Tales of the Teal Mountain Sect

Year 663 of the Stable Era,

Fifteenth day of the eleventh month

Five and a half courses into the Banquet of Blades

Jianzhu Bo grimaced at the sound of his old moniker. Like many cultivators he had picked up more than a few titles over the years. It wasn't particularly hard. Many were as likely to bestow them upon themselves as they were to be granted one by their peers.

But as easy as they were to gain, they were far harder to shake. A cultivator's titles were often as long-lived as they were, persisting far after their origin had faded from the memory of all but their bearer and those that also hailed from those distant days.

His master's title of The Wandering Dao was one such example, the fame of his original weapon so widespread that few could recall any of his other myriad titles, like 'The Arsenal of the Cuisha Coast' or 'The Bearer of Benevolent Blades'.

In Jianzhu Bo's case, the title he was stuck with was that of Slim Bo. It was a miserable title, a nickname from his early years that haunted him like a phantom leech. Sucking the joy from his life whenever it could get the chance.

In those days his body cultivation had been far from the peak of his fellow disciples, far more potential than muscle. Such an abundance of potential that he had often been mocked for it, as slim was the furthest word to describe his state at the time. It had been on the tongues of many of his fellow disciples at the time, its every utterance a constant goad that had pushed him to greater and greater heights in his physical cultivation.

But even after he had shed his extra weight, he couldn't shed his old nickname. It was attached to him as if by a master of ju ci, the words that far too many remembered him by even after he left the confines of the Waterfall's Stillness Sect to follow his master's teachings.

Those that had heard of him as of late knew him as The Wandering Dao's First Disciple, but those who knew him more distantly still referred to him by that ill-fitting title.

Like that bastard Hu Anglei.

The Imperial Blade Scholar's skin was the flush of poor red jade as he approached the table, a clay urn precariously hanging from his wrist. A trickle of wine dripped onto the long tail of his dark red coat, the only loose part of his close-fitted outfit. His ruby eyes blazed with fury as he stared at Bo, anger sharpening away the dullness of his drunken state.

"It would be beneath my dignity to disturb thish gathering, but after witnessing your deplorable behavior I could not stand by and let you continue to insult our hosts with your antics. To disrupt decorum was one thing, but to flaunt my own blade so flagrantly—that is an insult I cannot let stand!"

Bo glanced at the jeweled jian still sticking from the table, letting his mouth slip into a scoff as he pushed back his chair. He snapped his fingers as he rose to his feet, brazenly pointing at Anglei as his Scored Blade rose from the table, shifting back into its original form as it flew to his side.

"Flaunt's such a strange word," he said, seizing his saber as he exaggerated looking up and down its length, "as it would imply that your sword was anything more than another stitch on my blade. I simply chose it out of consideration for our hosts, as it would be easy to repair what little damage it could do to their table."

He let a talisman slip from his sleeve as he spoke, its ink gleaming as it drifted down to the roughed rosewood. With a faint burst of qi the gash closed itself, reknitting itself like a cultivator's flesh. It had been a tedious technique to master, but Master had forced him to learn it after he had made widows of one too many roadside inns' chairs.

"You dare?" Hu Anglei breathed, eyes narrowing as he glared down at Bo. "You would do well not to take an Imperial Blade Scholar lightly Slim Bo. You won't get lucky twice."

"I dare?" Bo growled, leaping onto the table. The ceramic dishes rattled as he strode through them, his dining companions looking on with expressions of interest, anticipation, and worry. "By my recollection the only luck involved in our fight was that I was more interested in lunch than thrashing you more soundly than I did. Or are you perhaps so deluded that you forgot that detail of our last encounter."

He glanced over to the head table, where his supposed hosts were holding fans over their mouths. Their free hands gestured rapidly as they conferred with each other, clearly more intent on discussing how to best placate the Imperial delegation than to stop an imminent fight.

Meanwhile, the full attention of every other table was on the two of them as Hu Anglei drew his blade. It was identical in form to the jian that Bo had melted into his saber decades ago, but forged from far more powerful components.

Its blade was a gaudy shade of yellow, its paleness an indicator that Anglei had eschewed another blade of pure Eightfold Gold in favor of an electrum alloy. Bo was uncertain of which, but from the sharpness of its jagged electric qi he imagined that one was no doubt that Divine Thunder Silver was a component.

The earthly treasure that was matched by those along its hilt, where pieces of Volcano Heart Amber glowed on both guard and pommel. Dark rock were silhouetted in the center of the bright orange stones, fragments of magmatic spray forever trapped in time by crystalized fire qi. It seemed that Anglei had spared no expense replacing his lost weapon, no doubt using his family's wealth to make up for his own inadequacy.

"If you're so confident in your delusion, then I would be more than happy to snap you out of it," Anglei sneered. "Unless you are afraid to face me again."

His sword rose as he touched his first two fingers to his forehead, steam streaming from his skin as he forced the alcohol from his veins. A cultivator clapped as he pointed his sword back at Bo, the mist disappearing in a flash of flame as his qi burned it away. An informal declaration of a duel by most standards, but ceremony was just about the only thing that Bo was unwilling to stand on.

Especially if it meant that the other Imperial bastards would be unable to interfere. Bo could easily handle the likes of Hu Anglei alone, but with his injuries he doubted that he could throw down with the entire group.

"Consider your duel accepted," he replied, kicking the plate of dumplings at his opponent.

He stumbled as he did, his foot meeting only unresisting air. Glancing down, he met Bai Tao's gaze as the plump cultivator placed the plate safely to the side.

"I'm still eating those," he said, clacking his chopsticks threateningly. Bo shook his head, attempting to repeat the maneuver with the crab platter.

Again, though, he was met with the same result, this time as Li Fan scooped the plate to the side at the last minute.

"Oh no you don't!" the mustached cultivator said, sheltering the plate with both of his arms. "These crabs are an old favorite of mine, and I rarely get a chance to enjoy them these days. Go waste something else." Bo eyed the spring rolls as a fed-up Anglei charged across the dancefloor, only for Li Zhan to slowly slide them to the side.

"Fuck it!" he exclaimed, kicking the nearly empty pitcher of the accursedly sweet peach wine as hard as he could. Its contents arced as it flew towards Hu Anglei, Ruan Chen's eating dagger blurring as she deflected it away from her and Li Zhan. Weijian Mei turned to follow him as he leapt from the table, a small jade orb glinting in her hand.

"Hah," Anglei smirked, "still struggling with cheap tricks I see." He swept his sword to the side as an iron blade flicked from its sheath on his back, the trigram stamped into its spine alight with qi. The ☲ blazed as it darted forwards, the bronze pitcher already melted into a puddle by the time it was pinned to the stone floor.

Bo easily cleared the molten mess as Anglei flicked his nondominant hand. A button on the end of his narrow cuff swelled, expanding into a familiar bronze shield etched with an ornate pattern of a turtle's shell and centered with the character for Xan. As he did another sword drew itself from his back, pulsing a tranquil energy like the wind across a still lake as its trigram glowed.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The onlookers oofed as Bo fell to the ground, checked by an invisible force that matched his midair momentum. Anglei grinned wolfishly as he pressed his advantage, the fingers of his left hand forming a seal as another sword drew itself from his back. This one pulsed in harmony with its companion, its ☵ shining as their energies entwined.

Immediately Bo felt the floor press into him as he was crushed against it by an immense weight.

Great, this trick again, he thought, grunting as he forced himself to stand against the oppressive force pushing down on him. Anglei had used this on him the last time they had met, but it had hardly been half as strong as it was now.

He'd clearly taken his last loss to heart, which meant that this was going to be more trouble than Bo had originally bargained for. The last time they'd met he had simply shattered the technique with the strength of his cultivation, but in his current state he couldn't afford to be so wasteful with his qi.

Still, his opponent wasn't the only one to have improved in the last century. He'd faced this technique often enough since their last encounter to recognize that both of the swords it used were aligned with an aquatic element, which meant that he should be able to shatter this technique with the appropriate countermeasure.

Bo's qi surged through his saber and it shifted, taking on the form of a thick stone sword, its form inverting so that its blade faced the ground. As long as his arm and thrice as thick, the dolerite blade cracked the wooden floor of the pagoda as he slammed it down, the glyphs on its face shining as the air rumbled.

Anglei's flying sword shook as the powerful shockwave of earth qi pulsed through them, the cups of the cultivators at nearby tables too slow to react shattering from the force. A few cursed at Bo as he twirled the blade in his hand, sending a dull flying slash towards Anglei as the sword in his hand shifted again.

Anglei blocked the blunt blow with his shield, bracing himself before he forced it to the side, where it was deflected out one of the pagoda's open windows by a cultivator from the Edge's Blade Sect. He severed Bo's next flying slash with his sword as he called forth another pair of flying swords, the sheath on his back rattling from their speed.

The first crackled with lightning as it hurtled toward Bo, who easily leapt over the slow projectile. He resisted the urge to humiliate Anglei by catching the flying sword, a decision made easier by its design. The flying swords used by the Imperial Blade Scholars were all edge, bereft of the hilt or grip that some preferred in such weapons to allow for a secondary method of wielding them.

The second remaining blade darted forwards as he did, far faster than its predecessors, as the other three flying swords that had been biding their time struck, aiming at him from all directions.

Bo grinned. An omnidirectional attack was one of the most rudimentary strategies used by flying sword users. Hu Anglei's control had definitely improved, but Bo had faced far better flying sword cultivators than him. Ones who had dedicated themselves solely to the art. With a flick of his wrist his sword changed again, shifting from a light jian to a sinuous whip sword.

Its purple pommel glowed as the tip of the blade struck the ground and his body hurtled forwards, the four blades striking air as he left them behind. The fast sword and the electric sword glowed as Anglei focused another technique, his sword qi sharpening as he prepared to cut through Bo before he could reach him.

With a laugh, Bo flicked his wrist again, his sword snaking through the air as it distorted his gravity again. His trajectory curved, dipping low beneath Anglei's fierce sweep, circling the scholar in an instant before accelerating his fall into a powerful kick to his back.

The Imperial Blade Scholar flew across the floor as Bo flipped through the air, whip sword retracting as normal gravity reasserted itself. He slid across the polished floor, only stopping when he slammed into the barrier that their hosts had finally gotten around to raising. Some of the crowd applauded, short claps followed by short remarks as Anglei staggered to his feet.

"An excellent strike," a green-robed cultivator remarked.

"A refined use of a unique sword."

"Told you the loose cultivator would get the first hit, pay up!"

"I wonder if he's actually any good with his sword. All he's really been doing is kicking things."

Anglei cracked his neck to the side as he stood, shield raised as he opened his hand. His jian flew into it, and he spun it in a tight circle as he called his flying swords to him. Two tried to clip Bo on their return, but he parried both—the blazing sword with his sword and the calm blade with his sheath, which he shifted to the wide scabbard of one of his odder trophies to intercept.

"That all you got?" he mocked, raising his arms to the crowd as he stepped closer.

"Not even close," Anglei hissed, the blazing sword and the electric sword crossing behind him. His qi surged as they combined into yet another technique, resonating his jian as a strange energy flowed through them.

Dangerous, Bo's instincts warned. He hadn't seen this technique before, but whatever this technique was, it was heightening Anglei's qi. Compounding it for his next attack.

The remaining flying swords struck, their movements twice as sharp and fast as before, the last two blades on Anglei's back finally joining the fray.

Bo exhaled deeply as he sharpened his focus, drawing on the full power of both his qi and intent. His core—the saber of his soul—shook as he called on its strength, but he made sure to only draw on it lightly, focusing far more on his intent than its raw power.

Strike—more precisely and with greater speed.

Meet each blow and strike them down.

If there are seven blows, strike eight times.

If there are eight blows, strike nine.

His sword darted out, striking the first of the flying swords. It extended as it did, bouncing off its side and striking the next as it knocked it aside. His intent guided his sword as his blade blurred, his arm zagging in a complex pattern as it pursued each flying sword like a python in a feeding frenzy. In seconds Hu Anglei's arsenal was scattered, littering the dancefloor alongside the remaining petals from the opening act.

The Imperial Blade Scholar growled as he raised his jian, trying to raise his fallen weapons, but it was to no avail. Bo's sword had marked each blade when it struck them, pinning them to the ground with the weight of an elephant. It was taking a sizable portion of Bo's qi to keep it up the pressure, but thanks to his sword it was far less than what Anglei was burning trying to fight it. Flat on the ground there was simply too little leverage to raise them, and the harmony of his core technique's power was far more efficient than Anglei's brute force.

With a twist of his wrist Bo's sword whipped low towards Anglei's leg, only for the turtle shield to knock it aside. Its patterns glowed as they resisted his sword's ability, shrugging it off before it could take hold and yank it aside.

With a cry, Anglei charged, his last two flying swords still preoccupied strengthening his qi as faint intent sparked along his jian. He spat a gout of flame that swelled into an enormous fireball, lightning crackling amidst the flame.

Bo retracted his whip sword as he cut through the projectile, his mind racing as he evaluated his options.

For all its power, the gravity blade was a poor weapon at close range, meant more for light, agile attacks to blind spots than blade to blade action. If he focused his sword intent he could bridge the gap, but it would do little to stop the elements roiling along Anglei's blade.

He had plenty of blades that could better match it, but if he shifted his Scored Blade now it would free the flying swords, and he had no doubt that Anglei would immediately capitalize on such an action.

If he could draw on his Legion Blades technique he would be able to easily deal with this, but his core was still too injured to handle it without repercussions. Its predecessor technique had been able to handle his foe the last time they'd met, but as he was now Bo doubted that a qi-formed blade could withstand enough of his own intent to match his opponent's.

No, he would just have to face him with the blade he had in hand, and hope that he could outlast whatever this strange technique was. For all its power it had to be burning through Anglei's internal qi reserves like mad, and his foe had wasted plenty of time with his previous attacks.

He took a breath as he met his foe's first strike, focusing his intent one more time.

Matchless through technique, unbowing to power.

Cut through what cloaks, match what lies beneath.

Sunder flame, sever thunder.

Outlast, as the reed does the storm.

Once, twice, and then again and again and again he met the blazing blade, intent and sword qi sparking against each other with each blow. He dodged a strike from the shield and threw an elbow that glanced against Anglei's chin.

The jian fell again, and the whip sword bent as it was caught at a seam, searing pain tearing down Bo's leg. With a shout he forced the blade straight again, parrying two more blows before his own counterattack was intercepted by the shield.

Their strikes were faster now, glancing hits growing deeper and more frequent as the prolonged spar began to take its toll. Bo drew his scabbard to add its reach to the mix, forming it into the longsword's sheath with the sharpened metal tip to threaten Anglei with a second blade.

He just needed to buy a bit more time, outlast his opponent's desperate move. To slip through his guard once he made a mistake.

And then it happened.

Anglei went for a stab, his sword qi narrowing as it focused itself into a needle point, and Bo struck.

The scabbard in his hand shifted, taking on the form of the partner to an Imperial jian of a custom make.

Anglei's sword slid smoothly into it, Bo forcing every ounce of his intent into it as he matched his attack.

A sheath is uncut by its sword.

If it did, it would be useless.

A sword cuts all, except what must not.

And a sheath MUST. NOT. BE. CUT.

Bo pivoted on his heels, dropping his sword as he took advantage of Anglei's side to push the shield and twist past Anglei's guard. He grabbed his opponent by his bicep, his other hand clenching up against the hilt of the jian, wrapping it with thick threads of qi to prevent Anglei from drawing it.

With a yell, he focused his qi and strength, using his full physique to lift Anglei by his own arm. He slammed him into the ground in an improvised throw, the floor unyielding as his qi strengthened the pliable wood into steel.

Bone cracked.

Blood spurted.

Bo held out his arm, cackling as he called his saber back to him. Its blade contracted back into its true scarred form, the Scored Blade's myriad trophies glinting along its length as his arm rose triumphantly.