“Come and face me, then,” Tan Qingsheng laughed. His presence billowed out. Metal spikes erupted from the bleached white sands. A black sun beat down upon the land, and the desert burned.

  He Yu and Tan Xiaoling hit him both at once.

  Black clouds gathered above, but couldn’t fully cover Tan Qingsheng’s dark burning sun. Even as the rain fell, the parched land drank it up. Heaven reached down, but for every one of the metal spires He Yu struck and shattered, another grew up in its place. Although He Yu called the wind, Tan Qingsheng’s storm of metal remained stronger still.

  Tan Xiaoling fared little better in the face of a more powerful expert wielding similar arts. When the twin cyclones of metal clashed, hers was overpowered. The burning wrath of her own sun withered before her uncle’s, and even the stalking tiger that lurked at the center of her desert seemed smaller and less powerful that Tan Qingsheng’s.

  The first exchange of techniques told He Yu everything he needed to know—they were outmatched, and they could only hope to fight for time. Heaven’s lightning ripped through the metal blades orbiting Tan Qingsheng, shattering two of them. Three more appeared in their place. Although Heaven’s Descending Blade left a scorched line across Tan Qingsheng’s robes, the older cultivator remained uninjured.

  Tan Qingsheng launched all seven of his metal blades, his own formation of the Breath of the White Desert at He Yu. Three blades met the Spring Rain Mirror and glanced harmlessly aside. The rest shredded into He Yu’s flesh in a spray of blood and a flash of pain. Even as he tried to pull himself away using the Sky Dragon’s Flight, Tan Qingsheng’s fist crashed into the side of his head and sent him reeling.

  Using only his nine-ringed blade, Tan Qingsheng fought off Tan Xiaoling’s assault. She rushed him like she rushed every other opponent, a shining knife under the desert sun, all fury and violence. Her twinned dao sabers flashed as their tiger pommels roared in silence. Sparks flew with each exchange, fire and metal qi exploding out from each exchange. Blow by blow, Tan Qingsheng beat her back.

  A black spear formed over her shoulder. Deep crimson flames limned the outline like the corona of an eclipse. Killing intent hung heavy in the air, its weight pressing down like the knife-edge shine of a death promised. Tan Xiaoling released her technique at the same moment her storm of razors flared up around her, forming both an attack to complement her sabers and a defense against her uncle’s aggression.

  Tan Qingsheng merely laughed. It was a hearty sound, starting in his belly and rising to ring off the distant valley walls. His spirit flexed, and another formation of the Breath of the White Desert called more blades. All the blades launched towards Tan Xiaoling’s Mark of the Dark Sun. The fiery black spear ripped through each one, until finally, at the last, it failed.

  Then, he attacked.

  He Yu had spent countless hours sparring against Tan Xiaoling. They’d spent nearly as many discussing their techniques and their arts. The Golden Tiger Cultivation Law had a simple strength—raw aggression. That principle was reflected in how Tan Xiaoling fought. A relentless onslaught, no quarter given and none asked for. She fought to crush her opponents with unrelenting attacks and overwhelming strength. He Yu had thought he understood the principle behind her style.

  Tan Qingsheng showed him how wrong he’d been.

  With gleaming metal following in his wake, Tan Qingsheng threw himself at them both. The edge of his nine-ringed blade flickered with tongues of flame and shone with killing intent. One of his blades flew at He Yu. A second followed, delayed just enough that he could only deflect one. Even as the second blade pierced He Yu’s flesh, Tan Qingsheng launched two Marks of the Dark Sun. With a burst of speed, he appeared inside He Yu’s guard. The spears hit, sending searing pain through his chest and meridians. Tan Qingsheng locked eyes and grinned a terrible and manic grin. A fist slammed into He Yu’s gut, and the next thing he knew, he was tumbling across the valley floor.

  He picked himself up and shook his head. For an instant, he was free of the melee. He took a pill, then activated the Sky Dragon’s Flight and the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering. He hurtled across the valley floor, sparks of heaven arcing from him to the ground and back. He fixed his eyes on the fight ahead and pushed himself to go as fast as he could. To rejoin the fray in time.

  Tan Xiaoling stood before her uncle, facing the full fury of his undivided attention. For all the strength she brought to bear, he’d put her on the back foot. Tan Qingsheng advanced, his nine-ringed blade flashing in the evening light. Each meeting of their steel sent ripples of metal and fire qi crashing over the valley floor. Each blow Tan Xiaoling caught on one of her sabers forced her back by another step.

  Even as he raced across the valley floor on his wings of wind, He Yu knew he wouldn’t make it in time. Tan Qingsheng’s nine-ringed blade crashed down. Two sabers rose to meet it, and two sabers fell to the ground. Tan Xiaoling stumbled and fell to one knee. Killing intent hung heave in the air as Tan Qingsheng rose his blade one final time.

  Silver formation characters bloomed up around Tan Xiaoling. Another formation appeared around Tan Qingsheng’s wrist, and the flames along the blade’s edge died. A mass of shadows rose to bind Tan Qingsheng’s arms and legs. A flash of moonlit snow announced Li Heng’s appearance at Tan Xiaoling’s side.

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  He Yu slammed into Tan Qingsheng with everything he had. The storm billowed out from him, clouds churning black as lightning flashed deep within. The Spring Rain Mirror turned aside a casual backhand punch. Heaven’s Descending Blade reached out once more, this time carried on the Five Crescent Winds. It was enough to command Tan Qingsheng’s attention, which was enough for He Yu.

  “Get her out of here!” he shouted as he cycled the whole of his cultivation base through his meridians and into his techniques. His skin took on the dull shine of the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering and crackled of heaven crawled over his robes and his guandao. The storm boiled above him, angry and heavy.

  “Stand aside, boy,” Tan Qingsheng growled, losing the manic pleasure of battle for the first time since they’d crossed blades.

  He Yu lifted his chin and spoke a single word. “No.”

  Tan Qingsheng attacked. It reminded He Yu of facing down Tan Xiaoling in the tournament. He was the most aggressive and overwhelming foe he’d faced so far. Even the frenzied, demon core fueled battle lust of Sha Xiang was nothing before the sheer aggression that Tan Qingsheng brought to bear.

  Gone was the manic grin, replaced by a grim determination, a hardness in his eyes, and the sharp promise of death hanging in the air. The nine-ringed blade slammed down on He Yu’s guandao again and again. Fire and heaven sparked off their weapons, and it took cycling everything He Yu could muster into the Empyrean Ninefold Body Tempering to withstand the assault. The Spring Rain Mirror turned away, maybe one in three attacks from either the rotating metal blades formed by the Breath of the White Desert, or the fiery spears formed by the Mark of the Dark Sun.

  Dimly, and only through the flawless perception of the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment, He Yu felt the retreat of his companions. The twinge of guilt at ordering them around that he’d felt so long ago was noticeably absent. The discomfort at leading paled in comparison to the need to do so, the need for someone to step up and take command of a truly dire situation. What exactly that meant, he could examine later. If he lived.

  With the others retreating, he focused the whole of his attention on his task. He focused on the ease that came when he tapped into his Wayborn Seed. He focused on what it meant to walk the path of a hero. On that glimpse Li Renshu had afforded him of his Dao of Heroism. Was throwing away his own life something that aligned with his Dao? It was, if it allowed others to live. To struggle another day. To follow their paths to their own Dao.

  Doubts fell away. Uncertainty faded. Resolve settled over him. He pointed his guandao at Tan Qingsheng. “Whatever strength I may have, I use it to stand in your way. I use it to protect my friends, to protect those who you would harm. Break me if you will, but I won’t stand aside.”

  Tan Qingsheng inclined his head. Then he stabbed his nine-ringed blade into the ground at his side. He pressed one fist into his palm in salute and bowed. “Brave child. Foolish, but brave. I am Tan Qingsheng. Brother to King Tan Zihao of the Jade Kingdom. I fight for my right to his throne, as is the custom of our family and our land.” Tan Qingsheng straightened and took up his blade once more. “I would know your name, expert of the Fifth Realm. It is only fitting.”

  “I am He Yu. Former disciple of the Shrouded Peaks Sect.”

  “I don’t know that name. The He family is not one I’m familiar with.”

  “I’m just a commoner from a backwater nobody’s heard of, looking to forge a legend,” he said, heaven surging through his meridians.

  “Shame,” Tan Qingsheng said. “You had potential.”

  A golden tiger roared, the sound crashed over the desolate land and rolled through the jagged metal spires that broke through the earth. He Yu froze as Tan Qingsheng’s qi gripped him, rooting him to the ground beneath the burning desert sun. He cycled his cultivation base. The flow of heaven and wind and water through his meridians grew sluggish with each new redoubling of the roar.

  Although the storm remained, the desert endured, then asserted its dominion once again. A dark sun burned away the clouds. What few puddles yet remained dried under its uncompromising light. The wind stilled, and then there was only the hot air and the merciless sun above. Among the spires of jagged metal, stalked the tiger.

  He Yu fell back, slammed to the ground under the weight of a single blow from Tan Qingsheng. Flames licked his blade, danced along his arms. Two pools of molten gold fixed He Yu in place. The nine-ringed blade lifted, the soft tinkle of the rings the only sound in the valley.

  The Peerless Judgment flashed. He Yu formed the Spring Rain Mirror as he pulled himself across the ruined earth with the Sky Dragon’s Flight. The nine-ringed blade gouged a scar into the land. He Yu regained his feet. With his guandao held forward like a spear, he formed the Rushing Wind and charged.

  Tan Qingsheng knocked aside He Yu’s larger weapon. Two fists met in an explosion of qi—one wreathed in flame, the other taking the form of a heavenly dragon. Pain shot up He Yu’s arm as his knuckles shattered. He tucked the guandao under one arm, desperately cycling what little qi he still could spare into his ruined hand.

  A kick knocked his leg out from beneath him. He dropped to one knee. A second kick slammed into his face. When he finally came to a stop, he’d tumbled across the entire valley floor and crashed into one of the few remaining stands of trees. The once heavily-wooded valley had been ripped bare by the battle, and the debris blasted to splinters.

  He Yu groped for his weapon. Tan Qingsheng stomped down on his wrist.

  “They’re gone,” he said, thrusting his sword into the earth mere inches from He Yu’s head.

  “Then kill me.”

  “You fought well, He Yu. Better than those two cowards I brought with me. As a sign of my respect, I’ll show you mercy. Once. When you finally track down my niece, tell her to leave. Renounce her claim. Leave me to my kingdom, and I’ll let all of you live. Your courage has bought this for you and your friends. Don’t squander it. I’ll kill all of you if I ever see you again.”

  The tiger left, taking the oppressive expanse of the desert with it. He Yu lay on his back and stared at the sky. Eventually, he’d cycled enough qi so that he could move once again. He bit down on a pill and closed his eyes in relief as the medicine flowed through his meridians. It would take him some time before he’d be able to search for the others, but the Peerless Judgment would aid him.

  For now, he just stared upward in disbelief. Shown mercy? Left for dead, more like it. He’d fully expected to die, and he’d accepted that. It seemed Tan Qingsheng wasn’t wholly without honor. He had a feeling Tan Xiaoling would make her uncle regret his decision to spare He Yu at the first chance she got.