Jia and Eui spent a few days getting accustomed to their new level of cultivation. Without the barrier to restrict their domain—which had been long gone by the time they got back home—it now had a range that encompassed nearly the entire district of the girls’ dorms. That was a radius of nearly an entire mile! Yoshika was surprised to learn that the same wards that prevented unauthorized entry into a house also blocked her domain. That was only the third thing she’d ever encountered that did so.

The first had been right after Yue had kidnapped her, which was apparently the result of ‘isolated space’ created by some artifact that they had brought with them. It had since been confiscated by Yan Hao. The second was the four-point barrier formation that had prevented her tribulation from destroying the entire house. She was glad that there was at least some guarantee of privacy in her own home—not that it had ever stopped Qin Zhao.

Meditation became a little bit awkward. The vast majority of her time was spent on refining, rather than gathering essence. She could almost instantly drain the entire span of her domain of mana—much to the chagrin of anyone else trying to cultivate within a mile of her—but it would take her an entire day to integrate it into her increasingly complex base of cultivation. Even if she were to do nothing but cultivate day in and day out, she didn’t think she’d be reaching the next bottleneck any time soon.

The changes to her bodies were easy to get used to, but mind-bogglingly difficult to fully comprehend. It helped that she had already been half-spirit, which gave a bit of extra context to her understanding. Essentially, half-spirit was a bit of a misnomer—it was more like one-billionth-spirit. Yet that tiny fraction of essence that was intrinsic to a half-spirits existence was not only crucial to their continued survival, but also the source of their heightened abilities.

That tiny part that was made of essence was spread evenly throughout their bodies, and what Yoshika had done when she broke through was increase that portion a tiny tiny bit. So instead of a billionth, it was now more like a hundred millionth. It didn’t feel like much when she thought about it that way, but it was a tenfold increase, and that came with a commensurate increase to her physical abilities.

As half spirits, Jia and Eui had always been a little bit faster, stronger, and more sensitive than normal humans—all of those aspects had now increased dramatically. Even without using ki or martial arts, Yoshika’s speed, strength, and perception felt well beyond superhuman. She felt as though the obsidian wolves that had given her so much trouble so long ago would be child's play.

Her senses were so much sharper as well. As a mortal, Jia had been able to track scents with some effort—a skill which improved after her ki awakening, though she hadn’t often had cause to use it except for food shopping. Now, she could distinguish the scents of everyone who had been in the house and how long ago they’d been here. Yue, of course—she lived there—but also the lingering scents of Eunae and Rika, who had been by often, and even Grand Magus Do Hye, who had last been there just under a week ago.

If she actually focused? There had been a crowd gathered near the house just over three weeks ago including all of the instructors except for Yan Hao, and most of the girls she knew by name. The only exceptions were Hayakawa Kaede and Sun Jaehwa, neither of which had come anywhere near the house in the last month.

And she got all that from smell! Her other senses were similarly improved—including taste, much to Jia’s delight when she got treated to some of Eui’s home cooking. She could scarcely imagine just how much stronger she would get at the peak of the third stage—it was no wonder Master Ienaga felt like such an insurmountable foe without even using ki.

The other changes were much harder to gauge. She felt her emotions more vividly than before—and notably, while separated it was extremely difficult to tell if an emotion originated from Jia or Eui. Of course, they’d mostly just been giddy and excited about their new stage of cultivation, so they hadn’t exactly had much opportunity to test that.

Mentally, it was like her mind had been in a fog all her life and she just hadn’t noticed. The experience reminded her of her very first awakening. Her thoughts came to her faster, her memories were clearer, and she could make connections automatically that would have taken her serious consideration before. Her Absolute Awareness technique still couldn’t be used indefinitely the way Do Hye boasted, but she could keep it up for a very long time and it felt as though the world was on pause when she did.

All that and she was only at the very beginning of the third stage. She had a long way to go before reaching the peak. She could barely even believe it—were all third stage cultivators like this? How had her team ever managed to stand against Yan Yue or Zheng Long?

“Of course they’re not. You are most certainly an anomaly.”

Yue immediately refuted Jia when she brought it up over breakfast one day.

“The emotional sensitivity I can identify with—you’ll probably also start noticing the emotions of others, no matter how stoic they are. Certainly the increasing focus on refinement over gathering qi, though the rate at which you gather qi is completely absurd—I could never do that.”

Jia cocked her head.

“What was the third stage like for you, then?”

Yue sighed, picking at her food slowly.

“Exhausting. I reached the third stage a little bit younger than you two, and the emotional intensity was overwhelming. If you thought I was a wreck when we met, you should have seen me three years ago.”

Jia blinked at Yue as a realization struck.

“Wait! Is that why you’ve been so...”

Jia trailed off, not really certain how to politely ask somebody if they were depressed. Yue chuckled sardonically.

“Mellow? Probably, yes. By the third stage, keeping one’s emotions in check is a constant effort, and not one that I always succeeded at. It’s been something of a relief not to have to worry about it so much. How have you been holding up so far?”

Jia paused to think about it for a moment before shrugging.

“I don’t know. Eui and I have been excited about our breakthrough, mostly. If our moods have been more volatile, I haven’t noticed it yet.”

Yue bit her thumbnail and thought for a moment before meeting Jia’s eyes.

“Then, if you’ll forgive me, I think I have something that might make for a reasonable test of your emotional regulation.”

Jia regarded Yue warily.

“What kind of test?”

“Nothing dire, I promise—something we’ve been long overdue to talk about.”

Jia hummed thoughtfully for a moment. If she was going to face a test of her emotional regulation, it was better that it be in the safety of her own home rather than in the middle of a fight.

“I guess I don’t mind. Just a second, Eui’s on her way.”

As Jia finished speaking, Eui came in from the courtyard, where she’d been tending to a portion of the garden. After the garden had been destroyed they’d started replanting it, and Eui was taking advantage of the opportunity to plant some herbs for cooking.

“I don’t mind either. I’d love to know what you think is so important for us to talk about.”

Eui dusted herself off and flopped down next to Jia, sidling right up next to her so that their sides were touching. Yue glanced between them with visible discomfort.

“Ah. It’s easy to forget that one is never truly speaking to just one of you.”

Jia blinked at her.

“Was it something that you only meant for me?”

“No—in fact it’s better that both of you are here. I’m just still not used to the idea that you can both perceive everything that the other does.”

Eui shrugged.

“Neither are we, really. So are you going to get on with it or what?”

Yue pursed her lips, but nodded.

“Very well. I wanted to—apologize. I should have done it much sooner, but I kept making excuses to myself. This entire time, I’ve been trying to make up for the way that I wronged you without ever truly acknowledging it—it’s no wonder you were so upset with me.”

Yue bowed until her head was nearly against the tea table between them.

“I’m sorry! For kidnapping you, manipulating you, for—for violating your autonomy and damaging your cultivation. My actions are inexcusable, and while I pray that you will one day forgive me, I would never expect you to.”

Yue’s voice became more choked as she spoke, and a few droplets fell from her face onto the table below. Jia could feel the shame and regret radiating from her like a beacon, and it made her own complicated mix of turbulent emotions that much more confusing. Yue had been right, the emotional intensity was nearly overwhelming, and yet—

Yoshika took a deep breath. She had experienced this before, when she first learned joint qi meditation. Every emotion as raw and intense as it could be, combined from two—now three—different sources. She might not have the years of training that was apparently commonplace in Qin, but she did have personal experience.

She was also finding that the enhancements to her body and mind were helping to balance out the intensity of her emotions. She could recognize the more visceral, physical reactions to her feelings and repress them with a bit of effort. Furthermore, the speed and clarity of her mind allowed her to compose herself and carefully consider her feelings.

She still wasn’t certain why she kept reflexively merging her thoughts, but it wasn’t really an uncomfortable thing. It felt natural, and her thoughts could separate again just as seamlessly. Her best guess was that the reflex was something that would naturally occur when either or both of her aspects required something from the other. In this case, they needed the increased mental capacity to process their emotions.

Despite the speed of Yoshika’s thoughts, she’d still been sitting in silence for a second or two, and Yue was quietly sobbing. Yoshika spoke in Jia’s voice, since it would be more comfortable for Yue.

“You hurt us in ways that I don’t think we’ll ever be able to forget. We were certain that we would hate you for the rest of our lives, and it was only Jia’s—my empathy for the horrible situation that you were in that let us even entertain the idea of continuing to cooperate with you. When Elder Qin forced us to keep living together, I thought it was the most cruel punishment he could have possibly given us.”

Yue’s face fell more and more as Yoshika spoke, but as she continued, Yoshika softened her tone.

“You’ve changed since then. At first we thought you were just trying to ingratiate yourself—cozying up to us for some kind of personal benefit. It didn’t help that I’m pretty sure that was the image you wanted to present.”

Yue blushed and averted her eyes as Yoshika went on.

“But there were times when you went beyond what was reasonable for self-interest. Helping us develop our cultivation technique, interceding with Sun Jaehwa, and even your assistance with our breakthrough. It felt like we’d seen glimpses of the real Yan Yue, hiding behind that mask of pride. As horrible as you were as an enemy, I have to admit you’ve been a pretty good friend.”

Yue wiped at her eyes, half-sobbing, half-laughing.

“That’s kind of you to say, but I don’t even know if I’m capable of having friends. I know I’m not doing myself any favors saying this, but at this point attaching myself to you is my only hope for survival. We have the same enemies, but you have resources and allies that I couldn’t hope to attain for myself.”

“I appreciate the honesty, but I don’t blame you for that. We’re the last people who could ever cast judgement for prioritizing your own survival. I think you’re wrong about not having friends, though—wasn’t Rika calling you by your given name earlier?”

“Th—that was just because I accidentally used hers once. She’s been teasing me about it ever since.”

Yoshika giggled—that was just like Rika.

“That’s just her way of showing affection, Yue. Look, what I’m trying to say is that we’ve done a lot—and I mean a lot of self-reflection recently. Figuring out what we value, how to protect those things, and how to keep ourselves alive in the process. We...do forgive you, Yue. If you really are committed to being better than you were, then we’ll support you on that path—as friends.”

Yue stared down at her lap, sniffling as the tears ran down her face.

“That’s—I’m—I don’t know what to say.”

Yoshika smiled at her, but her expression hardened as she warned Yue of exactly what she was getting into.

“Just understand Yue, that we will not allow ourselves to be manipulated or used again. This is more than just an agreement of cooperation or an alliance of convenience. Friendship isn’t a concept we are capable of taking lightly—it’s a core part of our domain.”

Yue nodded, wiping fruitlessly at her eyes and nose with a handkerchief.

“I know. I understand. I—I won’t let you down again, I swear.”

“I hope not, Yue. Because if you betray us again, we will kill you, and that would hurt us as much as the betrayal.”

Yue choked back another sobbing laugh.

“I would expect nothing less. Thank you, Yoshika.”

Yoshika blinked in surprise.

“You noticed?”

Yue did her best to put on a wry expression, despite her running makeup.

“You’ve been speaking for both Jia and Eui, and you accidentally referred to Jia in the third person earlier. Honestly, if you know what to look for, it’s remarkably easy to tell when you’ve combined like this.”

Yoshika and Yue both laughed, and Yoshika felt something change within her domain. Within her soulscape, the ghostly image of Yue resolved itself into something much more clearly defined. In the sky a brilliant full moon began to shine down, its pale light representing the bond that she had formed with Yan Yue.

She realized that this wasn’t the first such bond that she had formed. Yue had now joined Eunae, Rika, and Dae in a small group of bonds that were core to her very being—aspects of her domain of unity. Those bonds were as precious to her as life itself, and she knew on a deep, instinctual level that she could never break them.

She hoped she would never find out what it would mean if they were broken by someone else.

It took another two weeks before Dae finished his own breakthrough—thankfully free of any lightning-related incidents. He was shocked to hear of the events surrounding Yoshika’s breakthrough, and mildly chagrined that she had still broken through before him despite all that.

With the remaining month before the tournament, Jia’s team refined their abilities, and drilled intensely on their strategies. They sparred frequently with Yuuko and Kim Yongsun’s teams. Hayakawa had elected to keep her new capabilities close to her chest, unwilling to reveal them until the tournament, while Jia refused to train with Xin Wei’s team as long as he had Zheng Long and Han Yu.

Given the glacial pace of their cultivation relative to the time allotted, Jia and Eui decided to focus their downtime efforts on some of the things they’d been neglecting in their scramble to prepare for the tournament—namely Heian’s training and the advancement of their artifact creation project.

“You are Heian, and I am Jia. Do you understand?”

“Meow!”

Jia sat on her bed staring at the little black cat in front of her. She had gotten larger, but she still looked like a kitten—just a bigger one.

“Okay, I’m going to take that as a yes. Now, try saying your name.”

“Meow!”

Heian’s brilliant blue eyes glittered with pride. Jia wasn’t sure whether the little cat was just messing with her, or if she genuinely didn’t get it.

“No, not meow—Heian. Hei...an.”

“Meow!”

“Ugh, okay maybe two characters is too hard. How about Jia? Say Jia?”

“Meow!”

Jia sighed with exasperation. Heian had been slowly figuring out non-verbal communication, but it seemed like speech was completely beyond her. Kim Yongsun insisted that she should be capable of talking, but that it didn’t come naturally to spirits. It would be a lot harder than teaching a human child.

Eui giggled at Jia’s frustration.

“I don’t think you’re getting anywhere with that tonight.”

“Meow!”

Jia narrowed her eyes at Heian.

“Don’t agree with her, you little brat!”

Heian cocked her head and stared up at Jia with a look of pure innocence in its eyes. Jia scoffed.

“I’m on to you! You can’t fool me just by being cute!”

Heian continued staring at her, and Jia cracked in seconds.

“Okay, maybe you can. Come here you.”

She scooped Heian up in her arms and cuddled the uncooperative little furball. Eui chuckled at her, shaking her head ruefully.

“If you’re done with that, I had an idea for the gloves.”

Jia glanced over at Eui, who was fiddling with the glove that Jia had made for her—they had agreed to continue working on the ones that they had been given rather than the ones they started with.

“What did you have in mind?”

Jia listened intently as Eui explained her idea.

“We weren’t sure what kind of concept we should try to encompass with it, right? Like, we need to add to the gloves, but what do we add?”

“Mhm...”

“Well, that thing with Yue got me thinking, the gloves represent us—two parts of one set, and all that—but what if we added the idea of our bonds to them?”

Jia paused playing with Heian to think about that.

“But isn’t unity already part of who we are?”

Eui nodded.

“Right, but our bonds exist outside of us as well. I want to try infusing the gloves with that concept, too.”

Jia wasn’t really sure how or even if that was going to work, but it was better than the complete lack of any ideas she had, and the Murayoshi style of artifact creation felt pretty abstract anyway.

“Sounds good. Let’s try it, then. Okay, Heian time for a nap—Mommy’s got some work to do.”

“Myommy!”

“Yeah, yeah, meo—wait, what did you just say?”

Heian didn’t respond, simply vanishing back into her soulscape without another word. Eui started cackling while Jia stared at the empty spot in stunned silence. After a moment, she snapped out of it and cried out indignantly.

“You little shit!”