The Sword Guy

Yang Qinghui arrived at Bai Zhan Peak at noon and was greeted coldly by two disciples, who bowed just respectfully enough to be polite, but shot her disgruntled looks as they led her down a path to the main buildings.

Liu Qingge must have turned them against me, Yang Qinghui thought, stifling a laugh. She could just picture Liu Qingge griping to his disciples about Yang Qinghui stealing his bashe kill.

She was led to a small courtyard, where Liu Qingge stood speaking to another cultivator, in dark green robes edged with silver.

Wei Qingwei

Wan Jian Peak Lord

Ah, another Peak Lord! I wondered how long it would take.

"Yang Qinghui." Liu Qingge crossed his arms and frowned when he caught sight of her. "What are you doing here?"

"Liu Qingge." Yang Qinghui inclined her head, trying for a friendly smile. "Wei-shixiong."

Wei Qingwei was the same height as Liu Qingge – still a couple inches shorter than Yang Qinghui – and seemed like he rarely cracked a smile. His dark hair was tied up in a neat bun, secured with a pin. His left hand rested on the ornate silver hilt of a wide-bladed sword sheathed in red leather, which he wore on his hip.

"Yang-shimei." Wei Qingwei also nodded, scrutinizing Yang Qinghui with sharp but somber eyes. She wondered what he was looking for. There was still so much she didn't know about the original Yang Qinghui – she'd have to fix that soon.

"Why are you here?" Liu Qingge asked again.

A dozen disciples and servants peered curiously around corners and doorframes into the courtyard.

Laughing sheepishly, Yang Qinghui gestured to the nearest door, open to reveal a small room with a table surrounded by cushions. "Could we talk somewhere more private?"

Liu Qingge narrowed his eyes, but turned and strode into the room, gesturing for Wei Qingwei to go with him. Yang Qinghui followed, sliding the door closed behind her.

Liu Qingge dropped onto a grey cushion behind the low wooden table, and Wei Qingwei sank gracefully onto a cushion to Liu Qingge's left, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword.

"You'd better not be here to back out of the challenge," Liu Qingge said.

"A-actually…" Yang Qinghui stood, smiling awkwardly, still by the door.

"You're joking," Liu Qingge gritted out.

"I only want to delay it," Yang Qinghui hurried to say. "Just for two months, so – "

Liu Qingge slammed a palm on the table. "You're the one who set the challenge!"

Before she quite knew what she was doing, Yang Qinghui was kneeling on the ground, kowtowing to Liu Qingge.

"W-what are you doing?" he demanded, his anger replaced abruptly by shock.

"I'm sorry, Liu Qingge," she said firmly, staring at the ground, "but I was too hasty in setting the challenge. Zui Xian Peak is not ready to host a banquet, and I don't want my Peak to be humiliated."

Liu Qingge and Wei Qingwei were silent. Yang Qinghui kept her head bowed.

"I also wish to go into secluded meditation for a short time. So please allow me to delay the competition by two months."

She anxiously lifted her head to see Liu Qingge and Wei Qingwei exchanging a loaded look, in the middle of a silent conversation.

Clearing his throat, Wei Qingwei untied his sword from his belt. "Yang-shimei, could you take a look at this for me?"

Yang Qinghui frowned. "Why?"

"Tell me what you think of the balance and the make."

Skeptical, Yang Qinghui took the sword. Well, Wan Jian is the sword Peak, right? I guess the Peak Lord's gonna be a little sword-crazy.

Turning the sword over in her hands, she noticed the delicate red stitching on the sheath, in a swirled pattern up to the hilt. An energy pulsed inside the sword – she could sense it through the leather. Not malicious, but not benevolent, either.

She grabbed the hilt to unsheathe the sword. It didn't budge.

"I think it's stuck…" She looked back at Wei Qingwei, who tilted his head curiously. He exchanged another glance with Liu Qingge, who shrugged.

"My mistake, Yang-shimei. Thank you." Wei Qingwei took back the sword and reattached it to his belt.

The System appeared in front of Yang Qinghui, a picture of the sword popping up on its screen.

"Hong Jing Sword, owned by Wan Jian Peak. Unable to be drawn except in the presence of resentful souls and evil spirits," it told her helpfully.

"Hang on!" Yang Qinghui exclaimed indignantly. "That's Hong Jing! You thought I was possessed?"

Wei Qingwei and Liu Qingge exchanged a guilty look.

"Stop doing that," Yang Qinghui snapped. "Stop looking at each other. I can't believe you know so little about me you'd think I'd been possessed!"

She was genuinely a little hurt. Have I really been such a bad actor?

"My apologies, Yang-shimei." Wei Qingwei bowed his head. "I was being overly cautious."

"Hmph." Yang Qinghui sat back on her heels.

"It's just that you seem different," Liu Qingge said, crossing his arms. "I never thought you'd kowtow to anyone again."

What's that supposed to mean? "W-well, people change."

Liu Qingge sighed, and his expression softened, just a tinge. "I understand not wanting to embarrass your Peak. Fine. We can delay the competition."

"Yes! Thank you!" Yang Qinghui grinned in relief. "You're the best!"

"Mh-hm." Liu Qingge half-smirked. "Glad you've realized."

"I just have one more tiny, tiny favour to ask…" Yang Qinghui began, wringing her hands.

Liu Qingge's face fell. "What?"

"Well, if I, alone, go into seclusion and delay the competition… it's gonna look like I backed out 'cause I think I'll be defeated."

"You will be," Liu Qingge seethed, "especially considering what you're suggesting right now."

"Oh, come on!" Yang Qinghui exclaimed, clasping her hands together pleadingly. "It's just for two months! I heard you were already planning on going into seclusion anyway."

"Who told you that?" Liu Qingge demanded.

The System. "Uh… someone." Yang Qinghui glossed over the question. "I promise I'll owe you a huge favour if you come meditate too."

Liu Qingge raised an eyebrow. "A huge favour?"

Yang Qinghui nodded eagerly. "Anything you like. Please?"

Liu Qingge pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Pleeeeeeaase?"

"Ugh…"

"PLEEEEEEE–"

"Fine, shut up!"

Yang Qinghui gasped. "You'll do it?"

Liu Qingge sighed heavily. "Yes. But don't think I'll forget this, or the favour you owe me. And don't you dare try and get out of it."

Mock- affronted, Yang Qinghui pressed her hand to her heart. "Wouldn't dream of it!"

"I'll let my disciples know." Liu Qingge stood up. "We'll leave in an hour."

"Yes!" Yang Qinghui scrambled to her feet. "I'll pack wine for the trip!"

The faintest smile tugged at Wei Qingwei's lips, but Liu Qingge looked like he was regretting this already.