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Chapter 22: PROMISED FIGHT
🕑 Added 2024-09-23 02:52:49 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
22
PROMISED FIGHT
DAOJUE
—∞—
Daojue and Gleaming End were one.
The spear Daojue was as if a perfect extension of himself. As he swung and thrust it, he felt the weapon’s thirst for blood and battle. Although he had yet to grow fully accustomed to the ego gear’s constant presence in his mind, he was no longer unfamiliar with the sensation. While distracting, he found it a small price to pay in exchange for wielding such a weapon.
Swift and slippery, Qingshi dodged his attacks. Earlier, the prime disciple had all but stated that he knew the identity of Daojue’s spear; now the inner disciple showed great care in keeping both body and blade from it, unwilling to meet Gleaming End in any way.
Leaning his body out of the way of a thrust by a hair’s breadth, Qingshi struck back with a thrust of his own. Daojue spun on his feet and snapped Gleaming End into place in front of him; Qingshi aborted the attack and pulled back. Daojue followed with a thrust aimed at the prime disciple’s neck, but Qingshi once more slipped out of the way.
Qingshi wore a look of intense concentration; he had yet to utter a single word since the start of combat. For all his earlier bluster, Qingshi gave their confrontation the respect it was due.
This was a fight Daojue foresaw long ago.
He and Qingshi first met not long after Daojue joined the sect. Elder Taishou invited him to his dwelling in the Inner Court, and there he saw Qingshi. At first, the disciple had been cordial, and Daojue had believed it to be genuine. Then Yunzhu had appeared, and the disturbed woman had refused to leave his side, her eyes fixed on him and filled with dark desires Daojue could not fathom. Her interest in him did not go unnoticed; although Qingshi had feigned indifference, Daojue saw through the facade and glimpsed the sprouting seeds of conflict.
He had next met Qingshi in his residence in the Outer Court. The prime disciple had visited him unannounced in the middle of the night, and warned him to leave the sect, offered to provide a means for him to make his exit, and promised an ample reward should he accept. Daojue had refused, for he had no interest in becoming a rogue cultivator, no matter what promises Qingshi made. Qingshi then resorted to threats. Again Daojue refused, for a Tianzijun would not be cowed, and Qingshi left. His following meetings with the prime disciple had all been public ones. In all of them, Qingshi had donned a mask of amiability, but Daojue had not been blind to the festering enmity that lurked behind the man’s half-hidden visage.
When Rongkai attempted to assassinate him, Daojue had known who was behind it. Likewise, he had known that since the hired hand had failed, Qingshi was likely to take matters into his own hands the next time.
That time had come.
By virtue of Gleaming End, Daojue held the offense. Qingshi could not allow himself to be hit by it, so he had no choice but to dodge every attack Daojue made. Daojue took full advantage of that; he flowed from stance to stance as he pressed onward. When Qingshi chanced a strike, all Daojue needed to do was reorient his weapon into harm’s way, and Qingshi would be forced back.
It was disdainful to rely on the might of his weapon to overwhelm his opponent so. However, while it would be beneath a Tianzijun to employ underhanded or dishonest means, it would be foolish to deny himself an advantage, even more so when faced with an opponent at a higher soulsign. Pride was the enemy of the Tianzijun, and Daojue would not fall slave to its damning hold.
He also could not allow himself to die. He had yet to avenge and restore his clans; he would evade the Silver Stream’s grasp by any means necessary until he had settled those matters. Qingshi was but an obstacle in his way, and just as with all that had come before and all that would come after, Daojue would overcome it and proceed on his way, unbroken and unbent.
Daojue watched Qingshi as the prime disciple dodged. His opponent was unharmed; all Daojue had managed so far was to draw a few cuts in the inner disciple’s robes. At times he would feel as if he had made contact, but no blood would be drawn. For all the advantage Gleaming End brought him, Qingshi proved to be a difficult opponent. Daojue did not know how effective the prime disciple’s self-developed chromal technique was, but so far it had proved to be just as effective as mundane sight; paired with Qingshi’s speed, Daojue found himself hard-pressed to land his attacks.
As the battle wore on, Daojue found something bubbling inside him. It was a strange sensation. It pierced through the strength of his focus and echoed the thrill and viciousness Gleaming End radiated through their connection. Recognition did not come immediately. As Daojue immersed himself in the fight, he could not pay it much mind. Then, as he dodged another thrust from Qingshi, however, it spiked, and he felt his face tighten in an unfamiliar way, as if something had pulled on his lips.
It took him a moment to realize he was smiling. In doing so, he at last placed the lightness he felt. It was enjoyment. Despite all the discipline his master had instilled in him, despite all the training he had endured so that feelings and emotions would not sway him, Daojue found that he was enjoying himself.
Shock followed that revelation. Momentarily distracted, Daojue almost allowed Qingshi’s sword to reach him. Daojue pulled himself out of the way and brought Gleaming End back. Qingshi was forced into retreat.
Daojue immediately reasserted control over his expression, settling back into the neutrality expected from a Tianzijun scion. Daojue wanted to deny the emotion. Battles were not something he was meant to take enjoyment for. Tianzijun were not meant to give themselves to their emotions. They could not, for that way lay ruin.
However, while he already shamed his master’s memory through this lapse, to deny his own feelings would be to shame all his master’s teachings even further. Willful ignorance would only serve to pave the road to his downfall. Mistakes were not meant to be ignored, but acknowledged and overcome. As a Tianzijun, it was paramount that he remain in full control of himself in every way at all times, lest he commit the sin of his predecessors and let the Pride that tainted their lineage best him.
When this was over and Qingshi lay dead at his feet, Daojue would meditate, and he would reassert control over himself. He refused to give the Tianzijun Pride opportunity to claim him as another of its victims. Until then, Daojue simply ignored the emotion. He acknowledged it, but wielded it no control or measure of influence over him. Now that he knew of its presence, he could at least protect himself against it.
Daojue intensified his attacks. He fully blocked off Gleaming End’s presence from his mind and concentrated wholly on the fight. With his self-control slackening, he could not afford to let this continue for long. Even now, he could feel the thrill that filled him grow stronger, insidiously claiming ground inside him. With each of his strikes that Qingshi dodged, it grew stronger and fiercer. It was no longer just Qingshi Daojue fought now, but also himself.
His lips tightened again and curled on their own; Daojue forcefully drew them back into a straight line. More than once his master warned him that while he had been blessed to be a Metalsoul, he could not afford to grow lax in his efforts to tame himself. His alignment, strong as it was, would not be enough to hold the curse of their blood at bay.
Since the death of his family and his master’s sacrifice, emotions had seldom come to him. They had felt more distant than ever before, more so than he had ever been able to achieve through his own efforts. It was as if he had lost the capacity to feel. To him, that had been a blessing; it had allowed him to fully devote himself to cultivation and combat, without distraction.
As of late, there had been felt flares of it. Sometimes around Yunzhu, and occasionally during his confrontations with his teammates. They were always brief, however, and never lingered for long, so he had not been concerned. The meditations his master had taught him took time, and he had felt that time was better spent growing stronger. He stopped applying himself toward taming his mind, as he had felt there was no longer a need to. He had thought he had it under control.
Now he saw his complacency for what it was. It had been the Pride at work. Even in the absence of feelings, it had managed to infiltrate his mind and sow the seeds of weaknesses in anticipation for a future breach. Like a fool, he had unwittingly given it all the fertile ground it required.
It was then that Daojue felt something else. In the place of the lightness from before, something rose from his chest and stomach and spread throughout it. He felt heated. Blood thumped in his ears. This time he was quick to place it. It was anger, at himself. Immediately, Daojue pulled back from Qingshi.
The prime disciple didn’t give chase, staying in place. Even though Qingshi had no gaze for Daojue to feel, Daojue still felt the weight of the prime disciple’s scrutiny. He ignored it.
The situation was dire. Daojue concentrated on his own feelings and did his best to stamp down on the anger. The thrill had been bad enough, but anger wasn’t something he could allow to fester, not for any period of time. Once rooted inside him, he would have a hard time erasing it. After all that had happened, there was simply too much fuel inside him for it. His self-control was rapidly unraveling, and he needed it to stop.
Still standing where Daojue had left him, Qingshi let his right arm slump; his sword hung down together with it. “You… You’re not even paying attention to our fight anymore, are you? You have your mind completely elsewhere.” The prime disciple sounded oddly despondent.
Daojue eyed him; he felt the urge to attack, never mind what Qingshi said, but he was unsure whether that was the anger speaking. He couldn’t afford to give his emotions any more leeway.
“I knew that you were good,” Qingshi said. “But not to this extent. I was afraid our fight would be unfair, with me at fifth-sign and you at third-sign, but then you got that spear and I figured that’d even things out. But you’re even better than I thought, if even now you can afford to let yourself get distracted. You could’ve fought me to a standstill even without it, couldn’t you? A fifth-sign spear would’ve sufficed to make you my match, despite the difference in our soulsigns.”
Daojue did not know what Qingshi intended with this. He did not care. However, this interlude was a good thing. It was the break he needed so that he could properly stabilize himself. He kept some attention on the prime disciple in case it was some kind of ploy, but the rest of it he dedicated to one of the techniques his master had taught him. He entered Heavenly Communion, then reached for the Void Laws. Instead of giving himself over to them completely in full Void Communion, he kept the Void at bay and only fed it his emotions. He concentrated on everything he felt and pushed it all toward the boundless emptiness he was connected to.
Partial Void Communion took considerable concentration, and it was merely a temporary measure, but for now, it would suffice for his needs.
Qingshi sighed again. Then he nodded slowly to himself. “Very well. I admit defeat. At fifth-sign, I am not your match. I admit I don’t fully understand yet what Yunzhu sees in you, but I accept it now that it’s not entirely unwarranted.”
Daojue was almost done. All that was left of his anger now was barely an afterthought. He felt the emptiness spread throughout him and his mind clear.
“I can’t help but wonder, however, just what your limit is,” Qingshi said. “What if I were at sixth-sign? I imagine that would at least push you, or at least I hope it does.” Qingshi smiled. “Would you care to find out?”
All his emotions were surrendered to the Void now. Clarity was all that remained. Daojue could freely resume fighting. He felt no excitement at the prospect, and also no dread. He only acknowledged the possibility. He had been paying attention to Qingshi’s words, however, and the question the prime disciple had just posed stayed his hand. Daojue narrowed his eyes and reassessed the situation.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Qingshi said.
Nothing seemed to change.
Still smiling, Qingshi slowly walked forward, until he was at the very edge of Daojue’s soulsense. Although physically nothing had changed, what Daojue perceived in front of him was no longer a fifth-sign redsoul. The color of Qingshi’s soul was now sixth-shade red, and his aura was the equivalent color.
“No reaction?” Qingshi tilted his head to the side. “Interesting—you were so expressive just now. Did you do something? Well, no matter.”
Qingshi brought his sword back in front of him slowly and pointed it at Daojue.
“Let’s go for round two.”
Comments
Pykimon
Daojue did not -know- what Qingshi intended with this
