The sparring ring was a circle of packed dirt at the base of the training cliffs. By first bell, it was surrounded.
Word had spread. The useless Soul Attendant had challenged Zhang Wei, a newly-minted Flame-Spark Striker with a reputation for brutality. It was comedy. It was tragedy. It was the best entertainment the outer disciples had seen in weeks.
Zhou Kai stood at the eastern edge. The empty sheath hung at his hip. The smooth stone was in his pocket. His face was calm.
Inside, his mind was a quiet, dark lake. At the bottom of that lake, a shape rested. Patient. Heavy. Ready.
Zhang Wei swaggered into the western ring. He wore practice leathers. His dao blade, real and sharp, was in his hand. A violation of sparring rules. No one stopped him.
"Changed your mind, attendant?" Zhang Wei called, spinning his blade. It caught the morning sun. "You can kneel now. Save us all time."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Zhou Kai said nothing. He walked to the ring's center. He didn't draw a weapon. There was nothing to draw.
The overseeing disciple, a bored-looking inner named Fen, shrugged. "No first blood. Yield or incapacitation. Begin."
He stepped back.
Zhang Wei didn't wait. He surged forward, blade low. A simple, aggressive lunge. He aimed for Zhou Kai's thigh. A cruel cut to hobble him, to make him fall.
Zhou Kai didn't dodge.
He shifted his weight, turning his hip just so. The empty sheath swung forward.
The dao blade's edge missed his leg by an inch and struck the leather sheath with a sharp thwack.
It should have cut through. It didn't.
The sheath absorbed the impact without a mark. A faint, purple shimmer, like heat haze, rippled where the blade struck.
[Sheath integrity: 100%.]
[Impact absorbed by void-buffer.]
[Kinetic energy stored: low.]
Zhang Wei's eyes widened. He recoiled, staring at his blade, then at the sheath. "What cheap trick is that?"
"No trick," Zhou Kai said. His voice was flat. "You missed."
The crowd murmured. They'd seen it too. The sheath had eaten the strike.
Anger flushed Zhang Wei's face. He came again, faster. A proper technique this time—Flame-Spark Striker's basic form, "Ember's Path." His blade traced a zig-zag, gathering faint heat haze around its edge. He aimed for Zhou Kai's shoulder.
Zhou Kai moved.
It wasn't a grand leap. It was a small, precise step back and to the side. The blade hissed past his robe. Again, he used his body to position the sheath. The tip of the dao scraped along the leather.
Screee.
The sound set teeth on edge. Another purple shimmer.
[Kinetic energy stored: medium.]
[Warning: Sheath is not a shield. Recommend active defense.]
Zhou Kai felt the stored energy in the void-space. A vibration. A potential.
Zhang Wei was breathing harder now. Frustration boiled over. "Stop dancing, you coward! Fight!"
He abandoned technique. He charged, blade raised high for a heavy, overhead chop.
This was the moment.
Zhou Kai didn't retreat. He stepped in.
As the blade descended, he dropped his center of gravity. He didn't block with the sheath. He presented it.
The chop landed.
THUMM.
The sound was deep, resonant. A visible pulse of void-purple light flashed from the sheath's mouth. The force of the blow didn't throw Zhou Kai back. It sank into the void.
And then it returned.
[Stored energy released: directional feedback.]
Zhou Kai didn't swing. He simply twisted his hip.
A concussive wave of force, the same color as the void, erupted from the sheath in a horizontal arc. It was silent. It was invisible to most. But its effect was not.
It struck Zhang Wei square in the chest.
The big disciple flew backward. Not far—three feet. He landed on his back in the dirt, the wind blasted from his lungs. His dao clattered from his hand.
Silence.
Total, stunned silence.
Zhou Kai stood straight. The sheath smoked faintly, a wisp of purple-grey vapor. He looked down at Zhang Wei, who was wheezing, trying to sit up.
"You hit my sheath three times," Zhou Kai said, loud enough for the ring. "It hit you back once. Yield?"
The crowd erupted.
"He cheated!"
"What was that?"
"The sheath moved!"
"That's not Soul Attendant stuff!"
Overseer Fen stepped forward, his boredom gone. He looked from Zhou Kai to the sheath, his eyes sharp. "Discipline Zhou. Explain."
"The symbol absorbs and redirects force," Zhou Kai said, reciting a half-truth he'd prepared. "A defensive function of the Soul Attendant class. To protect others by absorbing blows." He gestured to the gasping Zhang Wei. "He struck with intent to main. The symbol… defended me."
Fen's gaze was piercing. He walked over, picked up Zhang Wei's dao, and examined the edge. It was slightly dulled where it had struck the sheath. He looked at Zhou Kai's hip. No mark. No tear.
"Unorthodox," Fen finally said. "But not against the rules. Zhang Wei. Can you continue?"
Zhang Wei staggered to his feet, face purple with rage and humiliation. "I'll kill you!" He snatched his blade back.
"Yield or be incapacitated," Fen said, his voice cold. "Your choice."
Zhang Wei screamed and charged again. Wild. Unbalanced.
This time, Zhou Kai didn't use the sheath.
He thought a single command, down into the quiet lake of his mind.
Stone. Assist.
[Deploying Blade: Stone. Partial manifestation authorized.]
Zhou Kai's right arm changed.
From shoulder to fingertip, his skin took on a grey, textured cast. Not fully stone, but layered like slate. His fingers thickened. His weight settled into the earth.
Zhang Wei's wild swing came.
Zhou Kai—his arm moving with a geological surety—reached out and caught the blade.
Bare-handed.
The metal edge bit into stone-flesh, screeched, and stopped. It cut perhaps a millimeter deep, then stuck. No blood. Just a gritty, grinding sound.
Zhou Kai's stone-gripped fingers closed.
Crack.
The dao blade snapped six inches from the hilt.
The ringing fracture silenced everything. Zhang Wei stared at the broken sword in his hand, then at Zhou Kai's stone-textured arm, which was already softening, fading back to normal flesh. A thin, shallow cut remained on Zhou Kai's palm. It bled slowly, dark red.
[Partial manifestation sustained for 4.2 seconds.]
[Physical cost: low. Spiritual cost: moderate.]
[Blade synchronization: 18%.]
Zhou Kai flexed his hand. The cut stung. It felt real. Honest.
"My symbol," Zhou Kai said, his voice carrying in the dead quiet, "is not a sword. It is a sheath. It holds. It endures." He looked at his bleeding palm, then at Zhang Wei. "And sometimes, what it holds is harder than what strikes it."
He turned to Overseer Fen. "I believe he is incapacitated."
Fen nodded slowly, his eyes locked on Zhou Kai's now-normal hand. "Victory. To Zhou Kai."
The crowd didn't cheer. They were too confused. Too unsettled. They'd seen an arm turn to stone. They'd seen an empty sheath repel a blade. The world had tilted.
Zhou Kai walked out of the ring. The disciples parted for him, their earlier mockery replaced by wary silence.
He didn't go to the infirmary. He went to the back of the herb gardens, where a small, ice-cold stream cut through the rocks. He needed to clean the cut. To think.
The stream was secluded. Ferns hung over the banks. The air smelled of wet soil and mint.
Zhou Kai knelt, cupped water in his good hand, and rinsed the cut. The blood swirled away, diluted to pink.
"That was stupid."
The voice came from upstream. Soft. Analytical.
A girl knelt there, washing herbs in a bamboo basket. She had dark hair tied simply, and eyes that noticed everything. Ling Yue. An outer disciple in the Herbalist track. Quiet. Unnoticed. Like him.
"What was?" Zhou Kai asked, not looking up.
"Letting him cut you." She wrung out a leaf of silvervein. "You could have ended it when you threw him. Or when you broke the sword. But you let him mark you. Why?"
Zhou Kai studied his palm. The cut was clean, shallow. "Proof."
"Proof of what?"
"That I can bleed." He finally looked at her. "Otherwise, it's just another trick. A monster. This… this makes it human."
Ling Yue considered this. She placed her herbs aside and walked over. She didn't ask permission. She took his hand, turning it to the light. Her fingers were cool, precise.
"The stone-skin," she said. "Not a transformation technique. The Qi pattern was all wrong. It was… internal. Like you wore a second skin that was always there." She looked at his eyes. "And the sheath. It doesn't just hold things. It holds energy. It converted kinetic force into void-resonance. That's not Soul Attendant lore."
"You know a lot about lore."
"I pay attention." She released his hand. From a small pouch at her belt, she took a pinch of green powder and sprinkled it on his cut. The sting vanished instantly. The skin knitted, leaving only a faint pink line. "Herbalist," she said, by way of explanation.
"Thank you."
She nodded, returning to her basket. "They'll come for you now, you know. Not just bullies. The curious. The threatened. The elders. You showed two impossible things before breakfast."
"I know."
"What will you show them next?"
Zhou Kai stood. The sheath felt heavier. "Whatever I need to."
He turned to leave.
"Zhou Kai."
He paused.
"The stone on your arm," she said, her back to him. "It wasn't angry. It was patient. It waited for the blade to come to it. That's a very old kind of strength." She glanced over her shoulder. "Don't let them make you forget that."
He didn't know how to answer. He nodded and walked away.
The rest of the day was a string of consequences.
Foreman Bo was at the mining corps office. He'd heard. He looked at Zhou Kai with new, calculating eyes. "Gallery Twelve is yours alone. Triple quota stands. No questions asked." It was a bargain. Silence for productivity.
Elder Mu, the stoic master of outer disciple assignments, summoned him at noon.
The elder's chamber was spare. Scrolls of discipline lined the walls. Elder Mu sat behind a plain desk, his fingers steepled. He didn't speak for a full minute.
"The report says you used a 'defensive class function,'" Elder Mu finally said. "I have reviewed Awakening records for the last century. No Soul Attendant has ever manifested kinetic redirection or… transient petrification."
Zhou Kai stood straight. "This one has, Elder."
"Do not play word games with me, disciple." Elder Mu's voice was low. "What are you?"
The question hung in the still air.
Zhou Kai met his gaze. "A disciple of the Sect. A Soul Attendant. My symbol is unusual. I am… exploring its limits."
"Exploration is permitted. Deception is not." Elder Mu leaned forward. "Zhang Wei's family is influential. They are calling your victory an 'anomaly.' They demand re-testing. They suggest your Awakening was flawed. Or falsified."
A cold knot formed in Zhou Kai's stomach.
"I will oppose this," Elder Mu said. "Not for you. For the integrity of the Awakening Stone. But my opposition has a price."
"Elder?"
"Show me." Elder Mu's eyes were flint. "Not a trick. Not a redirect. Show me the core of what you did today. One clean demonstration. Here. Now."
It was a test. A dangerous one.
Zhou Kai looked around the sealed chamber. No witnesses. Just stone, wood, and a powerful elder whose motives were unknown.
[Environmental scan: secure. No hostile intent detected. High spiritual pressure.]
[Elder Mu's cultivation base: Core Formation (estimated).]
[Risk assessment: elevated. Truth required.]
[Recommendation: Deploy Stone. Full visual. Limited duration.]
Zhou Kai took a deep breath. He reached into the quiet lake.
Stone. Come forth.
[Deploying Blade: Stone. Full manifestation.]
The air before Zhou Kai thickened with mineral dust. From the ground, from the very stone of the chamber, particles gathered. From the void within the sheath, the core fragment flowed.
Stone coalesced into its full form in three heartbeats. There it stood. A statue given life. Silent. Still. Its stone tool-blade in hand.
Elder Mu did not startle. He did not exclaim. His breath caught, just once. He stood slowly, circling the Blade. He saw the strata-like seams, the smooth face, the undeniable presence.
"A construct," the elder whispered. "But not. It's part of you. I can feel the thread."
"It is my first Blade," Zhou Kai said, the truth loosening something in his chest. "Forged from patience. It mines. It endures. It protects."
"How many?" Elder Mu asked, his voice tight.
"Six, when fully forged. This is the first."
Elder Mu stopped his circling. He looked from Stone to Zhou Kai to the empty sheath. His stern face underwent a subtle shift. The anger faded. A deep, weary understanding took its place.
"A sheath," he murmured. "Not for one sword. For six." He closed his eyes. "The Void Sword Saint lineage was declared extinct three millennia ago. Their symbol was an empty sheath. Their technique: soul fragmentation into autonomous Blades."
Zhou Kai's blood ran cold. He knew the name from vague, fleeting dreams. But to hear it aloud…
Elder Mu opened his eyes. "If I report this, you will be dissected. Studied. Torn apart by every power in the continent. Your Blades would be taken as artifacts. Your soul would be mapped until it unraveled."
He walked back to his desk. Sat heavily.
"You will remain a Soul Attendant. You will report to the mines. You will be forgettable. And you will tell no one else. Not your friends. Not your rivals. No one." His gaze was iron. "This secret is a mountain on your back. You must carry it, or it will crush you."
Zhou Kai bowed, deeply. "I understand."
"I will handle Zhang Wei's family. Your victory stands. Your 'anomaly' will be recorded as a rare Soul Attendant mutation. Unexplained, but tolerated." Elder Mu waved a hand. "Dismiss the construct."
Zhou Kai willed it. Stone dissolved into dust, flowing back into the sheath.
[Blade sheathed.]
[Spiritual fatigue: high.]
[Advised: Rest.]
Elder Mu looked at the empty space where Stone had been. "The sheath is not a symbol of weakness," he said, almost to himself. "It is a promise of readiness." He focused on Zhou Kai. "Be ready, disciple. The world does not love what it cannot categorize."
Zhou Kai bowed again and left.
Night fell.
Zhou Kai lay on his thin bunk in the silent dormitory. The cut on his palm was a faint line. The smooth stone was on his chest, rising and falling with his breath.
The day replayed in his mind. The shock in Zhang Wei's eyes. Ling Yue's cool, knowing fingers. Elder Mu's grim protection.
He had won. He had survived. He had also painted a target on his back that only one elder could see.
He touched the sheath, hanging on the bedpost.
[Daily summary logged.]
[Combat analysis: Victory. Tactical rating: satisfactory.]
[Public perception shifted: Pity → Wariness → Fear.]
[New contact: Ling Yue (Herbalist). Threat level: low. Curiosity level: high.]
[Protector acquired: Elder Mu. Motive: legacy preservation. Stability: conditional.]
[Spiritual reserves: 41%. Recovery estimate: 12 hours.]
He focused inward. The quiet lake was calmer now. Stone rested at the bottom, a comforting weight. The other five shapes still slept. But one of them, the next in the sequence, seemed to ripple. It felt fluid. Adaptable.
[Next forge: Water Blade.]
[Prerequisite: Qi Condensation Stage 30.]
[Current stage: 3.]
[Progress accelerated by combat exertion and spiritual stress.]
[Projection: 27 stages remaining.]
He had moved. Only a fraction. But he had moved.
From the bunk below, a disciple whispered, "Hey. Zhou Kai. That thing with your arm… can you teach it?"
Zhou Kai stared at the ceiling. "No," he said softly. "It's not something you learn. It's something you are."
Silence.
Then, from another bunk: "Are you still… you? Or are you, like, a spirit now?"
Zhou Kai thought of Stone's patience. Of the void's cold acceptance. Of Ling Yue's careful hands. Of the cut that proved he could bleed.
"I'm still me," he said. "I'm just more than I look."
No one else spoke.
He closed his eyes. In the darkness behind his lids, the void-log's faint purple text persisted, a silent companion.
[The sheath holds the first blade.]
[The cut is healed.]
[The secret is kept.]
[The path is long.]
[Continue.]
Outside, a night bird called. The wind moved through the pines.
Zhou Kai slept. And in his sleep, he dreamed not of stone, but of deep, flowing water, patient in its course, carving canyons from impossible rock.