Within Zhao Rucheng's sprawling estate, nearly ten mu across, two figures flickered through the light of blades, parting and meeting in a blink.
Clang!
Zhao Rucheng's hand went numb and his longsword flew from his grip. Jiang Wang's blade already rested at his throat, tip hovering as he regarded him with an amused half-smile.
"Marvelous!" Zhao Rucheng gasped. "What manner of swordsmanship is this?"
The gap between them had never been vast, but it was real; in usual sparring he won three or four of ten bouts. Yet after twenty straight duels today, he had not taken a single victory.
Jiang Wang laughed and sheathed his sword. This art deserved its fame as a profound method of attaining the Dao through the sword — nine training forms and five killing forms. He had mastered barely four of the former and one of the latter, yet his understanding of the blade already far surpassed what it had been.
"This came to me by fortune and has no name. Rucheng, you are accomplished in both letters and arms — what would you call it?"
Zhao Rucheng pondered. "This is the Son of Heaven among swords. It should be named... Purple Qi from the East."
"Purple Qi from the East..." Jiang Wang's eyes flashed. "A fine name!"
For a brief instant he glimpsed a sovereign bearing on Zhao Rucheng he had never seen — likely an illusion, for the next moment Zhao Rucheng scooped up his sword and bounded over, grinning. "Third Brother, teach me!"
"Very well." Jiang Wang beamed.
Both grasped the worth of the Purple Qi from the East Sword Art: a transcendent canon, unlike mortal fighting styles, that could stir rivers of blood if loosed upon the jianghu. Yet one asked to learn without hesitation and the other taught without a thought, and it seemed trivial between them.
When Jiang Wang returned to the Dao Academy, night had fallen; Zhao Rucheng, a thorough wastrel, seldom lingered there save for classes.
So lost was he in the mysteries of the sword art that he noticed Li Jianqiu only at the Inner Court dormitory door, sword in hand.
"Dreaming of something?" Li Jianqiu said with a faint smile.
"Matters of swordsmanship," Jiang Wang answered, and asked, "What brings you here, Senior Brother Li?"
"No wonder your swordsmanship is formidable. Master Dong bids you attend him after tomorrow's morning lesson. I waited, finding you out."
"Ah — I spent the afternoon at Rucheng's estate," Jiang Wang said, embarrassed. "You need only have left word with an attendant."
Inner Court disciples were served by attendants who saw to their clothing and meals, freeing them to cultivate.
"Since Master Dong charged me, I could not delegate it. Nor am I too lofty to wait for a man."
Jiang Wang lowered his head. "This junior is uneasy."
And uneasy he truly was: Li Jianqiu, two years above him and a talent known throughout the academy, was certain to advance to the Qinghe Commandery Academy. That such a figure had stood and waited, patient, unsettled him.
Li Jianqiu clapped his shoulder. "I see boundless promise in you. No need for formality."
Then he left.
The night passed. At the next morning's lesson's end, Jiang Wang went to Dong A's quarters.
Besides Li Jianqiu, two others waited. One was Zhang Linchuan, a senior brother born to the Zhang family — one of Fenglin City's three great clans — and reckoned among the city academy's strongest. He stood tall and graceful, every fold of his robes refined, listening as the man beside him spoke.
The other was Fang Heling.
Seeing Jiang Wang enter, he raised his voice. "Brother Zhang! A hunter from my estate sent a fine pair of bear paws. Tomorrow the master chef at Wangyue Tower will prepare them — we'll all taste them together."
Zhang Linchuan inclined his head.
Fang Heling turned. "Senior Brother Li, you must come too!"
Li Jianqiu only smiled. "If I have time."
Before Fang Heling could continue, Li Jianqiu stepped toward the gate. "Junior Brother Jiang has arrived?" He had come out to greet him.
Jiang Wang hurried forward. "My apologies — I am late." He saluted Zhang Linchuan. "Greetings, Senior Brother Zhang." Fang Heling he ignored entirely.
"You as well," Zhang Linchuan said, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents.
But some must be noticed.
"Hmph." Fang Heling snorted. "Master Dong gave his orders, and Senior Brothers Zhang and Li came early — I came at dawn, before even lesson. What virtue lets certain people keep Master Dong and two seniors waiting?"
Jiang Wang ignored him, saluting the others. "This junior came straight from lesson. Morning and evening we chant and breathe the qi; the bell and drum — no slackness."
Li Jianqiu clapped his shoulder. "We came early, not you late. Cultivation brooks no slackness; Senior Brother Zhang and I kept our own morning practice."
Fang Heling's irritation deepened, but dared not stir further.
A creak — Dong A pushed open his door.
"All here?" He swept his gaze, awe-inspiring without anger.
The four saluted. "Master Dong!"
Dong A waved a hand. "I summoned you for a task. The Left-Path heretic's assault on the Outer Court and the murder of an outer disciple — the Office of Inquiry has found nothing. Our City Dao Academy need not wait; we charge you to investigate, at Eighth-Grade standard."
Inner Court tasks were graded by the strongest force met, and rewarded in Dao Merit rather than contribution points. The difficulty and rewards alike lay worlds apart; the Meridian-Opening Pill cost a staggering sum in contribution points yet only a hundred of Dao Merit — though a hundred was no easy thing.
The heretic had shown only Ninth-Grade strength, so Dong A's Eighth-Grade was plainly encouragement.
"Jiang Wang and Fang Heling are the only two whose Dao meridians have manifested; they must be tempered. Linchuan, Jianqiu — take a junior each and investigate separately. The reward splits nine to one; whoever finds the truth first takes nine-tenths."
They bowed. "We obey."
Dong A withdrew.
Zhang Linchuan had come prepared. "I have friends in the Office of Inquiry. Two leads: before the assault the heretic stayed three days at the Fulai Inn, and in Tangshe Town a household was exterminated with corpse qi like the Outer Court attack. Junior Brother Li, which road?"
Li Jianqiu said, "They are your informants; we defer to you."
Zhang Linchuan was not surprised — this was mere formality. "I take Tangshe Town; you take the Fulai Inn."
Fang Heling brightened. "With Senior Brother Zhang, how could a mere heretic hide?" He shot Jiang Wang a triumphant glance.
Any observer could see Tangshe fit better, with clearer clues — and in Fang Heling's eyes, he would seize the lion's share of his first Eighth-Grade mission.
Then Zhang Linchuan said, "Junior Brother Li, might I take Jiang Wang?"
Li Jianqiu betrayed no emotion. "As you wish."
The standing had already settled it: Jiang Wang closer to Li Jianqiu, while Zhang Linchuan and Fang Heling both hailed from the three great clans. Though Jiang Wang wondered why Zhang Linchuan passed over the closer Fang Heling, he had no choice. "Then I trouble Senior Brother Zhang."
Both were experienced and soon settled assignments and supplies. Jiang Wang helped with the preparations.
Only Fang Heling stood rooted, his face cycling through green and white — plenty to say, yet not a word could he get out.