Zhang hadn't expected Jiang to come quietly, not really. He'd expected a protest, perhaps a desperate justification, or even a foolish attempt at defiance. Someone willing to become a rogue disciple wasn't likely to simply give up when confronted with the consequences of their actions – not until they were shown the futility of their actions, anyway.

Still, he did not expect Jiang to skip straight to trying to shoot him with an arrow.

Zhang shifted his weight and let the arrow slip past, brushing his sleeve. He raised an eyebrow. Not bad, considering the weapon.

Another arrow was already on the string. Jiang loosed and moved in the same breath, the shot meant less to hit him than to force space between them. Zhang surged forward, closing the distance with ease. Mortal bows simply weren't made to handle cultivator reflexes; each time Jiang drew, the bow itself slowed him more than Zhang's presence did.

"Wasteful," Zhang muttered, slipping aside from the next arrow. He extended a hand, palm open, and flicked a pulse of Qi into the shaft. It splintered midair, fragments scattering harmlessly into the snow. Jiang's eyes narrowed, but he was already shifting backward, boots kicking up powder as he tried to open more space.

So this was Jiang's plan: distance, pressure, arrows. Primitive, yet not entirely foolish. Against mortals, it would have been devastating. Against someone like him? Zhang snorted quietly. Jiang hadn't yet realised the gulf wasn't bridged with clever angles and a stubborn heart.

"This is pointless," Zhang said, his voice calm. "That bow cannot harm me."

There was a reason most cultivators favoured the sword, after all – even a cheap blade could be deadly if its wielder was fast enough, but a bow was ever limited by the materials it was constructed of.

Jiang's answer was another arrow. This one came quicker – too quick, almost. The bow groaned, wood fibres protesting the strain. Zhang narrowed his eyes, noting the way Jiang's Qi had unconsciously seeped into the bow, keeping it from splintering apart. Interesting. Very interesting.

A second arrow followed, aimed lower, at his legs. The speed was startling, Zhang had to admit, and quicker than the last; the boy's reinforcement technique was channelling a surprising amount of power into the shot, and he was visibly improving with each shot. Despite that, Zhang wasn't worried in the least.

"You've clearly progressed well, but a self-taught technique can never match experience and skill," he allowed, making no real effort to fight back. Not yet, anyway.

As if to prove his point, the bow shattered on the third shot. The wood, unable to contain the force of Jiang's own Qi, splintered with a sharp crack, the string whipping back to sting the boy's arm. Jiang stared at the broken limbs in his hand for a fraction of a second, his expression one of vaguely affronted irritation.

Zhang's lips thinned. "Predictable."

To his credit, Jiang didn't waste time cursing his luck. He hurled the ruined bow aside and closed the distance himself, knife flashing into his grip. On the one hand, it was admirable how quickly he adapted. On the other hand, moving into close range with a clearly superior opponent when deprived of his primary weapon was… questionable, at best.

Zhang met the rush head-on, one hand raised in a casual parry. Metal scraped across his forearm guard as he diverted the strike and shoved Jiang back.

The boy recovered instantly, low and fast, his Qi reinforcing his movements with a raw power that belied his meagre cultivation. Zhang noted the smoothness again – no stutter in the flow, no hesitation. The reinforcement technique was surprisingly refined, the flow of Qi smooth and potent for someone at the fifth stage – or then, maybe it was the sixth? It was remarkably difficult to get a read on the boy's Qi.

Regardless, the application was crude, all force and no finesse. Jiang was strong, but he didn't know how to use his own weight. His footwork was a half-step clumsy, his balance a shade too forward, the hallmarks of someone who had never been taught how to truly fight another cultivator.

Zhang countered with an open-handed strike that caught Jiang in the chest. The boy staggered but didn't fall, twisting his body so that the force rolled off instead of driving straight through. Again – instincts sharp as a knife's edge.

"Mm," Zhang murmured. "You're catching up faster than you have any right to."

Was this really the same boy who'd lost almost every duel he'd been challenged to, less than two months ago? That progress was… frighteningly quick. It galled him to even consider it, but if it had taken Zhang a few more weeks to find Jiang, would the fight still be this one-sided?

Jiang didn't respond, slashing his knife in tight arcs. It was clear that he didn't have any practice fighting with a weapon like this, but each one was reinforced with enough Qi that a careless block might have drawn blood regardless. Zhang gave ground a pace, testing, then slid forward again. His palm clamped around Jiang's wrist, squeezed, and forced the knife free. He tossed it in the snow, and—

Something about the play of light off the blade distracted him for a split second, and the boy seemed to vanish. Not literally – Zhang could still see him – but his presence dimmed, his existence slipping sideways in Zhang's awareness. For half a heartbeat, he almost dismissed Jiang as an unimportant background detail.

He frowned, lunging backwards to gain space, not bothering to hold himself back the way he had been. A stealth technique – and one more subtle than it had any right to be. Armed with something like that, even an untrained disciple could be… dangerous. Zhang circulated Qi to his eyes – a relatively simple form of enhancement that improved his visual acuity. It seemed to be enough to break Jiang's stealth technique – though now that he could examine the effect, he realised it wasn't stealth so much as… misdirection.

Zhang knew well the kinds of concealment arts taught at this level; they were blunt tools, useful for ambushing mortals or hiding from wild beasts. This was different. Not powerful, not suited for battle, but quiet. Insidious. If he hadn't known Jiang was there, if he hadn't been watching for him, he would have looked past the boy entirely.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Clever trick," Zhang called, pivoting. "But useless, now that I know."

Jiang lunged from the side, fist aimed at his jaw. Zhang caught the blow, redirected, and struck him across the ribs. The boy staggered, breath hissing, but even now he kept moving, circling, refusing to give him a still target.

Annoyance pricked at Zhang's patience. Jiang was no match for him – anyone could see that. But the boy was relentless, quick to adapt, and slippery enough that Zhang found himself calculating how much trouble it would be to physically drag him back north. Shackling him would be simple. Keeping him shackled on a journey of weeks? Less so.

He sighed, the sound a faint plume of mist in the cold. This had just become far more troublesome.

— — —

The fight was over. Jiang knew it with a certainty that settled in his gut like a cold stone. His bow was a useless wreck – again. His knife was lost somewhere in the snow. The one trick he'd thought he could at least rely on to escape was apparently useless against a cultivator who was actively looking for him. He was outmatched, outmaneuvered, and completely out of options.

And then… Zhang Shuren stepped back, his posture relaxing from a combat stance into one of casual authority. He straightened the sleeves of his immaculate robes, not a single speck of dirt on them, and regarded Jiang with a look of cool, analytical appraisal.

"You have made impressive progress," Zhang said, almost like this was back at the Sect after a training match or something. "Your control of reinforcement is surprisingly potent, and that concealment art is… unique. But your foundation is a mess. You have strength, but no structure. Instinct, but no discipline. You fight like a wild animal, not a cultivator. Continuing on this path alone will only lead you to an early grave."

Jiang stared, breathing hard, trying to understand the sudden shift. Was… was this just Zhang adding insult to injury? Some kind of cultivator tradition, like explaining how badly your opponent sucked before you beat them?

Honestly, it wouldn't surprise him at this point. Still, something about the situation felt… off. If nothing else, in their few interactions back at the Azure Sky Sect, he hadn't gotten the impression that Zhang was the type of person to insult someone like that. He'd probably consider it beneath him, which was an improvement on most other cultivators.

"Why are you talking?" Jiang finally managed, his voice a low rasp. "If you're going to finish this, then finish it."

"My task is to bring you back to the Sect, not to beat you senseless in the middle of the wilderness," Zhang replied smoothly, though a flicker of annoyance crossed his features. "Your desertion is a serious offence, but it is not unforgivable. Your talent is undeniable, if unrefined. If you return willingly, I will speak to the Elders on your behalf. The punishment will be severe, I have no doubt, but it will be better than being hunted as a rogue. The Sect can give you what you lack: proper guidance, real techniques, a path to true power. You are wasting your potential out here."

Jiang almost laughed. What was with the sudden shift in tactics? He wasn't stupid or arrogant enough to assume that Zhang was trying to avoid a fight because he was worried about losing. But then, why…?

Then, it hit him. This time he did laugh, short and sharp. "You're worried I'll slip away," he said. "That's it, isn't it? You can beat me bloody, but you can't keep me."

Zhang's expression didn't shift much, but there was the tiniest pause before he answered. "You overestimate yourself. I'm only offering you a chance to avoid pointless suffering."

Jiang tilted his head, still breathing hard. As much as he hated to admit it, the man wasn't wrong – Jiang could make himself an inconvenience, but couldn't pose an actual threat. And if Zhang really wanted to, he could just… break Jiang's legs, drag him back to the Sect that way.

He wasn't about to mention it, though – no sense planting ideas, if for whatever reason Zhang hadn't already considered it.

Which meant… they were at an impasse. And Zhang held the undeniable advantage, at least for now. His best bet at getting out of this was creating some distance – his stealth technique might not have held up in a direct fight, but he was willing to bet it was more effective if he could get some distance first.

"How did you even know I would be here?" he asked suddenly. If Zhang had a way of tracking him, getting away would be significantly more complicated.

Zhang shrugged. "The information broker in Qinghe was most helpful. Once I made it clear that assisting a disciple of the Azure Sky Sect was in his best interest, he was quite forthcoming about your recent inquiries."

Jiang's jaw tightened. The Broker. Of course. He felt a flash of anger at the man's betrayal, quickly followed by a wave of weary cynicism. The man sold information for a living; loyalty wasn't part of the transaction.

"Figures the bastard would manage to get paid twice for the same information," he muttered.

"Oh, I didn't pay the man," Zhang replied, sounding almost surprised at the notion.

Well. That was a small comfort, at least. Probably one of the rare times cultivator arrogance worked in his favour. But it didn't solve the larger problem. "That explains how you found me here," Jiang said slowly, his mind working through the implications. "It doesn't explain how you knew to look for me in Qinghe in the first place."

For the first time, a genuine, smug smile touched Zhang's lips. "That was a simple matter of logistics. The rumour you were chasing, the one about the well-guarded caravan bearing the mark of the Hollow Fangs? I fabricated it. A few carefully chosen words to the right servants in the Sect, and the story spread on its own. They do so love to gossip."

Jiang stared. "You what?"

He had left the Sect, travelled for weeks, fought and killed, all in pursuit of a complete fiction? The anger that rose in him was cold and sharp. "You sent me on a wild goose chase? How did you even know there were bandits out here at all?"

Zhang's smile faded at the accusatory tone. "I didn't know," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "I constructed a plausible scenario. Qinghe is a cesspit, a known haven for criminals and thugs. It was a logical certainty that some manner of bandit crew would be operating in the surrounding territories. Simple deduction, nothing less."

"Why?" Jiang demanded, the word tight with suppressed fury. The other disciples at the Azure Sky Sect hadn't made any secret of how they saw him, but setting something like this up was beyond just dislike. "Why go to all this trouble? Do you have any idea what that cost me? How many I've killed, chasing your lie? What was the point?"

"You were the point," Zhang said coolly. "Elder Yan did not believe you were worthy of a place in the Sect. He felt your presence was an insult to our standards. My task was to provide you with an opportunity to demonstrate that unsuitability in a way that the other elders could not simply ignore. My intention," he emphasised, "was to merely distract you, show that you lacked the fortitude to set aside your notions of vengeance and focus on your cultivation. That you would desert your post chasing a fool's errand was simply a more efficient outcome than I had anticipated."

Jiang listened, and the anger slowly drained away, replaced by a profound sense of exhaustion. If nothing else, Zhang's explanation – and the way he seemed to think nothing of his actions – emphasised why he didn't want to become a cultivator. Or, at the very least, he didn't want to become like the sect cultivators, the ones that secluded themselves on distant mountains and got offended if you bowed at the wrong angle.

He looked at Zhang, at his perfect robes and his unwavering self-assurance, and felt nothing but a vast, weary distance.

"And you wonder why I left?" he pointed out tiredly.

To his – very minor – credit, Zhang had the grace to acknowledge the point.

Jiang sighed, pragmatism taking over. At the end of the day, Zhang's rumour, fabricated or not, had at least gotten him on the right track. It raised… many, many more questions – such as why Elder Yan was willing to go to such lengths to get rid of him, only to send his disciple to collect Jiang – but none that were immediately relevant.

The current situation was complicated enough – Jiang was outmatched, and Zhang was outmaneuvered. Neither could force the other's hand without risking a worse outcome.

"So then," Jiang said, breaking the silence. "What now?"

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.