This Venerable Demon is Grossly Unqualified

Drunk or not, Fang Xiao was a monster with a sword.

One moment, he was standing at the opposite end of the clearing from his opponent, his relaxed stance about as unthreatening as it’s possible a man to be whilst bearing steel. Then lightning struck. Not from above, Sectmaster Meng rarely tolerated any of Heaven’s influence in his domain. Rather, Fang Xiao’s lunge cut across the clearing like lightning through a summer storm.

When the flash cleared, and her eyes recovered, Su Li saw that Fang Xiao had missed. He stood like a statue, legs still locked in the final phase of his lunge, sword extended. But its point rested several inches to the side of Liang Tao’s waist. Liang Tao’s spear hadn’t moved from the low guard he’d begun the duel in.

Was it a show of dominance, a tacit statement he could have ended the duel in a single exchange? Had Liang Tao dodged? He must have. A subtle lean to the side perhaps. But Su Li’s lying eyes insisted that somehow, Fang Xiao’s lightning-fueled lunge had missed.

Fang Xiao’s smile grew one size wider, teeth bared now. Once more, he moved.

His sword danced like lightning, moving from one position to the next in a single blinding instant, crashing down on Liang Tao’s guard like thunder. This time, spear met sword with an impact that left Su Li blind and deaf. Gale winds roared outwards, sending robes whipping about and casting dirt in the eyes of disciples.

“My dumplings!” The inner disciple by the koi pond cried out, real pain in her voice. Su Li felt for her, Qian Min’s dumplings truly had been excellent. “Fang Xiao, kill that bastard!”

Lightning crackled at the edge of Fang Xiao’s blade as he battered against Liang Tao’s guard. First one strike, then three, the sheer weight of the impacts forcing Liang Tao to give ground freely, or be knocked clean off his feet. Eventually, after six or seven thundering blows, Fang Xiao’s blitz expended itself, and the momentum of the fight shifted. Liang Tao quickly countered, jabbing out with quick, controlled thrusts at Fang Xiao’s chest that forced him to perform full parries to deflect. But just as it looked like the fight was shifting, Fang Xiao moved like lightning again, this time to the outside of the ring.

And he simply stood there, two dozen feet away, and caught his breath.

As extraordinary as the spectacle was, the pace of it rapidly became repetitive. Fang Xiao charged in, struck a dozen times, then zipped back out and took a few moments to recover his qi. Liang Tao did his best to counterattack towards the end of the exchange, but never managed to break Fang Xiao’s guard. While the two were separated, Liang Tao always kept pressing forward at a steady pace, forcing Fang Xiao to occasionally perform a second zip across the field before renewing his assault.

It wasn’t enough.

It was apparent that even blocking every attack, the weight of the blows was wearing Liang Tao down. The heavy strikes left the shaft of his spear looking like some beast had chewed it up, and the lightning they were infused with left small burns all across his blue and white robes. Su Li couldn’t imagine how he was still standing, after all that lightning pouring through his flesh.

Liang Tao clearly saw the inevitable outcome too. As Fang Xiao retreated for yet another short rest, instead of following, he braced himself. His hands slid down the shaft of the spear, giving him more length to play with. He lined the head of it up with Fang Xiao’s chest, slowly tracking his opponent as Fang Xiao circled around him.

“One strike to settle it all?” Fang Xiao said with a laugh. “I’ll never turn down such a wager.”

Liang Tao didn’t reply, his spear simply drifted along, following its target.

Fang Xiao held his sword out to the sky, and true thunder rumbled in the black clouds above.

The world flashed white as a bolt of true lightning as thick as a man’s waist fell from the heavens, drawn inexorably to the point of Fang Xiao’s sword. He staggered as it connected, as raging lightning enveloped his entire body. Under the influence of lightning, his hair began rising of its own accord, turning his carefully styled hairdo into a wild mane. Small tongues of lightning leapt out, scorching the grass around him.

Liang Tao’s gathering power was comparatively understated. The shimmer at the head of his spear had widened, engulfing the entire weapon in a haze that made it difficult to track. Leaves flitted around his feet like birds, given motion and life by unnatural winds.

The two men faced each other, each one half of a storm made flesh. Wind and lightning bent to mortal will, the very clay of creation fashioned into weapons to resolve their petty grievances. Su Li coveted their power. It felt so close, like she could just reach out and take it, if only she could see what they saw, learn the secrets that let them bend nature to their will. It wasn’t like Elder Hu’s effortless command of the world, so far beyond her she couldn’t hope to comprehend it, she could almost see the flows of their qi, the active manipulations that shaped the elements.

Then Fang Xiao moved, and Su Li saw nothing more. White light seared her eyes blind, even as the crash of thunder deafened her. Wind roared across the courtyard, nothing compared to Elder Hu’s stormbreaker in scope, but almost equal to it in intensity within the walls of the courtyard. It felt like a storm had descended to earth in truth. She peeked out through the hands covering her eyes, trying to catch the end of the exchange.

When the pressure of the wind finally abated, and her flash blindness faded, it was over.

“Well. Fuck.” Fang Xiao said, staring down at his wounds. A great slash had opened his chest from shoulder to hip, but despite its length, the wound was shallow. It was the spear still embedded in his chest that marked Liang Tao as the victor. “I yield.”

Victor or no, Liang Tao didn’t look much better than his opponent. The right sleeve of his robe was simply gone, obliterated by the force of their clash. The pale flesh of his right arm was covered with the telltale burns of lightning, treelike shapes wrought in red and purple where the lightning had passed through him.

Slowly, Liang Tao pulled the head of the spear from Fang Xiao’s lung, and then collapsed into a puddle of limbs on the floor. Almost absentmindedly, Fang Xiao pinched the great wound in his chest closed with one hand, as he fiddled with a storage ring with the other.

“Good duel. That wouldn’t have worked if I was sober though.” Fang Xiao withdrew a pill from his ring, and popped it back. “Still, at least you’re making an effort to keep up. It’d be a shame if I had to find a new rival before even reaching core formation.”

After a moment’s thought, Fang Xiao withdrew a second pill from his ring, then threw the fat little black pill at his fallen opponent’s head. It bounced off Liang Tao’s face, before landing in the dirt. The scent of medicinal herbs filled the courtyard. Slowly, Liang Tao’s uninjured arm pawed about, trying to find the pill with the least possible motion.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going, Qiao Ning!” Sun Ming shouted, shattering the silence that had fallen across the courtyard. “You owe me three taels of silver!”

The tall inner disciple that had been slipping away hung his head, as Sun Ming marched over to collect.

“I’m rich! Pay up suckers!” One outer disciple shouted. Su Li wondered if he’d wake up without his coin pouch tomorrow. Sun Ming could easily protect her winnings. Could he?

“What happened at the end there? I couldn’t even see their blows.” An outer disciple asked.

“Liang Tao baited him. He had more strength left than Fang Xiao thought, and forced his strike off course with a blast of intense wind. Fang Xiao couldn’t recover from his overcommitment fast enough to win the following exchange.” One of the inner disciples who’d been lounging by the pond answered. Not the girl who lost her dumplings. She was staring intently at the barely mobile body of Liang Tao, as if weighing whether or not it was worse following through on her threat.

“You could follow that? He was so fast!”

“Oh, he’s quick, sure. But both of those brats are on the younger side for inner disciples. Foundation establishment is no short road, if you walk it to its end, you’ll find a new understanding of the limits of the human body.”

“Is that really a loss? Liang Tao could barely move, and Fang Xiao just walked off getting run through the chest?”

“Fang Xiao might be fast, but Liang Tao’s strikes are far more lethal.” The same disciple patiently explained. “If he’d imbued that stab with a technique, he could have destroyed Fang Xiao’s chest. Cheating someone of an earned win like that today is a great way to die in a duel tomorrow.”

Su Li tuned out the gossiping disciples, instead opting to watch Fang Xiao recover. He’d taken a seat on a stump as he cycled his qi, still holding the hole in his chest closed with one hand. Blood slowly seeped out from around his fingers, staining even his black robes. Su Li wondered, just how far into foundation establishment he was, that he could simply ignore a hole that undoubtedly extended into his lung. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain, indeed the flow of blood was already slowing, as the pill closed the wound before her eyes. How many taels of silver was such a thing worth? Ten? A hundred? He’d used two of them on a whim, each was probably worth as much as the entire betting pool. He was but four years her senior, without the backing of family, or even the teachings of an elder, and he spent sums on a whim she couldn’t even fathom.

She wasn’t sure if she envied him, or hated him, for climbing so far beyond her without relying on the senior generation’s largesse.

“So, who’s next?” The inner disciple who’d explained the final exchange of the fight asked.

“I want to see the fatty fight!” Her friend who’d lost her dumplings chimed in. “Let’s see if his hands are good for more than just cooking.”

“You don’t. He’s strong for his realm, but has the worst technique I’ve ever seen.” Li Ru said from a corner. Su Li shivered, at the memory of her lessons with him. She’d made an absolute fool of herself, and Li Ru had not neither patience nor mercy for fools. She still remembered how he’d calmly told her that she had no future with his master, and if he had the authority, she would have had no future in the sect either. His voice had been utterly without emotion, the exact same tone he used to order dinner, when shifts at Elder Li’s workshop ran late into the night. She’d cried, despite herself. Hot tears had poured down her cheeks, as she stood at attention, listening to him enumerate her countless failings. Li Ru hadn’t bothered to call attention to them, not even to mock her lack of self control. Somehow, that had felt even worse.

“I have a name.” Qian Min calmly cut in.

“I’ll remember it when you prove yourself worthy of remembering.”

“Qian Min. You’ll remember it if you want to eat my cooking.”

“Win a duel, and then we’ll talk.”

“No.” Qian Min said, turning to walk away. “Avoid my table in the future, you are unwelcome at it.”

“Such disrespect for his seniors. So little power to back it. It’s a wonder nobody has cut down that unruly shoot yet.”

“Xin Hui, If you spend all your time chastising fools, you’ll never have time to get any actual cultivation done.” Li Ru said reasonably.

“Oh, piss off.” Dumpling girl, Xin Hui, replied. “I liked his cooking. It’d be a pity, if he were to get himself cut down in the future. I might have to insist on offering him some pointers after this is all over.”

“Another inner disciple match then? If the outer sect is too scared to step up.”

“This one challenges disciple Su Li.”

Su Li froze. That voice. Young and high pitched, but so utterly self assured. He was standing behind her.

"There we go. At least one member of the junior generation understands the assignment."

She didn't know what to say. How to decline. She had no injury to excuse her, no pressing obligation she could hide behind.

"I didn't bring my sword." She finally said lamely.

Fang Xiao looked over from the stump he’d claimed.

“You cultivate some yin aspected path, right? Lunar or cold? I have an appropriate training sword somewhere, cold worked iron, relatively blunt edge, lesser durability formation.”

“Excellent! Truly, our senior is a most able host.” Geng Ru said with a cherubic smile. “I brought my own tonfa. A friendly bout, no strikes that would be lethal to receive at our level of cultivation. The duel will continue until surrender or unconsciousness? Are those terms acceptable to you, Disciple Su?”

Su Li’s heart was in her throat, her mind cast about desperately for any excuse, any escape.

“Really? You’re scared of a boy half your age in your own realm?” Li Ru said, finally noticing her. “No surprise, that the student is like the master. A coward and a fool. He must have seen a kindred spirit in you.”

He dared! Her blood boiled, It was one thing, to insult her. She had not earned honor. But for Li Ru to spout such filth about Elder Hu was beyond unacceptable. She felt her fear fall away, and a heady joy gripped her. So what, if Geng Ru was a monster? He couldn’t kill her here. None of them could, not in the bounds of the sect, not without provoking Elder Hu’s wrath. The worst they could do was hurt her, and she did not fear pain.

If they wanted a fight so badly, she would give them one.

“I am aware, that I am no great talent like Fang Xiao or Elder Hu.” Su Li finally said. “But Elder Hu elected to teach me all the same. I am very lucky that you dismissed me from your tutelage. You always were a terrible teacher, more concerned with belittling your students, than correcting them.”

“You dare–”

“Shut up.” Su Li said, cutting him off. This was foolish. A week ago, it would have been suicidal. She didn’t care. “Don’t spout lies about your betters, if you don’t want your own failings revealed. Geng Ru, I accept your challenge.”

Li Ru started to respond, but the shouts of the crowd drowned him out.

“Damn, with balls like those she should have been born a man.”

“Two taels on Su Li!”

“Matched!”

“Really, we’re wagering silver on outer disciples now? How low the sect has fallen.”

“Let’s see if Elder Hu’s teachings are worth anything.”

“Hasn’t he been teaching her for all of a week? How much could she have possibly improved?”

“Shush, don’t let your logic get in the way of my narrative.”

Su Li watched as preparations for the duel proceeded without any need for her to act. The field was swept clear of the debris Liang Tao had kicked up. Disciples made bets and refilled cups. A trio of disciples gently carried the still recovering Liang Tao out of the way, placing him next to Fang Xiao’s stump.

A sword was placed in her hands. It was a nice weapon. Not a spiritual one, but one clearly made by someone familiar with qi interactions. Iron, as Fang Xiao had claimed, her qi pushed into it without any of the customary resistance she felt using standard swords more suitable for yang arts. Her father’s sword was better made and more powerful by far, but this one was even more compatible with the arts she studied. Of course Fang Xiao had a qi gathering grade weapon intended for yin arts just lying around. Why wouldn’t he? He’d probably bought it on a whim and never touched it, considering his techniques centered around lightning.

She stared at Geng Ru, standing across the clearing from her. He was so short, she was not a tall woman, but he barely came up to her nose. She wondered, what sort of childhood he’d had, to grow up so capable of killing. He moved through a warm up kata, spinning his tonfas about with the careless joy of a more innocent child. She made careful note of his range, the length of his steps. They were curious weapons tonfa, the strange bastard children of gauntlets and quarterstaves. His were unadorned, strips of dense black wood the length of his forearms, with handles polished by long use.

The moon shone high overhead, now fully into the first quarter. She cycled her qi, drawing the light of the moon into herself, to replace what she’d invested in her sword. It was easier now, than it had ever been before. With a few words, Elder Hu had opened her eyes to what the moon had been trying in vain to show her for months.

She gave the sword a few swings, feeling its weight and balance. It was lighter than she expected. A gentle wind blew through the clearing, dry and unseasonably warm. The crowd quieted, and Geng Ru stilled. She was afraid, terribly afraid. But there was a peace to it, to knowing that all she had to do was fight, and the rest would sort itself out.

“This small disciple looks forward to exchanging pointers with you.” Geng Ru said with a smile.

Su Li nodded. There was nothing more to say.

“At your convenience.” Geng Ru continued.

Fang Xiao and Liang Tao’s match had begun with lightning. Outer disciples couldn’t match that spectacle. Su Li didn’t try. Slowly, she stepped towards Geng Ru, sword at her side.

A dozen paces.

Five paces.

Finally, Geng Ru moved. Tonfas rose up, and he stepped forwards. Her sword matched him, held forward in a probing guard that prevented him from advancing lest he impale himself. He circled around her, just at the edge of the distance she might reach with a lunging thrust, daring her to strike at him.

Su Li took up the wager. She stepped forward, throwing out a rising chop. A tonfa-clad arm swung outwards, parrying the blow as he stepped in. She danced back, giving ground freely, her longer legs forcing him to rush just to keep up. It was so easy to rain down blow after blow, forcing him to step to her rhythm. Lunar qi suffused her blade, with every strike it felt lighter, more ethereal. But no less deadly.

Geng Ru kept his tonfas high, weathering her assault with precise blocks. But despite his flawless defense, he was no closer to her than he’d begun.

The next few exchanges proceeded in the same way, Geng Ru struggling to close against her superior range. His blocks were flawless, but Su Li’s spirits rose all the same. It would only take a single miss to earn her a decisive advantage. Her body moved in accord with her will, her limbs felt as weightless as her sword. Let him advance, she was untouchable.

And then she felt a hand on her back, shoving her forward. Despite her best efforts, she’d stepped too close to the edge of the circle. Sensing his advantage, Geng Ru stepped forward, right tonfa braced for a tackle, left rising to ward off her sword.

Su Li punched him in the face with her off-hand. She followed through with her shoulder, driving with her whole body like Elder Hu had taught her to. The overhand punch, he’d called it. Her fist ground into his face with a satisfying crunch. Geng Ru stumbled back, nose bleeding freely.

She felt good. Was this it? Was this all he was capable of?

Lunar qi surged and she gave a gentle flick of her sword. A crescent of light glided across the clearing, forcing Geng Ru into a diving roll of a dodge. She didn’t let up, throwing a second blade, then a third. A desperate scramble took Geng Ru clear of the second, but his feet were in no position to dodge the third.

The blade of lunar qi crashed into his guarding tonfa with scarcely a whisper of noise. The crossed tonfas dissipated the core of the strike, but its edges kept moving, heedless of the limits of physical blades, cutting into his shoulders.

“You know, you’re not bad, for the middle of qi condensation.” Geng Ru said, his face a perfect mask of childlike innocence. His robes bunched at his shoulders, stuck fast by the slowly spreading bloodstains, darker spots on the black of his robes. “But you’re not good, either. Let me show you what you’re missing.”

Geng Ru lifted his tonfa, holding them before him at an angle, in the shape of a mountain. He cycled his qi and an aura rose around him, a sense of loss, and desolation. It reminded Su Li of how Hangzhou had felt, after she’d gotten the news.

“Demon Dance: Earth”

Geng Ru rushed towards her again, but this time, he didn’t bother to raise his tonfas into a guard. She stepped back, as her sword descended in a diagonal slash intended to force him to break off his charge. Geng Ru dodged, throwing himself to the side, then somehow regained his footing as his waist dipped lower still, and advanced forward beneath her guard. He was so close she couldn’t see the footwork that made it possible. A tonfa flipped over in his hand, extending like a talon. He spun, and the extended length slammed into the side of her lead knee.

Pain shot through her, as her leg collapsed. She caught herself with a hand, keeping her sword raised in a pathetic semblance of a guard.

Geng Ru raised both his tonfa into a middle guard, holding them horizontally across his chest, then shoved her with them.

She fell backwards, then rolled, trying to bleed off momentum. Her injured knee screamed as she rolled over it. She scrambled desperately to recover her footing, but Geng Ru didn’t give her the space to stand up.

Patiently, steadily, he advanced. She threw out an attack, trying desperately to buy a moment to recover. He dodged it easily, then stepped in again, closing the gap like a bug skittering across the water. A tonfa spun out, clipping her lead hand and sending her sword flying.

She lashed out, fist aiming for his face. She felt it connect, but then the unyielding wood of a tonfa crashed into her head. She fell back, reeling.

Su Li dove for her lost sword, but Geng Ru was right behind her. Panicked, she threw out a hand to hold him back. Fingers met wood. The fingers lost. First, she felt nothing, only the momentum of the blow sending her arm flying back. Then the pain hit. It hurt so much.

She struggled upward, broken fingers clutched to her chest. As she rose, a slipper slammed into her face. She saw white as she spun once more, landing face down in the dirt.

Her teeth felt wrong. Like they were too loose in her mouth. She swallowed, and it tasted like blood. Her lips felt numb, too soft, too sensitive against her teeth. Her face was wet, and the dirt stuck fast to it, quickly becoming bloody mud. Slowly she raised her good hand, to wipe her tears away, only to shudder back from a jolt of pain as she realized the water was not tears, but yet more blood, flowing freely from her nose.

She struggled to rise, but her leg collapsed beneath her with a flash of white-hot pain. She fell, and in so doing put weight on her right hand. Her fingers bent wrong. They screamed at her, blotting out everything else. Despite her injuries, she moved again on reflex, pulling her hand close, anything to protect her broken fingers.

Her face pressed up against the ground, too many things hurt to move it away. She could taste dirt, even through the blood. Her lips were too swollen to close properly.

She did not rise again. Her world was pain, time was meaningless. It all hurt so much. She just wanted it to stop. To sleep. But she couldn’t, everything was loud and bright and she wasn’t safe.

Geng Ru stood over her. His hand raised. She flinched away ineffectively. Only a moment later, did she realize it wasn’t about to hit her.

Geng Ru said something. “-movement art.” She didn’t understand him. “-lot of work ahead of him.” Another voice said.

He stood over her a moment longer. Then he left. She breathed in. It hurt. She kept breathing. It kept hurting.

Warm hands lifted her up. Su Li was limp as a newborn kitten in their grasp. Impossible strength supported her, warm arms propping her up above the hateful dirt. Somehow, impossibly, the strong arms around her didn’t press into anything broken.

"Oh little blossom, that was foolish. Brave, but foolish." Sun Ming quietly said. “Let’s get you home.”