Tales of the Teal Mountain Sect

Year 663 of the Stable Era,

Fifteenth day of the eleventh month

Three courses into the Banquet of Blades

As more food was served, the table began to splinter amongst its separate interests.

One half was busy discussing Bai Tao's tournament, the tale belabored by the circumstances of its telling. The conversation was led by the discourse between the cultivator himself and Weijian Mei, with Li Fan and Gao Oma joining in every now and again with questions and witty remarks.

Li Zhan had remained aloof, content with simply listening and observing the other guests at the banquet. His eyes lingered on the assortment of sheaths on display, as if he was attempting to gaze through them at the swords they contained.

At first, Bo had assumed that these leering gazes had been directed at the cultivators around them—a blatant display of lust from a shameless playboy. Bo was more than familiar with their kind, those well-groomed toads that put on a cool facade to attract attention with their smarmy demeanor and pointless preening. After all, what other sort of cultivator would show up to this sort of event with three jadelike beauties in tow?

Well, two and a junior. And even then, the definition of jade was being pushed by in no small way by Ruan Chen. Unlike Weijian Mei, who was beautiful in that sort of classical style that most sect-bound cultivators aspired towards, Ruan Chen had the unmistakable beauty of a rose formed by adversity.

Her tall physique was that of a practical body cultivator, with wide shoulders and thick muscles that were unmistakable even through her robes. Her long red hair was cut in a rough, practical manner—one focused more on keeping it out of the way than on form. Her skin was the pleasant tan of the warm sand of his homeland, a healthy color that stood out against the pale academic's skin that so many scholarly cultivators seemed intent on cultivating, crisscrossed with the scars of past battles.

A testament to her actions and her view towards them, embracing her triumphs rather than hiding her trophies like so many cultivators insisted on doing. Sect cultivators were so obsessed with the illusion of immaculateness, insistent on healing any scar that they might have acquired and blotting out the memories of it rather than live with the outcome of their own actions. As though any cultivator reached greatness without struggle.

Though, considering many of the sect cultivators Bo had fought, he doubted that most of them had ever suffered an injury worth commemorating.

No, they were too busy never leaving their comfortable mountains and isolated dojos. Never challenging the wilds to push their limits or struggling to wrest resources from dangerous beasts and rivals. He looked around the banquet with disgust, only to be reminded of the reality of his evening's companionship.

No, they just stayed in their pristine pagodas, swallowing resources gathered by the labor of others, their heads stuck in scrolls like ostriches, as if cultivation could ever improve simply by reading the words of others.

And then they'd have the gall to look down on cultivators like him or Master, even though they were truer cultivators than they would ever dream of being, he thought to himself, glaring over at the Imperial Blade Scholars. Truer cowards, more like. Seeking strength in groups, rather than seizing it with their own strength.

A cultivator like Ruan Chen was a rarity amongst this sort of crowd, so Bo had been carefully formulating his approach over the last few dishes. A rare effort, but one that felt worthwhile tonight, since he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with her. Namely the one that his master kept insisting he was attempting to eat, in that tortured joke he so liked to make about how often he put it in his mouth.

"So," Bo started, as Ruan Chen slurped the crab from a leg in a single suck, "from your appearance I can tell that you're quite the collector. A cultivator that could really appreciate the craftsmanship of a rare blade as singular as my own." She turned, crab shell cracking as she focused on his offer.

"What sort of sword," she asked intently, her interest palpable as it pressed down on Bo. His tableware rattled as he took a breath, flexing his qi as he asserted himself against the pressure of her gaze.

"Well, he said, taking a reassuring sip of his tea to seem more aloof, like those Imperial bastards always did, "as you are aware I am the disciple of the Wandering Dao, and the sole heir to his swordsmanship."

"Was he not a saber wielder?" Li Zhan interjected, the first words he'd spoken since he'd first sat down. "I was under the impression that his name was in reference to his weapon rather than his creed."

"In part," Bo said, only slightly restraining his annoyance as he corrected the common mistake. "My master acquired his title early in his life, and while at the time he was more renowned for his feats with his saber, in truth he was always the master of the art of many blades. Similar to the beautiful Ruan Chen here."

"So where are your swords?" Ruan Chen asked, ignoring his praise. "Are they in your storage ring? Or perhaps an expanded sheath? Or some other form of concealment." She gazed intently at his sheath as she said this, trying to discern if there was some sort of spell set into the pattern of its studded leather.

"No, it's a trick to his saber," Li Zhan said, taking a sip from his tea. "His blade is far from as singular as he would lead you to believe."

"How astute," Bo replied, smothering a frown as he pulled his sheath around the back of his chair. If these Sword Intent Club cultivators were good at one thing, it was their perception. They were aggravatingly good at noticing things, and no compunctions about immediately stating them aloud.

Presenting his bronze-studded sheath to the pair, Bo drew his saber in one smooth motion, quickly, to ensure that Gao Oma didn't have the chance to turn around and interject with some fact about his weapon to ruin his reveal.

"Hmm," hmmed Li Zhan, leaning in closer, the action in perfect synch with Ruan Chen. The two inspected the blade intently as Bo carefully slid his sheath onto the table between the half-eaten crab platter and the mostly finished dumplings.

His saber was wide for a dao, a pinky short of a full palm's breadth. Its blade had a gentle curve to it, matched evenly by its spine until the last quarter of the blade, where it swelled slightly into a thickened tip. Its guard was a wide copper block, thick enough to wrap a hand around and textured with a pattern of a scaled serpent curling into an elaborate knotwork shape. It was well worn from past encounters, but it was a far cry from the blade itself.

The dark steel of the saber was crossed with scars the same way the night sky was with stars. Light scrapes and deep gashes scored inorganic constellations into its surface, almost seeking to eradicate the void of empty space. Some glinted more brightly than others, filled with an assortment of metals rather than the light of the pagoda's floating lanterns. Their materials ranged from rough red bronze to shining silver Cloudsteel and lavender Mountains' Heart.

Ruan Chen stared at the blade with curiosity, Li Zhan with growing agitation.

"What a terribly maintained sword," he muttered, loudly enough that Bo could tell that he was making no attempt to hide his annoyance. "Such shoddy repairs, and such a badly maintained hone."

"Perhaps you're not as perceptive as I thought," Bo replied, standing as he gave himself enough space to twirl his blade. As it whirled, he let a measure of qi flow through it, the exhalation as easy as drawing breath. It touched the shard of silver just past the tunkou, sparking a familiar reaction.

In a puff of smoke the blade shifted, forming into a thick cleaver, its ragged blade wreathed in flames. With another revolution it changed again, stretching into a long whip sword that darted towards the duck.

Li Zhan didn't flinch as the blade whizzed by him, simply using his pinky to slide his cup half an inch to the side so it wasn't winged by the piece of flying fowl that Bo had skewered.

Bo bit it off the end of his sword with a flourish as he tossed his sword in air, the blade compressing into a jian with an overly bejeweled hilt before thunking into the table. The dense rosewood offered token resistance, the sword only halting a foot from its hilt. His lip twisted up in a grin as he looked around the room, taking in the expressions of grudging admiration and suppressed jealousy.

Despite their ability, these academics certainly knew what a proper sword looked like, even if his present company didn't.

As Bo retook his seat, the other cultivators that had been watching with varying degrees of interest gradually turned back to their own tables once they realized that there was little else to see. The spectacle of the sole standing swordsman had been interesting enough to attract attention, especially once the wait for the next course had finished.

A few were shaking their heads at the impropriety of it all, while others seemed more amused by the fact that he had left his sword sticking out of the table like a lonely pillar. Most, however, saw this as an opportunity to brag about their own blades, prompting a propagation of blade comparisons across the room.

"For a lesser technique such things would be a detriment, but for my Scored Blade Technique, such scars only strengthen my blade," Bo boasted, swallowing the last morsel of duck.

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"How?" Li Zhan asked.

"Huh?"

"How?" Li Zhan repeated. "Does allowing your sword to be needlessly battered perform some sort of inverse tempering? Or does—"

"Oh, it's nothing as complicated as that," Bo scoffed. "My saber's strength simply comes from experience. Each battle I fight only adds to its power. Each scar it bears is a testament to a foe I've overcome, each mark a blade I've taken. Proof of every step I've taken along my martial path."

"Or proof that your control is lacking," Li Zhan noted, sipping some tea as Ruan Chen looked at his blade with something akin to disappointment. "Scars can be proof of carelessness just as easily as triumph. And more easily acquired through recklessness than skill."

"A cultivator with no scars is no better than an untested sword," Bo retorted. "An unproven blade is simply a blade unsnapped, since it's never had to prove its own worth."

"Indeed," Li Zhan agreed, and Bo blinked at him in shock as he continued. "A cultivator who has learnt little has obtained no great wisdom. Failure is an equal inspiration to success, and to seek wisdom from only one teacher is to willfully embrace inadequacy."

"And what marks of experience do you bear?" Bo pointed accusingly at his immaculate skin and pristine robes, the scar along the heel of his palm trembling. Who was this academic to speak so smugly, as if he knew better from study alone?

"When I was a far less experienced smith, I burned myself against a blade I was forging in a moment of carelessness," Li Zhan replied, reaching for a sleeve. "It was of an unfamiliar style and, unused to the shape, I brushed its tip as I moved to quench it. This, of course, fouled the blade, as its early exposure to my blood formed a two-part quench that ruined my temper. After that, I learnt to be more vigilant in my work, to ensure that I never again allowed my day's effort to be wasted by a moment's carelessness."

He rolled up his sleeve, exposing a small mark just above his elbow that Bo had to squint to make out. It was barely the length of two grains of rice end to end, and as thin as the edge of Ruan Chen's knife.

"Oh, I got one there too," Ruan Chen said, perking up as she rolled back a sleeve to expose an arm covered in muscle and scars. She pointed at a long gash just below where Li Zhan's blemish was, excitedly launching into a story about a fight she'd gotten into with a fellow disciple some time back as Bo stared at Li Zhan's elbow in shock.

Is…he mocking me? Bo wondered to himself. That tiny scar was the only thing to mar the cultivator's otherwise unblemished skin, and even then it more lurked than scarred. His expression was completely solemn, but between the serious tone he used to describe how he got it and the scope of the actual injury…it was hard to imagine that it was anything but.

But what was his endgame?

To goad him into a fight?

To impress his companions?

Just like his green-eyed accomplice, it was almost impossible to read his implacable gaze, which meant that he would have to be cautious to avoid stepping into whatever trap was being set for him.

"So, you're a smith in addition to a swordsman," Bo said, moving to grab a crab from the platter. "You must be truly dedicated to the blade."

He took a bite from the crab, letting its rich meat assuage his frustration. The spicy sauce on its shell perfectly complimented its natural sweetness, even the slight bitterness of the spiritual herbs worked into it serving to accentuate both taste and qi. It was astonishing that the cultivators here were so dismissive of such a dish, as even at the other tables the members of the Teal Mountain Sect barely seemed to be touching it even as their companions devoured them. How spoiled by their own wealth must they be to be dissatisfied by such a delicacy.

"I study the blade to the best of my ability," Li Zhan said simply, holding Bo's gaze as he finished his crab.

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind sharing your skill. I would enjoy the chance to see what a properly maintained blade looks like."

"Very well," Li Zhan said, drawing his sword. Bo stared at it for a moment, before blinking slowly to make sure that his sight hadn't suddenly failed him. When the sword was the same, even after he opened his eyes for a third time, he began to laugh. He just couldn't help himself.

It wasn't the quality that did it.

It was a simple Cloudsteel jian, its slender blade and short tip of that familiar style and composition that could be found almost everywhere. A respectably functional sword, and one well-forged. But it was…it was just so…pristine. He could still feel a strange sensation of multitudes to it, stronger now than when he had first sat down, but up close, seeing the blade with his own eyes, it just felt incongruous with the reality before him.

The sword just looked like an immaculate wall-hanger. One that, after years of peacefully cycling between dust gathering and polishing, had been plucked from its peaceful place of rest and brought to this banquet.

And now it was here. This out of place accessory being presented as the pinnacle of what a tested blade should resemble.

"That's your properly maintained sword?" he sputtered, clutching his stomach. "It looks like it's barely been touched in years!"

"That is untrue," Li Zhan said. "Just earlier today I engaged in a vigorous spar with a fellow disciple using this very sword."

"Then how do you explain how pristine it is?" Bo asked, shocked by his audacity. "I doubt that you've used this for more than a year at the most!"

"That is correct," Li Zhan said.

"What?!"

"You see, I forged this blade only this morning, so it is quite impossible for it to have been used for more than a year. So you are indeed correct in your assessment," Li Zhan said patiently, taking another sip of tea as Bo's eyelid twitched.

"Where's your real sword?" Bo demanded.

"This is my sword," Li Zhan said, slightly confused by the question.

"Oh, so you've just finished refining it," Bo said, realizing his mistake. So it had been a freshly strengthened blade then. He hadn't noticed that it had been strengthened, but that could just mean that it was either a subtle alloy or some other exotic thing that he'd never encountered before.

"Well, I hope that it serves you well for many years to come," he said, raising his cup to Li Zhan in a small toast before taking a sip to cover his embarrassment.

"It will not," Li Zhan replied.

"What?" Bo exclaimed, coughing up peach wine as his tongue outpaced his mind.

"Tomorrow I will be forging a new sword to use," Li Zhan said, as if so short an explanation clarified everything.

"What?" Bo repeated, staring at him with renewed confusion. While not the strongest blade he'd ever seen, it was still a fine sword. What were this cultivator's standards, that he'd discard such a thing after only a day? And so dismissively, no less.

Still, it would be a shame to let such a weapon go to waste. If he had the time to investigate it fully, he could probably learn the secret to its strange nature before he melted it down to supplement his saber.

"If you have no use for it, I would be interested in taking it off your hands," Bo said, touching his storage ring. "For an appropriate price, of course. It would be a shame to let such a weapon go unused."

"No," Li Zhan said.

"I can assure you that I can more than afford your price," Bo insisted. Between his tournament winnings and his own savings, he could more than afford such a sword, even with the rate that a master craftsman's name might add to the price. He didn't recognize Li Zhan's as one of great renown, but even if the strange cultivator viewed himself as one, he could easily afford to appease his ego.

"This is my sword," Li Zhan said. "So I will not sell it."

"What about tomorrow, then? Once you've replaced it?" Bo persisted.

"No," Li Zhan said, his eyebrows narrowing a hair.

"I wouldn't bother trying," Ruan Chen chuckled as Bo's face began to redden. "I don't think that I've ever seen Li Zhan part with one of his swords. Ancestors' know I've tried to get one of them for my collection."

"What sort of blacksmith doesn't sell their wares?" Bo asked, as Li Zhan calmly picked up a spring roll from a freshly delivered platter. He took a neat bite from it, before placing it carefully on his plate and taking yet another sip of tea.

"Li Zhan, for one," Ruan Chen replied. "He makes his swords for himself and no other. It's a part of his path."

"How?" Bo asked. "The path of the blade is to find mastery through your strength. To refine your sword to an unrivalled height through combat."

"That's one path to it, but it's hardly the only one," Ruan Chen said with a laugh. "Even a path as narrow as ours is still plenty wide."

"Indeed," Li Fan added, wandering into their conversation. "The Dao is wide and composed of multitudes. Despite walking the same path, rarely do two swordsmen seek the same destination, even those as close as master and apprentice."

"Exactly," Bai Tao said, exuberantly chomping on a roll. "My Dao is far from the same as my as any of my sworn brothers', despite being carved from the same stone. As I was just telling these youngsters, as I faced down Shiki of the Four Blades in that fateful semi-finals fight, I had a revelation. It was sparked by a recollection of a conversation I'd had with a senior that I'd met in a bar the night before, who'd asked if my foe was known for his swords or his swordsmanship. His words echoed to me as the crystal of my faithful companion Geode's Heart trembled against my foe's axes, and that's when it struck me, like the lightning of my first tribulation."

"That my true swordsmanship was not my blade, but rather my intent. That the technique I had honed was the true essence of my blade, rather than the stone I had so carefully shaped with it. That moment gave me clarity I needed to realize the true goal of my swordsmanship, and I formed my Dao around that very principle."

"I thought you seemed familiar," Li Fan exclaimed, clapping an arm over Bai Tao's shoulder. "It gladdens this old man's heart to hear that his words helped you so greatly."

"They did, they did," Bai Tao replied, looking him up and down again. "Was that truly you, senior? I recall my benefactor appeared to be quite a bit older than you."

"Ah," Li Fan said, scratching his head in embarrassment. "I forgot that I was in disguise back then. Things were quite a bit more hectic back in those days, and I simply wanted to enjoy a tournament without attracting undue attention for once. If you want proof that it's me, though, I can still remember the bar. I remember that you agreed that the beer was too salty and that the—"

"Tofu was far too bitter!" Tao exclaimed with a smile. "It is you! What an astounding coincidence!"

"The world is vast, but the distance of a thousand li means little to the closeness of the connections we forge in life," Li Fan chuckled. "The endless strings of karma are never weary in their work."

"You must allow me the honor of repaying your words," Bai Tao said, his hand reaching into his storage ring. After a moment of concentrated searching he produced a large gourd. Its skin was tanned the dull desert brown of age, the yellow of its papered talismans almost faded to the same shade. The only color that remained was the last embers of the faint red ink of the charms traced across them, and the dark nephrite green of the wax seal emblazoned with its maker's mark.

"It's a far cry from the caliber of the eel wine that we once shared, but I hope that you won't hold a grudge over that." Li Fan laughed at those words as he drained his cup, slamming the empty vessel down with a grin.

"I suppose that I'll have to trust that your taste has improved by even half the measure of your skill," he exclaimed, as Bai Tao popped the cork of the gourd and released the sweet scent of a potent spirit.

Intrigued by the smell, Bo took a deep breath of it, only to immediately regret his action. Even the lingering wisps were enough to make his head spin as the memories of spring blossoms and crashing waves that threatened to drown him. He pinched himself under the table to anchor his focus as the two old cultivators toasted their reunion, the nearest two tables looking over jealously at the delicacy before them.

Their stares only intensified as Li Zhan joined in for the next toast, their eyes following the gourd as Bai Tao leaned it against his teacup to prevent it from rolling off the table. Bo followed it with the same attention. The breath he had inhaled had caused his core to stir, the cracks along his inner blades closing slightly as they absorbed the drink's energy.

It would seem that he had misevaluated Bai Tao's cultivation if he could so easily drink such a potent treasure, especially if it could so easily confer such medicinal properties. A full cup might do him wonders. It could heal his internal injuries, and maybe even help to strengthen his core against future injury. As Bo wondered if the reward for risking replicating Li Zhan's audacity was worth the benefit such a treasure would provide, a slurred shout cut through his thoughts.

"Slim Bo, you bastard! Did you really think that I would let your inshult stand?!"