The morning sun burned through the mist over Jade Crest City, painting the Wei Clan's tournament grounds in hues of gold and jade. Banners snapped in the breeze, embroidered with the clan's fading crest—a coiled dragon clutching a jade orb. The arena, a wide stone platform ringed by tiered seats, buzzed with spectators: clan members, local cultivators, and visiting prodigies from sects across the Central Jade Continent. Today was the Wei Clan's annual tournament, a desperate bid to reclaim their dwindling prestige. For Wei Chen, it was a chance to silence the whispers of "useless heir"—or die trying.
He stood at the edge of the arena, his scholar's robe replaced by a plain grey tunic, the jade tablet tucked securely in a hidden pocket. Its warmth pulsed against his chest, a reminder of last night's vision: the Jade Sovereign, betrayed, a blade through his heart. The memory had kept him awake, piecing together fragments of a life he didn't fully understand. But the faint thread of qi in his meridians, unlocked by the tablet, gave him something he hadn't had in seventeen years: hope.
"Ready to embarrass yourself, scholar?" a voice called, sharp and teasing. Lin Xiyue leaned against a pillar, her sword glinting at her waist, her black hair tied high with a crimson ribbon. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was an edge to her grin, like a blade half-drawn.
Wei Chen smirked, brushing a lock of dark hair from his eyes. "Ready to lose to a scholar, sword maiden? I hear the Ninefold Mountain Sect doesn't take kindly to defeat." His tone was light, but his pulse quickened. Lin Xiyue was no ordinary cultivator—her qi radiated at the peak of Qi Condensation Realm, a prodigy's strength. He, barely touching the Foundation Realm, was outmatched. But the Jade Sovereign's instincts whispered in his bones, urging him to fight.
She laughed, stepping onto the arena's edge. "Big words for someone who barely survived a Shadowfang Wolf. Let's see if your brains match your bravado." The crowd murmured, catching her challenge. Wei Chen felt their eyes—elders, cousins, rivals—all waiting for him to fail.
Before he could retort, a ripple of qi swept through the arena, soft as a breeze but heavy with intent. The crowd parted, and a figure approached: a young woman in flowing white robes, her hair adorned with jade pins that shimmered like stars. Su Meilin, the Celestial Jade Palace's envoy, carried herself with a serenity that silenced the chatter. Her eyes, pale as moonstone, locked onto Wei Chen, and for a moment, he felt a tug in his chest, as if the jade tablet recognized her.
"Lady Su," an elder greeted, bowing low. "Your presence honors us."
Su Meilin inclined her head, her voice gentle but clear. "I am here to observe, Elder Wei. The Celestial Jade Palace has… interests in this tournament." Her gaze flickered to Wei Chen, lingering on the spot where the tablet hid. He tensed, masking his unease with a casual shrug.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Another prodigy to make my day harder."
Lin Xiyue caught his words and snorted, tossing her head. "Worried, scholar? Don't cry when I knock you out in the first round." She strode onto the arena, drawing her sword—a sleek blade etched with flame-like runes. The crowd cheered, eager for the show.
The tournament began with a gong's resonant clang. Wei Chen watched the early matches, his mind half on the fights, half on the tablet. Its warmth flared whenever Su Meilin glanced his way, and the Jade Sovereign's memories stirred—images of a celestial court, a woman's voice promising loyalty, then darkness. He shook his head, focusing on the arena. He needed to survive this day before chasing ghosts.
His first opponent was Wei Liang, his cousin, a burly youth with a sneer as sharp as his spear. "Time to put you in your place, useless heir," Wei Liang said, twirling his weapon. His qi, mid-Qi Condensation, surged, sending dust swirling.
Wei Chen sighed, stepping onto the platform. "Liang, you've been saying that since we were kids. Try something new." The crowd chuckled, but Wei Liang's face darkened.
The match began, and Wei Liang charged, his spear a blur of silver. Wei Chen's frail body shouldn't have stood a chance, but the Jade Sovereign's instincts took over. He sidestepped, fluid as water, and traced the Jade Soul Scripture's patterns in his mind. A faint green light coated his hands, forming a shimmering shield. The spear struck it, sparking, and Wei Liang staggered, off-balance.
"Impossible!" Wei Liang roared, thrusting again. Wei Chen dodged, his movements precise, almost otherworldly. He didn't attack—his qi was too weak for offense—but each deflection drew gasps from the crowd. The useless heir was holding his own.
Lin Xiyue watched from the sidelines, her arms crossed, her grin fading into curiosity. "Not bad, scholar," she muttered. Beside her, Su Meilin's eyes narrowed, sensing the faint celestial qi in Wei Chen's shield. The jade tablet in his pocket pulsed, unnoticed by all but her.
Wei Liang's frustration boiled over. He unleashed a spear technique, Dragon's Piercing Fang, a wave of qi that tore across the arena. Wei Chen's shield cracked, and he stumbled, blood trickling from his lip. The crowd leaned forward, expecting his defeat. But a memory flashed: the Jade Sovereign, standing against a thousand blades, unyielding.
Wei Chen gritted his teeth, channeling every drop of qi into his hands. The shield reformed, stronger, and he lunged, not with a weapon, but with a palm strike infused with Jade Soul Scripture. The blow caught Wei Liang's chest, sending him skidding off the platform. The arena fell silent, then erupted in cheers.
Wei Chen stood, panting, his tunic torn. "Not so useless now, am I?" he said, flashing a grin at Wei Liang, who glared from the ground.
The elders exchanged stunned glances. "His meridians… they're open?" one whispered. "Impossible."
Lin Xiyue stepped forward, clapping slowly. "Not terrible, scholar. But you're still a long way from impressing me." Her tone was teasing, but her eyes held a spark of respect—and something else, a flicker of interest that made Wei Chen's pulse skip.
Before he could respond, Su Meilin approached, her robes whispering against the stone. "Wei Chen," she said, her voice soft but piercing. "Your technique… it's unusual. May we speak after the tournament?" Her gaze was calm, but it carried a weight that made the tablet burn against his chest.
"Uh, sure," Wei Chen said, scratching his neck, feigning nonchalance. "If I survive her." He jerked a thumb at Lin Xiyue, who smirked.
"You'll need more than luck for that," she shot back, striding to the arena's center. "Next round, you're mine."
The gong sounded, and the next matches blurred past. Wei Chen faced two more opponents—minor clan disciples, easily outmaneuvered with his borrowed instincts. Each victory strengthened the qi in his meridians, like a river carving a new path. But his eyes kept drifting to Lin Xiyue, her sword dances a whirlwind of flame and precision, and to Su Meilin, whose serene presence hid a storm he couldn't name.
The final match of the day pitted him against Lin Xiyue. The crowd roared as she took the platform, her blade gleaming under the sun. "No shields this time, scholar," she said, twirling her sword. "Show me what you've got."
Wei Chen stepped up, his dagger from the shrine in hand. It was no match for her spirit-grade blade, but it was all he had. "Careful what you wish for, sword maiden," he said, his grin masking the strain in his body. His qi was nearly spent, but the Jade Sovereign's pride burned brighter.
The match began, and Lin Xiyue struck like lightning, her Flame Blossom Strike sending arcs of fiery qi across the arena. Wei Chen dodged, his movements a blend of mortal agility and celestial grace. The crowd gasped as he parried a blow with his dagger, the jade runes flaring briefly. Lin Xiyue's eyes widened, but her grin grew.
"Not bad!" she called, spinning into another strike. "But you're still too slow!"
Wei Chen's shield flickered, barely holding. He needed an edge. The tablet's warmth surged, and a fragment of memory surfaced: a stance, Jade Sovereign's Step, a movement technique that bent space itself. He shifted, his body blurring, and appeared behind Lin Xiyue, his dagger grazing her sleeve.
The crowd erupted. Lin Xiyue whirled, her face a mix of shock and delight. "Oh, you're full of surprises!" She unleashed a barrage of strikes, forcing Wei Chen back. His qi faltered, and her blade nicked his arm, drawing blood.
"Give up yet?" she taunted, but her tone was playful, almost fond.
"Never," Wei Chen shot back, dodging another strike. He poured his remaining qi into a final Jade Soul Scripture palm strike, aiming not to win, but to prove a point. The green light clashed with her fiery qi, and the arena shook, dust rising in clouds.
When it cleared, both stood, breathless, weapons lowered. The match was a draw. The crowd roared, stunned by the useless heir's performance. Lin Xiyue sheathed her sword, stepping close. "You're not what you seem, Wei Chen," she said, voice low, her breath warm against his ear. "I like that."
Before he could respond, a cold prickle ran down his spine. The tablet burned, and Su Meilin's voice cut through the cheers. "Wei Chen, we must talk. Now." Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, he saw fear in them—fear, and something ancient.
As the crowd dispersed, Wei Chen felt the weight of two gazes: Lin Xiyue's playful challenge, and Su Meilin's quiet intensity. The jade tablet pulsed, a silent warning. Whatever he'd awakened last night, it was only the beginning.