǎo Chén went to the inner wing that night.
They found him on a wooden cot,
Face streaked with blood,
Arms bruised.
His breath was weak—
But not scattered.
Xuán Chén tested his meridian gates with talisman breath.
Relieved—
Just flesh wounds.
No damage to spiritual flow.
Xiǎo Chén asked softly what happened.
Shī Tóngbǎi grinned through clenched teeth—
"I didn't crack…"
"Held it all in…"
"Didn't let them pry a single word."
Xuán Chén's gaze darkened.
Talisman ash fell from his sleeve.
Xiǎo Chén lifted his spear to his shoulder.
The two turned to leave—
But were blocked by Silver Mirror enforcers—
"Academy order must not be disturbed."
"No private fights."
"The arena will judge."
—
That night,
The wind grew colder.
White Profound Society spread word—
"Cowards."
"Still dare step onto the arena?"
Fourth watch.
Moon cold.
Xuán Chén stood at the gate of Silver Mirror's sub-hall.
One stroke of blood talisman fell—
[Settled on the arena. Life or death, no question.]
At the same time,
Xiǎo Chén tapped his spear tip in blood,
Standing coldly at White Profound Society's rear gate—
[Settled on the arena. Life or death, no question.]
The blood hadn't dried.
The wind cut like blades.
One month passed in a blink.
The duel date approached.
Shī Tóngbǎi lay at the edge of his bed,
Smiling—
"When you win,
Drinks are on me."
His smile still carried bruises.
Purple-black marks lingered on his shoulder joints—
Proof of how brutal that night had been.
Outside,
The courtyard wind passed softly.
Xuán Chén stared at the blood-written talisman.
And silently thought—
The blades we've hidden this month…
Will draw blood on the arena.