Watching the Mountain

He bent down, picked up the outer robe he had tossed aside, and slung it over his shoulder. Turning back, he grinned at her. "I’m heading off. They’re serving honey-roasted Spirit Hoof tonight. If you’re late, it’ll all be gone."

After saying that, he really did just walk away with a light spring in his step.

Ye Qingxue sat alone on the green rock for a long time.

The mountain wind was still cold, but the heavy weight in her heart felt as if it had been cracked open by his simple, almost brutish words.

After that, Ye Qingxue started going to the cliffs on the back mountain more often.

Sometimes in the evening, sometimes at dawn.

She no longer always sat far away, occasionally drawing a little closer to watch Ye Shan practice his sword.

His swordsmanship was very different from the standard forms taught by the Sect. His opening moves were more casual, his transitions more abrupt, and some of his movements even looked a little awkward.

And yet, every single strike was shockingly sharp. The piercing whistle of his Wooden Sword cutting through the air was enough to startle birds into flight.

When Ye Qingxue was lost in watching him, Ye Shan would suddenly withdraw his sword and turn around, beads of sweat on his brow. "Senior Sister, care for a few rounds?"

She always shook her head.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but that she didn’t dare.

One time, she finally couldn’t resist asking, "Your swordsmanship... it seems different from what the instructor-brothers teach."

Ye Shan was wiping sweat with his sleeve. Hearing her, he turned back. "Hmm? How is it different?"

"Well... it’s more casual. Some of the moves, the instructor-brothers say, could damage your meridians."

"Oh, that." Ye Shan stabbed his Wooden Sword into the ground, sat down cross-legged, and pulled a small, oil-paper-wrapped package from his robes. Inside were two golden-brown grilled pastries.

He handed one to her. "Want one? Bought them from the market at the foot of the mountain. They’re sweet."

Ye Qingxue hesitated for a moment before taking it. The

pastry was still warm. She took a bite. It was almost cloyingly sweet.

Ye Shan devoured his piece in a few large bites, licked his fingers, and then continued, "Swordsmanship is rigid, but people are flexible. What the instructor-brothers teach isn’t wrong—it’s the safe path for most people. But I’m different."

His eyes crinkled, his smile holding an almost naive certainty. "In this world, no one is a match for me, Ye Shan. And since my opponents can’t beat me anyway, what does it matter if I hurt my meridians?"

The mountain wind swept past, lifting the sweat-dampened tips of his hair.

Ye Qingxue held the half-eaten pastry, forgetting to chew.

She looked at his searingly bright eyes, at the matter-of-fact expression on his face as he spoke, and suddenly, large ripples spread across the calm lake of her heart.

’So... you can think like that?’

「The days of the Sect’s tournament drew near.」

Ye Qingxue signed up for the Foundation Establishment Stage tournament. When Senior Brother Liu found out, he just told her warmly to do her best.

Senior Sister Zhao gave her a bottle of Qi Recovery Pills, and Senior Brother Li patted her on the shoulder.

She knew they meant well.

But right now, that kindness felt like a soft cocoon.

The day before the tournament, she was practicing her sword in the plaza outside the Instructor Hall.

She practiced the Flowing Cloud Sword Technique over a dozen times. Her movements were standard, her Spiritual Power was stable, but she herself knew something was missing.

It lacked that relentless, forward-charging sharpness, that certainty that she could win.

She practiced until her forehead was beaded with sweat and her chest felt tight.

"Senior Sister."

Ye Shan had appeared at some point, leaning against a nearby pillar with his arms crossed, a stalk of grass dangling from his mouth.

Ye Qingxue looked up at him.

"You’re practicing it wrong." Ye Shan spat out the grass stalk and walked over.

"What’s wrong with it?"

"Everything’s wrong with it," Ye Shan said bluntly. "This set of techniques is called Flowing Clouds. It’s supposed to be light, fast, and unpredictable. But you practice it like you’re moving rocks, one step at a time, afraid you might step on an ant."

Ye Qingxue pressed her lips together.

"Then how should I practice it?"

Ye Shan didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, "Why are you practicing this sword technique?"

"The tournament..."

"You want to win the tournament?"

Ye Qingxue was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Then stop thinking about practicing the sword." Ye Shan took the sword from her hand as naturally as if it were his own.

He gave the sword a casual flourish. "Think about winning. Think about the person standing across from you, and how you’re going to take them down."

As soon as he finished speaking, he moved.

It was still the Flowing Cloud Sword Technique, but in his hands, it was completely transformed.

The light from his sword was no longer orderly, but instead billowed and coiled like real flowing clouds—at times as light as the wind, at others as swift as a flash of lightning.

With a final spin and thrust, the tip of the sword stopped three inches from her nose, the wind it generated lifting the stray hairs on her forehead.

Ye Shan retracted the sword and handed it back to her.

"Like that," he said. "Don’t worry about whether the moves are standard. Don’t worry about whether your Spiritual Power is stable. Just think about winning."

Ye Qingxue took the sword, its hilt still warm from his touch.

She looked down at her own hands for a long moment, then said softly, "I... probably can’t do it."

"Why can’t you?" Ye Shan tilted his head, looking at her. "Senior Sister, you joined the Sect earlier than me, your Spiritual Power is more stable than mine, and you’re more familiar with the Sword Techniques than I am. On what grounds can you say you can’t do it?"

He spoke with such unshakeable conviction.

Ye Qingxue looked up and met his bright, impurity-free eyes.

Suddenly, the soft cocoon in her heart tore open with a SNAP.

「On the day of the tournament, a large crowd had gathered below the stage.」

Ye Qingxue’s opponent was a male disciple at the Qi Refinement Eighth Layer who wielded a wide-bladed heavy sword.

The gong sounded.

Her opponent’s heavy sword came chopping down, full of force and power.

Ye Qingxue instinctively wanted to sidestep and counterattack according to the standard forms. But just as her body began to move, Ye Shan’s words flashed through her mind:

’Don’t worry about whether the moves are standard. Just think about winning.’

Her steps faltered. Instead of sidestepping according to the forms, she took half a step forward into the path of the blade. At the same time, she flicked her wrist, her sword tip angling up toward her opponent’s wrist.

It was a huge risk.

But her opponent clearly hadn’t expected her to fight like this and hastily pulled back his sword to defend himself.

In that momentary opening, Ye Qingxue’s attack changed again. The upward flick became a thrust, aimed directly at the opening on her opponent’s chest.

With a soft thud, the tip of her sword touched her opponent’s lapel.