Yao Shen alighted upon the Sparring Stage, his presence causing the spectator’s cheers to die down as their attention shifted to him. Even Flame Patriarch Lei Weiyuan was curious, still unable to puzzle out Yao Shen’s intentions in hosting this inconsequential duel; for whilst there were a few elders that derived contentment from offering guidance and tutelage to disciples, the Grand Patriarch of the Modern Sect had never been one of them.

Yao Shen expanded his divine sense outward, enveloping the spear artifact that was embedded in soft earth before willing it in their general direction. The spear artifact was gently propelled forward, until it came to a pause in front of Longtian Cui, barely separated from him by a half a meter.

Though Zhengwei attempted to conceal it, bitterness flashed in his gaze as he saw the spear artifact hover forward towards his rival, Longtian Cui. Snippets of their battle flashed in his mind as Zhengwei wondered what he could have done differently, scouring through his arsenal of scimitar forms, searching, hoping for one that could have turned the tides of the duel… only to circle back to one singular answer.

Zhengwei had trained relentlessly in preparation for this duel, refined his scimitar technique to the limits of his understanding and expended all his strength in the battle. Yet, Longtian Cui stood facing him, not even a scratch to be found upon his crimson robes. The answer was as cruel as it was simple— Zhengwei, as he was right now, could not defeat Longtian Cui, regardless of which of his tactics he employed.

For the first time since he had stepped on the path of cultivation, Zhengwei had encountered an impregnable wall that neither deception nor brute force could surmount. Yao Shen detected the shift in his emotions with his human sight, as the cloud of angst slowly started shifting, forming a small, muted greyish-white cloud that represented the emotion ‘resignation’. Part of Zhengwei could not help but start to give in, to simply accept that there was and always would be a gap between a cultivator from a mortal family and a member of an ancient family that had guarded its inheritance from the Era of Turmoil.

“Do you know what the most important aspect of a duel is?” A calm voice rang out in Zhengwei’s mind, or rather, more accurately, his soul, that immediately startled him. He was on the verge of panicking, when he remembered that Nascent Soul Cultivators had something called ‘Divine Sense’ that they could utilize to transmit messages with.

It did not take him long to deduce who would communicate with him, for none of the Sect Elders had ever shown interest in him, much less use their Divine Sense to surreptitiously pass messages. He subtly directed his gaze to Yao Shen, who answered his silent query with a brief nod.

Surprise filled Zhengwei as he realized that the Grand Patriarch of the Modern Sect wished to speak with him, his other tumultuous emotions fading for now as he focused upon his words.

“Contrary to what you might believe, it is not martial strength. It may have played a role in your defeat, but it did not decide the outcome. Combat techniques, Weapon Artifacts and even upbringing all play a non-insignificant role, but once again, they alone are insufficient to decide the outcome,” A small smile bloomed on Yao Shen’s face as he saw the confused expression on Zhengwei’s visage.

“Fundamentally, a duel between cultivators is a battle for information. Now, observe your foe’s sword arm carefully,” Zhengwei’s confusion grew even deeper, but he chose to obey his instruction.

“Your reward,” Yao Shen spoke aloud, this time, his words signalling Longtian Cui to receive the spear.

A bead of sweat trickled down Longtian Cui’s forehead, as he stretched out both his arms to gingerly receive the spear in an almost reverant posture. The spear landed in Longtian Cui’s hands, and he immediately bowed.

“I thank you for this bestowal on behalf of the Cui Family, Grand Patriarch,” Longtian Cui finally allowed him posture to relax as he sincerely thanked Yao Shen.

Zhengwei immediately noticed that Longtian Cui’s sleeves were no longer folded, now stretching out till the base of his hand, but besides that he could not make out any difference.

Yao Shen chose that moment to surreptitiously release a small, almost indetectable burst of Wind Qi that pulled back Longtian Cui’s right sleeve for a few moments.

Zhengwei took a sharp breath, a mix of shock and disbelief reflected in his eyes as he caught a glimpse of Longtian Cui’s sword arm, which was bruised so heavily that the skin had turned a deep purplish-black. It was nothing that the healers of the Cui Family could not fix but…. not once in the battle had Zhengwei suspected that his opponent was injured so grievously. How could he even hold his sword with his arm in that condition? How had he not noticed? How much… pain was he fighting through?

“We all see the world through our own paradigms, child,” Yao Shen’s voice once again sounded out in Zhengwei’s mind. “The scions of legacy families project a veil of invulnerability when confronted with the outside world, for whilst they are offered many advantages by virtue of their birth, there is also a price that must be paid— weakness is not an emotion they are allowed to exhibit and defeat is not an outcome they can accept. Only when you see beyond your biases and prejudices can you pierce the veil, and come to the realisation that your foe is made of the same flesh, bone and blood that you are.”

The words echoed in Zhengwei’s mind, and for a brief moment he set aside his dislike for the legacy families, set aside his prejudices against Longtian Cui and briefly allowed himself to forget the unfair treatment the outer sect had meted out to him. Zhengwei knew himself well enough to know that he could never truly allow himself to forget his biases, for anger was the fuel he ignited to progress rapidly in his cultivation.

But…

For that brief moment, Zhengwei allowed himself to feel admiration for Longtian Cui and his resolve.

“You fought well. Both of you,” Yao Shen’s loud voice shook Zhengwei out of his reverie. Longtian Cui moved to bow, and Zhengwei mirrored his movements. Their gazes crossed paths as they bowed, and Zhengwei realized that their was no mockery concealed in his eyes, his expression lacking the condescension he’d always imagined there would be. All Zhengwei found was two inquisitive eyes that seemed to be driven by a thirst for knowledge instead of the vile, selfish gaze he had expected.

Longtian Cui began to walk off the stage and Zhengwei moved to do the same, when Yao Shen called out, “Wait.”

Zhengwei turned around, only to see Yao Shen toss what looked to be a… papyrus scroll in his direction. The very same papyrus scroll Yao Shen had been sketching on during the duel.

He was already immensely grateful for Yao Shen’s instruction, but he only seemed puzzled as he caught the scroll.

Without being prompted, Zhengwei unfurled the scroll as his curiosity got the better of him.

A few moments passed as he studied the series of drawings, all depicting a robed cultivator wielding a scimitar conducting varying series of strikes and following a different footwork each time.

Zhengwei’s hands started trembling as he clutched the papyrus scroll in his hands as if it were more valuable than his life, recognition flashing in his eyes.

This was his scimitar technique, it’s original twelve forms expanded to a stupefying thirty six scimitar forms, refined to an astonishing degree, so much so that it took him a few moments to recognize it.

“Tha-,” Zhengwei tried to croak out a word of gratitude, but his voice failed him. His heartbeat accelerated as his mind tried to puzzle out if what he was seeing was real, or some sort of cruel jest, while his eyes felt a warmth that almost felt alien after years of maintaining a stony facade.

Zhengwei bowed deeply, this time with complete sincerity, as he finally managed to stutter out the words, “T-Thank you.”

Two trails of warm tears trickled down his cheeks, seeping into the papyrus scroll but unable to cause any damage to the ink.

After seeing Yao Shen nod, Zhengwei hurried off the sparring stage fearing that he would not be able to control his emotions any longer.

Zhengwei the nameless, born to parents whose names he could not remember, had forgotten what it felt like to experience kindness.

He would cry in his personal quarters not long after the duel, and later that day Longtian Cui would offer to spar with him on a regular basis in the Cui Family residence.

This time, Zhengwei would accept.