MB - Chapter 4

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Dawn arrived like molten gold poured over the Twin Peaks.

Mist curled upward in luminous ribbons, and the suspended bridge shimmered again — restored, renewed, and pulsing faintly with the same dual light that now linked the names He Yan and Shen Xun across every whispering corner of the sect’s gossip.

The elders had assembled on the cliffside platform, robes rustling, voices hushed. Across the chasm, banners of six rival sects rippled in the high wind. Beneath the banners, the great arena of the Trial of Body unfolded: an open expanse of white jade tiles suspended over nothing but a sea of clouds, every surface etched with runes designed to magnify pain, power, and pride.

He Yan stood at the edge of the platform, arms folded, staring at the emptiness below. “You’d think after last night I’d be used to standing over an abyss.”

“You’re supposed to avoid them, not collect them,” Shen Xun said, checking the edge of his sword.

“That sounds like something an unadventurous person would say.”

“That sounds like something you would ignore.”

“Touché.”

Descent into the Arena

When the jade sigil beneath their feet lit up, both were carried downward in a column of light. The crowd above became a swirl of color and muffled noise; the bridge and peaks receded until only the ring existed—flat, endless, and gleaming.

At the opposite edge, two figures materialized: their opponents, a pairing from Cloud Ladder Pavilion—a swordswoman in azure silk and a bare-armed alchemist whose veins glowed faintly blue with frost-qi. Polished, practiced, perfectly synchronized.

“Lovely,” He Yan murmured. “They look like they actually sleep.”

Shen Xun’s eyes narrowed. “Focus.”

The bell struck.

The world leapt.

The Opening Clash

The swordswoman’s blade drew a semicircle of light; Shen Xun met it head-on, steel colliding with a ringing note that shook the arena. Sparks scattered like a storm of fireflies. He Yan darted back, sleeve flicking—three talismans arced outward, unfolding mid-air into fiery sigils that detonated in controlled bursts. The frost alchemist countered with a swirl of glacial mist, freezing the flames into petals that rained harmlessly down.

“They’re good,” He Yan muttered, teeth flashing in a grin. “I like them.”

“Stop liking them,” Shen Xun growled, twisting aside as another strike slid past his shoulder. “You’re supposed to defeat them.”

“I can multitask.”

He threw a seal that struck the ground beneath their opponents. The jade tiles shimmered, releasing a surge of silver vapor. Instantly, vines of crystallized qi erupted, winding toward the enemy’s feet. The frost alchemist counter-sealed—but Shen Xun was already there, sweeping through the gap like a falling star.

Sword met ice. Qi thundered.

The explosion hurled mist and light across the platform.

The Link Reactivates

“He Yan!”

“I’m fine—” he began, then gasped as a pulse of foreign qi tore through him. The oath-token against his chest blazed once, and suddenly Shen Xun’s heartbeat was inside his skull again—louder, faster, electric.

The link had reawakened.

Left, Shen Xun’s thought slammed through the bond.

He Yan moved left on reflex, just as a shard of frost hissed through the space his head had occupied.

Duck.

He ducked.

“Are you—controlling me?” He Yan shouted over the roar of qi.

Guiding.

“I object to—ah, forget it—”

Their movements synchronized as if drawn by one rhythm. When Shen Xun spun, He Yan’s qi followed, coiling around the blade like a ribbon of molten light. The audience above gasped as the pair carved a sigil of opposing forces—fire and frost, steel and spirit—into the air.

Then, in perfect unison, they released it.

The blast hit like thunder rolling inside a mountain.

When the glare faded, their opponents were on their knees, wards shattered, weapons trembling.

The bell tolled again.

Aftermath

The arena dissolved back into mist. Applause, distant and astonished, echoed from the cliffs. He Yan swayed, knees weak; Shen Xun caught his arm before he could fall.

“Breathe,” Shen Xun said softly.

He Yan looked up at him, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, lips curved in a dazed smile. “That was… exhilarating.”

“You nearly burned yourself out.”

“You nearly froze to death.”

“And yet,” Shen Xun murmured, still holding him, “we won.”

For a heartbeat they stayed like that—close enough that the mingled qi between them shimmered faintly in the air. Then Shen Xun realized his hand was still at He Yan’s waist and stepped back as if distance could extinguish what proximity had sparked.

He Yan, unfortunately, noticed everything.

But he only smiled, a little too lightly. “Trial of Body—passed. What’s next?”

Shen Xun glanced toward the still-glowing oath token. “The final one.”

“The Trial of Heart,” He Yan whispered, tasting the words like an elixir whose ingredients he could not yet identify.

Above them, thunder rumbled across a sky suddenly darkening, as if the mountains themselves anticipated what that meant.

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