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Chapter 23: Junior Greets Senior
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 11:54:21 +0000 UTC“Junior Brother,” Brother Dai greeted. “I must admit, I did not expect to see you today.”
Feng raised an eyebrow.
“Disciple Dai,” he addressed neutrally. “You appear to have erred. Surely you meant to greet me as the ‘Young Master’, rather than something as disrespectful as ‘Junior’, did you?”
“Ah, a mere mistake.” The large cultivator waved his hand, his expression unbothered. “It is natural for a mountain to miss the fleeting imprints of ants. Face with your petty cultivation, this one — whose strength is surely but a step away from the peaks of Mount Tai — struggled to acknowledge you as his Lord.”
The disciple’s eyes glinted. “Besides, ‘Young Lord’, surely you had meant to address me as ‘Senior Brother’, rather than something as lowly as ‘Disciple’, did you? Were I the less the forgiving sort, it would not be wrong for me to take your words as… grave insult.”
Feng’s lips quirked for a heartbeat before he regained his serious composure.
“Your eyes need to be checked, ‘Senior’, for I am afraid old age has caught up to you. Mount Tai is far from this place indeed. One wonders how long you plan to embarrass yourself when you speak such mindless words. You compare yourself to a mountain, yet even mountains bow before my might. As for your grave insult…”
The Young Master shook his head derisively. “A simple misunderstanding, one that I would expect from a simple mind such as yourself. It is only that I ever see this cowardly Disciple so rarely — always hiding himself away in the Divine temple for months on end — that I forgot he was a Brother of our esteemed Sect at all, much less a Senior.”
“It seems we are making a lot of mistakes today, Junior.”
They stare at each other, auras clashing in breaking waves. Feng was at the second Step of the Third Realm, a great accomplishment for one at his age. It was an achievement other lesser disciples might never attain, and a clear mark of Feng’s talents as a cultivator.
However, talented or not, Brother Dai was a practitioner just a step away from the Fourth Realm. He was more than half a Realm stronger than Feng. In a fight between them, the outcome should be obvious for all to see.
“I wonder,” Feng continued as his Dantian readied itself. “After so long in seclusion, does the Disciple still remember how to use his glaive, or does he merely carry it as a walking stick for his wobbly knees?”
“You dare mock me?!” Dai’s nostrils flared, and his handsome face grimaced into one of shocked disbelief. “Does the Junior think to challenge me with his pitiful skills? How laughable! Your last breath shall be one of arrogance, fool!”
“Weak words are nothing but wind, yet yours fail even to ruffle the leaves of a withered tree!” Feng countered proudly.
“Oh, that’s a good one— Err, I mean, what impudence! The Doors of Mercy, I leave open to you, yet you refuse to even look inside! Instead, you hammer upon the Doors of Hell, begging to court Death within!”
“You used that one last time already, Senior Brother.”
“Ah. Um, well!”
The older disciple smashed the butt of his polearm against the floor, letting it stand as it impaled itself into the sands of the arena.
“Enough! Since you are so eager to taste my blade, I shall prepare a course of my fists first as an appetiser! Rejoice, Junior, for you shall eat well this day!”
Brother Dai cracked his knuckles menacingly. For another disciple, such blatant displays of aggression might cause them to flee or act with hostility.
For Feng, it was all he could do not to burst out into laughter.
“You think to satisfy my Hunger with your meagre fist?!” The Young Master barked. “Pick up your blade and give me face, Disciple, or I shall tear off yours and make you eat it!”
"Why should I dirty my blade with your weakling blood?! You are no match for me, Junior. I’ve already transcended the limits of martial comprehension!"
“Your comprehension of combat must be small indeed if you think…!”
On and on they went for nearly a full minute, throwing every cliché insult they could imagine at each other. The overly exaggerated silliness of their words grew until neither of them could keep the grin off their faces any more.
“I believe that’s the proper amount of customary pre-battle posturing, is it not?” Feng choked, struggling not to laugh.
“Probably. I shall have to remember a few of your lines to use next time.” Brother Dai chuckled, letting his overflowing aura subside while a genuine smile emerged. “You look well, Young Master. I see you had no trouble dealing with the over-zealousness of our eager Juniors below.”
The Young Master smiled, lowering his qi as well.
“And you as well, Senior Brother. I am glad to see the Core Disciples above had not…” Feng paused, frowning as he felt Brother Dai’s qi. It was barely noticeable, but there was a hint of imbalance hidden beneath his Senior’s exceptional control.
“Senior Brother, are you… wounded?” Feng asked in disbelief.
“Ah, you noticed, huh?” Brother Dai scratched his chin sheepishly. “And here I was hoping I could keep it hidden from you and maintain my image as the cool older Brother you look up to.”
“Senior Brother will always have my respect, but I must admit to being slightly surprised by his injury. Did one of the Core Disciples get a lucky hit on you?”
Brother Dai was the strongest Disciple he knew. Putting aside his cultivation standing, his martial skill surpassed all the other Core Disciples in the Sect. The man had to regularly battle against multiple opponents at the same time to get a fair fight. Dai even occasionally duelled the Sect’s Elders, and more than once emerged as victor.
Feng had even seen him duel Lianshi once, and though she had been a full Realm above him in standing, he was able to fight her to a standstill — a performance far improved compared to what the other Elders of his Sect had given her.
Though, of course, that was while his Fiancée was still in her untransformed state. Once she gave in to her inner Beast, Brother Dai was knocked out in less than a minute.
To his credit, that was still far longer than most others could manage.
“Well, it was a Core Disciple that wounded me…” Brother Dai coughed. “But it is a trivial matter. I can assure you, Young Master, that my injuries are manageable.”
Feng did not know why he was being evasive, but the Disciple obviously felt uncomfortable talking about his wounds, and the Young Master was not the type to pry. Perhaps Brother Dai was simply embarrassed that he got hit at all. It has been a while since one of the Sect’s Disciples managed to so much as graze him, let alone inflict enough damage to cause a qi imbalance.
“Very well. Perhaps Senior Brother should take it as a sign to stop spending so much time at the Divine Temple, and more of it training with his fellow cultivators instead.”
“Oh my, it appears my junior has grown insolent in my absence.” Brother Dai shook his head melodramatically. “Shall I teach him some manners?”
It was one of the most cliché lines spoken by arrogant cultivators. The Young Master couldn’t help but laugh.
“I do not know if that would be right, Brother Dai. I would feel bad if I defeated you now in your crippled state.”
“Ha! Cheeky brat!” Brother Dai’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Just because this Senior is slightly tired, does not mean you are his match!”
The Disciple’s aura blazed again. The Young Master matched him qi for qi, the grin on his face mirroring his Senior Brother’s.
“It’s a little chilly here,” his Senior announced, his voice amplified with qi. “Let’s warm things up first, shall we?!”
Without further warning, Brother Dai sucked in a deep breath, and roared out a giant ball of flame.
Feng dodged the attack. The fireball exploded where he stood, light and flames flooding the entire platform in a brilliant flare of eruptive radiance.
The Young Master allowed the incinerating heat to flow over him, unconcerned as the hair on his face caught alight and his vision darkened from the flash. Extreme heat was something every Beheaded Phoenix Disciple had to deal with on a daily basis. No true Disciple of the Sect would shine away from fire, as to do so was to step away from their chosen path of enlightenment.
The Sect already provided everything they needed to endure the flames. Their robes were all fire-resistant, crafted from the Red Ox Spirit Beasts carefully reared in the monastery’s stables. Having manipulated Yang qi for most of their time here, the Disciples have also all developed a natural resistance towards heat and light.
Feng, in particular, was in the Tempering Realm, meaning his body was not only more resistant to damage, but also capable of regenerating at a much faster pace if he allowed it to drain away at his spiritual energy reserves. Already, his singed eyebrows were regrowing, and the blindness in his eyes had all but vanished.
As long as the Young Master does not take a direct hit, he would be fine.
Or at least, that’s what he thought. As Brother Dai fired off larger and larger fireballs in quick succession, it became increasingly difficult to weave between the strikes with his footwork alone. When those fireballs began to track his movements and home in towards him mid-flight, Feng was forced to use his movement technique.
[Fiery Comet Step]
The Young Master blitzed across the ramparts, narrowly dodging the fiery projectiles that chased after him like hungry ghosts. He could evade the attacks for a time, but there was another issue that plagued him as the battle continued.
Hei Feng’s wounds were mounting.
Granted, not a single fireball had touched him yet. The Young Master made sure he did not take a direct hit from any of Brother Dai’s attacks. But the aftermath of those missed projectiles hid an invisible dagger of their own.
Each missile that Brother Dai fired at him was packed to the brim with Yang qi. The fireballs all erupted with a scorching shockwave that would have cracked boulders and melted rock. Feng’s body was durable — and any minor wounds he took from dodging could be regenerated in seconds — but there were limits to his endurance.
The arena was now a sea of flames, smoke, and craters. Every breath the Young Master took now scorched his lungs and throat. Every explosion was a prelude to rattled bones, ruptured organs, and torn eardrums.
It was obvious what Brother Dai was trying to accomplish. He was trying to whittle down Feng’s speed and spiritual energy reserves by forcing him to keep regenerating from those accumulating injuries.
Normally, employing such a scheme in a duel would be beyond foolish. While depleting a foe’s spiritual reserves via attrition was a common enough strategy in sparring, Brother Dai was expending far more of his qi to inflict those minor wounds than what the Young Master was using to heal them. While the constant need to maintain his regeneration was indeed taxing on his reserves, Feng’s usage was but a fraction compared to the endless explosions his Senior Brother was delivering.
On equal terms, utilising such a strategy would be suicidal.
But unfortunately for the Young Master, they were not on equal terms. Brother Dai’s qi reserves were leaps and bounds greater than his. Worse, Brother Dai’s strength had always been greater than even his outstanding cultivation standing would suggest. That he regularly went toe-to-toe with the Elders in duels spoke to that.
Even Feng’s superior meridians — brought about by the privileged upbringing afforded to a Young Master — could not hope to compete against half a Realm’s worth of additional cultivation advancement, and that’s without considering Dai’s monstrous amount of talent.
Still, the Young Master remained calm. He did not retaliate, even as blood pooled in his lungs. His senses became a blur of haze of bright lights and muted sounds as his eyes and ears failed him. He waited and waited, until the arena was positively awash with Yang qi, and both his and Brother Dai’s spiritual signatures were barely perceptible within the devilish inferno.
Only then did the Young Master strike.
He completely halted his regeneration, forcing his qi to be lowered until it was completely untraceable in that ocean of light, smoke, and fire. Feng ignored the immediate surge of pain and heat flooding his body, his resistance against the fire’s exacerbating burns having ceased entirely.
The Young Master only focused on his qi, tranquil as a still morning lake. He breathed.
[Fiery Comet Step; Feng’s variant — Dance of a Flickering Star]
The Young Master vanished. It was as if his body turned to smoke. Mere heartbeats later, he reappeared where the flames and ash were thickest, the air undisturbed by any perceptible movement.
Brother Dai’s back was diagonal to him, and Feng’s presence was all but invisible with his qi lowered and his form obscure beneath the dense smoke. Releasing his energies with a single concentrated burst, Feng’s eyes flashed as he fired off a piercing ray of light directly at the older Disciple’s unprotected back.
It should have been an unavoidable blow. The technique he used was instantaneous. Against any other Disciple in the Sect, Feng would have been confident in his victory.
Unfortunately, as was often the case, Feng’s opponent was not merely any normal Disciple. Fate had conspired against him to provide only the strongest and most talented of foes, such that he might never know a moment’s peace in triumph.
Without even looking back, Brother Dai contemptuously raised a hand and slapped aside the laser with his bare fist. The scorching beam was deflected, and it exploded against the far walls of the training hall.
“That was far too predictable, Junior,” the disciple taunted as he turned. With his large frame set against the sea of flames, Brother Dai looked like a monster that had emerged from the Underworld itself.
But Feng saw the Core Disciple’s approving and eager glint in his eyes, and could only laugh with matching excitement. He allowed his previously restrained qi to flood his body. All of his accumulated wounds healed instantly, and even the heat of the surrounding flames felt cool all of a sudden.
“This one was merely testing if your reflexes were still sharp, Senior Dai,” Feng replied. “I am glad to see old age had not dull your senses too much.”
“Old age?!” Brother Dai looked positively stricken. He placed a hand against his heart. “How dare you, Junior! I am still less than three decades old, and a youth at heart besides! For this insult, I shall have it repaid a hundredfold!”
“You can repay me by starting to take this fight more seriously, Senior Brother,” Feng said as he entered a stance. “I received quite a thrashing from Lianshi early. My ego could use some soothing.”
“Ah.” Brother Dai nodded understandingly. “That fiancée of yours does have that effect on people. I still remember the last time I fought her. I hadn’t been that brutally trashed since my days as an Outer Disciple.”
The Core Disciple assumed a stance as he continued. “Let's take things up a level, then. Your Comet Step seemed to have improved since we last fought. My qi perception could barely catch up to your movements any more. Being fast is good and all, but how skilled are you at actually hurting your opponents?”
Despite his words, Brother Dai was not talking about his martial capabilities and the use of minor fire techniques.
The Disciple was questioning the Young Lord’s mastery over their Sect’s other vaulted Divine Arts.
Feng grinned excitedly. It was good that he went hunting recently. Lianshi might complain about his frequent ventures into the valley below, where he killed spirit beasts that were hounding the nearby villages, but such acts of charity did not come without benefits.
Feng willed his qi to life — surging radiant with Yang savagery — and birth forth with it his violent intent.
[Arts of the Beheaded Phoenix – Severed Heads Apostles]
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Qi Techniques, Part 1
Qi Techniques — often referred to as just ‘Techniques’ — are the esoteric methods used by cultivators to enhance their spiritual abilities or to perform specialised martial skills. Through the manipulation of Qi in specific patterns, the practitioner is able to execute a wide host of heaven-defying feats.
To compile an extensive record of all known techniques is impossible, as the list of Qi Techniques within the Empire is ever-expanding and evolving. Cultivators often eventually develop their own unique variations of a standard technique or create new ones entirely. Techniques thus vary widely in their purpose, complexity, and effects, with many of the more exotic variants defying conventional categorisation or explanation.
An important matter to note about regular Qi Techniques is how they differ from Divine Arts — the sacred legacies passed down from the Divine Corpses to their ‘followers’. All Divine Arts are techniques, but not all techniques are considered Divine Arts.
And — as one might have easily guessed — the Divine Arts are far superior to any technique a mere man might create.
– Excerpt from To Those Worthy of the Eternal Banquet
