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Chapter 71: BROKEN GLIMPSE
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 01:48:07 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
71
BROKEN GLIMPSE
JIEYUAN
—∞—
Daojue should’ve blocked Maeva’s swing, then backstepped to dodge Jieyuan’s follow-up. That was what the sequence dictated.
Instead, Daojue leaned to the side, dodging the swing, and brought Gleaming End down at Jieyuan.
In normal circumstances, in the absence of foresight, Jieyuan would’ve been able to react in time. Daojue gave almost no visual cues, so you had to be ready for anything when fighting him. If you weren’t on full alert against Daojue, you’d find yourself on the ground before you knew it.
But Huaxin had never made a mistake before. The idea that it could be wrong hadn’t even crossed Jieyuan’s mind—until now.
Maeva veered her weapon’s trajectory and blocked Daojue’s attack.
If she hadn’t, Jieyuan would’ve been very well struck down there and then—when just earlier Huaxin had very clearly shown him winning the duel.
Jieyuan blinked, steadying himself as Maeva went all-out against Daojue, drawing him away.
He stared at them, uncomprehending it—and noticed that Daojue was frowning again. Frowning even harder than he had at Envoy Guodan earlier. A proper frown, like the one you wore when you were fully concentrating on something. He hadn’t even known Daojue was capable of that kind of look.
Huaxin? What just ha—
SWINGTHRUSTBLOCKDODGESTRIKEDODGETWIST.
The sequence slammed into Jieyuan like a physical blow—and the glimpse of the future was painfully sharp, surreally so. But Jieyuan didn’t have the luxury of flinching, let alone dwelling on it. His chroma would run out soon—and the sequence needed him to act now.
He charged at Daojue again. He swung his Shifting Feather, and Daojue thrust Gleaming End back at him. Maeva stepped in, blocking Daojue’s attack, and Jieyuan’s continued on. Just as he was about to land the blow, Daojue broke off from Maeva and snapped Gleaming End at Jieyuan just in time to parry the strike, before twisting aside to avoid a sweep from Maeva. Jieyuan struck again, and Daojue leaned out of the way.
Everything played out perfectly, all according to the sequence.
Until Huaxin gave another pained wince.
Daojue, in the midst of dodging Jieyuan’s attack, his body still leaning back as the half-glaive swept past him, suddenly whipped his right hand out, leaving only his left hand holding Gleaming End, and took hold of the shaft of Maeva’s Shifting Feather. His hand overlapped with Maeva’s illusory ones.
Then Daojue stepped back, spreading his feet on the ground, and jerked his arm back. Jieyuan felt Maeva pull into his soulforce, fighting the pull, but Daojue’s strength counteracted it, and the weapon was wrenched out of Maeva’s grip. Then Daojue snapped his right arm out, launching Maeva’s Shifting Feather away. Not even a second later, it left Jieyuan’s soulsense range.
Daojue didn’t stand there and watch it go—didn’t so much as spare a glance after it. The moment the Shifting Feather left his hand, he reached back for Gleaming End’s shaft, spun the weapon around, and drove it towards Jieyuan’s head, reversed.
And this time, weaponless, Maeva could do nothing to help him. Jieyuan tried to step back, instinctively bringing his Shifting Feather up in a counter-attack—but he was too out of it to put up a proper defense, his thoughts too much of a mess, and Daojue easily got Gleaming End through his guard.
And slammed its butt onto Jieyuan’s forehead, hard.
Jieyuan dropped to the ground, head ringing, vision swimming. Maeva was saying something to him, but he couldn’t listen. Through their connection, Huaxin sent a throbbing, searing ache—as if it was experiencing some monstrous headache. Though in Huaxin’s case, heartache might be more apt.
Jieyuan felt something sharp and cold press against his throat. His vision cleared up some, and he focused on Daojue, standing over him, holding the blade of Gleaming End, now in the right orientation, to his neck.
I’m sorry, Maeva whispered, in his head.
Jieyuan closed his eyes. He dismissed Absolute Mind Command. Maeva’s presence disappeared. There was a little rush as full awareness over his soulsense and soulforce, previously lent to Maeva, returned to him.
He breathed in deeply. Too much had happened just now. He couldn’t even start wrapping his head around it all.
But he did know one thing.
“I’ve lost.”
He had no intention to pull a Xianjun—no pointless show of defiance.
There was a soft rush of air. Then Sovereign Aoxin’s voice rang from close by, “Winner, Tianzijun Daojue, of the Gleaming Stone Sect.”
Jieyuan felt the pressure on his throat disappear. He opened his eyes—and saw a gauntleted hand held out toward him. Open, outstretched. He blinked up, followed the hand up to the arm it was connected to, then to the body, then to the face.
Daojue’s face—no longer frowning, but impassive again. That same unreadable mask he always wore, though now with a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. But something was different about it. Something he couldn’t name. Like a different gleam on a metal edge.
Jieyuan took Daojue’s hand. Daojue pulled him up to his feet, then released him, stepping back.
“Well fought,” Daojue said.
If Jieyuan hadn’t already been so terribly stunned by everything that had just happened, Daojue’s words would have really sealed the deal.
Jieyuan could hardly believe his ears. He’d been sure Daojue’s relationship with praise began and ended with receiving it.
Daojue turned around and began walking away.
Jieyuan stared after him, blankly. He felt something cold and watery drop on his cheeks, and raised his hands up to brush it. Just sweat, pooling on his forehead and dripping down. He looked down at his robes. He was practically soaked in it.
“Jieyuan?” Sovereign Aoxin said. He turned to her—she was standing just a few feet away, giving him a look he couldn’t quite decipher.
That snapped him out of it. He let out a little laugh. He couldn’t help it.
He’d thrown almost everything he had at him—everything, save for Fatebloom Sacrifice—and it hadn’t been enough.
And he’d been so close.
He smiled ruefully.
So close.
So close he could’ve tasted it.
Heavens, he had seen it. Seen himself winning, seen himself and Maeva holding their blades, together, to Daojue’s throat.
He gathered all such thoughts, then let them go with his next breath. The fire in him guttered. It flared once, as if in protest, but he pushed it back down with another deep exhale. And it went cold, dead.
Jieyuan sheathed the Shifting Feather in his hands, then nodded to the sovereign protector, who was still giving him that odd look. He ignored it and forced his legs and feet to move in the same direction Daojue had left. Tapping into his soulforce, he pulled the other Shifting Feather back to him, and sheathed it too.
A pulse of his cleansing ring later, and he was all cleaned up.
Over ahead, Daojue jumped off the edge of the stage, and continued on across the arena floor back to their entrance.
Thoughts swam through Jieyuan’s head—vague, erratic, like currents in muddy, stormy waters. There was a lot to unpack—too much, really, and the thump Daojue had just given him didn’t help any, either. But first…
Huaxin? he prodded. He could still feel Huaxin’s aching through their bond, though it was somewhat muted now. He didn’t know what to make of it. Of anything, really.
A beat. Then, CONFUSION—EXHAUSTION.
Huaxin sent both emotions back almost simultaneously. Bone-deep confusion, bone-weary exhaustion. The latter wasn’t all that unfamiliar—Huaxin had also tired out in their battle against Meiyao, but this seemed to run way deeper than that. That had been just fatigue—this was full-blown exhaustion. The kind you’d need days to sleep off. His heart rate dropped, slowing down to a crawl so fast he almost stumbled.
And then he felt their connection grow completely silent.
His heart kicked back to life—racing for a moment, like a drowning man gasping for air, then falling to a steadier pace. But it wasn’t back to normal.
He prodded at Huaxin again, reaching for their connection. No response at all.
He’d grown too used to Huaxin’s presence, to their connection. Without it, he couldn’t shrug off the feeling that something was missing.
It was like he had a normal heart now, and that wasn’t normal at all to him anymore.
Jieyuan chuckled, then sighed again.
His day just kept getting better.
Just perfect. Golden.
As if losing the duel hadn’t been bad enough. Now he had no access to Fatebloom Intuition at all.
Granted, losing Fatebloom Intuition didn’t feel as bad now as it’d have been, say, just a few minutes ago—back when he still thought it was infallible.
He knew better now. Knew that relying on it wasn’t nearly as much of a done deal as he’d first thought. Worst of all, Jieyuan didn’t know why the sequences had gone wrong.
He frowned. Maybe Huaxin had pushed too far—burned itself out and started making mistakes. But Daojue’s look of concentration, and Huaxin’s pained winces whenever Daojue defied prediction painted a different picture. No, it didn’t seem like the problem was Huaxin making a mistake—but Daojue somehow getting around Fatebloom Intuition.
Which, if Jieyuan wasn’t wrong, might mean that Daojue could somehow change the future.
As if he hadn’t been special enough already.
The Heavens sure knew how to play favorites.
Jieyuan soon reached the stairwell. Daojue was already well out of sight.
He trudged up the stairs, taking his time, in no particular hurry. The sound of his greaves on the brightgold steps echoed throughout the stairwell, filling up the silence.
By the time he neared the top, he felt better. Fresher. A cultivator’s stamina was really something else. Everything else aside, having a bit more energy in him helped.
Jieyuan stepped out into the upper floor, then out of the stairwell and into the open. He stood there, for a moment. All over, heads turned his way. He ignored it, his eyes drawn, invariably, to where Daojue was standing. By the railing, isolated, back to him.
Jieyuan stared, thinking back to their duel. To his defeat.
Protector Yuyan’s words from yesterday crossed his thoughts.
A quarry that would never run, she’d said. An ever moving goal-post.
That sounded about right—but it was also wrong.
He’d lost, sure, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t improved. And clearly he still had further to go. Much further.
Yuyan had told him not to give up—to keep trying to beat Daojue, no matter how impossible it seemed. But in a way, she herself had given up—she’d done so the moment she’d accepted that Wanxin was impossible to surpass. She might have decided to keep at it anyway—not because of it, but despite it.
He’d done much the same his previous life, as Amyas. He’d accepted that he’d never beat Maeva—not in her accomplishments, not in their parents’ eyes—and just decided to make himself stand out some other way.
Jieyuan clenched his hands. The fire in him sparked again.
Daojue could be surpassed. He had no doubt about that—he couldn’t doubt that. He didn’t know yet what Daojue’s limits were. But he did know he had yet to reach his own.
How could he, when he didn’t have limits?
The fire roared back to life. Time seemed to still completely—Daojue’s back to him, distant, vast, immovable. Like a mountain.
But mountains didn’t scare Jieyuan. They were just something to be overcome. To be conquered.
It wasn’t over. That wasn’t how this worked. It was only over when he called it quits. And there was no way he was doing it while Daojue was in the lead.
One thing Protector Yuyan said was true, though.
A cultivator had no use for peace.
Only power mattered.
Daojue turned his head back. Their eyes met. Violet eyes dark, unfathomable.
Jieyuan grinned.
And it might have been a trick of the light, but he could’ve sworn he saw the corner of Daojue’s lips quirk up.
Bring it on.
