Chương 51: Two Breaths Too Late

Xie Lan covered nine zhang in three breaths and arrived two breaths too late. Tang Yi's blade was already falling. His form was textbook Lingmen third-year, which meant it was designed for sparring partners who weighed less than a cart horse and didn't have tusks the length of a forearm. The beast, a ridge-backed thing with too many joints in its spine, caught the sword on the bony plate above its eye and shoved. Tang Yi's boots left the ground. He hit the wall-stones two zhang back.

His father's sword stayed in his hand. Credit where it was earned. The second beast came from the north, low and fast, circling behind while its partner held attention. Pack tactics. Foundation-equivalent qi pulsing through muscle that had no business being that coordinated. These weren't the mindless things from the first wave.

"Three Turnings. One loop. Aim for the northern one's hind tendon."

"My channels are still—""One loop. Two breaths. Your body can hold two breaths." Tang Yi was getting up. Blood from the jaw wound had soaked his collar black. His sword came up in the Mountain-Root guard designed for larger opponents, and the ridge-backed beast was already charging again, and the northern one was five zhang from Tang Yi's exposed flank. Xie Lan pulled qi through his fractured fourth meridian and felt it like swallowing broken pottery. One loop of Three Turnings Flow.

Foundation-stage technique in a Qi Refining body. The qi gathered at his palm, amber-hot and wrong, too dense for the channels carrying it, and he threw it at the northern beast's hind leg from four zhang out. The pulse hit the tendon junction behind the knee. The beast's leg folded. It went down hard, sliding on the wall-stones, claws scoring white lines in the formation-carved granite. Its momentum carried it half a zhang past Tang Yi's position. Close. Too close. His fourth meridian split wider.

Fresh fracture on top of old fracture. Blood hit the back of his teeth. He swallowed it. Tang Yi was fighting. The ridge-backed beast lunged and Tang Yi sidestepped, sword cutting across its flank where the bony plates didn't cover. The blade bit shallow. The beast screamed. Tang Yi cut again, same spot, deeper. Good instinct. Find the weak point, stay on it. The northern beast was getting up. One leg dragging but the other three functional, and Foundation-equivalent beasts did not stop when you asked them nicely.

Xie Lan's vision grayed at the edges. His qi reserves were at dregs. His fourth meridian was actively bleeding internally. Su Yan's presence in his chest felt thin, stretched, the masking strain compounding with the technique cost.

"Don't."

"Wasn't going to." He picked up a loose formation-stone from the wall's edge. Fist-sized. Dense. He threw it at the northern beast's damaged leg. It hit. The beast screamed again, turned toward him instead of Tang Yi. Good. Xie Lan had approximately nothing left to fight it with, but at least it wasn't flanking Tang Yi anymore. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The beast lunged. Xie Lan dropped flat.

It sailed over him, claws raking the air where his chest had been. He rolled, came up on one knee, and his body informed him with great specificity that rolling was no longer an approved activity. Tang Yi's sword punched through the ridge-backed beast's eye socket. The creature dropped. Tang Yi pulled the blade free, pivoted, and drove it into the northern beast's exposed throat from behind as it wheeled back toward Xie Lan. Two beasts. Down.

Tang Yi stood over the second corpse, chest heaving, sword dripping something that steamed in the cold air. His jaw wound had reopened fully. His left arm hung wrong. Xie Lan stayed on one knee because standing was ambitious.

"What," Tang Yi said between breaths, "was that."

"Lucky reflex." Xie Lan managed to smile. It probably looked terrible.

"My uncle's breathing technique has a—""Don't." Tang Yi pointed the sword at him. Trembling.

"Don't give me the uncle story again." Fair enough.

"Can you stand?" Tang Yi's voice shifted. Still angry, still suspicious, but his grip on the sword had loosened and the point had dropped, the aggression draining out of his posture even as his jaw stayed tight.

"Give me a second."

"You're bleeding from your mouth."

"Bit my tongue when I dropped." Tang Yi stared at him. The sword lowered. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing the same way they had in the plum courtyard — cataloguing, storing, the gap between what he'd just seen and what a seventeenth-ranked outer disciple should be capable of growing too wide to ignore. Footsteps on the wall-stones behind them. Running. Xie Lan turned, expecting Old Bao or one of the Station Three guards.

Instead: a young man in Cangshi Peak grey, sash embroidered with the archive seal, moving at a speed that said this errand had priority weight behind it. The messenger stopped three paces from them. His eyes tracked the dead beasts, Tang Yi's bloody sword, Xie Lan kneeling in the formation-scored stone. He did not comment.

"Outer Disciple Xie Lan?"

"Present." The messenger produced a sealed document case from his sleeve. Bamboo and lacquer, the green-and-gold of a Wei-authorized communication.

"Elder Wei Ziyuan extends the second stage of your candidacy examination. You are to interpret the enclosed historical document and provide your written analysis within one incense-stick's duration." He set the case on the wall-stone between them.

"Writing materials are enclosed. The incense is already lit." He bowed once and left. Tang Yi stared at the case.

"They're testing you. Now. During a beast tide." Xie Lan looked at the case. Looked at his hands. They were shaking. Fourth meridian damage, qi depletion, and the lovely full-body tremor of a Qi Refining cultivator who'd just forced Foundation-stage work through channels that weren't built for it.

"Apparently." He crawled forward and opened the case. Inside: a single sheet of aged paper, calligraphy brush, ink stone, and a slim incense stick already burning in its holder. Maybe a quarter gone already from the messenger's travel time. Breaths ago he'd been throwing qi at a beast's leg. Now he was kneeling in blood and ichor, opening a writing case. Two lifetimes of absurd situations and this was a new entry on the list. The document was old.

Reproduction, not original, but faithful enough that the brushstrokes still carried intent. Formal Lingxiao administrative script, maybe eighty years old based on the character variants. He read the header. Regarding the Matter of Disciple Zhao Mingyan's Severance Inquiry, as Presented to the Third Seat of Cangshi Peak. His stomach dropped. A note from T. J. Cheng: If you're enjoying this, I'd love to have you on the email list — chapter updates, world notes, and the occasional behind-the-scenes thought.

You can sign up at https: //tjcheng. substack. com. I spent way too long on Tang Yi's 'don't give me the uncle story again' — I wanted the moment where Xie Lan's cover stories start visibly fraying. Did that beat land for you, or did the fight sequence carry too much momentum past it? I read every comment. Drop yours below — I'd love to know what you think.

📖 Glossary (new terms in this part) Mountain-Root guard — A defensive sword stance from the Lingmen curriculum, designed for holding ground against larger opponents. Tang Yi's go-to when outweighed.