The grind for Contribution Points was, as predicted, tedious. After a long day of hauling mystical manure and polishing the alchemy cauldrons of snooty inner disciples, Ye Xingliu sought the quiet of the forest bordering the inner peaks. He was running through the Wind-Water Steps, practicing the fluid footwork until it was as natural as breathing. The compass in his pocket was a warm, comforting weight, a promise of deserts and falling stars.
A familiar, discordant rhythm hit his Life Sensing a split-second before the attack came.
A blast of ragged, unstable Earthfire Qi scorched the ground where he had just been standing. Ye Xingliu flowed into a Drunken Meteor sidestep, the heat singing the hairs on his arm.
From behind a thick oak, Zhao Ba emerged. He looked… haggard. His inner disciple robes were rumpled, his eyes bloodshot with resentment. The backlash from the Blood Qi Pill and his very public humiliation had clearly festered, twisting into a desperate need for vengeance.
"No tricks this time, freak," Zhao Ba spat, his voice raw. "No arena, no elders. Just you and me."
"Senior Brother Zhao," Ye Xingliu said, his tone light, though his body was coiled and ready. "Don't you have latrines to scrub? I hear they've missed you."
With a roar, Zhao Ba charged, his movements clumsy with rage. He was stronger, yes, but his spirit was a fractured mess, his rhythm easy to read.
Ye Xingliu didn't meet the charge. He simply stopped practicing the Wind-Water Steps and started using them. As Zhao Ba lunged, Ye Xingliu kicked off a tree root, and a disc of shimmering air and mist—a miniature version of their Comet Surfing platform—flashed into existence under his foot for a fraction of a second.
It wasn't enough to fly, but it was enough to leap. He shot straight up, a sudden, vertical evasion that was utterly unpredictable. Zhao Ba stumbled past, completely missing his target.
Ye Xingliu landed lightly on a low-hanging branch. "You're still so… linear, Senior Brother."
Enraged, Zhao Ba unleashed a volley of fireballs. Ye Xingliu didn't even drop from the branch. He used the Wind-Water Steps in place, his upper body swaying and weaving with an impossible, liquid grace, the fireballs passing harmlessly by. It was like watching someone dodge rain without getting wet.
"FIGHT ME!" Zhao Ba screamed, his qi fluctuating wildly.
"But I am," Ye Xingliu replied, plucking a sturdy, fallen branch from the tree. He infused it with a thread of stellar energy, making it as hard as iron. "Just not the way you want."
As Zhao Ba charged the tree, Ye Xingliu dropped down, not attacking Zhao Ba, but the ground in front of him. The branch, swung with the torque of the Drunken Meteor, dug a furrow in the earth, kicking up a cloud of dirt and leaves directly into Zhao Ba's face.
Zhao Ba choked, blinded and disoriented. He swiped wildly at the air.
It was over. Ye Xingliu could have ended it then with a single, starlit punch. But he didn't. Revenge was a stagnant pond, and his road was a flowing river.
He simply stood there, leaning on his branch, waiting.
Zhao Ba wiped the grime from his eyes, his chest heaving. He looked at Ye Xingliu—calm, untouched, not even breathing heavily—and then at his own pathetic, dirt-stained state. The gap between them wasn't just about power anymore; it was about spirit. He had come for a dramatic showdown and had been made a fool of with a stick and a puff of dust.
The fight drained out of him, replaced by a hollow, shameful realization. With a final, strangled sound, he turned and fled, crashing back through the undergrowth, defeated more thoroughly than he ever had been in the arena.
Ye Xingliu watched him go. He felt no triumph, only a faint pity. He looked at the branch in his hand, then at the smooth bark of the oak tree.
With a spark of energy at his fingertip, he carved three simple characters into the wood:
Fun > Revenge
He tossed the branch aside, his spirit light. The encounter had been a distraction, a faint echo from a part of the road he had already left behind. He had a desert to get to, a comet to catch, and a universe to explore.
Petty revenge was a cage. And the Wanderer was born to be free.
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