Qian Xiaohao's Provocation

In the afternoon, by the creek.

Lu Yuan crouched on the bank, Soul Power stirring faintly at his fingertips as he touched a wild grass leaf. No reaction. He let go, and the leaf drifted into the water.

Pebbles rattled behind him.

"Well, if it isn't the great scholar Lu."

It was Qian Xiaohao's voice. Lu Yuan stood and brushed the dirt off without turning around.

Three figures blocked his way a few steps behind him. Qian Xiaohao stood with folded arms and his chin raised, the short saber at his waist glinting in the sun. His two lackeys stood on either side.

"Need something?" Lu Yuan turned around.

His tone was too flat. Qian Xiaohao's mouth twitched. "I heard your dad broke through? A white Soul Ring. Impressive."

The short, stout lackey snickered. "Fifteen years to squeeze out a white one. That takes talent too."

Lu Yuan didn't take the bait. He looked at Qian Xiaohao as if he were looking at a rock.

The look made Qian Xiaohao's temper flare. He paced half a step forward. "Everyone in town says you know how to cultivate. What, can Blue Silver Grass teach people now?"

Wind swept through the reeds by the river. People watched from a distant ridge between the fields.

"My dad figured it out himself," Lu Yuan said.

"Figured it out?" Qian Xiaohao sneered. "If he could do that, where was he fifteen years ago?" He lowered his voice. "He didn't use some crooked method, did he? Evil arts can force a breakthrough, but the consequences are serious."

It was a vicious insinuation. Lu Yuan raised his eyes slightly.

"Even the Soul Master Hall hasn't reached a conclusion. You know more than they do?"

Qian Xiaohao was left speechless. He had been holding his anger in for days, and today he had to let it out. His hand went to his saber hilt.

"Fine, let's not talk about your dad." He took half a step back. "Let's talk about us. I have an Iron-Backed Saber and level-four Soul Power. You have Blue Silver Grass and half a level." He drew out his words. "Isn't that a bit of a gap?"

The short, stout lackey chimed in. "As far apart as heaven and earth!"

"So." Qian Xiaohao smiled. "I'm curious. How does someone with a Trash Martial Soul cultivate? Why don't you... show us?"

The two lackeys moved to the sides, vaguely forming a triangle.

Lu Yuan's gaze fell on the short saber. Its sheath was inlaid with copper and covered in intricate patterns, but its blade was worn.

An ornament.

He looked up. "How?"

"A spar." Qian Xiaohao released the hilt. "No Soul Skills, just a few moves. Let me see what Blue Silver Grass can do."

The provocation was blatant.

A few people gathered around: farmers, women washing clothes, and children peering through the reeds.

Lu Yuan was silent for two seconds. "We can spar."

Qian Xiaohao's eyes lit up.

"But I have a condition," Lu Yuan continued. "No Soul Power. Just moves. You use your saber, and I'll use this."

He raised his right hand. The pale-blue phantom of Blue Silver Grass appeared, its slender leaves swaying gently.

Quiet hisses rose around them. Grass against a saber?

Qian Xiaohao froze, then burst out laughing. "Are you serious?"

"Do you dare?"

The ball was back in Qian Xiaohao's court. He couldn't save face now. He had wanted to force Lu Yuan to use a Soul Skill and make a fool of himself, but now that Lu Yuan had proposed such a ridiculous contest, backing down would make him look guilty instead.

"Fine!" He gritted his teeth and drew his saber. "No Soul Power, then. Let's see what tricks that lousy grass can pull."

The blade shone bright as snow.

Lu Yuan took two steps back, his right hand loosely curled. Soul Power stirred faintly, and an extremely faint glow appeared along the edge of the grass leaf-it hardened, though only for an instant.

Qian Xiaohao didn't notice. He took his stance, saber tip pointing forward. "Come on!"

"You first."

Qian Xiaohao grunted, stepped forward, and slashed diagonally. The move wasn't fast, but his form was textbook.

Lu Yuan turned sideways and flicked the Blue Silver Grass phantom, its leaf gliding against the blade. He didn't block, instead using the force to retreat half a step.

The saber missed.

Qian Xiaohao frowned, drew back his saber, and thrust again.

Lu Yuan kept dodging. His steps were small, each one barely taking him out of reach. Now and then, a grass leaf tapped the blade or swept toward Qian Xiaohao's wrist. The movements were light and lacked force, but they were annoying.

After seven or eight exchanges, Qian Xiaohao hadn't even touched the hem of his clothes. The onlookers began to murmur.

"He's quick on his feet..."

"What good is dodging all the time?"

Qian Xiaohao's face grew hot. He grew impatient, and his saberwork began to fall apart.

Another slash missed. Lu Yuan suddenly stepped forward half a pace. The Blue Silver Grass phantom snapped, a leaf straightening like a needle and stabbing at the wrist holding the saber.

Qian Xiaohao instinctively pulled his hand back. His saber faltered.

In that instant, the Blue Silver Grass wrapped around the blade, and the tip of a leaf lightly pricked the web between his thumb and forefinger.

Icy cold. Numb.

His hand loosened, and the short saber fell onto the pebbles with a clatter.

The crowd fell silent at once.

Lu Yuan withdrew the Blue Silver Grass and took two steps back. He was breathing a little hard, and sweat beaded at his temple. That move had consumed nearly thirty percent of his Soul Power, and the hardening had lasted only half a second.

But it was enough.

Qian Xiaohao stared blankly at the saber on the ground, his face flushing red. He picked it up and gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"You..." His voice trembled. "You used Soul Power!"

"No," Lu Yuan said calmly. "We agreed not to use Soul Power. If you think I did, ask the Soul Master Hall to test me."

The words left no room for an answer. Qian Xiaohao opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He indeed hadn't sensed any fluctuation of Soul Power, yet the sting between his thumb and forefinger didn't feel fake.

The short, stout lackey came over. "Brother Xiaohao, why don't we..."

"Shut up!" Qian Xiaohao growled. He glared at Lu Yuan as if he wanted to devour him. "Again!"

"Enough."

Old Chen the carpenter pushed his way through the crowd. He looked at the two of them and frowned. "You kids should know when to stop fooling around. If someone really gets hurt, your parents will all come looking."

Qian Xiaohao gritted his teeth. Old Chen was friends with his father, and his words gave Qian Xiaohao a way out.

He was unwilling to accept it, but everyone was watching.

Lu Yuan spoke first. "Uncle Chen is right. It was just a spar; we should stop once a point is made." He looked at Qian Xiaohao. "Do you still want to continue?"

He was polite, but his meaning was clear: if Qian Xiaohao wanted to stop, now was the perfect time.

Qian Xiaohao's chest rose and fell a few times before he slid the saber back into its sheath.

"You got lucky today," he forced out through his teeth. "See you at the Soul Master Academy."

He turned and left. The two lackeys hurried after him.

The crowd dispersed. Old Chen patted Lu Yuan on the shoulder. "That Qian boy has a nasty temper. Try not to provoke him."

Lu Yuan nodded. "Thank you, Uncle Chen."

He was alone by the river now. He opened his right hand. The Blue Silver Grass phantom had already dissipated, and his palm ached.

He looked down. The web between the thumb and forefinger was the starting point of the hand yangming large intestine meridian, crucial to exerting force with a saber. A light prick disrupted muscle control.

A trick. But it worked.

He turned and headed back, replaying every detail in his mind.

When he reached the edge of town, he stopped.

A gray-robed figure was leaning against an earthen wall by the road. Zhao Shi.

His arms were folded, and he wore the hint of a smile. "Quite capable. Blue Silver Grass against an Iron-Backed Saber, and you still got the upper hand."

Lu Yuan's heart tightened, but his expression didn't change. "Luck."

"Luck?" Zhao Shi took two steps closer, his gaze sweeping over Lu Yuan's right hand. "That move just now-the grass leaf hardened, didn't it? Even if it was only for an instant, you couldn't hide it from me."

Lu Yuan said nothing.

Zhao Shi didn't press him, instead continuing on his own. "The Qian boy holds grudges. But compared to him, there's something else I'm more interested in." He stared into Lu Yuan's eyes. "The night your father broke through, what exactly was buried beneath the roof tiles in the back courtyard?"

Lu Yuan's pupils contracted slightly.

Zhao Shi smiled. "Don't be nervous. I'm just curious." He turned and waved a hand. "Take your time thinking about it. There are plenty of days ahead."

The gray robe vanished around the corner of the alley.

Lu Yuan stood where he was for a long time before letting out a breath.

Trouble had come. More than one kind.

He looked up at the sky. The sun was slanting west, and clouds were piled in layers.

He had to pick up the pace.

He headed home. As he passed the Qian family compound, its gates were tightly shut. Shouts and curses came from inside, along with the dull thuds of a wooden post being chopped.

He didn't slow his steps.

At the entrance to his own alley, he took a small cloth packet from inside his robes. Inside were a few shriveled seeds-Soul Condensing Grass.

He picked one up and held it to the light. Its surface was rough and completely dull.

The knowledge base said that under certain Soul Power fluctuations, Soul Condensing Grass had a less than one percent chance of mutating. It required induction by a sustained, stable Soul Power field.

He hadn't had the means before. Now...

He put the seed back in the packet and tucked it away.

He pushed open the courtyard gate. His mother, Lin Xiu, was hanging up clothes. "Where did you go? It's so late."

"I walked around by the river."

Lin Xiu nodded and asked no more.

Lu Yuan went to the back courtyard. The roof tiles were still in the corner, and the soil beneath them was slightly damp. He crouched and brushed aside the loose earth with his fingers.

The Soul Condensing Grass hadn't sprouted. But he could feel extremely faint Soul Power gathering deep in the soil.

Very slowly, but it was moving.

He withdrew his hand and stood. A sliver of the setting sun shone through a gap in the western clouds, red as blood.

Lu Yuan narrowed his eyes.

Soon. Once the seeds broke through the soil, once he had a few more cards in his hand.

Some scores had to be settled.