Moving Forward

Another early morning arrived.

The sound of a wooden sword piercing the air startled the birds nesting under the eaves.

Duan Xianxing froze in place, his wooden sword nearly slipping from his grasp. He stared wide-eyed at his junior sister—Li Nanzhu's sword tip was resting a mere three inches from his throat, the morning light casting a long, thin shadow across her face.

"Focus," Li Nanzhu said, withdrawing her sword and stepping back three paces into a starting stance. "Again."

The youth swallowed hard. Over the past few days, he had witnessed Li Nanzhu training like a woman possessed at the martial arts arena.

The straw men she hacked to pieces, the wooden posts she split, and the wounds at the web of her hand that never seemed to scab over—all of it filled him with trepidation.

"Little Junior Sister..." Duan Xianxing asked tentatively, "Are you..."

"No," Li Nanzhu interrupted him, her sword blade shifting to flick aside his defensive opening. "I simply want to spar."

The crisp clack of wooden swords hitting each other was particularly jarring in the quiet morning.

At first, Duan Xianxing was hesitant, holding back his strength. It wasn't until Li Nanzhu's blade grazed his ear, slicing off a few stray hairs, that his instinct overrode his caution. He spun and countered, the resulting sword wind forcing Li Nanzhu back three steps.

"Now that's more like it." Li Nanzhu wiped her face, the blood from the back of her hand leaving a red streak across her cheek.

As she reset her stance, Duan Xianxing noticed that the web of her right hand had split open again. Drops of blood trailed down the grain of the wooden sword, splashing into tiny red blossoms on the bluestone floor.

The youth suddenly understood—this wasn't an outburst or self-harm.

The nearly obsessive light in Li Nanzhu's eyes was something he had seen when their Eldest Senior Brother guided them in swordplay. it was the gaze of a cultivator pursuing a breakthrough.

"Then I'll accompany you to the end," Duan Xianxing said with a sudden smile, his wrist flicking to knock her sword aside, his tone becoming remarkably serious.

Time flowed slowly, and the sound of the wooden swords transitioned from crisp clacks to heavy thuds.

Li Nanzhu's swordplay grew increasingly chaotic. Several times, she relied entirely on muscle memory to block Duan Xianxing's killing moves.

Once, she nearly tripped over herself but used her sword tip against the ground to force herself back up. Another time, Duan Xianxing's sword was already at her throat, yet she stepped forward half a pace, moving directly into the blade.

"You—!" The youth was so startled he immediately retracted his sword, his voice jumping a few octaves.

"Continue." Li Nanzhu's damp hair was plastered to her pale forehead by sweat. A fire burned in her eyes that Duan Xianxing couldn't quite read. "Just... consider it a favor to me."

It wasn't until the bell for the hour of Wei rang that Li Nanzhu finally lost her strength and collapsed to her knees.

The wooden sword fell onto the bluestone with a clatter. When she lay back, the sweat beneath her had already formed a small puddle. Duan Xianxing rushed to help her, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"Let me just lie here for a while." She gazed at the sky, where the wind was tearing the clouds into thin veils of white gauze.

Duan Xianxing sat silently beside her, placing a water skin where she could reach it. The youth looked at his own trembling hands—it turned out that swinging a sword with all his might was so exhausting that it made his eyes sting.

"As expected, I still can't win..." Li Nanzhu said softly.

"You're already very strong, Little Junior Sister," Duan Xianxing whispered. Setting aside sword technique, simply being able to maintain such an intense spar for so long already surpassed many sword cultivators.

Li Nanzhu didn't reply. She wasn't strong enough. Time... was still too short. Even with the year she had stolen from the secret realm, it was still difficult to last ten moves against a Natural Sword Physique like Duan Xianxing. What more against those sword cultivators who had been training since childhood?

If she didn't work harder, how could she ever hope to defeat those who had cultivated for decades?

"Next time..." Li Nanzhu turned her head and smiled at Duan Xianxing. "I want to keep sparring with you."

"Mhm. I'll be here to the end!"

Li Nanzhu lay on the bluestone, watching the shadows shift from the eastern eaves to the western corridor. When the last patch of sweat had dried, she suddenly pushed herself up and picked up the scarred wooden sword.

"See you tomorrow," she told Duan Xianxing, her voice husky from disuse.

The youth watched her departing back—the setting sun stretched her shadow long across the bluestone, looking like a sword resting in its scabbard.

The next day, during the hour of Yin, Li Nanzhu stood upon a protruding rock on Wandao Peak.

The sea of clouds at Wandao Peak was at its most magnificent during the hour of Yin. Beneath her feet was a surging tide of mist, gilded by the rising sun, with the occasional bird soaring through the layers.

The mountain wind suddenly turned fierce.

Li Nanzhu's sleeves fluttered, and the ribbon binding her hair snapped in the wind.

She looked down at her toes hanging over the edge of the cliff—half a step further was a bottomless abyss. The sea of clouds rolled below, swallowing everything in a milky white fog.

"If I jump from here, can you catch me?" Li Nanzhu suddenly spoke, her voice light yet clearly piercing through the howling wind.

Zhu Yinxi's jade flute clattered onto the rock. The usually composed Second Senior Brother's expression changed rareley, and even his voice rose in volume: "What?"

"I'm not looking for death." Li Nanzhu turned around, the morning light outlining her silhouette. "It's like testing one's reactions while sword-kiting."

Zhu Yinxi leaned down to pick up his flute, his slender fingers tapping it three times—a habit of his when thinking. Li Nanzhu waited quietly, watching the clouds shift shapes beneath them.

Zhu Yinxi's brow was furrowed. Their time together had taught him that once this junior sister made up her mind, it was hard to change it.

After a long silence, Zhu Yinxi took a strap from his storage bag. The pale green silk ribbon unfurled in the morning wind. He tied one end around his wrist, securing it with a simple dead knot.

As the silk ribbon was tied to his wrist, Li Nanzhu noticed he had used a dead knot. This perfectionist, who would repeat a musical score ten thousand times, was now using the clumsiest method to ensure her safety.

"Hold on tight." He handed the other end to Li Nanzhu. "On the count of three."

Li Nanzhu gripped the silk ribbon, feeling the texture of the fabric against her palm. The churning sea of clouds reminded her of what her master once said: "Beneath the sea of clouds, there is another world entirely."

"One."

Her heartbeat suddenly became very loud, as if it were trying to hammer its way out of her chest. The mountain wind grew even more violent, whipping her robes around her.

"Two."

A ray of golden light pierced through the clouds, shining on her hand as it gripped the silk ribbon. Li Nanzhu saw her fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, but from a strange sense of anticipation.

"Three."

The moment she leaped, the world suddenly became exceptionally quiet. Li Nanzhu felt as light as a feather, drifting weightlessly into the boundless sea of clouds.

As she passed through the first layer of mist, she saw sunlight refracting through the water droplets, forming tiny rainbows. Her long hair flowed upward, and her robes billowed in the wind. A memory suddenly surfaced.

"The sky isn't going to fall."

That person's voice seemed to whisper right in her ear.

As she plummeted through the second layer of clouds, the mist grew thin, and a strange calm enveloped her, like finding peace in the eye of a storm. She saw the moment her master dissipated, the trajectory of the azure jade fan falling just as she was now.

The silk ribbon suddenly snapped taut.

Zhu Yinxi's flying sword pierced through the clouds. He controlled the sword with one hand while clutching the silk ribbon with the other. His usually tidy hair crown was tilted, and several stray locks were plastered to his forehead by sweat.

Li Nanzhu suddenly burst into laughter. Her laughter echoed through the valley, startling the roosting birds. She looked at Zhu Yinxi's rare disheveled state, at the scattering clouds, and at the rising sun—the dull ache in her chest seemed to lighten once more.

Zhu Yinxi pulled her onto the flying sword, a lingering trace of alarm still in his eyes. Li Nanzhu noticed his fingers were trembling slightly. She knew he had been just as worried—worried he wouldn't catch her—yet he had still chosen to indulge her whim.

"One more time?" she asked, tugging on his sleeve.

His knuckles rapped gently against her forehead. "Nonsense."

But Li Nanzhu saw that as Zhu Yinxi put away the silk ribbon, his fingertips lingered on the dead knot for a moment longer. In the morning light, his usually cold profile seemed to soften.

As the flying sword landed at the peak, Li Nanzhu jumped off and found her legs were still shaking—not from fear, but from the exhilaration of release. Looking back at the sea of clouds, the morning sun had painted it entirely in shades of gold and crimson.

Suisui had followed them at some point and was now poking at a wild flower in a rock crevice with its bone claws. The bone spirit's soul fire made the flower glow like a tiny lantern.

She suddenly understood that some falls are meant for better flight, and some pains will eventually transform into the strength to move forward.