After deciding to participate in the competition, Bai Qingxue’s routine remained largely unchanged.
She still spent her days at the cold pond, the quiet room, and practicing her sword, except that she now added an extra hour after her evening sword practice to work on her spells.
On the evening of the third day, there was a knock at Bai Qingxue’s courtyard gate.
Bai Qingxue rose to open it.
She found Lu Xueqing standing outside, dressed in a frost-white Daoist robe with a sword hanging from her waist and her hair neatly tied back.
She wasn't carrying anything, but simply stood there with a faint smile on her face.
“Junior Sister, I heard you’re entering the competition. Do you need your senior sister to spar with you?” Lu Xueqing asked, her tone casual, as if it were a passing thought.
Bai Qingxue thought for a moment and replied, “Okay.”
Lu Xueqing was taken by surprise for a second, then laughed. “Can’t you say more than one word?”
Bai Qingxue looked at her, thought about it, and added another sentence: “Okay. Let’s go.”
Lu Xueqing sighed and shook her head, though the smile didn't leave her eyes. “Let’s go, to the training ground.”
The training ground of Xueji Peak was located on a flat rocky terrace halfway up the mountain. Several wooden stakes stood around the perimeter, and the ground was paved with bluestone slabs, with withered grass growing in the cracks.
The evening light was a dim yellow, casting long shadows of the two women.
Lu Xueqing walked to the center of the training ground, drew her sword, and turned to face Bai Qingxue.
“I’ll suppress my cultivation to the seventh level of Qi Refining to match yours. I’ll only defend and not attack; give it everything you’ve got.”
Bai Qingxue nodded and drew her sword.
First strike: Frost.
A misty frost erupted, shrouding an area of several yards. Lu Xueqing’s vision was obscured, but she didn't panic. She tapped the ground with her sword tip, using the momentum to retreat while spreading her spiritual sense to track Bai Qingxue’s position.
Bai Qingxue moved silently through the mist, circling to Lu Xueqing’s side and pointing her sword tip at the other woman's left shoulder.
Lu Xueqing sidestepped the attack and parried, knocking the Frost Condensation Sword aside.
“The speed is decent, but not fast enough,” Lu Xueqing’s voice drifted through the frost mist, calm and steady.
Bai Qingxue did not stop.
Coldness overflowed from her palm, condensing into several ice needles that shot forward. Lu Xueqing swung her sword to block. The ice needles struck the blade with crisp clinks, though a few grazed past her robes, leaving tiny holes in her sleeves.
“Good aim,” Lu Xueqing said. “But that kind of power isn't enough. If a cultivator of the same rank uses spiritual power to protect their body, your ice needles would only break the skin at most; they wouldn't reach the vitals.”
Bai Qingxue withdrew her sword and stood in place, thinking. “Then how should I strengthen them?”
“Two ways. One is to increase the infusion of spiritual power to make the ice needles faster and harder. The second is to find weak points. After all, a cultivator’s spiritual power is precious; it’s impossible to protect every part of the body equally. There will always be certain spots that are weaker.”
Bai Qingxue nodded, signaling that she had noted the advice.
“Again.”
Lu Xueqing smiled and resumed her stance. “Alright.”
The two of them sparred in the training ground for nearly an hour.
Bai Qingxue repeatedly practiced the application of her Ice Spirit power, refining every move and form from ice needles to ice walls, and from ice walls to frost mist. Lu Xueqing blocked and guided her at the same time, teaching her techniques for spiritual power infusion and the timing for switching between spells.
However, Lu Xueqing had joined the sect earlier, and her combat experience was far superior to Bai Qingxue’s. Even with her cultivation suppressed, her swordplay and movement techniques were much more seasoned.
During a rapid exchange of offense and defense, Bai Qingxue pressed in close, thrusting the Frost Condensation Sword toward Lu Xueqing’s right shoulder.
Lu Xueqing dodged to the side and parried with a backhand strike, her blade following through the motion.
She had only intended to force Bai Qingxue back, but she hadn't expected Bai Qingxue to refuse to retreat, forcing her way past the blade instead.
The sword tip grazed Bai Qingxue’s left forearm.
Immediately, a slit was cut into Bai Qingxue’s robe, and beads of blood seeped from her fair skin, trickling down her forearm and dripping onto the bluestone slabs.
Lu Xueqing’s movement as she withdrew her sword stiffened for a moment.
“Junior Sister—”
Bai Qingxue looked down at the wound and pulled up her sleeve to inspect it.
It wasn't deep—merely a superficial wound—and the bleeding wasn't heavy.
Without a change in expression, Bai Qingxue took a strip of cloth from her storage bag, wrapped it around twice, and tied it tight.
“It’s no matter, Senior Sister. Let’s continue.”
Lu Xueqing stood there without moving.
Her gaze was fixed on Bai Qingxue’s forearm. The wound was still seeping blood, and the bright red droplets sliding down the pale skin were startlingly vivid in the twilight.
Bai Qingxue’s skin was very white. No, it wasn't just white; it was a nearly transparent, jade-like color, like something preserved beneath a layer of ice.
The bloodstain lay across it like a stroke of cinnabar on white paper, shocking to the eye.
Lu Xueqing suddenly felt her throat tighten, as if something were lodged there that she couldn't swallow or spit out.
She stared at the wound for a couple of breaths, and a thought suddenly surfaced in her mind—a thought she never expected to grow from within her heart.
This mark was left by her.
On Junior Sister Bai’s skin, there was a trace she had left behind.
The moment this thought appeared, Lu Xueqing startled herself.
She had clearly hurt Junior Sister Bai, yet what occupied her heart was neither distress nor self-reproach. No, those emotions weren't entirely absent, but they were too faint—faint as mist that would scatter with a single breath. In their place was an indescribable, strange sense of satisfaction.
As if there was finally something on Bai Qingxue that belonged to her.
This sense of “belonging” was inexplicable and irrational, yet she couldn't stop herself from thinking about it.
If Bai Qingxue was bound to surpass her, bound to go far, bound to no longer need her as a senior sister...
What would be left between them then? Lu Xueqing thought, perhaps nothing at all.
She had considered this many times, and every time she did, she felt a pang of heartache.
But now it was different.
If that wound could remain on Bai Qingxue...
Even if Bai Qingxue went far away, she would remember it was left by her, wouldn't she?
Lu Xueqing lowered her eyes and tightened her grip on her sword hilt.
Her fingers were trembling slightly, not out of fear, but because the sense of satisfaction was so intense that Lu Xueqing felt there was something wrong with her.
But if this was a sickness, she didn't seem to want a cure.
Bai Qingxue looked up at her and saw that she was still standing in place, her brow slightly furrowed.
“Senior Sister?”
Lu Xueqing snapped back to reality, her lips twitching into what passed for a smile. “It’s nothing. Let’s continue.”
Lu Xueqing resumed her stance, but her mind was still filled with that image—the pale forearm, the bright red blood trickling down the skin.
She bit the tip of her tongue to suppress those thoughts.
She couldn't think like that. She couldn't.
She was the senior sister. She should feel distressed, she should feel guilty, she should tell Bai Qingxue, “That’s enough for today, go back and rest your wound.” But she said nothing. She simply stood there, watching Bai Qingxue bind the wound with a cloth strip, her movements efficient and her expression calm, as if nothing had happened.
Bai Qingxue drew her sword again and attacked.
Lu Xueqing blocked a strike, her eyes unconsciously drifting back to that forearm. The cloth strip was already in place, hiding the wound, but she knew it was there. The blood was still seeping, creating a small dark red stain on the cloth.
She took a deep breath and pulled her focus back to the sword.
They practiced for another half hour. Bai Qingxue had exhausted most of her spiritual power, and fine sweat beaded on her forehead, but her expression remained as steady as ever. Lu Xueqing sheathed her sword and walked over.
“That’s enough, Junior Sister. Don't push yourself.”
Bai Qingxue nodded and sheathed her sword.
The two of them walked back down the stone steps. Twilight had completely settled in, and the spirit light lanterns along the steps lit up, swaying gently in the night wind.
Lu Xueqing walked in front at a moderate pace. Bai Qingxue followed behind her, looking as usual.
Neither of them spoke along the way.
As Lu Xueqing walked, her mind was still on that wound. She remembered the tone in which Bai Qingxue said “It’s no matter”—flat, without blame or complaint, as if the injury wasn't even worth mentioning.
But Lu Xueqing didn't want it to be like that.
She wanted Bai Qingxue to remember that this wound was left by her.
Yet Lu Xueqing didn't dare say it. Because saying something like that would be far too strange.
Reaching their courtyard gates, the two parted ways.
Lu Xueqing pushed open her own gate, walked inside, and leaned against the door.
She looked down at her sword. There were still bloodstains on the blade—not many, just a few drops that had already dried into dark red spots.
She smeared one with her finger; the blood came off on her fingertip, feeling cool.
She stared at that bit of dark red on her fingertip for a moment, then went to fetch a basin of water to clean her sword.
The bloodstains were washed away by the water, flowing down the rim of the basin and disappearing into the cracks between the bluestone slabs.
Lu Xueqing returned her sword to its rack and sat cross-legged on the stone bed.
Closing her eyes, she felt her spiritual power flowing slowly through her meridians. But her mind was still filled with that image—the bright red blood beads sliding down the pale forearm.
Lu Xueqing opened her eyes and looked at her hand.
She thought privately: ‘Am I still Lu Xueqing, still Bai Qingxue’s senior sister, the person who should care for and look after her junior sister?’
Lu Xueqing took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing those chaotic thoughts, and closed her eyes once more.
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