Year 663 of the Stable Era,

Fifteenth day of the eleventh month

47 minutes into the 9th Inner Hour

The crowd was abuzz with silent energy as Haoran took her place, the barrier surrounding the arena cloaking them in that familiar quiet. Most of the tables had already rearranged themselves, cultivators shifting their chairs around the gaps of the inner circle for views that didn't require them to crane their necks.

A small throng was following a pair of cultivators making a circuit around the tables, jade tokens trading hands as the Benevolent Jade Betting Society took a break from their schmoozing to ply their trade. A few of the more jovial cultivators had taken to the air on flying swords, legs dangling as they passed a jug of wine between them. One of the cultivators from her opponent's table kept glaring at them, no doubt annoyed at the way that his companion had led to such disrupted decorum.

Haoran looked her opponent over, preparing for battle in the way she knew best. They were a large cultivator, likely one of a martial path given her form and attire. Her voice and her time-worn headband with its distinct pattern indicated that she hailed from somewhere just south of the Earth's Fangs Mountains. The area had remained quaintly rural for millennia, the only group of note being a small clan of deer guai that had been appointed its stewards by the Empire.

As her crest lacked their horned emblem, her opponent had likely started her life there as a farmer, no doubt inspired by tales of cultivators that she'd heard while growing up. Which was probably part of the reason why she had jumped to challenge Haoran so brazenly.

Cultivators lived long lives, but changed rarely.

By the time they had finished living out their first mortal's lifespan, most had already formed the core of their own identity. Their habits and manners could change, perhaps, but it was more a drift over centuries than anything else. Occasionally broken, should circumstance and fate force the need for change, but otherwise maintaining the course plotted so long ago.

It was what led so many to follow more eclectic pursuits later in their lives, due to the way their interests reached unexpected conclusions on their ever-winding paths. And likely why her opponent had such a poor grasp of manners and had decided to garb herself in so many blades. A fascination with an impossible goal taken to an extreme, now that she had managed to grasp it.

Flying sword techniques weren't unusual among sword cultivators, but most cultivators that specialized in such techniques had sought swords that suited their techniques more by this stage of their cultivation. Her trigram blades were an example of that, their handleless forms designed to better serve their purpose.

Her opponent, on the other hand, seemed to just be wearing her entire sword collection at once. Haoran could feel the traces of their power through their sheaths even at this distance. A thick aura, qi heavy with the sensation of metal, sharpness, and flame—a sure sign of their potency. A sign of vanity as well, perhaps, but there was always the chance that she was an odd specialist of some sort. One that used some esoteric technique that required such diverse swords to utilize.

Or she could be the sort of cultivator that relied on the power of artifacts over their own might, eager to steal a chance at fame. Or just a collector that had decided that tonight was the night that she was going to dare to test her mettle, after years of hoarding swords without so much as swinging them.

So many possibilities, which could influence their fight in so many ways. And yet from just the surface alone, it was almost impossible to tell which held weight. It almost made Haoran laugh aloud as she thought back to her opponent's words. There was no better introduction than a clash of blades…wisdom of an Immortal who had seen far more than either of them had yet to live.

Better to focus on the moment, the now, of this fight, and sort out the circumstances later. What she needed to do now was win. Everything else depended on her victory.

"Imperial Prefect Sun Haoran," she said, clasping her fist in a martial salute as she bowed to her opponent. A play to courtesy, giving her challenger more face than she deserved by introducing herself first. "Imperial Blade Scholar of the Fifth Layer and Golden Core Cultivator."

"Disciple Ruan Chen," her opponent replied, returning the greeting with a grin. "Core Formation Cultivator of the Sword Intent Club. Of the Teal Mountain Sect."

Haoran's eyes narrowed slightly at her introduction. Imperial citizens typically referred to the third stage of qi cultivation as the Golden Core stage, as part of a mandate to increase clarity on the purpose of each stage from a few centuries back. While the Teal Mountain Sect still followed traditional conventions, Haoran knew that many of the younger cultivators from the Imperial territories were prone to recalling their upbringing.

A loyal sect member, then? Or perhaps a sign of Ruan Chen's age. Their headband could just as easily be a possession as an heirloom. Something owned by them and them alone rather than something passed down through the generations.

"How shall we start?" Haoran asked, her jian sliding from its sheath with the barest whisper. "A referee, perhaps? On the standard interval?"

"No need for anything that fancy," Ruan Chen replied, pulling a cup from her sleeve. "We'll just do this the old-fashioned way." With that she tossed the vessel into the air, lantern light glinting against its polished curves. Haoran followed its arc with her qi sense as she watched her opponent. There were several subtle techniques to interfere with such a thing's fall, and it would be shameful to allow herself to be caught off guard by such a petty trick.

Seconds later, the delicate porcelain crashed against the stone, Haoran's swords flying the moment it did.

Her Water(☵) blade swept from of its sheath as first crack traced through the delicate ceramic, its trigram aglow as it traced a sweeping line behind her. Her qi sang as she invoked its power, a great wave rising behind her as it crashed towards her foe.

Haoran leapt back as the first chunk of the cup shattered, the wave splitting around her. She landed softly on Heaven's(☰) flat as Thunder(☳) crashed into the wave like its namesake, forming her first technique through their union.

The Third Hexagram: Growing Pains.

Water above, Thunder below. An all-engulfing attack designed to shock and immobilize her opponent, infused with the hexagram's divine meaning of the difficulty of beginnings.

Unfortunately, it never landed. Ruan Chen drew a branched blade from her side, five antler-like blades gleaming as it slashed down. The wave parted before it, crashing around her as it roiled against the arena's transparent barrier. Eventually, the water came to a rest, a foot and a half of electrified water submerging the entire arena.

Except for a circle around her opponent, twelve feet in diameter.

Somehow the liquid remained parted around her, kept in place by some sort of strange force. Not a promising start. Haoran spun the bracelet on her left arm, forming it into the three hexagonal rings of her shield as her swords moved into her next attack. The two submerged swords began to rapidly circle, swirling the stilling water back into a raging vortex. Meanwhile, her opponent began to speak, addressing both her and the crowd as she displayed her sword for all to see.

"Originally forged to allow coastal cultivators to force sea beasts onto their territory, wave splitter swords are still favored by some cultivators for their ability to cut water like its wood. Their wide blades are also great for thrusting, as well as for catching your opponent's blades!" Ruan Chen emphasized the last word as Haoran's swords struck, lunging at the tall cultivator from opposite sides of the water like a pair of sharks as Haoran descended on her from above.

The wide blades of the wave splitter twisted as they caught Water(☵), Ruan Chen's fingers closing around Thunder's(☳) blade as Haoran's jian swept down towards her skull, her intent gleaming along its edge.

Chen leaned her head forwards, catching the blade against the ridiculous dagger sticking out of her headband. Haoran's sword sparked against it, intent meeting intent as her opponent matched her with a sheathed weapon!

Haoran raised her shield to ward off Thunder(☳) as her opponent slashed at her with her own sword, striking out again with her jian as her mind whirled. What was that technique? What sort of sword cultivator in their right mind would train themselves to use intent with a knife, much less a sheathed one?!

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Her opponent must be practicing some sort of strange blade art to pull that off. One that revolved around the myriad blades that she had yet to draw. Through all of it Ruan Chen was still talking, matching her attacks with her branched sword while inspecting her captured blade.

"Ah, this is excellent craftsmanship," she said, carefully tracing a finger along the edge of the stolen sword. "An original Hou Jin, if I'm not mistaken. It's amazing to see the Great Smith's work in person. I wonder which—ah, a second-generation blade! Yes, his mark has the extra flourish he added after he became Imperial Smith, but without the mark to indicate rank that he began incorporating after the second was appointed. How'd you manage to get a sword like this?"

As she blabbered her branched-sword stabbed towards the shield, and Haoran lowered her guard as she let its hexagonal plates split. The shield parted a hair before clamping down, clanging against empty air as Ruan Chen drew her blade back just in time.

"Ah, and a flying shield no less!" she exclaimed, once again parrying Haoran's jian with her stolen Thunder(☳). "So you're a traditionalist! I'd heard that most members of the Imperial Blade Scholars had adopted the orthodox style of the trigram blades. It's rare to have a chance to spar with one of the remaining practitioners of the Red-Eared Slider School."

Haoran's eyes narrowed further at her opponent's familiarity, her qi flickering as she shifted the trigram of her jian to Thunder(☳). The paired trigrams flared as the swords met, connecting their meaning as they did.

The Fifty-First Hexagram: Great Thunder!

Its power was as simple as its arrangement, but no less potent for it.

Electricity roared as lightning arced from Haoran to Ruan Chen, the latter throwing the blade aside as it struck. The tips of her fingers smoked as they seared against the blade, and she plunged them into the water as the bottom two hexagons of Haoran's shield swept towards her knees. Ruan Chen rose into a handstand to dodge them, her wide blade sweeping to the side to ward off any attempt to strike her on their return path.

"Ha-tcha! That's hot!"

Haoran exhaled a long breath as she drew more of her flying swords. The fact that her opponent had been fast enough to dodge most of her attack had told her all she needed to know about her reflexes. This wasn't an opponent to take lightly, a certainty that only grew as she caught sight of Ruan Chen's unblemished palm as she flipped herself to her feet.

Not a single mark on her despite the moves that she'd traded while wielding the stolen trigram blade. A concerning sign of skill given that its naked edge lacked any sort of hilt or grip.

Haoran released her focus on Water(☵), recouping some of her lost qi with a deep breath as what liquid remained mutable returned to its original form. There was no telling what sort of technique her opponent would use next, so there was no sense in wasting her energy on something that could be turned against her.

Meanwhile, Raun Chen's sword had disappeared, replaced by another—a short jian—that she'd drawn in a blink as she charged forwards. Haoran leaped back as Heaven(☰) shot forwards from beneath her feet, her other flying swords striking with blinding speed.

Her opponent parried the first strike with ease, red petals fluttering along the arc of her sword as she drew a long duanjian in her second hand with that same sudden speed. As it swept through the air thick roots grew in its wake, catching half of Haora's swords as they struck. With a gesture Haoran pulled them back, slashing at the roots with a flaming jian as Ruan Chen twirled in the air.

The tip of her opponent's duanjian planted itself in the ground, roots thickening as they found a base. The swirling petals sharpened as she swept the shorter jian back again, each delicate blossom slicing towards Haoran like a rain of blades.

"These're my paired jians, Willow and Begonia. They were forged for an ancient plant sect, to be wielded either alone or in harmony. Though together really brings out their full potential."

Haoran's mind raced as her body moved. Her shield expanded, each of its 19 plates repositioning themselves to protect her from the barrage as three of her remaining swords kept up their attack, scoring a few nicks on Ruan Chen's side. As they did her last blade struck, the sign of Fire(☲) igniting as it united in purpose with her jian.

"The Thirtieth Hexagram: Spark!" she cried, invoking the technique to draw it to greater heights. A risky move in a duel with a sword cultivator, as the quickness of their swordsmanship made it hard to commit so much into a single technique, but Haoran needed to push back against her opponent here. To test the limits of her tools and her skills.

With a brilliant flash the beginnings of a tree burst into flame, thickening willow branches and vines of burgeoning flowers turning to charcoal in an instant. Another trigram glowed on her blades as it flew into alignment with her jian. Earth(☷), to form another hexagram with her next strike.

The Thirty-Fifth Hexagram: Advancement.

Fire above Earth.

Success through diligence.

Glory through merit.

Haoran's blade grew sharper as her technique strengthened it, the fate that she'd cast granting it greater power. Her blade dipped forwards as Haoran charged through the flames, only to find her blow intercepted by yet another sword, this one a wide blade carved from the signature teal jade of her opponent's sect.

"Meet Hill Trimmer," Ruan Chen declared, shoving Haoran back with a massive heave that shook the air. Her flying swords trembled as her will struggled to reassert her control, gathering them behind her as she slid back across the stone. "Carved from the stone harvested from…well, not this peak, but another one. Its blade's far from the sharpest, but it can cut the earth more easily than paper."

To emphasize this she spun her slab of a sword, cutting a score through the reinforced stone of the arena as she did. At the far end of the head table a nervous looking instructor winced as she repeated the motion twice more, cutting a triangular slab free.

With stomp the stone rose, and Haoran was already rolling to the side as Ruan Chen sent it flying towards her with a slap from the flat of her blade. The stone was easy to dodge, as it was far slower than a cultivator's blade, and Haoran's swords were already arranging themselves to block the upcoming sneak attack when Ruan Shen's sword caught her side.

Rather than use the cover of the flying stone as screen to approach she'd circled the arena the long way, making use of speed and expectations to catch her off guard. Haoran felt the chain armor beneath her robes crack from the impact, and she forced the outer ring of her shield back as her opponent batted her across the arena.

The twelve hexagons cradled her as they caught her midair, and she forced a burst of qi through her side to fuse her ribs back into place as she landed on her feet. There had been more force to the blow than she had expected, the strange properties of the oddly named blade allowing it to cleave through her armor's defenses like they weren't there.

With a twist, Haoran brought a blazing Fire(☲) around, the flaming blade flitting back towards the familiar embrace of Earth(☷).

Time for a more potent omen. One that would force her opponent to face greater hardship than before.

The Thirty-Sixth Hexagram: Darkne—

Her technique flickered as something made contact with Earth(☷), forcing it to take on a new meaning. She felt her body slow, as the force bolstering her dimmed from a familiar sensation.

The Fifteenth Hexagram: Modesty.

But how?

She looked back towards her now-plummeting Earth(☷) sword, only to catch sight of the hilt of Ruan Chen's ridiculously thick jade blade crashed into the arena's barrier. Its blunt edge spun from the force, its tip carving neatly through the arena as it landed blade first.

That was it, wasn't it? She had said that it was a blade carved from a mountain, hadn't she? Which meant that there was enough meaning to its origin and creation to allow it to play the role of a trigram. Adding its meaning to her hexagram before she could complete it as intended.

Haoran felt a chill as her opponent reached to her sides to draw a pair of hook swords, the black and white blades glowing as she began another approach, already announcing some fact about the far-off valley they had come from.

How much did she know?

Had that been on purpose?

Or just instinctual?

It wasn't uncommon for cultivators to rely on the latter at times, but the Trigram Blades Technique was still half-mystery. As a major technique of the Empire it was hard for its capabilities to truly remain a secret for long, but no small amount of effort had gone into stirring rumors enough to cloud the specifics. What each of the 64 blade formations truly did and what could be used as extensions of the technique being one of them. Especially when it came to substituting unorthodox elements for true blades in a pinch.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Du Huang's eyes widen, already knowing what he was going to say before he could finish flashing the message to her.

Don't hold back.

This was now a serious fight, against a cultivator close to her own level. One necessitating a stronger message, perhaps? To remind the Empire of the strength of their ally? To play it more forcefully, to show the difference between heaven and earth?

Or—no…she couldn't focus on that. Just finish this now and worry about the politics of it all later.

Haoran tightened her qi around her core, drawing it in rather than allowing it to continue its circulation. The octagonal tablet—inscribed with the eight trigrams around the symbol for yin and yang—hummed as it came to life, each of her swords chiming faintly as their signs resonated with it. She breathed out, releasing her intent as her focus tightened.

This wasn't an art to be used lightly in front of so many bystanders, but if a demonstration of might was in order, the loss of some of the secrecy of her cultivation was an acceptable cost to pay.

Her shield rose as her opponent's blades clamped down like an alligator's jaws, the rim of her shield separating without resistance as Haoran let them go rather than allow her opponent to wrench her arm around. Her jian struck out, forcing Ruan Chen to twist the crescent guard of her left sword to meet it.

But Haoran released her grip on her jian as it went, the blade bouncing to the side as Heaven(☰), the fastest of her flying swords, flew into her hand. Her opponent's wrist twisted, the hook sword shortening as it caught the edge of her second strike, but her true attack was already in motion.

Her flying sword technique had already grasped her thrown jian, the blade curving around as it stabbed towards her foe's undefended back.

But the sheathed blades rustled as it approached, two of the many blades on her opponent's back catching her surprise blade in a crossed guard.

"Good one," Ruan Chen laughed, "but you're not the only one with a flying sword technique." She swept her head sideways with those words, the dagger from her headband flying free as it shot towards Haoran's chest.

So close.

So fast!

Her qi flared as her shield rose, its edge rushing forwards to meet the attack. Without time to muster her intent there was little it could hope to do against Ruan Chen's empowered blade, but with an extra burst of qi she could still redirect it. The dagger spun in the air, and instead of slicing through her its ivory handle only bounced off the side of her breast.

Haoran leapt back as she called her jian back to her, her shield reforming as she used it to block a whiplike strike from the interlocked hook swords. The dagger had returned to her opponent's headband, but the other swords on her back had begun to draw themselves, forming an orbit around her that rivalled Haoran's own.

It would seem her opponent was starting to get serious as well then. With a thought Haoran let her qi surge. Her core sang with power as her blades rose, ready to meet her opponent's next attack.

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