Chapter 121: The Skies Above

Chapter 121: The Skies Above The skies above the southern ranges rippled with thunder. A single imperial-class spirit crane descended onto the Jade Serpent Sect’s outer courtyard — black-feathered, gold-eyed, its talons armored in runic steel. It landed without a sound, though the weight of its arrival pressed down on every disciple present. Atop it sat a man in black and crimson. Silent. Still. Unsmiling. Hei Long. A storm given human shape. The guards at the gate stood frozen. The Head Instructor rushed forward, bowing so low her forehead touched the stone. "W-We weren’t expecting—" "I’m not here on imperial business," Hei Long said. His voice was quiet. Clear. Utterly without warmth. "I’m here... to join." "J-Join?" He held up a scroll. It bore the Jade Empress’s personal seal — a rare imperial favor granting him right of sect visitation and trial. The instructor paled. "But... why our sect?" Hei Long’s gaze never shifted. "Someone I know is... thriving here." He dismounted. The crane vanished in a puff of golden mist. Hei Long walked forward. And the world held its breath. — Meanwhile – Lin Fan, Somewhere Else in the Sect He was practicing his newest invention. The "Heartthrob Talisman Mk IV." A charm designed to "amplify ambient charisma through bio-spiritual resonance." In theory, it would make his voice deeper, his cheekbones sharper, and his romantic aura irresistible. In practice, it had just given him a weird tan and made every frog in the pond follow him. "I’m a magnet," he whispered proudly as a frog hopped into his sleeve. Then someone ran up to him. Breathless. Wide-eyed. "Senior Disciple Lin—there’s... there’s someone at the gate!" Lin Fan blinked. "What, a new recruit? Tell him I don’t do autographs." "No—it’s him." "...Who?" "The one from the stories. The imperial blade. The Black Scourge. The one whose shadow makes flowers wilt." Lin Fan dropped the frog. "No." The messenger nodded solemnly. "Hei Long." — Hours Later – The Inner Courtyard Yan Lianhua stood on the raised dais of the welcome hall, flanked by senior elders and inner sect instructors. Disciples filled the arena — whispering, murmuring, too afraid to speak above a hush. Hei Long stood in the center of it all, hands folded behind his back. He hadn’t said a word since arriving. And then— "Why," Yan Lianhua said, voice smooth, "does the imperial guard’s favorite executioner want to train in our humble little sect?" Hei Long looked at her for the first time. Their eyes met. And for a brief moment, the temperature dropped five degrees. "I’ve been... curious," he said. "About your disciples. Your techniques." She smiled like a serpent sunbathing on a blade. "Curious... or jealous?" He didn’t blink. "I heard you’ve taken a personal interest in a man named Lin Fan." Gasps echoed through the courtyard. Lin Fan, standing off to the side with Mei’er, choked on his tea and dropped the cup. Hei Long turned his head. Their eyes locked. Lin Fan went pale. No. No no no. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Yan Lianhua laughed. A soft, cruel sound. "You wish to test my pupil?" "I wish," Hei Long said, stepping forward, "to surpass him." The arena erupted. Even the stoic instructors murmured. Lin Fan, meanwhile, had fallen to one knee. "Why?! WHY?! You’re supposed to be killing rebels in the north or taming spirit beasts in the east! There are other provinces!" Hei Long walked toward him. Each step sounded like a bell toll. "Lin Fan," he said calmly, "I heard about your... victory." Lin Fan stood up, trying to regain composure. "Y-Yeah? Well, I’ve changed. I’m not that same loser anymore. I’m a valued member of this sect! Master Yan personally—" "Branded you like a test rat?" Lin Fan’s face flushed. "That’s called passion!" Mei’er whispered, "He’s going to die." "I won’t lose to you again," Lin Fan said, voice cracking. Hei Long tilted his head. "You never beat me." Yan Lianhua clapped her hands once. "Enough foreplay." All eyes turned to her. "If both of you wish to remain in my sect, then you’ll settle this the Jade Serpent way." She raised her hand. A jade coin spun from her fingers, hovering in the air. "A duel." Lin Fan’s knees buckled. Hei Long just nodded. — Later – Duel Announcement Word spread like wildfire. Hei Long vs. Lin Fan.Midnight. In the Serpent Arena.Poison-infused spiritual combat only. No lethal intent. (Heavily implied.) Disciples placed bets. Instructors whispered warnings. Mei’er made a small fortune selling T-shirts that said RIP LIN FAN. Yan Lianhua prepared the arena personally — runes glowing, venom fogs swirling, medical staff preemptively praying. And Lin Fan? He was hiding in the supply closet hyperventilating. "I’m going to die. I’m going to die and no one will even remember the frogs." Mei’er knocked. "Lin Fan." "GO AWAY." "Want advice?" "...Yes." She opened the door. "Run." "I can’t! If I run, I lose forever. If I fight, I die in style." "Style?" He threw on a robe with silver trim and stitched hearts on the back. "...Lin." "Yes?" "I changed my bet. I’m putting everything on Hei Long." "...Fair." — Midnight – The Serpent Arena Thousands gathered. The runes glowed blue. Spirit mist curled around the stands. Even Yan Lianhua looked mildly excited. Lin Fan stepped in. Armor-less. Sleeves rolled. Hands trembling. Hei Long followed. Not even armed. Just calm. Controlled. Quiet. Yan Lianhua stood between them. "Spiritual poison only. First to fall unconscious or forfeit." She raised her hand. Then dropped it. "Begin." The moment her palm sliced through the air, Hei Long vanished. No sound. No warning. Just gone. Lin Fan’s pupils dilated. "Wha—" A shadow streaked past him. Instinct—or panic—saved him. He dropped to the ground just as a palm cloaked in black mist shot past his head, brushing his hair and leaving behind a ripple of soul pressure that made the entire crowd gasp. "HE’S USING INSTANT SHADOW STEP?!" one disciple screamed. Lin Fan rolled across the stone tiles, barely evading another strike. "THIS IS A POISON DUEL, NOT MORTAL KOMBAT!" Hei Long landed silently, adjusting his wrist. "I coated my spiritual pressure in Nightshade Qi," he said flatly. "Rules followed." Lin Fan staggered to his feet, swiping blood from his cheek. "Yeah? Well, my Qi is laced with... experimental mood swings!" He slammed a talisman into his own chest. It pulsed bright pink. All around the arena, disciples clutched their hearts as a wave of emotional volatility washed over them. Mei’er burst into tears mid-popcorn bite. "I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M CRYING BUT I BLAME HIM!" Hei Long frowned. Lin Fan grinned, madness lighting his eyes. "Let’s see how long you can maintain that ’emotionless god’ act when your internal compass is flooded with my unresolved daddy issues!" He threw three charm discs into the air. They spun, ignited, and rained down petals soaked in concentrated spiritual embarrassment. Hei Long batted one aside — but the mist clung to him. He slowed. Just a fraction. Lin Fan seized the chance. "TAKE THIS! EMOTIONAL DAMAGE BARRAGE!" He sprinted forward, fists glowing with unstable pink Qi, each punch loaded with talismans etched in heartbreak calligraphy. Hei Long blocked the first, dodged the second—but the third? The third scraped his arm. It didn’t cut him. But it lingered. The Qi pulsed against his skin—sorrowful, dramatic, and loud. Hei Long twitched. "...What is this?" Lin Fan landed and pointed proudly. "That, my dear emotionally constipated rival, is a Breakup Bomb. Your Qi will now cycle through every failed romance you’ve ever suppressed." Hei Long blinked. Then flinched. A flicker of memory flashed in his mind: A girl in the rain.His hand letting go.A final goodbye he never voiced. He growled. "You insufferable—" "Ha!" Lin Fan shouted, grinning like a lunatic. "I made the ice king feel something! That’s right! Cry, you beautiful bastard!" Hei Long moved. Faster this time. Rage was a poor motivator—but annoyance? That was a weapon. Lin Fan threw up a barrier. Too slow. Hei Long’s palm slammed against his ribs, flooding his meridians with silent toxin. Lin Fan gasped, veins darkening, knees buckling. "Y-you cheated! That’s a body technique!" "No," Hei Long said. "That’s patience." He reached for Lin Fan’s neck. Yan Lianhua raised her hand— But Lin Fan’s hand twitched. And a charm stuck to Hei Long’s palm. The moment they touched, a burst of pink fire erupted around them. The crowd gasped. Both men were thrown backward. Hei Long rolled into a crouch, coughing. Lin Fan was... on fire. Not literally. But emotionally? Absolutely. He stumbled to his feet, shirt half-burned, eyes wild. "I call that my Mutual Regret Burst," he gasped. "If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me—right into a co-dependent spiral!" Hei Long’s breath hitched. His aura wavered. Something inside him flickered. Lin Fan saw it. And smiled. "Got you." Hei Long clenched his fists. Smoke curled through the air. Lin Fan stood unsteady, pink charms crackling faintly in his hands. Hei Long’s robe was singed at the edges, one lock of hair out of place — the only sign he’d even been hit. Yan Lianhua watched from the edge of the ring, arms folded. Cold. Calculating. Lin Fan took a shaky step forward, breathing hard. "I’m not done yet," he gasped, blood running from his nose. "I still have one last—" Hei Long blurred. Faster than before. No flash. No flair. Just raw, ruthless efficiency. His hand struck Lin Fan’s stomach. Not a punch. Not a showy technique. Just a tap. But it was laced with compressed spiritual poison — the kind that didn’t attack the body, but the will. Lin Fan’s breath hitched. His charms fizzled and died. His legs buckled. And he fell to his knees, coughing, eyes wide. "Wha... what did you—" Hei Long looked down at him, expression unreadable. "I didn’t attack your flesh," he said. "I silenced your spirit." Lin Fan’s limbs trembled. His thoughts fractured. Every idea, every comeback, every desperate surge of chaotic emotion—snuffed out like a candle in a storm. Hei Long knelt beside him. "You fight like a man begging to be seen," he said quietly. "But in the end, you’re still begging." He stood. "Get up, if you can." Lin Fan tried. He really did. But his arms wouldn’t move. His cultivation had short-circuited. His meridians throbbed with backlash. His charms wouldn’t ignite. Even his pride was flickering. He collapsed forward, cheek hitting the cold stone. And the sect held its breath. Yan Lianhua raised her hand. "Winner—Hei Long." The arena exploded with gasps. Some disciples cheered. Others whispered in disbelief. Lin Fan didn’t move. Only his lips twitched, muttering something broken. "...I almost had you..." Hei Long turned back. "You never did." He walked past Lin Fan’s fallen body, robes fluttering. No gloating. No smile. Just a quiet, crushing finality. — Later – Lin Fan’s Quarters The healers worked in silence. Lin Fan lay bandaged, unmoving, staring at the ceiling. Not in pain. Just... hollow. His charms were gone. His spirit was drained. And worst of all? Hei Long hadn’t even tried. "I gave it everything," he whispered. "And he didn’t even sweat." Mei’er sat beside him. For once, she didn’t tease. She didn’t scold. She just said, softly, "He’s on a different level." Lin Fan laughed. It was bitter. "I thought if I just cared more... tried harder... that would matter." "You think affection is power," Mei’er murmured. "But Hei Long is proof that control always wins." Silence. Then Lin Fan asked, "Did she even flinch? Lianhua?" "...She blinked." That hurt more than poison. — Meanwhile – Hei Long, at the Pavilion Yan Lianhua poured two cups of wine. She didn’t speak. Hei Long took his silently. After a while, she said, "You didn’t have to humiliate him." "I didn’t." "You broke him." "Exactly." A pause. Then she said, "Was it worth it?" Hei Long looked out across the moonlit mountains. "Yes," he said softly. "It was necessary."