Of Hunters and Immortals

Jiang didn't feel any closer to an answer as he left Old Nan's, but he did feel like their discussion had helped him clarify what his choices were, which helped a little. If nothing else, this wasn't the kind of decision he could afford to rush – especially while he was uncertain of the extent his cultivation was affecting him – so it was probably a good idea to hold off on making any moves for now.

Which left him wondering what to do in the meantime. Going back to the Quiet Scroll was out of the question; sitting around listening to Mistress Bai and Li Xuan endlessly snip at each other was not his idea of a fun time.

He glanced down at the hilt of his new sword. Maybe he could check the training yard the caravan guards had shown him, what felt like a lifetime ago? He still preferred the bow as a weapon, but considering how quickly he was going through them with his enhanced strength, it was definitely worth getting some practice in with a sword – at least until he could find a bow suited for a cultivator.

Besides, right now he could really do with some mindless physical activity.

Unfortunately, he hadn't even gone twenty paces down the alley before his plans were disrupted. Zhang was waiting where the alley spilled into the street, standing straight as a spear with his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn't even pretending it was a coincidence.

Jiang stopped. "What are you doing here?"

"My duty," Zhang replied coolly. "Senior Brother Li was… insistent that you not be left to wander the city alone. He was concerned someone might try to snatch you up. Mistress Bai, for her own reasons, agreed."

Jiang didn't miss the faint, resentful emphasis on the word 'concerned'.

"So they sent you to babysit me," Jiang said, his tone flat.

"I was instructed to ensure your safety," Zhang corrected stiffly. They walked in silence for a moment, the only sound the crunch of their boots on the icy cobblestones. Jiang could feel the weight of the other disciple's stare, the sharp, analytical gaze that was constantly trying to piece him together.

"Why?" Zhang asked finally, his carefully constructed patience fraying. "Why are they so concerned? I saw Disciple Li's expression. He suspects you of something, yet he is also intent on protecting you. And Mistress Bai… she has a reputation for not involving herself in matters that do not directly benefit her. Yet here she is, dedicating her time to you. Why? Why are you important enough that an Inner Disciple and an independent cultivator powerful enough to rule a city both care where you walk? What are you not telling me, Jiang?"

There it was. Jiang felt a familiar prickle of annoyance at the casual arrogance. "A lot of things," he said, and started walking. "Most of them none of your business."

He wasn't about to tell Zhang about the Pact. Not when it was clear that Li Xuan was already suspicious. The fewer people who knew, the better his chances of surviving.

Zhang stopped, his hand shooting out to grab Jiang's arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Your business became the Sect's business the moment you passed the exams and became a disciple," he said, his voice a low, angry hiss. "I have been away from the Sect for nearly a month, following you, cleaning up your messes. My own cultivation has stagnated while I chase a rogue disciple who refuses to show the proper respect for his seniors or his situation. I have a right to know what is going on."

Jiang yanked his arm free. The frustration that had been simmering in his own gut all day finally boiled over. "You have a right to nothing," he snapped. "You want to know so badly? Go ask Li Xuan. Or better yet, go ask Mistress Bai. See what she tells you." He gave Zhang a sharp, humourless smile. "They didn't seem to think you needed to know, did they?"

That hit home. He saw the flash of anger in Zhang's eyes, the tightening of his jaw. The insult, the implication that he was being deliberately excluded by his own Senior Brother and the city's most powerful cultivator, was a direct blow to his pride.

"Perhaps," Zhang said, his voice dangerously quiet, "it is time we traded pointers again, Junior Brother Jiang. It seems your time in the wilds has taught you some bad habits that require correction."

To Jiang's own surprise, a savage grin spread across his face. The stress of the last few days, the fear, the anger, the constant, grinding uncertainty – it all coalesced into a single, sharp point of focus. The thought of punching Zhang Shuren in his perfect, arrogant face suddenly sounded like the best idea he'd had all week.

"Fine by me," he said, the words a low growl.

Zhang grinned back, the challenge clear on his face. It was the most honest expression Jiang had seen him wear.

"I know a place," Jiang said shortly, already turning to head towards the training ground. He knew the odds of winning probably weren't great, but if he could give Zhang a black eye, it would all be worth it.

— — —

Zhang followed Jiang to the training yard in tight, irritable silence. The cold air bit at his face, and each step echoed like a reminder that this was beneath him — all of it. Babysitting a rogue outer disciple, following orders that didn't make sense, and now lowering himself to settle things with his fists like a street brawler.

Still… he couldn't deny he wanted this. Jiang's smug defiance had been needling at him ever since he'd caught up with the rogue disciple in the first place, and things had only gotten worse. Bad enough that he had to waste time running all over the province, losing out on the access to instruction and cultivation resources that were the whole point of joining the Azure Sky Sect in the first place, but to see the boy inexplicably get away with it?

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Infuriating.

It wasn't his place to question Inner Disciple Li Xuan, but… he really wanted to.

They reached the yard — an empty patch of packed earth hemmed by a crooked fence and a few weathered practice dummies. Zhang removed his outer robe, folding it and gently resting it on a stack of crates nearby. No need to risk it getting dirty, after all.

"No techniques or weapons," he said curtly. "We don't need to risk damaging the ground or seriously injuring each other."

The allowance was more for Jiang than himself – he was disciplined and experienced enough to pull his attacks. Still, in the chaos of a fight, anything could happen. Better to be safe.

Jiang gave him that lazy half-smile that made Zhang's teeth clench. "Fine. Wouldn't want to scuff the dirt."

They squared off. Zhang took his stance — low, balanced, a textbook guard from the Sect's unarmed forms. Jiang, by contrast, looked like he'd never been properly drilled in his life: loose-limbed, unguarded, almost careless.

The first exchange proved otherwise.

Jiang lunged forward, moving faster than Zhang expected. Faster than he'd moved only a few days ago, when Zhang had first found him near the bandit camp. Zhang managed to counter, sweeping his leg to throw him off balance, but the younger man twisted and nearly caught him across the jaw on the way down.

Zhang fell back two steps, more surprised than hurt. He shouldn't be improving this quickly.

They circled again. Zhang pressed the attack, crisp strikes and controlled motions. Jiang blocked one, half-dodged another, then simply shoved Zhang with both hands, driving him backward. Zhang caught his footing, snapped out a jab — and Jiang caught his wrist, trying to twist it. The move was clumsy, but the strength behind it made Zhang grunt.

For a few moments, the fight lost any semblance of elegance. Jiang's swings came in wide, awkward arcs; Zhang responded with precise counters that worked until they didn't. He'd expected Jiang to exhaust himself quickly, but the opposite was happening — the boy's movements were growing sharper, more fluid, almost… instinctive.

Zhang ducked a wild punch and swept Jiang's leg again, but Jiang rolled with it, kicking up dust as he came up low and rammed into Zhang's ribs. They went down together, grappling in the dirt, each trying to get the upper hand.

Frustration boiled in Zhang's gut. This wasn't a spar. It was a messy, undignified scramble. He abandoned his forms, his own anger overriding his discipline. He shoved Jiang away, then drove a knee into his gut as the boy stumbled. Jiang grunted, then grabbed a fistful of Zhang's silk inner robes and yanked him down, driving his own shoulder into Zhang's jaw.

They rolled in the dirt, a tangle of limbs and curses, all pretence of a cultivator's duel forgotten — robes tearing, fists and knees flying in a mess of strikes that would have made any instructor weep. Zhang managed to grab a handful of Jiang's collar and tried to pin him, only for Jiang to twist free and shove him into the ground. Zhang responded by yanking Jiang down with him.

It was chaos. No patterns, no forms – just raw movement, instinct, and temper.

Zhang finally broke the stalemate with a sharp twist and a knee to Jiang's stomach. The air left Jiang in a grunt, and Zhang used the opening to pin him flat, forearm across his chest. Both of them were panting, their faces streaked with dirt.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Jiang coughed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Feel better?"

Zhang pushed himself upright, brushing off his sleeves with as much dignity as he could muster. Which wasn't much. "You fight like a lunatic," he said.

Jiang laughed, and for a brief moment, Zhang found himself wishing he could be so carefree. "Takes one to know one," the boy shot back, pushing himself up and spitting a bit of blood onto the frozen earth.

"I must say, I didn't realise the Azure Sky Sect's training now included rolling around in the mud like common street thugs," a voice drawled from the edge of the yard. "A bold new direction. I'm sure the Elders will be thrilled."

Zhang froze, dawning horror creeping over him. He looked up to see Li Xuan leaning against the fence with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. He looked like he'd been there for a while. Zhang felt a hot flush of shame crawl up his neck. He was a disciple of the Azure Sky Sect, a representative of his family's honour, and he had just been rolling in the dirt like a common street thug.

Zhang straightened so fast his back popped. "Senior Brother— I—" he trailed off, the words not coming.

"I trust," Li Xuan spoke over him, pushing himself off the fence and walking towards them, his own robes immaculate, "that this little… squabble… had a purpose? Or were you simply bringing shame to the Sect for your own amusement?" His gaze was fixed on Zhang, sharp and demanding.

Jiang, with absolutely no shame whatsoever, just grinned. "A bit of both," he said.

Zhang wanted to throttle him.

"Is that so? And how about you, Junior Brother Zhang?" Li Xuan's voice was dangerously quiet. "Were you enjoying yourself?"

The question was a trap, and they both knew it. He could lie, try to salvage some shred of his dignity, but lying to a senior of Li Xuan's standing was a fool's errand. He swallowed his pride, the taste of it bitter as ash. "I… allowed myself to get carried away, Senior Brother. It was a lapse in discipline."

"That wasn't what I asked," Li Xuan pressed, his gaze unwavering. "I asked if you enjoyed it."

It appeared his humiliation would be complete, then. The silence stretched. Zhang looked from Li Xuan's implacable face to Jiang's infuriatingly smug one. He thought of the fight, the raw, uncomplicated release of it, the way the frustration and anger had burned away, leaving something clean and sharp behind.

"Yes," he admitted, the word a quiet, mortifying confession.

And in that moment of pure, unadulterated honesty, something inside him cracked.

A barrier he'd been pushing against for months, a bottleneck that had felt as solid as a mountain, simply… dissolved. A new, purer wave of Qi flooded his meridians, and the world snapped into a sharper, clearer focus. The eighth stage. He stared at his own dirt-covered hands, speechless. A breakthrough. It made no sense. It was supposed to take months of secluded meditation, a mountain of spirit stones, a carefully prepared elixir… not a grubby brawl in a back-alley training yard.

Li Xuan, however, didn't seem surprised at all. "Well," he said, a flicker of something that might have been satisfaction in his eyes. "Congratulations on your advancement, Junior Brother Zhang. It seems a good thrashing was all you needed."

Zhang didn't answer. He couldn't. He just stared at his hands, flexing his fingers as though the motion might make sense of the impossible. His Qi still hummed faintly under his skin, the resonance unmistakable. A breakthrough – without pills, without meditation, without anything that should have made it possible.

Jiang leaned on his knees, still breathing hard. He didn't seem particularly impressed. "Huh," he said after a moment. "Congrats."

Zhang didn't know whether to laugh or hit him again. There was no awe, no surprise in Jiang's voice – just a simple, unaffected statement, as though seeing someone leap a cultivation boundary mid-brawl was a perfectly normal occurrence.

Li Xuan's expression didn't help. The older disciple hadn't looked surprised either. Amused, perhaps. Satisfied, certainly. But not surprised.

Li Xuan had expected this.

Zhang's gaze lingered on his so-called junior brother, still dusting himself off, still wearing that infuriating half-smirk. He thought back to Mistress Bai's interest, to Li Xuan's secrecy, to the strange, impossible speed of Jiang's growth, and now his own impossible breakthrough.

It seemed he no longer needed to wonder why everyone was so interested in Jiang Tian.