Chapter 9: The Phoenix's Lesson
Age: 14 Years
The autumn wind swept through the secluded "North Star" courtyard of the Ye Clan, carrying with it dead leaves that crunched underfoot. This was a restricted area. No servants, no guards, and no parents were allowed here.
This was the killing floor.
"Get up."
My voice was devoid of warmth. It was the voice of a General commanding a soldier, not a brother speaking to his sister.
In the center of the training ground, a small figure lay face down in the dirt. Anya was seven years old now. She wore a miniature white training gi that was currently stained with grass, mud, and specks of blood. Her small chest heaved violently, each breath wheezing in her throat. Steam—actual visible steam—was rising from her skin, a side effect of her Phoenix Bloodline overheating.
"I… I can't…" she sobbed into the dirt, her voice trembling. "Big Brother… my legs… they won't move."
I sat on a stone bench ten feet away, sipping a cup of tea that Ria had just poured. I didn't look at Anya. I looked at the tea leaves swirling in the cup.
"Did I tell you to speak?" I asked calmly. "I told you to stand."
"Rudra," Ria whispered from behind me. Her silver hair was tied back in a severe ponytail, and she stood like a statue. "Her physical stamina is at 0%. Her meridians are spasming. If she continues, she risks muscle tearing."
"She heals," I replied, taking a sip. "She is a Phoenix. Every time she breaks, she comes back stronger. That is her Dao. If I let her stop now, she learns that 'giving up' is an o"tion. In the world outside these walls, giving up means death."
I set the cup down with a sharp clack.
"Anya!" I barked. "There is a monster standing in front of you. It wants to eat your heart. Are you going to lie there and let it?"
Anya's fingers clawed into the soil. She let out a low, guttural growl—a sound too feral for a seven-year-old girl.
"No," she hissed.
Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself up. Her arms shook like leaves in a storm. Her knees buckled, but she forced them straight. She wiped the tears and snot from her face with a dirty sleeve, smearing mud across her cheek.
She looked at me. Her amber eyes were burning.
"Good," I said, standing up. "Ria. Level Two."
Ria nodded. She stepped forward. She didn't draw a weapon. She didn't need one. Her body was a Divine Artifact forged from Stellar Meteorite. To Anya, hitting Ria was like punching a mountain.
"Young Miss," Ria said, her voice cool and metallic. "Your form was sloppy in the last exchange. You are relying on your anger, not your technique. Come."
"YAAAAAAH!"
Anya screamed, channeling every ounce of her remaining Qi.
WHOOSH.
The air around her distorted. Crimson flames erupted from her pores. This wasn't the chemical fire of a spell; it was Life Fire. The grass beneath her feet turned to ash instantly.
She lunged.
Despite her exhaustion, she moved like a blur. She used the Exploding Step technique I had taught her—using a detonation of Qi under her foot to propel herself forward like a cannonball.
She aimed a fist directly at Ria's stomach.
BOOM!
Fire exploded on impact. A shockwave of heat blasted through the courtyard, stripping the leaves off the nearby trees.
But when the smoke cleared, Ria hadn't moved a millimeter.
Ria had caught Anya's fist in her open palm. The silver skin of Ria's hand glowed faintly, absorbing the kinetic impact.
"Predictable," Ria stated.
Ria twisted her wrist. She didn't break Anya's arm, but she used a redirection flow to flip the girl into the air.
Anya spun, trying to land on her feet, but Ria was faster. Ria's leg swept out—a controlled kick to the midsection.
Thud.
Anya flew backward, tumbling across the stone pavers like a ragdoll. She rolled three times and came to a stop at my feet.
She didn't get up this time. The fire around her body flickered and died. She curled into a ball, clutching her stomach, and started to cry. Not the angry cry of a warrior, but the heartbroken wail of a little girl who just wanted her big brother to hug her.
"It hurts…" she wailed. "It hurts, Brother…"
The silence in the courtyard was heavy.
I looked down at her. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Every time she hit the ground, I felt it. I wanted to scoop her up, wrap her in silk, and tell her she never had to lift a finger again. I wanted to burn the world so she could live in a garden of peace.
But I knew the truth. The Order of Providence was out there. The Arbiters were watching. If I protected her too much, she would be soft. And soft things get eaten in this multiverse.
I knelt down.
I placed my hand on her back.
'Technique: Void Harmony.'
I pushed my own Qi—gentle, cooling, restorative—into her body. The violent heat in her meridians calmed down. The bruises on her stomach faded visible as I accelerated her healing factor.
"I know it hurts," I whispered near her ear.
Anya turned over and buried her face in my chest, sobbing into my robes. "Why… why do you make me fight Ria? She's made of metal… I can't beat her…"
I stroked her messy red hair. "Because the enemies you will face in the future won't be made of flesh and blood, Anya. They will be gods, demons, and monsters who don't care if you are seven or seventy."
I lifted her chin so she had to look at me. Her eyes were red and puffy.
"I am hard on you because I am terrified," I admitted, letting a sliver of honesty slip through. "I am strong, Anya. Maybe the strongest being to ever walk this world. But I cannot be everywhere at once. If a day comes when I am not there… I need to know you can survive."
Anya sniffled. "I… I just want to be strong like you."
"You will be stronger than me," I lied (well, partially). "You are the Phoenix. You are the Queen of the Sky."
I stood up, lifting her effortlessly into my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder, exhausted.
"Ria," I called out.
"Master," Ria approached. She looked perfectly pristine. Her maid uniform was unwrinkled. Her hair was perfect.
"Show her," I commanded.
Ria blinked. Then, she extended her right arm—the one she had used to block Anya's final fire punch.
She rolled up her sleeve.
There, on the pale, indestructible silver skin of her forearm, was a mark.
It was a scorch mark. A patch of black soot where the metal had been superheated. And right in the center, there was a tiny, hairline fracture.
Anya's eyes widened. She gasped, forgetting her tears.
"I… I broke it?" she whispered.
"You cracked Stellar Meteorite," I corrected, a proud smile finally touching my lips. "Ria's body is tough enough to tank a strike from a core Formation expert without a scratch. But you, a Foundation Establishment child, managed to crack it."
Ria looked at the mark, then at Anya. For the first time, the silver maid smiled. It wasn't her usual cold, programmed smile. It was genuine.
"It will take me three hours to repair this, Young Miss," Ria said. "Your flame… it carries the concept of 'Destruction.' It is very… annoying."
Anya giggled. A wet, teary giggle, but a giggle nonetheless. "I'm annoying?"
"Extremely," Ria nodded.
I squeezed Anya tight. "You see? You aren't weak. You are a monster in the making. Now, are you done crying?"
Anya wiped her face vigorously. "Yes."
"Good. Because if you cry, you can't eat the Honey-Glazed Boar I had the kitchen prepare for dinner."
Anya's head shot up. "Meat?"
"Lots of it."
"Let's go!" she cheered, wiggling to get down.
I set her down, and she ran toward the manor entrance, her exhaustion seemingly forgotten at the mention of food.
I stayed behind for a moment. Ria rolled down her sleeve, hiding the crack.
"That crack," I murmured quietly. "You lowered your density at the point of impact, didn't you?"
Ria looked at me, her face blank. "I do not know what you mean, Master. My combat calculations are flawless."
"You let her damage you to boost her confidence."
Ria turned and began walking toward the house. "Young Miss has a fragile ego. If she believes she is powerless, her flame will wither. A calculated sacrifice of structural integrity yields a 400% increase in her motivation. It is simple logic."
I watched her walk away, shaking my head.
"Logic," I scoffed. "You're getting soft, Sword Spirit. You're starting to act like a big sister."
"I am a weapon," she projected into my mind, sounding defensive. "I do not have feelings."
'Sure. And I'm just a normal fourteen-year-old boy.'
I looked up at the sky. The stars were coming out. Somewhere up there, the Arbiters were watching the flow of fate, looking for anomalies.
They wouldn't find us. Not yet.
We were a family of liars. A God pretending to be a genius, a Dragon pretending to be a maid, and a Phoenix pretending to be a child.
"Let's go," I whispered to the wind. "The Academy is waiting."