He Yu’s guandao fell into his hands once more. “Go,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”

  “I’m not—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. “You’re not abandoning me.” He turned to Chen Fei and forced a smile. “Xin Lu is after me. If you go and hide yourself, he won’t come after you. I can catch up. I’m faster than he is, I’m certain. I’ll hold him off for as long as I can, then I’ll come find you.”

  Chen Fei turned in the direction they’d been heading. “The Shrouded Peaks are ahead. We’ll meet at the old sect town.” Without waiting for a reply, she exploded into motion.

  They both knew where things stood. She’d always been the slowest, with no proper movement technique at her disposal. Only her raw strength and endurance had allowed her to keep up with the rest of them, running at a full sprint for days on end. That was all fine when they weren’t running from an angry cultivator trying to kill them.

  Turning his back to the setting sun, He Yu readied himself. As the approaching mass of lightning and flame drew ever closer, he answered by flaring his own presence. When Xin Lu arrived moments later, the combined weight of their Fifth Realm spirits brought ruin to the surrounding terrain.

  “I see you face your death on your own,” Xin Lu said, giving He Yu the slightest of bows. He at least had some respect, it seemed.

  “There’s no point in delaying the turn of seasons, so I won’t try to,” He Yu said. “But you can still stay your own hand, Xin Lu.”

  The other cultivator’s eyes narrowed. “Have you forgotten how you and the Li whelp humiliated my brother and I? Do you think that’s an insult I would forgive?”

  “And you thought to repay me by lording over the south, and allowing corrupt officials to exploit the common people? Allow soldiers to extract tolls from innocent travelers? Never forget, I sought to strike a deal, to make peace. You and Wang Xiaobo forced my hand. Should I be held responsible that the two of you weren’t strong enough to stand against your juniors?”

  “The strong take what they can,” Xin Lu said. The shadow of greed and want that had only been a mere suggestion before crept into his spirit. It wasn’t a demon core—He Yu would have noticed that long ago. It was something different. He activated the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment, hoping to discern its truth.

  Xin Lu attacked.

  With a tremendous blow, he slammed his double halberd down on He Yu. The once-black metal glowed orange under the weight of Xin Lu’s techniques, and heavenly qi trailed its every swing. The combined might of Xin Lu’s cultivation, techniques, and treasured weapon were almost too much. Almost.

  He Yu met the attack, pouring qi into his body enforcement and guandao alike. The treasure his father had created held, and so did He Yu’s strength. A burst of wind and heaven exploded from him as he met Xin Lu’s attack. The ground beneath cracked. The battle was joined.

  Once again, they struggled against one another as the sun dipped below the horizon and stars wheeled overhead. This time, however, without Chen Fei’s assistance, He Yu had to endure the full weight of Xin Lu’s attention. And Xin Lu gave him no quarter.

  Exhausted limbs, still not fully recovered from the previous day’s fight, met each blow with just a a fraction less strength than the one before. He Yu dug into every reserve of strength and power he had. He tapped his Wayborn Seed, the certainty of his cause, and his killing intent. He poured qi into his meridians as he met techniques and attacks while returning his own. Slowly, achingly, Xin Lu gained the upper hand. He Yu gave ground, if only an inch at a time.

  They fought throughout the night. Their techniques scarred the earth. Stone cracked and burst under the wrath of heaven. Every blow they delivered left ruined craters and yawning chasms beneath their feet. Countless fires ignited from Xin Lu’s sparking presence, only to be extinguished by the constant rainfall from He Yu’s eternal storm.

  Xin Lu appeared in front of He Yu in a burst of flame that erupted with steam. A vortex of fire reached out from his halberd. He Yu turned it away with the Spring Rain Mirror. Slipping into the space he’d created for himself, He Yu drove the metal cap at Xin Lu’s head. They fought as if with staffs, now. Half grappling as they vied for advantage, with Xin Lu threatening to overpower He Yu with every exchange.

  The pillars of the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering showed cracks from the strain of their battle. The ache in his meridians, once dull and easily pushed aside, had grown sharp and impossible to ignore. Each exchange took more out of him than the last—and it was still hours before dawn.

  If he could last through midday, he could run then. Chen Fei would have gotten enough of a head start by then. He just had to endure.

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  So he endured.

  He pushed aside those tiny doubts—the fear that he wasn’t enough, that he couldn’t last. That Xin Lu had some secret technique he’d not yet used. He Yu couldn’t let that doubt worm in. Couldn’t let himself question his course. This was far from the first time he’d faced down someone stronger, and it would be far from the last. At the very least, he still had the one thing that had always served him well—his sheer stubborn tenacity.

  “It’s a shame,” Xin Lu said, casually landing a kick that sent He Yu sprawling. “You had potential. If you’d just kept to your place, none of this would have happened. Brother Xiaobo would have grown bored eventually, and you’d be allowed to advance again.”

  He Yu pulled himself to his feet with the Sky Dragon’s Flight. Lightning exploded from him as he surged forward. His guandao gleamed with heaven and killing intent alike. Xin Lu deflected the initial charge, but He Yu spun, wrapping himself in the winds, and called down heaven. His blade bit deep into Xin Lu’s thick, muscled arm. Flesh and hair singed and popped under the sparks of heaven.

  “No,” He Yu said. “You wouldn’t have. I’ve spent too much time enduring the mercy of your type. Maybe you, Xin Lu, once had something approaching honor. But not Wang Xiaobo.”

  Xin Lu’s fist slammed into the side of He Yu’s head. It was only instinct that allowed him to pull himself away from the burning, lightning-charged follow-up from Xin Lu’s halberd.

  “You aren’t fit to speak his name, peasant trash,” Xin Lu growled. “I don’t need to defend his lineage to one such as you, but it speaks for itself.”

  “I’d never heard of the Wang clan before arriving at the Shrouded Peaks Sect. Since, I’ve learned they’re a ducal clan in the far east. What did Wang Xiaobo do to get himself sent here? Did none of the great sects near the capital want him?”

  Whatever the relationship was between Xin Lu and Wang Xiaobo, it was one that Xin Lu felt required him to defend Wang Xiaobo’s honor. With a roar, he took the bait and launched in to a vicious, if far less controlled, flurry of attacks. The Peerless Judgment served He Yu well—using the Sky Dragon’s Flight he darted about, deflecting what he couldn’t avoid with the Spring Rain Mirror. Once more, he slipped past Xin Lu’s guard.

  Too close for a solid strike with his guandao, He Yu made a fist. Zhang Lifen’s words during their training had never left him. Sometimes all he needed was simple brute force.

  He drove his fist into Xin Lu’s gut, aiming at his dantian.

  He Yu wasn’t under the impression he could cripple Xin Lu’s cultivation—not with his own flagging strength in the face of Xin Lu’s greater cultivation. But he could disrupt him.

  Cycling his cultivation base, He Yu sent a spike of heaven qi into Xin Lu’s dantian. Time froze. For an instant, He Yu glimpsed something in the storm of his spirit. He’d seen the promise of the vast creature at the heart of the storm. It had revealed itself during his advancement to Nascent Soul.

  The great dragon had never appeared like this before. Never when he trained. Barely even when he cultivated, and contemplated the manifestations of his Way, and the myriad Dao. Even when he glimpsed it, it had been in times of significant insight. Now, it impressed itself upon the world along with He Yu’s spirit.

  Its head overlaid itself on his fist. Horns sparking, eyes blazing, and beard flowing. Its shimmering scales flowed up his arm to the shoulder. Its back ridge coursed with wind and heaven alike. And when he made contact with Xin Lu, the power of heaven exploded from his fist.

  It took everything He Yu had to keep his head in the fight. There was a tremendous insight here—one that would possibly take decades to unravel and incorporate into his techniques properly. He would have to examine it later. If there was a later.

  Xin Lu roared as his cultivation base went wild. He’d have an easier time bringing it under control than someone who didn’t also cultivate heaven, but the foreign qi would occupy him for at least a few heartbeats. He Yu pressed the attack. With a series of sweeping strikes, he called Heaven’s Descending Blade.

  Lightning poured down in columns of golden, blazing fury. Wind whipped at He Yu’s robes, and rain drenched the earth. It didn’t take long for Xin Lu to recover, and when he did, he answered with fury of his own. For a day and another night, they clashed. By the time dawn broke for the third time since Dong Wei had called Xin Lu, the surrounding land was unrecognizable.

  The normally lush and fertile plains east of the Shrouded Peaks had turned to a scarred and broken wasteland. Xin Lu had burned away the vegetation for miles in every direction. The scars of lightning strikes and the physical blows left pits and craters everywhere. He Yu’s downpour had filled most of the craters, turning them to little more than pits of mud. It was the first time He Yu had witnessed up close the devastation cultivators could bring. He could only be grateful they were far from any settlements.

  Still, he couldn’t keep going. He’d reached closer to his limits than he cared to, and if he stayed, he might not escape. While he’d not said as much out loud, he felt like his final words to Chen Fei carried the weight of a promise.

  As a parting shot, he called to Xin Lu, “Leave me be. Whatever disgrace you think you suffered at my hands, I was simply defending myself. You can turn away from this path any time you want. Same with Wang Xiaobo.”

  “Not anymore,” Xin Lu half-growled. “Empress Jin commands it.”

  If the comment had been meant to throw him off, prevent him from fleeing, it almost worked. He Yu blasted away with all the speed his aching meridians could muster. He’d have plenty of time to figure out what Xin Lu had meant once he was safe.

  At least that’s what he thought. Much to his surprise and dismay, Xin Lu shot after him, moving far faster than he ever had before. Was it some technique? A treasure? He Yu glanced over his shoulder. He’d gotten enough of a head-start that he couldn’t see if Xin Lu rode atop a treasure for certain, but he didn’t think that was the case. If he slowed down, he might use the Peerless Judgment, but that would only let Xin Lu close the gap.

  He Yu grit his teeth, and poured everything he had into making his escape. He had to trust in himself and his biggest advantage—speed. Had to trust, because by now he didn’t have anything else left.