Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today

“Again!” Chen Wuya snapped. He clapped, and the swordsman in red jolted to a halt, then reset and began the swing again.

Hui swept his sword sideways, following the man’s motions. He watched the man with his third eye, and copied his qi flows at the same time. Right. When I move, my qi flows like this. On top of that, I need to augment my qi here and there, to put extra power into the blow. Move my arm like this, and step forward.

In the air above him, he materialized qi threads. He connected them to his body at certain points, using the threads to guide himself through the motions. The beginning of a talisman formula appeared, the vague shape of the strokes taking form. Okay. I’m getting close. Maybe a little more up, to force my feet upward. Put more power into the puppeteering portion, but leave it weak enough for me to break through when I need to. Yes, yes. I can see it.

Chen Wuya twisted his lips. “You could try to actually learn it, you know.”

“Senior, do you not see how that’s going?” Hui asked. I’d need years to learn it, years! I have minutes! Maybe an hour, if I’m lucky. I don’t have time to learn the whole technique the proper way with my slow comprehension!

Chen Wuya hummed and said nothing. He’s actually picking it up at a reasonable pace. Claiming that he can’t learn sword techniques… is it just because it takes him as long to learn sword techniques as it does anyone else, but because talismans are so easy for him, he takes the length of the process—the absolutely ordinary length of the process—as a sign that he cannot learn sword techniques? Has no one ever tried to seriously teach him sword techniques? Did he not have a master…?

Hui took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and drew something on the air, feeling the shape of the formula. I can’t take anything physical out of this space, but I can take the knowledge! He opened his eyes. “Next one!”

“You could use another hundred repetitions,” Chen Wuya commented.

“I don’t have time, Senior. I have to learn the sword techniques before the next round!” Hui protested.

“Hmm. If that’s the case… then I think you’re out of time,” he replied.

“What? But you only taught me the first two movements!”

Chen Wuya ran over and smacked Hui on the head. “First two? Did you forget? The first movement is purely a footwork technique! It’s the first three!”

“Ow! Senior, I apologize! Senior! Forgive this small cultivator’s mistake!” Hui cowered, covering his head. This small Chen Wuya who doesn’t have claws… actually, his punches don’t hurt as bad as the crow’s claws. I’d take him over the talons any day!

“We’re done here,” Chen Wuya declared. He looked up at the sky.

Hui followed his gaze. The sky burned with light. He blinked, reflexively raising a hand to cover his eyes.

When he lowered it, he hovered alongside one of the tournament fields once again. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Okay. I have a grand total of two sword moves from an actual sword technique, plus that sword technique’s foundational movement technique. I have my sect’s basic sword technique. I have the Bai Clan’s movement technique, though that one’s better suited for avoiding and flighty escapes. And… I have the beating stick’s bell. I can do this!

He stepped down from the sky, landing lightly along the edge of the tournament floor. Reaching up, he caught the beating stick. The bell chimed gently as he swirled it around to sheath it behind his back.

The judge glanced back and raised his eyebrow. He looked Hui over and gave him a small smile, though there was still some dismissiveness in his eyes.

Hui smiled back, then stumbled. The world wobbled around him. Ah, shit. The bell. Fumbling, he grabbed the bell and silenced it with his own hand, extracting all the qi from it that he could.

I don’t remember it having such a powerful passive effect. Is there something wrong with my formulation? Well… to be fair, I shoved a spell I didn’t understand into a new shape with a more delicate body and much less material to insulate it. If the spell’s starting to go haywire, I wouldn’t be surprised.

Hui pushed a little bit of qi into the bell, examining it. The bell trembled under his examination. Within it, the bell itself shuddered, on the verge of shattering. The metal quavered under the force of the spell it barely contained. The spell buzzed, struggling with the metal, desperate to break free.

Ah. Well. I guess I can’t expect my first attempt at making a spirit artifact to go perfectly. I wonder what went wrong? Mmm… was it maybe my unique treatment of the metal in shaping the bell? Cultivation metals often need very particular treatment, and what I did… even base iron would protest it. Maybe it was the spell itself? After all, I took it from a massive hammer and put it in a tiny bell.

In any case… I can probably use it in another battle or two. More than that… I should be prepared to lose it.

He took a deep breath, then shrugged. In the end, it’s something I threw together on a whim. Sad though it is to see it go, I can always try again later. After all, I’m sure they wouldn’t sneeze at a Peak Lord who liked to forge weapons.

Ah… isn’t that an idea? While I’m a Peak Lord… shouldn’t I seek out as many resources as I possibly can? Drain as much of the sect’s resources as possible? And since I’m no pill-maker, isn’t forging the best possible way to drain resources? Hui smiled, nodding to himself. I need to share this idea with the other clones. I’m sure between the bunch of us, we can come up with all kinds of ways to use the sect’s resources.

“Second round! Move to your second round location now!” the judge shouted.

Over the tournament floors, pairs of names appeared, hovering in the air. Hui cast around for his name, then did a second loop looking for his pseudonym instead of his real name. His second round floor was near his current location, so he walked rather than flying over.

Arcing out of the sky like a comet, a sword cultivator in dark blue landed opposite Hui. He flicked his head, long bangs flashing out of his face. The rest of his hair was tied back into a tight bun, wrapped in silver fabric. He lifted a slender sword and looked down his nose at Hui. “Wen Penglai. Successor to the Meteor Sword.”

Hui bowed deeply in return. “Please address this lowly one as Xing Huang. I claim to succeed no one, though my technique owes much to the vaunted Seven Steps of Autumn.”

“Seven Swords, you mean,” Wen Penglai corrected him haughtily, rolling his eyes toward Jing Ruchen.

The flutter of wings and loud muttering behind Hui made him stiffen. He coughed aloud. “No, no. The Seven Steps, please. Consider it a separate technique if you must, but my teacher was quite insistent it was called the Seven Steps.”

“Hmph. A lowly cultivator who cannot even claim to practice a proper sword school, and you think you can challenge me on the names of sword techniques?” Wen Penglai said, shaking his head.

What are these cannon-fodder-like young-master-style lines? Ah… it’s refreshing. It’s been too long since I faced proper cannon fodder.

No, no! Don’t give in to the heart demon! Just because he uses cannon-fodder lines, doesn’t mean he’s actual cannon-fodder! Besides, isn’t the cannon fodder meant to cause trouble for the protagonist? Hui glanced across the field at Ying Lin, who bowed to her opponent at the moment. I’ll stop him here, before he can cause trouble for Ying Lin, but… but that means he’s at the level that he can cause trouble for Ying Lin! Someone seriously dangerous for me!

Plus, I can’t overlook that he passed the first battle. Yes, yes, after all, that monstrous man-mountain Xin Mobing fell in the first battle. They were dangerous, truly dangerous battles!

Chen Wuya fluttered over and landed on Hui’s shoulder. “Let me at him. I hate that kind of stuck-up bastard worst of all.”

“Senior… please. Now isn’t the time,” Hui muttered.

“Hmm, no. Second of all. First is overly-righteous assholes like Fen Long,” Chen Wuya said, nodding to himself.

“Remove your pet from the arena before I remove it myself,” Wen Penglai demanded.

“Ohhhh? Who is who’s pet now? To have eyes, and fail to see Mount Tai before him… tsk, tsk,” Chen Wuya said, bending to sharpen his beak on his claws.

“Senior, if you don’t want to get involved, you should probably leave,” Hui said gently. He tightened his grip on the beating stick. I don’t know if I can win this, but the last thing I want is for Senior to get hurt and decide it’s my fault!

“Who said I didn’t want to get involved?” Chen Wuya asked, his voice dangerous.

“Huh?” But Senior has stayed out of all my fights so far… what changed? Is it because I began to learn his sword style? Hui wondered.

Chen Wuya raised a claw and pointed it at Wen Penglai. “I’ve decided. He pisses me off, so I’m going to help you, just this once.”

Oh, so that’s why.

Wait. Now? Senior… you couldn’t let me choose the ‘just once’ for you to help me? I’d rather have your help the next time Han Qin shows up, or if his Great Evil sponsor decides to descend! No, the last time I want your help is now, during a battle with some cannon fodder!

A dangerous look in his eye, Chen Wuya turned to Hui.

Hui licked his lips. “Small disciple is eternally grateful for Senior’s help! It is my fortune that Senior has deigned to step in and assist this small cultivator!”

“Good, good. That’s more like it,” Chen Wuya said, bobbing in place on Hui’s shoulder. He fluttered his wings and hopped up to Hui’s head. “Now then. Listen to me, and I’ll guide you through this fight. It’s the kind of opportunity that others wouldn’t get even if they begged, killed, or paid for it, so be grateful!”

“Yes!” Hui replied, raising his beating stick.

Opposite him, Wen Penglai assumed his stance. “If you won’t remove the beast from the arena, then so be it. But don’t blame me if it gets hurt!”

“Heh. I’ll remove the beast from the arena. Don’t blame me if you get hurt,” Chen Wuya muttered, narrowing his eyes at Wen Penglai.

“Elder Brother, please. Shall we begin?” Hui asked, somewhat nervous. If Chen Wuya gets any more pissed off, he’ll start taking it out on my skull. Start the fight, start the fight already! I don’t need to see my poor plant brains again.