Across the imperial heir compound, a solemn silence had fallen. Merely a month ago every corner of the resplendent palace had been filled with a buzzing excitement, the heir assessment had come. All of the Xing empire sons and daughters were poised to prove themselves and vie for the position of the three princes and three princesses that would represent the empire. In truth, many knew that they had little chance at such a title but despondency was not a state for an heir of Xing to fall into.

So it was that all of Xing Zheng’s brothers and sisters had toiled and struggled to meet the clan’s expectations. Meanwhile, he knew there was only one chance for him to retain his position in the clan, the martial tournament at the climax of the event. The assessment began with a set of grueling knowledge tests that ran for days, after each day of testing the child was put in isolation chambers watched over vigilantly by clan elders.

During this isolation, they were not allowed contact with anyone from the outside and were only given enough food and water to subsist. This was ironclad isolation meant to prevent cheating, even one of the clan’s ancestors that was supposedly at the vaunted immortal Qi condensation stage had come out of seclusion to make sure fairness was observed. Xing Zheng conducted himself well during the knowledge test, he always had a knack for numbers, especially in manipulating them. However, dry subjects such as imperial history and court nuance became the pitfalls that swallowed all hope Xing Zheng had of standing out in these tests.

Like this the trials continued with Xing Zheng performing average in most areas, his diligent nature did him credit but how could it compete with real talent? His siblings were the heirs of the mighty Xing Empire, far above average, each and everyone of note was a heaven’s born talent in some aspect. Xing Zheng knew this as he had his area of expertise in martial subjects.

Slowly, over the course of many days, the fervor and zeal within the compound died away. Results rolled in and one by one as tigers were given wings while others had their wings clipped before they could ever fly, during all of this Xing hai and Xing Zheng waited patiently. For them, the stage they would shine on had yet to come.

Throughout their youth Xing Zheng and Xing Hai had been close, an odd thing for scions of a noble clan. However, no amount of animosity could keep their kinship down. Xing hai was six months Xing Zheng’s senior and they had bonded deeply over their love of the martial arts. Hours after the others had finished their assigned drills and exercises, set by their instructors, the two boys would still be on the practice grounds.

Paired drills, technique discussion, and sparring filled their days with joy slowly growing their bond of brotherly love. Many times they would lose track of time and be scolded by the teachers for neglecting their extra study and rest time in favor of secretly meeting for more martial arts practice. Xing Zheng had thought life would be perfect continuing like this, he and his brother pursuing the peak of martial arts in a journey through the heavens together, however as they grew older he understood it was a journey that was never meant to be.

As the assessment had continued they had both known, that only one of them could win first place in the martial competition. From tradition, the winner of the martial tournament would become the royal line’s prince of the military, being set on a fast track to lead the military forces of the empire, due to this many times in the past those that failed to attain the title, being in 2nd and 3rd place, had worked their way up the military themselves. Conflict arose with those who felt they should have gained the title all those years ago taking those who swore allegiance to them and rebelling causing the entire empire to run red with blood.

Thus it had become a tradition that those who competed in the martial tournament would be sequestered into other sectors such as administration and so forth. However, for Xing Zheng and Xing Hai, neither of which excel in any area other than martial prowess, this clan rule had thus driven a firm rift between them as the assessment had approached. Although all of their siblings would compete, Xing Hai and Xing Zheng knew that ahead lay a crossroads for them, at that time their fates would be decided, one would fall to the wayside cast out by the family and one would soar into the heavens.

Thunder rang as the soft patter of rain echoed behind it, atop a raised stone platform stood two young men facing one another in the downpour. For 12 long years, the youth heirs of the xing empire had toiled and struggled to learn everything, for these two this one moment was their everything. Today the last round of the martial tournament came, the last chance for one of them to prove worthy of the bloodline of Xing. From across the platform, the eyes of the two boys met.

No longer did their expressions carry the warmth of brotherly love nor the compassion of kinship, now all that insulated them from the cold rain was the bone-chilling determination that remained. Xing Zheng looked at his brother Xing Hai giving him a solemn salute and just as the rain washed away all things to the brothers nothing remained in their sight but an enemy.

Gathered nobles all around remained silent as the boys saluted each other, all eyes gathered on them in anticipation of who would claim the title of martial prince. Clan ancestors stood at the cores of the arena formation ready to prevent killing strikes and heal fatal injuries. The air thrummed as Xing Hai’s sword drove a quick thrust up from a lower guard trying to get under Xing Zheng's guard and land a wounding blow on his side.

Smoothly, with the practice of something done tens of thousands of times, over thousands of days, Xing Zheng’s response rang true. Using a side step he drew a counter circle with a wrist flick sending his opponent's blade further outward. His opponent's blade knocked off-center he stepped into the older boy's guard and drew another small circular motion to deliver a wrist cut to the neck using the opponent's remaining forward momentum against him.

With a burst of speed, Xing Hai rotated his blade to a vertical guard with his sword pointing downward barely bringing the guard of his blade up to catch the wrist cut. Simultaneously backing away while drawing distance between the pair and cutting a low horizontal slash that scored a shallow gash on the outside of Xing Zheng’s leg. First blood had been drawn, the stinging pain a constant reminder to Xing Zheng of the beating rain as his blood flowed mingling with the muddy water. They continued in this fashion Xing Zheng’s excellent basics and foundation, bringing him within inches of a decisive blow. Xing Hai would respond with explosive movements that belied his young physique allowing him to score continuous small counterblows.

Xing Zheng understood what was happening; this had always been his weakness. Xing hai was using the clan's signature sword style, Hidden Lightning Sword style. This style emphasized large amounts of small engagements before allowing an opponent close in, to give them a false sense of superiority. Next, the practitioner would throw off their opponent's balance with sudden responses that contained explosive speed and strength allowing them to finish the fight in a single final exchange.

While Xing Zheng’s fundamentals of the sword were incredibly solid he had never found the peace to let his opponent so near him nor the passion to explode with the small bursting movements. No for Xing Zheng the state his clan’s teachers often called “The Void”, a state of mind essentially required to learn even the basics of the style, one reached when practicing the style always alluding him. Thus he had decided to forgo deep study of the clan’s signature style until he reached a higher level as a martial artist.

Ironically Xing Hai’s sword style may have been a superior method to his brother however they had both studied the style since birth. As such the decisive final blows Xing hai should have been landing were narrowly avoided via Xing Zheng’s incredible understanding and use of fundamental parries and counters. This led to an awkward stalemate where the Hidden Lightning Sword style, known for quickly dispatching foes after taking their measure, was instead forced to inflict small wounding blows.

As the fight continued seconds felt like minutes moving endlessly slow as the rain and thunder continued to echo in the distance. The soft patter of the endless rain made every small cut ache that much more making each dulled sense that much duller soon. Xing Zheng felt as if the sensations would drive him mad, even the heavens had chosen to betray him!

In another exchange, a shallow cut was drawn across the outside of his sword arm after Xing hai had blown away a reverse wrist cut from him and countered. Another sting this time the outside of his leg yet again his assault beaten back and instantly a counter that landed yet… Something seemed wrong, how were all of Xing hai’s explosive counter’s landing such minor wounds. Xing Zheng almost as if he was being played with, his opponent a tiger pawing at a mouse in amusement.

Suddenly the air thrummed, even the constant fall of rain seemed to vibrate and pause, for a brief moment. In that brief instant, both boys' eye’s met and Xing Zheng understood what was wrong. Faintly he could feel that thing that had eluded him ever since he had reached the 3rd-grade martial artist level, the thing that separates 3rd grade from 2nd, a wisp of mental energy.

The realization hit Xing Zheng like a landslide, firstly he could sense the mental energy and as such must be on the edge of breaking through himself, but more importantly, this meant Xing Hai had already broken through! Being a son of a clan with immortals, Xing Zheng understood the strength difference between third and second-grade martial artists, from the beginning he had simply not been Xing Hai’s match.

His elder brother had simply been giving him face by allowing this charade to continue for as long as it had. Shame, indignation, bitterness, and rage filled Xing Zheng’s heart however he had no time to sort out these emotions as he noticed movement from his opponent. Xing Hai had sheathed his sword and now held it to his side in a low stance hand poised over the hilt as if to draw it.

As a member of the Xing royal line, Xing Zheng immediately recognized the technique and focused himself to the extreme. Suddenly a Xing Hai disappeared, a blur moving at incredible rushing at him was all that Xing Zheng could see. With all his willpower and strength Xing Zheng swung a horizontal arc parallel to the vertical draw cut he knew was coming, a cut that would bisect him. The horizontal slash collided with something Xing Zheng couldn't even see and he was elated until he heard the sound of thunder behind him. Xing Zheng’s last thoughts were of bewilderment as indescribable pain enveloped the entire left-hand side of his body…

Xing Zheng stood up with a start a shockwave pushing out from his body and shaking the restriction formations in his cultivation chamber.

“148 years… and this scar remains,” Xing Zheng thought, noticing his left hand had subconsciously traced a finger along the scar.

That scar ran from the top of his brow down his face and to along his leg, a perfectly straight line, in the words of the presiding elder the strike had been “Truly fit to slay gods and demons”. Slay him it would have done at that if not for the immediate usage of the healing array and attention from the cultivators that were watching the battle.

The scar had been the souvenir his brother gave him that day. He had never figured out how his brother had become a second-grade martial artist so young, nor how he had attained expert level attainment, something that normally took at least 5 years of practice with a technique of that level, in the core clan technique; however, his body had never forgotten that day. If Xing Zheng could speak with his brother today he wouldn’t know what to say, that is to say, he wouldn’t know how to thank him enough.