The Crimson Tree and the Tournament Call

A faint shiver ran through Elder Mo's spirit thread, a distortion so subtle it could have been missed-if not for his centuries of vigilance. His expression hardened. The seal... broken.

He withdrew into the quiet of his meditation chamber and summoned the other Yunxian elders with a single coded pulse of spiritual energy. No word to outsiders. The message was clear: this was to remain within the Yunxian Clan.

One by one, the elders arrived at the lake, their forms materializing like wraiths from the mist.

Elder Jian frowned as his gaze swept over the water. "It should not look like this..."

Elder Mo's eyes remained fixed on the scene before them. The lake was still-too still-its surface reflecting the sky in unnatural clarity. And beneath that mirrored calm, the abyss gaped, so deep and clear it felt as though the world had been turned inside out.

Elder Han took a step forward, robes whispering against the grass. "The veil is gone. The abyss hasn't been seen in generations. Something forced it open."

"Not something," Elder Mo corrected, voice low. "Someone."

Their attention shifted to the ancient guardian tree. Its branches trembled as though straining against an unseen force. Leaves fell one by one, each wilting midair before touching the ground. With every fall, a bead of crimson blood slipped from the veins of the leaf, soaking into the roots below.

Elder Jian's brows drew together. "Blood from the guardian... this is a wound to the sect itself."

"And do you feel it?" Elder Mo asked quietly. "That essence clinging to the air?"

They all did-cold as winter's breath, sharp enough to cut bone. Elder Han extended his palm, gathering a trace of it. "Ice," he confirmed, though his tone carried unease. "But no ice of mortal making."

Elder Mo's gaze swept the scene, his mind already racing. "We will investigate discreetly. Not a word of this leaves the Yunxian grounds. If the other clans catch scent of it..."

"They will descend like vultures," Elder Jian finished grimly.

Far from their watch, Feiye staggered, the last of her strength slipping away. The memory of that surge-light, heat, and overwhelming force-lingered just before darkness claimed her.

The masked man stepped from the shadows, his presence a quiet ripple in the air. He studied her for a long moment. Her aura still clung to her like a fading storm, wild yet strangely refined at its core.

"You are dangerous," he murmured under his breath-not in warning, but in analysis.

Lifting her with ease, he carried her through the corridors until they reached her quarters. He laid her on the bed, gaze unmoving. If this power matures unchecked... His thoughts halted when the soft echo of footsteps approached.

Without sound or motion, his figure dissolved into the air, leaving nothing but stillness.

Xiaye stepped in seconds later. Her eyes softened immediately. "Feiye..." she breathed, crossing to her sister's bedside. She adjusted the blanket over her and sat for a moment, studying her sleeping face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Feiye's cheek. "I should have come back to the gate, like I promised." Her voice was heavy with guilt, though Feiye could not hear her.

With a sigh, Xiaye retreated to her own bed, but her gaze lingered on her sister for a long while before sleep claimed her.

---

The Next Morning

The grand hall was alive with restless murmurs as the disciples assembled. Elder Mo stood at the front, the elders flanking him. His voice, though calm, cut through the noise with authority.

"The Yunxian Clan will be sending its finest to the upcoming tournament. Those chosen will bear not just the honour of our name, but the weight of its reputation."

Names were called, each met with cheers or approving nods-until, "Feiye of the Yunxian Clan."

A stunned silence.

Feiye's eyes widened. She turned to Xiaye, panic breaking across her face. "I... I can't. Xiaye, I'm not ready."

Before Xiaye could answer, voices broke out among the disciples.

"She'll embarrass us."

"Why choose her when others are clearly stronger?"

"Why not choose Senior Yun or Sister Mei instead?"

"She's not even strong enough to spar without stumbling."

"It's a waste of a place."

Elder Mo raised a hand, silencing them. "Feiye will compete," he said firmly. "Her cultivation may not be complete, but she must learn responsibility for the power she wields. The clan can not protect those who refuse to grow."

Feiye opened her mouth. "Elder, I-"

Her master's stern gaze locked onto hers, cutting the protest short. "You will do your part, Feiye."

Her throat tightened. "...Yes, Elder."

The great doors of the hall shut with a heavy thud, sealing away the voices of the dispersing disciples. In the quiet that followed, the elders remained at the front, their expressions still unreadable to anyone who might pass.

When the last echo of footsteps faded, Elder Jian broke the silence. "Mo... you can not be serious about sending that girl into the tournament."

Elder Han folded his arms, his tone edged with irritation. "Feiye's cultivation is unstable. Her sword form is amateur at best. She's the sister of the first princess, and yet she hasn't inherited even a tenth of Xiaye's talent."

Another elder, Elder Shun, snorted. "Xiaye is disciplined, graceful, and politically aware. Feiye is... aloof, unpredictable, and careless. One will lead the clan with honour. The other..." He let the words hang, shaking his head. "You are setting us up for embarrassment."

Elder Mo's gaze was calm but unyielding. "You all judge too quickly. Power is not only in talent-it is in potential. Feiye may appear unrefined now, but what I sensed from her when I first glanced at her... was something far deeper."

Elder Jian's brows furrowed. "Deeper? Or blunt? She hasn't shown any potential since she joined the secr. She has no cultivation future.

Elder Mo stepped forward slightly, voice low. "Danger and potential are often the same. What matters is control."

Elder Han exhaled sharply. "Control she clearly does not have. And in the eyes of the other clans, we will be judged by her performance. Xiaye will shine as she always does. Feiye will... flounder."

"I will take responsibility," Elder Mo said firmly, cutting through their doubts. "If she falters, the blame will fall on me alone."

The room fell silent at his words. Elder Shun finally muttered, "So be it. But remember, Mo-you are wagering the clan's pride on a single, unpolished stone while leaving the crown jewel to carry the weight."

As they dispersed, Elder Mo lingered alone in the hall, his thoughts unreadable. He had seen something in Feiye-a flicker beneath the surface. Whether it would blaze into a flame or consume her entirely... only time would tell.

The rest of the day was consumed by practice. The clang of swords rang in the training court as disciples paired off. Feiye's wooden blade felt like a lead weight in her hands. An elder tried to correct her stance, growing more impatient with every failed parry.

"Again-no, watch your footing. You're hopeless like this."

The elder assigned to help her practise felt like he was watching a fat pig try to balance. It was too tiring to watch. Feiye's strikes were slow, her stance unsteady. One of the training elders circled her for a time before shaking his head.

"You lack focus," he said curtly. "A battle is not a dance, girl. If you can not even hold your blade properly, you are a liability."

He walked away before she could respond, leaving her alone in the training yard. The sting of his words burrowed deep.

Her thoughts spiralled back to the lake-the surge of power that had erupted from her, wild and terrifying. What if it had been nothing but an accident? A dangerous fluk

Feiye's cheeks burned, the sting of failure heavy in her chest. By the time she collapsed onto the edge of the court, her hands were shaking.

Why am I here?

Why can't I... be like Xiaye?

A shadow appeared next to her. It was the first princess. She looked at her and smiled warmly at Feiye.

"Don't listen to him," Xiaye said simply. "Elder Ran's heart froze decades ago."

Feiye gave a reluctant smile. "I'm not like you, Xiaye. You belong here."

"We both do." Xiaye sat beside her, bumping her shoulder lightly.

Feiye turned facing the corridor where elder Ran had just disappeared from. She didn't know what to believe.

A shadow fell across her. Xiaye appeared at her side, crouching down. "Hey." She offered a flask of water."You look like you're drowning in your own head again," she said lightly.

Feiye eyes were downcast, staring at the concrete ground.

Feiye glanved away,"I'm not good enough."

"You seem to be fighting the sword more than the opponent." Xiaye joked.

Feiye managed a weak laugh. "Maybe I am."

"Come on. Let's try again. Not cultivation-just the basics."

Feiye hesitated,,,"You'll help me?"

Xiaye smiled, "Always... Now, let's work on that sword first, cultivation later. You are not running from this, Feiye."

They moved to a quieter corner. Xiaye corrected her grip, adjusted her elbow. "Remember when we used sticks as swords in the courtyard back home? You were always the loudest one."

Feiye snorted. "I was seven. And terrible."

"True," Xiaye grinned, "but you were never afraid to swing."

The sisters trained until the sun dipped low, sweat dampening their sleeves. Somewhere between the clumsy strikes and shared jokes. Bit by bit, her strikes grew sharper, her stance steadier.

---

That night, Feiye lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The memory of her spiritual outburst burned in her thoughts. She didn't know what would come tomorrow, but she knew one thing-she could not shame her clan.

Her hand curled into a fist. "I'll do better," she whispered into the darkness.

From the shadows beyond the courtyard wall, unseen eyes watched her window until the light inside went out.

---

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