Year 663 of the Stable Era,

Fifteenth day of the eleventh month

Halfway into the 9th Inner Hour

The evening was going great.

The Blade Banquet's food was delicious, each dish filled with the tastes and qi of a different land. Oma had helped herself to a hearty serving of each, washed down with copious cups of delicious tea from the trio of teapots Li Fan had been managing. The friendly cultivator had a rotation going, refilling each depleted pot with new, fresh leaves from a series of small pouches he kept producing from his storage ring.

He accompanied each pot with a story of its origin, from small mountain villages that cultivated trees for decades for a single, perfect leaf to undersea cities that raised great vines of kelp that reached for the sky. It made Oma feel like she was tasting the world in a single table—so similar, and yet so fundamentally different.

Cultivator Bai Tao was also an excellent conversationalist, and Oma had already learned a lot from his conversation with Senior Mei. He had offered great insights into his historic bout, and the way that he described his mindset for preparing himself against his opponent at each turn added a level of understanding to the retelling that she'd never been able to get from the recorded fights that Senior Mei had shared with her.

The way that he'd felt the motions and let his thoughts race. Anticipated and prepared at times, while scrambled to improvise at others. There were so many insights to be learned from his manner of thinking, and it had made her realize that she might benefit from reevaluating the way that she thought through her own actions. It had made her almost want to dash out the door to try it out herself. But then she remembered that it would mean that she'd miss the rest of the banquet, so she'd settled for saving the sensation in the back of her mind for later.

And it had been worth it. The braised lamb had been so succulent, and it had made for the perfect food to enjoy Jianzhu Bo's duel over. It had been exciting to get to see the Trigram Blades in action, as well as the strange saber that Jianzhu had used. She wondered what sort of technique had gone into making it, as it seemed to embody the strength of numerous blades in one.

"It's a waste is what it is," Senior Ruan Chen said with a sigh when she pondered it aloud, idly twirling her knife around her fingers.

"What do you mean, Senior?" Oma asked, turning from watching Jianzhu claim his opponent's sword.

"To strengthen his dao he's integrated other swords into it. Which means that there's fewer swords in the world as a result."

"I suppose so," Oma said, sipping her tea. She'd swapped to it after she realized that the spirit wine was a little strong for her, and was alternating between her two cups whenever she thought she could stand another sip of the heady liquor. "But it's still interesting, right?"

"No," Ruan Chen said firmly, ignoring the fact that Jianzhu had retaken his seat. "A sword that is truly all-encompassing would be interesting. A sword that only exists to strip swords from the world isn't. Every blade has a tale to tell, and a blade that seeks to reduce as many as it can to footnotes is a waste of steel. A net loss for everyone."

Oma helped herself to another sip of tea as her Senior launched into a lecture about the value of a blade: a lecture that ranged from the perspective of their historical importance to the way that an increased quantity of blades in the world led to a general improvement of the state of things. Ruan Chen was quite a bit more passionate about the topic than Oma could match, so she found her attention drifting. At least until the point when her Senior had preemptively ended her lecture to issue a challenge to the Imperial Blade Scholar that had come to apologize to Jianzhu Bo.

She'd almost spit out her tea when she'd heard that, hacking up a priceless treasure from the Great Plains of Ghen onto the fancy tablecloth.

"Senior," she wheezed, tugging at Ruan Chen's robe as she clapped herself on the chest to clear her lungs. "You can't just fight an Imperial representative!"

"Why not?" Ruan Chen asked, looking at her quizzically. "She did offer, didn't she?"

"I think that was just for Jianzhu," Oma whispered back.

And a veiled threat, she added to herself.

She glanced over at the Imperial Blade Scholar. She'd been the image of elegance and grace through all of this, her light blue eyes and long mahogany hair as serene as a mountain lake on a calm autumn day. The golden turtles of her elegant red dress—a beautiful thing with an elaborate waved texture and a line of golden buttons down its right side—had already returned to their brumation, the fabric falling into place as quickly as her about face.

"So?" Ruan Chen replied, as the collected tables of cultivators turned their attention to the two. More than a few were already whispering to themselves, and Oma caught the words 'audacity' and 'unbelievable' echoing amongst them. "He's clearly not interested, so why let such an opportunity go to waste? After all, such a chance won't come around every year."

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Oma sat in stunned silence as her Senior turned her own words against her. She wasn't wrong about that, but that didn't make her statement any more right.

"I believe that we've already inconvenienced our hosts enough already," the Imperial Blade Scholar said, breaking her silence. Apparently she'd been listening to them the entire time, and Oma felt herself blush as she realized that half of the hall had probably also been doing the same. "There's no need to alter this evening's plans any further."

"How'd you reckon that?" Ruan Chen asked, red locks swaying as she cocked her head to the side. "I thought that the point of this banquet was to gather promising sword cultivators from the different sects. So that we could demonstrate our techniques and gain new perspectives on the path of the blade. A duel wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. We'd just be moving it up a little."

Oma winced as more of her own words came back to stab her in the back. She reached for her cup, passing over her tea in favor of something stronger.

"I'm not sure that the plans for the evening were designed to accommodate that," the Scholar replied, gesturing to the head table, where Instructor Minzhe was frantically following suit with Oma.

"If they've already been altered, then it is easier for it to be altered further," Ruan Chen replied. "Bamboo cannot be uncut, only further shaped."

"A fitting proverb," the Scholar replied, nodding her head appreciatively at Ruan Chen's words. "But such a decision is up for us to decide. After all, we are not the ones responsible for determining the shape of the evening."

Ruan Chen leaned to the side as she looked past her at the head table.

"So, can we fight?" she asked, waving a hand at the Vice-Head of the Sword Division, Ma Shan, as Oma stared at the tablecloth, wishing that she had a technique to just dive into its deep red patterns and disappear.

"Can we fight?" the Vice-Head repeated, his white mane roiling like the cap of a great wave before he began to laugh, the sound echoing around the quieted room. "Can we fight? Ahh, ahahaga-ah-hahahahahh! That's a good one. Well—" the chestnut stallion began, before catching sight of Ruan Chen. The shadow of recognition flickered across his face for the barest of moments, before he caught himself and continued "—there certainly isn't any provision against moving the demonstration section up with new participants. Assuming that both parties are willing, of course."

Instructor Minzhe looked at him with a stricken expression, a stream of liquid pouring onto his lap as his cup overflowed.

"I, for one, wouldn't mind another display of swordsmanship," the sapphire-haired cultivator of the Edge's Blade said, silver nails tapping as she nodded appreciatively towards Vice-Head Ma Shan. "I'm sure that we can find time for the lectures later. They might even gain a stronger context from prior demonstration."

"It would be a shame not to give the people what they want," the fierce looking instructor of the Imperial Blade Scholars said, eyes glinting as he gazed at the Sword Intent Club.

"Well, that's settled then," Ruan Chen said, pushing her chair aside as she strode towards the Imperial Blade Scholar.

"I suppose," Haoran replied, sharing one last look with the head table before she turned to face her. "If you truly wish to fight, I am more than willing to oblige. Even though we might have become better acquainted through discussion."

"We can still do that later," Ruan Chen said, starting to strap each of the four sheathed swords that she had left leaning against the table onto her back. "But as a great sage once said: there is no introduction better than the clash of blades—"

"Nor one more true," Haoran finished. Her would-be opponent's words were a strange thing, learned words of wisdom mixed with rustic roughness like petals against a naked blade.

Uncommon ones, too. It was rare to hear a cultivator quote the words of Xu Kongxiang, as the Immortal of the Inevitable End's legacy had cast a long shadow over his own accomplishments. But there was an undeniable truth to the Immortal's words. A simple truth, perhaps, but one that could cut through complexity and custom with the greatest ease.

"Very well. I accept your challenge, under one condition." Haoran turned towards the head table, bowing courteously as she made her plea. "This humble scholar requests a location worthy of our duel. So that we may fight without restraint."

"Granted," the Vice-Head of the Teal Mountain Sect's Sword Division, snapping his fingers. The sound echoed through the room as the pagoda flashed, the arrays etched deep into its walls humming to life. A stone appeared at the center of the floor, the puddle of Hu Anglei's blood sliding to the side around its arrival. The hum took on a keening pitch, threatening to rise to an unbearable height for the barest of moments before it levelled out into a harmonic strain.

Notes, each more melodic than the last, rang out as space distorted, the dark jade expanding into the flat floor of a raised arena, thirty feet to each of its octagonal sides. The full length of the dance floor remained between it and the rest of the guests, only split by the new arrival. It offered a generous aisle between the tables and the fight, providing protection from the worst of any fallout while offering them room to rearrange themselves for better viewing.

Haoran flapped her sleeve as she formed a quick hand sign under her robes, and with a ripple her evening dress was replaced by her regular robes in anticipation of the fight to come. Keeping her expression neutral at the display she drew her trigram swords from her spatial ring, the harness of the eight crossed sheaths settling onto her back with the barest whisper.

It was an impressive array, more than a match for the works of the grand arenas of the capital, and a clear message to the crowd of onlookers: HERE was the true might of the Teal Mountain Sect.

Not in the strength of its swords, but the might of its artifice. Spirit jade of the finest quality. Defensive formations of immense strength. Spatial arrays deployed with the most casual of ease, allowing even the most formal of environments to easily accommodate a full duel.

This was the craftsmanship that had allowed them to remain one of the last holdouts of the Empire. That had allowed them the unprecedented position of joining as valued allies rather than subordinates. The breadth of knowledge that had served as a bulwark for their growth.

Whether or not they would win this fight was almost secondary, as their display had already been completed. They were a sect worthy of their place, an ally of the Empire that had taken their seat through might, of equal standing to even its prominent members.

And now it was Haoran's turn to send her own message. To remind the crowd of the capabilities of the Xan Empire.

In times of doubt, a show of strength was necessary. To reassure the smaller sects of the security they offered. That the Empire's strength was a sufficient shield to foreign aggression, and that they had the might to stand against all who would oppose them. The might to preserve the peace of the continent, and the stability that they had brought to the Stable Era.

Haoran checked her straps as she stepped onto the arena, tying back her flowing hair as she readied herself for what was to come.

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