The sun was barely over the mountain line when the four girls walked out into the stone-walled yard. The air was clear and quiet, with no sound except for the constant splash of the stream against the water wheel.
I stood in the center of the grass, a plain wooden staff resting in my palm. The girls lined up opposite me, their long hair tied back neatly, their faces serious. This was our last practice before the autumn matches began.
"Xinyang, start us off," I said softly.
Ye Xinyang took a deep breath. She didn’t have a regular belly core, but as she focused, a soft, steady hum of energy moved directly through her collarbone and down into her arms. She lunged forward, her palm striking the air with a clean, blunt force that made a loud thump across the grass. Her bones held the pressure perfectly, showing no pain at all.
"Good," I nodded. "Your stance is completely solid. Mo Ran, go next."
The assassin girl gave me a quick, confident smile, her cheeks flashing a pretty pink color. She took two rapid steps, her movements so quiet her shoes barely brushed the grass. With a swift twist of her hips, her leg swept out in a low circle, ending in a perfect balance. The dead weight in her muscles was entirely gone, replaced by her speed.
Gu Qinghan didn’t look with her eyes. Her head tilted slightly, her ears tracking the exact vibration of the leaves. She swung her wooden sword case through the air three times, each strike cutting a clean, invisible line through the wind with absolute precision.
Even little Chu Ning’er wanted to show her progress. She stepped forward, blew a tiny puff of air from her mouth, and a small patch of grass near her foots instantly turned to white frost.
"You are all ready," I told them, looking at each of their bright, beautiful faces. "The elders think they are going to watch a comedy today. Let’s go down and change their plans."
The main arena of the Ashen Cloud Sect was located on a wide stone plateau halfway up the peak. By mid-morning, thousands of outer disciples and field servants had gathered around the wooden stages, their voices creating a loud, constant roar.
Up on the elevated judges’ benches sat Elder Ironwood, Deacon Wu, and several other low-level administrators. Zhou Kang was there too, his wrapped wrist tucked into his silk belt, a nasty, expectant grin on his face. When the five of us walked through the wooden arena gate, the loud chatter in the square dropped instantly.
The outer disciples stared, their eyes wide with absolute shock. They expected to see a tired servant boy dragging four crippled, miserable women behind him. Instead, they saw me walking calmly in a clean outfit, flanked by four breathtakingly beautiful young women who walked with absolute pride, grace, and deep strength.
"Is... is that Ye Xinyang?" an outer disciple whispered from the crowd, his jaw going slack. "Her face is radiant! And look at Mo Ran... she’s walking on her own! Her legs aren’t paralyzed at all!"
"Who gave them those clothes?" another muttered. "They look like ladies from a capital firm, not mountain outcasts!"
We walked straight to the registration table near the first stage. Deacon Wu sat behind the book, his hand shaking so badly he nearly dropped his ink stone when I stopped right in front of him.
"Lu Chen," Deacon Wu stammered, his greasy smile completely fake as he looked at the gold ring on my finger. "You... you actually registered for the combat matches? As a field servant, you are only required to show your harvest."
"The harvest is already paid in gold, Deacon," I said, my voice calm "According to the sect charter, any outer member has the right to fight for a promotion to an inner disciple residence. Register my name, and register my wifes as well."
Elder Ironwood stood up from his bench, his eyes eyes shaking with rage as he gripped his wooden staff. "Lu Chen! You possess no spiritual core! Entering the combat rings without energy is a violation of your status! You are simply looking for a beating!"
Before I could answer, Ye Xinyang stepped up to my side, her arm lightly wrapping around mine, her eyes looking up at the judge’s bench with cold, unshakeable pride.
"Our husband has more than enough strength to clear your outer rings, Elder," Xinyang said, her voice sweet but cutting through the square like a sharp blade. "If your disciples are afraid to face a servant boy, just say it out loud so the whole valley can hear."
Hearing her call me her husband so proudly in front of thousands of people made a sudden, warm heat rush up my neck. I looked down at her, and she gave my hand a gentle, loving squeeze, her face flushing a pretty rose color but her eyes staying completely fierce. Mo Ran let out a soft, mischievous giggle behind us, her shoulder bumping my back in a comfortable, loving way.
Deacon Wu looked at Elder Ironwood, who was turning dark red from the public humiliation. The old elder slammed his staff against the stone floor.
"Sign them up!" Ironwood roared, his voice cracking with anger. "Put Lu Chen in the first ring against our top outer disciple! Let’s see how long his mouth stays open when his bones are broken!"