[Young Master Xian]—❈—55:: The Spar

“You will spar Zexi,” our mother says casually. “Now. Step aside, everyone.”

There is that moment of silence that always comes after someone spontaneously makes a random decision like ‘my two children will fight right here right now on the front lawn’, and we all simply stare at Xian Qi as though expecting her to suddenly laugh and call the whole thing a joke.

She doesn’t.

“Mother… what?” Zexi asks.

“I concur,” I say. “What?”

“Zexi and Qigang will spar,” our mother repeats. “Make space for them,” she says to the others.

The words don’t come out forcefully, and even though they all still look surprised (excepting Weiju, who simply looks annoyed), they obey, stepping aside on the huge lawn to give us all the space we could need.

Meng Yi and Xiuying look at me with expressions that are somehow apologetic, worried, and supportive, all at once.

I look back to my mother.

“Okay, don’t you think this is a bit much,” I say. “I mean, I just arrived from a three-day long trip. I haven’t even changed.”

“It’s a spar, Qigang. I’m not sending you off to war,” Xian Qi says with a tone like I’m being silly.

Zexi scoffs disdainfully, descending the stairs confidently. “Are you scared, brother?”

I lift an eyebrow at her.

Well, she seems to have gotten over her surprise pretty quickly. In fact, she seems excited for the first time since my arrival.

This asshole. She’s looking forward to this, isn’t she?

“Combat rules, Mother?” she asks.

“Yes,” our mother says, and a grin splits Zexi’s face, giving her an almost hungry look.

I have no fucking clue what ‘combat rules’ means, but I neither like the sound of it, nor do I like the look of the grin it causes on Zexi’s face.

“Combat rules means weapons and techniques are allowed, Young Master Xian,” Xiuying says. “The only way out of the fight is surrender or knockout.”

My eyes widen.

“That’s not a spar, that’s a fight,” I say. “Someone could get badly injured.”

“You have a healing technique, do you not?” Xian Qi asks.

“That’s no reason to go around hurting people,” I say.

Zexi laughs. “You can’t wriggle your way out of this, brother,” she says, then summons a sword into her hand before tossing it at me.

I watch the beast rank weapon pierce into the ground mere inches from my foot.

Zexi summons another sword into her grip, a peasant rank, and points it at me.

“Pick up the sword, brother,” she says. “Or are you so craven that not even enlightenment could teach you the dignity of bravery?”

I stare at the woman, the embers of anger beginning to glow in my chest.

“I don’t use swords,” I say, kicking the weapon so it falls flat on the ground. “And if you really believe that starting a pointless fight with somebody is bravery, then you’re a fucking idiot.”

Zexi’s grin dips into a frown, and she adopts a martial stance.

“Prepare yourself, brother,” she declares, and I have barely begun to raise my fists when she charges.

Flight of The Griffin

Zexi cuts through the space between us like a bullet, her body propelled by the sage rank technique to impossible speeds.

I sense the danger coming. I see it coming. I dodge to the side. It’s not enough.

Zexi’s blade pierces through my left shoulder like razor blade through paper, and I scream in pain.

She smirks at me, this wicked joy in her eyes. And that’s when I lose it.

I grab the sword with my right hand.

Glory of The Sun

The peasant rank sword, no doubt masterfully crafted and very expensive, melts like cheap tin.

Zexi stares at the sword hilt and the little bit of blade left in her grip like it makes no sense, then her gaze returns to me, and her expression turns livid.

She swings at my face with her left fist, activating a technique as she does.

Viper Strike

Beast rank.

Pathetic.

The sun within my soul flares, and I headbutt her approaching fist.

Whatever the Viper Strike is supposed to do, it packs a lot of qi into Zexi’s fist for it, and when the technique meets the unmatchable force that is my head, that qi runs back into Zexi’s arm.

Her bones shatter all the way up to her elbow, and the remaining force throws her a dozen feet back.

I walk up to her as she struggles to sit up, cradled left arm purpling and swelling by the second.

“Are we done?” I ask.

She stares at me with pure hate in her eyes, but even through that I can see the thing she tries to hide. I can see the fear.

She’s terrified of me.

I sigh, all the fight and anger leaving me.

Glory of The Sun

The technique activates again, but this time for healing.

Zexi flinches as the flames of the technique reach her, but she settles when they soothe instead of burn. Her wrecked arm cracks and pops as the shattered bones arrange and fuse back together, the sweeling and bruising reversing until her arm is perfectly fine once again.

She stares at it, testing the fingers.

I extend a hand to her.

She eyes it like one would a coiled snake that has already struck once.

“Enmities are pointless, Zexi,” I say, more than tired of all this nonsense. “They’re stressful and they’re stupid, especially between members of the same family. Just take the hand being offered. We all need friends.”

Zexi gives me a deep, hard to read look.

“If I’d been the one to knock you down, would you take my hand?” she asks.

“If you’d been the one to knock me down, would you offer it?” I ask in return.

Her eyes widen, then narrow, and a complicated expression flits over her face.

“I don’t need your friendship,” she says, but she takes my offered hand.

I roll my eyes as I help her up, saying nothing.

She lets go quickly. Then she takes one last long look at the half-melted sword on the ground, before stumping off past our mother and back into the manor, the assembled servants at the door respectfully bowing their heads as she passes.

I stare at our mother.

She’s watching me, something very pleased and very calculating in her gaze.

I feel my anger begin to rise again.

“Well, spar’s over,” I say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mother, I’ll retire to my manor to change.”

I dip my head in a bow so shallow that it’s practically a nod, then I turn around and walk to the carriage that brought us, Meng Yi and Xiuying rushing to join me.

“Take me to my manor,” I tell the coachman as we board.

He doesn’t move, instead he looks to my mother for permission.

She gives it in the form of a little nod, and only then does he stir the tigers into motion.

None of us misses what this means.

I scowl, my anger simmering, and Meng Yi takes my hand in hers. Xiuying squeezes my left thigh in consolation.

We sit quietly as the carriage heads off.

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Thanks for reading.

Short chapter, I know, but I wanted this to be a standalone.

See you on the next one.