Chapter 41: Sparring partners

Three days after their return, life at the Academy settled back into its rhythm.

Classes resumed. Tang Xiaoli blew up another pill furnace. General Fluffbottom escaped twice and was found both times sitting on Master Jiang’s head during combat class. The one eyed instructor didn’t seem to mind.

But things had shifted.

Before the banquet, Zhao Lingxi had been respected but isolated. The girl with the shattered roots who had somehow clawed her way to seventh place. Impressive, but strange. An outsider.

Now she was something else entirely.

The story of her standing up to General Zhao had spread through the Academy like fire through dry grass. Students who had avoided her before now nodded when she passed. Some even bowed. A group of younger girls from minor noble families had started sitting near her during lectures, whispering excitedly among themselves.

“She’s becoming popular,” Tang Xiaoli observed during lunch. “I give it one more week before someone starts a fan club.”

“Nobody is starting a fan club,” Lan Yue said.

“I’m starting a fan club,” Tang Xiaoli said.

“Please don’t.”

“Too late. I already designed the banner. It has a pearl on it.”

Lan Yue choked on her rice.

—

That afternoon, Zhao Lingxi asked Lan Yue to spar with her.

It wasn’t unusual. They had trained together before, back at the Clear Frost Garden. But that had been frantic preparation for the entrance exam. This was different.

“I need a partner who won’t hold back,” Zhao Lingxi said as they walked to the private training courtyard behind the East Pavilion. “The other students are either too afraid to hit me or too angry to think clearly. Neither is useful.”

“And you think I won’t hold back?”

“I know you won’t. You never do.”

Something about the way she said it made Lan Yue’s chest tighten. She ignored it. Professionally.

The courtyard was small, enclosed by high walls covered in climbing vines. Stone tiles made up the floor, worn smooth by years of practice. Spiritual energy formations etched into the walls prevented stray attacks from damaging the building.

They faced each other across the courtyard.

Zhao Lingxi had tied her hair back with the simple ribbon, the pearl pin tucked safely in her pocket. She wore training robes that fit close to her body, showing the lean lines of her frame. Her stance was relaxed, her weight balanced perfectly on both feet.

Lan Yue rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms. Her body remembered combat. In her previous life, she had trained every day. Hand to hand. Blade work. Dirty street fighting. Whatever kept her alive.

This body was softer than her old one. Shorter. Curvier. But weeks of training had hardened the muscles underneath, and her instincts were still razor sharp.

“Rules?” Lan Yue asked.

“No spiritual techniques. Pure physical combat. First to three pins.”

“You’re giving me an advantage. My combat experience is physical.”

“I know.” Zhao Lingxi’s eyes glinted. “I want to see how good you really are.”

Something electric passed between them. A challenge. An invitation.

Lan Yue grinned. “Don’t blame me if you end up on the ground.”

“Ambitious.”

They moved at the same time.

Zhao Lingxi struck first. A palm strike aimed at Lan Yue’s shoulder, fast and precise. Lan Yue deflected it with her forearm and countered with a low kick aimed at her mistress’s knee.

Zhao Lingxi hopped backward, light as a cat, and came back with a combination. Two strikes, one feint, then a real blow aimed at Lan Yue’s ribs.

Lan Yue twisted, letting the fist graze past her side, and grabbed Zhao Lingxi’s wrist. She pulled, using her opponent’s momentum against her, and swept her leg.

Zhao Lingxi went down.

But she didn’t stay down. She rolled, twisted free of the grip, and was back on her feet in a heartbeat. Her dark eyes were bright now. Alive with something fierce and hungry.

“Again,” she said.

They clashed again. Faster this time. More intense. Lan Yue threw a series of punches that Zhao Lingxi blocked with elegant precision. Zhao Lingxi retaliated with a spinning kick that missed Lan Yue’s jaw by a finger’s width.

The air felt charged. Every block was a conversation. Every strike was a question. They read each other’s bodies with an intimacy that went beyond training, anticipating movements before they happened, adjusting in real time.

Lan Yue ducked a palm strike and drove her shoulder into Zhao Lingxi’s midsection. They hit the ground together, rolling across the stone tiles in a tangle of limbs.

When they stopped, Lan Yue was on top.

Her hands pinned Zhao Lingxi’s wrists to the ground. Her knees bracketed her mistress’s hips. Their faces were close. Very close. Lan Yue could count the individual lashes framing those dark, endless eyes.

They were both breathing hard. Sweat dampened their temples. Zhao Lingxi’s training robes had loosened during the scuffle, the collar falling open to expose the line of her throat and the sharp edge of her collarbone.

“Pin,” Lan Yue said, her voice coming out lower than intended.

“Pin,” Zhao Lingxi agreed.

Neither of them moved.

Lan Yue became aware of several things at once. The heat of Zhao Lingxi’s body beneath hers. The rapid pulse she could feel through the wrists she held. The way Zhao Lingxi’s eyes had darkened, her gaze dropping for just a fraction of a second to Lan Yue’s lips before snapping back up.

Had she imagined that?

She had definitely imagined that.

Probably.

“You can let go now,” Zhao Lingxi murmured.

“Right. Yes. Letting go.”

She released Zhao Lingxi’s wrists and scrambled off her, sitting on the stone tiles with her back very straight and her eyes very firmly pointed at the wall.

Zhao Lingxi sat up slowly. She adjusted her collar with deliberate calm. If she was affected by what had just happened, she showed no sign of it.

“One to zero,” she said. “Continue?”

“Continue. Absolutely. Let’s continue. Fighting. The sparring. Yes.”

—

They went three more rounds.

Zhao Lingxi won the second, catching Lan Yue’s arm in a lock that pressed them chest to back, her breath hot against Lan Yue’s ear as she whispered, “Pin.”

Lan Yue won the third by hooking her leg around Zhao Lingxi’s ankle and pulling her off balance. They crashed to the ground again, and this time Zhao Lingxi landed on top, her hair falling around them like a dark curtain.

“That’s my pin,” Zhao Lingxi said, looking down at her.

“You’re on top of me. How is that my pin?”

“Because you pulled me down. You created this position.”

“I was trying to flip you.”

“You failed.”

“Clearly.”

Zhao Lingxi’s lips were very close. Impossibly close. Lan Yue could feel each exhale against her own mouth.

“Two to two,” Zhao Lingxi said softly.

“Tiebreaker?” Lan Yue whispered.

The moment stretched like honey. Warm, golden, slow.

Then footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.

“Zhao Lingxi.”

They separated instantly. Like magnets repelling.

Bai Xuelan stood at the courtyard entrance, arms folded, her silver hair catching the afternoon light. Her ice blue eyes moved between them with an expression that was annoyingly knowing.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“No,” they both said.

“Hm.” She didn’t look convinced. “I need to speak with you, Zhao Lingxi. It’s about the golden light.”

The atmosphere changed immediately. Zhao Lingxi’s playful energy vanished, replaced by sharp focus.

“What about it?”

“Not here.” Bai Xuelan glanced at Lan Yue, then back at Zhao Lingxi. “Your room. Tonight. Bring your servant. She should hear this too.”

She turned and walked away without waiting for a response.

Lan Yue stared after her. “I really don’t like her timing.”

“Her timing is fine.”

“She literally appeared the exact moment we were…”

“Were what?”

Lan Yue opened her mouth. Closed it.

“Sparring,” she said firmly. “We were sparring.”

“Of course we were.” Zhao Lingxi picked up her outer robe and draped it over her shoulders. The faintest trace of pink colored her cheeks.

Wait. Was Zhao Lingxi blushing?

Lan Yue stared. She had never seen her mistress blush. Not once. Not during the banquet confrontation, not during the assassination attempt, not even when Lan Yue had woken up wrapped around her like a human blanket.

But here, in this quiet courtyard, still breathing hard from their sparring, Zhao Lingxi’s cheeks held the softest hint of color.

She turned away before Lan Yue could get a better look.

“Clean up. We have a meeting tonight.”

She walked out, her stride perfectly composed.

But that blush. That tiny, barely visible blush.

Lan Yue sat on the stone tiles, sweaty and disheveled and grinning like an idiot.

Maybe she hadn’t imagined the look after all.

—

That evening, they gathered in Zhao Lingxi’s room.

Bai Xuelan arrived precisely on time, carrying a leather satchel filled with old scrolls. She spread them across the desk, her expression serious.

“I’ve been researching since the Trials,” she said. “The golden energy the Spirit Measuring Stone detected. Elder Su told you about Shattered Heaven Roots.”

Zhao Lingxi’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know what Elder Su told me?”

“Because she told me too.” Bai Xuelan met her gaze steadily. “I’m her research assistant. Have been since my first year. And I’ve been studying Shattered Heaven Roots for three years.”

She pulled out the oldest scroll and unrolled it.

“What Elder Su told you was true. But it wasn’t complete. There’s more to your condition than even she understands.”

She pointed to a section of text written in ancient characters that Lan Yue couldn’t read.

“The last cultivator with Shattered Heaven Roots didn’t just reach the highest realm.” Bai Xuelan’s voice dropped. “She exceeded it. She broke through the boundary that separates mortal cultivation from something beyond. Something the ancient texts call Heavenly Ascension.”

The room was very quiet.

“And then,” Bai Xuelan continued, “she disappeared. Along with an entire mountain. And everyone on it.”

She looked up from the scroll.

“That’s why I wanted to partner with you in the Trials. That’s why I’ve been watching you.” Her ice blue eyes were completely serious. “Because whatever is inside you, Zhao Lingxi, it’s not just rare. It’s the most dangerous thing walking this earth.”

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