Reforged from Ruin [Eldritch Xianxia Cultivation]

Ko has been having a very interesting time lately.

He's fairly certain that's near-universal, at least when it comes to the nature of his new Master. Everything she does is, or leads to, an interesting time. It's hard not to be interesting, when you're something like her.

He's met flesh-crafters before, seen some of their constructs, but never anything like her. The way she generates space, rooms, mechanisms, so fluidly and seemingly without ever bothering with the idea of whether or not it should work, is alien to what he knows. They're not exactly a common thing, here in the Jianghou- the amount of knowledge, training, and instinct it takes to go beyond a healer and create things more useful than more conventional tools is just too high. That, and the fact that, historically, it's a very "demonic cultivator" type of thing to do.

Maybe. He mostly has the words of others to rely on for that, and he doesn't consider the words of others particularly reliable at the best of times.

Words can lie. They can say one thing and mean another, pretending to be solid, sincere things when really they're anything but. He's never been great with words, and unfortunately, he knows a lot of people who are.

It's a frustrating feeling, being weak. Being outmaneuvered, overwhelmed, tossed and turned and manipulated by a strength he can't really grasp.

In steel, at least, he can trust. In sharp-honed edges, in velocity, in impact and severance and the tactical dance of strike, parry, and counter-strike. His whole life has been in pursuit of strength that he can understand, that he can wield, that he can find purpose and progress in without losing himself. It's a path that led him higher than most people he knows, which has earned him renown and resources and allies- and also one that failed him. Or that he failed, perhaps.

When the trap was laid out before him, he didn't see it. He didn't have the right words. In the end, he even took Aria down with him, her own failures commingling with his. Both too strong to throw away, both too troublesome, too useless to keep around.

And then… interesting times.

Something approaching transcendence, mistaken as a flesh-construct of impossible proportions, mistaken as a beast or invader. Something they tried to fight- and which spared them. Showed them wonders incomprehensible, and then dragged them back to the world as it is, and asked them (asked!) if they would be willing to be of use.

It's nice to be useful. Nice to find that his strength is still his ally, and that he has pathways he can walk alongside it. Meaningful, even, to find that not only does the path he has chosen have further to walk, but that there are those who see the value in it, and seek to offer him aid along it.

In exchange for getting his ass beat, of course.

It's nice! Reminds him of early days back in the Crashing Rainfall sect. Broken bones and torn open flesh, nights spent in and out of consciousness in the medical pavilion, learning to love the taste of medicinal pills and the feeling of bruises. Normal outer disciple stuff!

His new Master hits a lot harder than his fellow disciples, of course.

The jingling of bells echoes in the courtyard as he dodges the blow by the skin of his teeth. He follows the technique, traveling along the sound of it and emerging further along its wave. It's not quite teleportation, not really- or at least, he doesn't think so. It's more like surfing, stepping in and out. One moment, he exists in one place with the sound- in the next, he's in another place with the sound. That's all.

He's pretty sure his new Master can move faster than sound, though. Not often, not all the time, but often enough that it's not a surprise when she uses her forearm to block his sword and punches him in the nose.

The impact sounds like thunder, shattering the bones of his face and flipping him head over heels- and then the bells jingle, and he's beside her. She's already turning behind herself, expecting him there, so he goes at it from the same direction, just an inch off-

Blocked again, his sword cutting a centimeter or so into her skin and stopping violently. His Master jerks her arm down, dragging him in close, aiming for a second strike-

The jingling of bells, and he's moved aside again, avoiding the attack this time. He can't let up- retreating just means he'll get launched onto the back foot, and that's a guaranteed loss right there.

Swing, parried, the bells jingle, and he's away. Again and again, flashing in a sequence until the courtyard sounds like a cacophony, the willow trees at the edges of the marble waving wildly from the air displaced by their fighting. He vanishes, faster, faster, pushing himself to a limit, refusing to break.

His Master is almost as scarred as he, her arms and legs covered in slight cuts that ooze blood. He, in turn, feels his bones creaking, his face swelling up from repeated blows, the broken nose and fractured ribs aching. He's on the losing end of the exchange, but the only way to truly lose is to give up, and Ko, last of his name, first of his bloodline, does not give up.

The ringing of bells is so constant that his ears begin to ache, ascendant biology straining against the sound that becomes more and more like a wail, but he keeps swinging. His blade's edge dulls, only the Qi he is cycling through it keeping it sharp, and he keeps swinging. His body aches, his meridians cycle energy through his body in a thundering typhoon, and he keeps. Swinging.

And she punches him in the face again.

With his nose still broken, the impact resonates with the pain, shooting through to the back of his skull. He closes his eyes for less than a second, less than a heartbeat, but it's already too late.

His Domain shatters the world at his feet as an arcing kick aims for his temple.

The world turns to steel, cracking and reshaping itself into the form of swords and armor and statues, half-glimpsed from where they half-exist beneath the ground. The echoing of the bells becomes louder, ringing through the more delicate elements of metal of his Domain, and as if ignited into being by the sound, long ribbons bloom, waving in an invisible wind.

And then he lets out a groan, dropping the technique and collapsing onto his butt in the dirt.

"Damnit."

His Master smiles, shaking her head, the kick undelivered as her feet both touch the ground again. "I win again. How many is that?"

He sighs, using the breath to let out his exhaustion. "Sixteen times, Master."

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"Good to know you can still keep track. One of these days, someone's going to hit you hard enough to rattle even that much right out."

Ko plants his blade, using it to get back up. His other hand goes to his nose, cracking it back into place with a grunt and an exhale to sneeze out the blood already clumping up in it. An instant later, the break is fixed as he releases some of the iron grip he's keeping his Qi in.

"Apologies, Master. I'll try to do better at blocking headshots."

She nods, smiling as she does. The sun glints off of long antlers and skin the color of growing wood, the colors of sunset glowing in her "hair"- she's already healed, the only marks on her skin the trails where droplets of blood slipped from her skin.

"Good. Do. As a panic response, a Domain is a good call, but better to not panic at all."

He bows, acknowledging her wisdom. A moment later, a shiver runs through him as he finally allows his cultivation to do the work of restoring his body. He might not be at the level of the Divergent Paths, where mortality is as much suggestion as command, but at the Nascent Soul Realm, his cultivation is more than capable of regenerating him at the cost of Qi. Not to the level a healer or proper medicinal resources could perform at, of course, but enough so that within a few seconds of meditative breathing, he feels his ribs settle back into place and his bruising fade down to his normal coloration.

His Master, of course, has been fully healed almost since the fight ended, her arms crossed as she waits, towering over him.

"Still sure you don't want any help with that?" she asks.

"I would rather not, Master. The more I practice, the better I learn."

She nods, needing no further explanation. He's known her only a few months, but it's enough to know that she's much the same way he is. His Master's talent knows no bounds, but she too seems to enjoy the process of moving forward in steps, rather than leaps and bounds.

At least when it comes to getting better at beating him.

"Alright. Take a break, then. Finish healing, replenish your Qi, and we'll begin again in five minutes."

"Master, I can-"

"You can listen to your boss when she's kicking your ass and go get some damn water. Burning Qi to supply your body isn't as efficient as having what you need prepared."

He bows lightly, acquiescing to her wisdom. With a jingling of bells, he pulls his blade from the ground, planting it over his shoulders.

Three weeks since they arrived back in Morae. It's strange, to feel the pace of the Jianghou as opposed to the outside world- part of him is used to having decades to train, advance, shore up his foundation, but another part was forced to very quickly adapt to the lightning speed of changes out in the wider world. The Overgrowth is not the sort of place to allow the leniency of peaceful meditation, and his Master is, if anything, even more fast-paced. It seems to almost pain her to ever stop moving, thinking, acting, something that feels familiar to him yet foreign to what he's used to at the same time.

The big meeting that Li Tianfeng of the Dancing Clouds sect (always good to use the full name and title, otherwise he forgets) proposed is still in the works, and his Master's impatience with the whole affair is writ large on her. Her suggestion that she and her two "disciples" spar to pass the time has both him and Aria run ragged- he genuinely can't remember the last time he felt that his Dantian was full. What's worse, though certainly better for the pavilion and their hosts, is that she refuses to face either of them at full power, just as she limits herself.

Despite the extreme differences in their styles, his Master has put the same restrictions on himself and Aria. No Domains, no esoteric techniques, and the sparring continues until a rule is broken or an opponent can no longer properly fight. In the words of his Master; "your comprehension is sorely lacking, your technique reliant on additives, your follow-through could use some work, and your physical endurance is mediocre".

All rather painful things to hear, it's true… and yet the results speak for themselves.

He finishes taking a drink from a nearby waterfall, the semi-artificial landmark filling the silence where his bells were with the sound of rushing water. Five minutes isn't a lot of time, but he's already cycling, no longer requiring medicine or meditation to start. The idea is, if he's always cycling his Qi, he doesn't need to worry about his regeneration.

He's… not entirely sure if his Master knows that that can kill someone, if they make a mistake or try to initiate a different cycling pattern at the same time. Still a good idea though.

He rolls his neck, cracking his spine and feeling his status. Bones re-set, muscles restored, breathing and heartbeat both even. Good. Aria will complain for hours if he has to tap out early before her turn.

He turns back to the courtyard, shaking water out of his hair, and focuses on his blade, preparing it to-

"Stop."

He blinks, doing so immediately.

"That technique. You're not just enhancing it, right? You're sharpening it."

He nods, bowing his head slightly. "Yes, Master. It's an old trick my sect taught me, and-"

"Stop doing it."

He blinks. Then looks down at his sword, the Qi-saturated metal's edge chipped and dulled.

"I… am not sure why?"

She grins then, her teeth wide, like she just received truly joyous news. "Well, well, well! A question, voiced aloud, without fear of reprisal! Poorly voiced, but I'm not here to be a bitch."

He blushes, just a bit. He's no child, but the habit is long engrained not to ask questions impolitely, lest he face shame. He's long gotten used to it, but his Master's exuberance every time he asks something brings the feeling into stark relief- he's used to people looking at him like a fool, asking stupid questions. She looks at him like the questions aren't stupid at all.

"This is one of those things that are hard to explain, and might not work," she admits, shrugging. "I think there's room to progress in literally any direction, always, but I also think you're too focused on the practical, physical state of your blade."

"A dull blade doesn't cut."

She shakes her head.

"Maybe that's true. Or, maybe, some things can cut without an edge at all."

He frowns, looking at the statement. On its face, it's not… wrong? With the right velocity, directional impact…

"You're getting faster, more efficient, but you're still stuck in the same mindset. You're still doing things the same way as before. Why can you only teleport through the most recent sound of your bells? Why do you always appear upright, rather than facing a more optimal angle? And your enhancement technique could use work; you're still so focused on metal as a sword and as a bell, but you don't see those things as you. We're not going to fix all of that at once, but relying on a specific tool will always limit you, while using a tool with the right perspective can do the opposite."

He nods, bowing his head. "Your humble junior thanks the great Master for her insight."

She rolls her eyes at that. "Mmh. Just pointing out whatever seems obvious. It's not like I'm saying anything crazy."

He does not mention that his Master's perspective on what is or isn't crazy isn't exactly… common.

"...Perhaps, Master, a faster aid would be to visit once more your inner paradise. I believe there was some insight there relating to-"

"No. Not yet."

He nods, and does not question.

Still, she sighs, as if he's said something she can't help but agree with, somehow.

"It's not that I don't think it would benefit you. I just think you're in a similar position to me. Your issue isn't your potential, it's your perspective- the issue isn't whether or not your comprehension will grow upon witnessing Dao, it's about whether it will still be your comprehension, and if it won't crack your foundation if you grow too quickly."

He nods. It's a reasonable response, one that holds some wisdom to it. The fact that it isn't what he wants to hear also remains true.

He sighs, but nods, and this time, his Master seems to read something different in it, and nods back.

"Ready?" she asks.

He doesn't bother saying anything. Instead, he squares his stance and raises his blade, the bells along its hilt and length ringing.

She smiles.

And then she moves, her body fluid grace and animal brutality, and he replies in ringing-edged violence of his own.