Chapter 4

Eithan stood on Lindon's right, and he gave a cheery wave when he saw Lindon, his smile as bright as ever.

Opposite him was Jai Daishou, the Patriarch of the Jai clan. An old man, he wore white robes with highlights of blue, and his white hair ran in a straight river down his back. Thanks to the Goldsign of the Path of the Stellar Spear, his hair was a collection of metal strands that reflected bright in the sunlight. He gripped a blue-hafted spear in his right hand, grinding its butt against the stone of the floor.

He had deteriorated since Lindon had last seen him.

The last time, Jai Daishou had looked like a fit man in his eighties. His back had been as straight as his spear, and his eyes were sharp. Now, his back was curved as the branch of an old tree, and his eyes were half-lidded, as though it was a strain to keep them open. He held his spear, not like he was ready to use it, but as though it was the only thing holding him up.

He may have been an Underlord, but he had one foot in the underworld. Lindon had spent long hours hoping he would die before this duel—if he was gone, the Arelius family would have nothing at stake here. It would purely be a duel between Lindon and Jai Long.

In that case, the Skysworn wouldn't have checked the surroundings for traps. Lindon could have cheated to his heart's content.

They must have just arrived, because Eithan didn't greet his opposite until Lindon was close enough to hear. “Jai Daishou! You're in good health, it seems. Better than last I saw you.”

The Jai Underlord's hand shot up to his chest, clawing at the center, as though his heart were seizing up at that moment. His wrinkled face twisted in hatred, but his voice was clear as he responded. “This is a waste of my time. Without your tricks, this duel is already over. You should have had the boy's head delivered to me on a plate and saved us all a day's travel.”

“I asked him about that,” Eithan said. “He told me he prefers his head where it is.”

That was a true story. While Lindon had been practicing with Fisher Gesha, Eithan had looked up from his book and suggested that this whole thing could be resolved if they just delivered Lindon's severed head to the enemy. It would look bad for the Arelius, but losing an official duel would be worse, because there would be a public record of their shame.

Lindon had politely requested to keep his head attached.

There were three other people in the room, but Lindon had focused on the two Patriarchs first.

Another old man stood in the center, equally distant from both Underlords. He wore the green armor of the Skysworn, but there was something on his back sticking up from his shoulders. Was he wearing a backpack?

He wasn’t as ancient as Jai Daishou seemed to be, but he still looked like he could be Lindon’s grandfather. His build was still powerful, and he wore his green Skysworn armor more naturally than Renfei or Bai Rou, as though he had been born in it. Its plates were so scuffed and dented that the armor might well be as old as he was.

His gray hair was long and matted, hanging down in tangled curtains. A large patch of his face was scarred and twisted, as though it had been burned, and he wore a large sword strapped to his back.

His scratched armor, dirty hair, and scorched face didn’t make him look weak to Lindon. It was the opposite, if anything. He looked like a man who belonged on a battlefield.

The old man chewed on a leaf that stuck halfway out of his mouth, regarding Lindon with a weary expression. “All right, all right. On behalf of the Blackflame Empire, I witness this duel between Jai Daishou of the Jai clan and Eithan Arelius of the Arelius family. As an Underlord and Captain of the Skysworn sect, I, Naru Gwei, certify upon my word of honor that no tampering has occurred at the venue before my arrival, and I will not tolerate any further interference by outside parties during the duel itself.”

Every word was hammered in like a nail, as though he were reciting something while desperately wishing he could be anywhere else.

“It's a joy to have you here, Gwei,” Eithan said happily. “Of all the duel adjudicators in the Empire, you're still the highest-ranked, aren't you? It's honestly a pleasure, a pleasure, to have such an esteemed—”

“Eithan, one more word out of you and I will personally beat you down into the center of the mountain.” Naru Gwei gnawed on his leaf as he spoke, still looking as though he'd rather be in bed. “I don't have any love for the Jai clan, but as for you, if I saw you on fire I'd hold an umbrella for you so the rain didn't put you out.”

“I don't feel like that's entirely warranted.”

Lindon's heart was already hammering as the duel loomed over him and he tried not to look at the red-masked man standing behind Jai Daishou, but his heartbeat quickened and his stomach soured when he realized that Eithan had antagonized the judge. What had he done? Would Naru Gwei interfere on Jai Long's behalf?

“Wei Shi Lindon Arelius,” the Skysworn Captain said, “go stand next to your Underlord and face your opposite. Wipe that smile off your face, Eithan. Heavens above, it sickens me to look at you.”

Lindon stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Eithan...but slid away slightly. The less he could associate himself with Eithan in the judge's mind, the better. For Eithan's part, he looked as though he were enjoying himself immensely.

With no other choice, Lindon finally looked at the two people standing behind Jai Daishou.

He didn't mind seeing Jai Chen. About his age, she was small and pale, with soft black hair that tumbled down past her shoulders. Her wide eyes were fixed on the judge in an expression of concern, but when she saw Lindon looking at her, she turned to him. She was dressed in powder-blue robes cut longer and looser than the traditional sacred artist's robes, and her sleeves hid her hands until she raised one in his direction.

She didn't smile—she still looked worried—but at least she had acknowledged him. That was a friendly gesture, right? He hoped the Blackflame Empire didn't have a history of acknowledging enemies with the wave of a hand.

He smiled tightly, the closest to a friendly expression he could manage with his stomach twisting, and nodded to her.

Then, for the first time since entering, he finally looked straight at his opponent.

Jai Long was already watching him.

His dark eyes glistened through a gap in the strips of red cloth that wrapped his head completely. He was tall and lithe, his robes dark blue, and he held his spear at his side.

Lindon brightened when he saw that spear—it wasn't a shaft of pure white, the signature weapon of the Jai clan's ancestor. That spear could steal madra, and this one was a mundane weapon of wood and metal.

Jai Long raised his own hand to Lindon, which returned concerns that perhaps this gesture was meant to show respect to an enemy. He couldn't see anything of his opponent's expression beneath the mask, but he decided to take the gesture as cordial and raised his own right hand.

Naru Gwei looked from Lindon to Jai Long, ensuring their attention was on him, before he took the leaf out of his mouth and spoke. “This is a duel for pride. As such, the champions will fight to death or incapacitation. I am here to ensure that the Underlords cannot interfere, so fight without reserve. The bounds of your battle shall be confined to this room; if it seems you will breach those bounds, I will return you by force.”

He slid the leaf back into his lips and continued talking, but now it no longer sounded like he was quoting. “Even though this is a...Lowgold with a second, weaker core...against a Truegold, it's still a fight between two great families. It will reflect official rankings, as well as the reputation of both powers. If you can resolve your differences, do so now.”

He didn't sound like he had much hope for that to happen.

Lindon thought back to what he'd heard from the others over the intervening months of his imprisonment. The Arelius family was dangerously under-funded since the attack of the Jai clan, but the Jai clan's reputation was at an all-time low. Some merchant organizations refused to deal with the Jai clan anymore, either because of their weakness or because of the poor form they'd shown in suddenly attacking the Arelius family's workers.

Attacking them and failing was the real sin, as Lindon understood it. If Jai Daishou had succeeded in killing Eithan, and the rest of his fighters had crippled the Arelius family work force, the other Underlords of the Blackflame Empire would have considered it a clever move.

On top of all that, their Underlord didn't have long to live. In this case, it would only take one pebble to start an avalanche that buried them.

But it was down to Lindon to be that pebble.

He gathered himself, mentally running down the four construct-weapons that he had been allowed to keep. They would be of limited use compared to the ones he had been denied, but his plans would still work with them. He hoped.

“Step to the center of the room and face your enemy,” Naru Gwei said, walking over to the open side of the room. He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against a column, not seeming to care about the sheer drop behind him. “Everyone else, back up. I'll be protecting the duel from you, not you from the duel.”

Eithan not only backed up, but sat down, propping his back against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing one ankle over another. He looked like he was making himself comfortable at a picnic.

Casting worried glances at the participants, Jai Chen followed Jai Daishou as he slowly made his way over to another end of the room.

They left Jai Long and Lindon with plenty of open space around them. And nothing to watch but each other. For Lindon's part, his enemy seemed to swell and fill the entire world.

It felt too soon.

It had been a year, an entire year since he stood at the peak of the Transcendent Ruins. That didn't feel real. Where had the time gone? It couldn't possibly have been a year; he felt cheated.

Suddenly, he felt like running to Eithan and begging out. Someone had made a mistake—he wasn't ready yet. He needed more time.

“Exchange greetings,” Naru Gwei commanded.

Jai Long pressed his fists together, holding his spear in the crook of his elbow, and gave a shallow bow. His eyes didn't leave Lindon.

Mechanically, Lindon's body returned the gesture. His mind was still floating in disbelief. Was he really here?

“I have to thank you for healing my sister,” Jai Long said. “You killed my brother, but you gave me my sister back. For my part, we're even.”

That jostled Lindon awake, and he rushed to speak. “We can walk away! I have no grudge against you.”

“If it were up to me, I would have called it off already. I would never fight for the Jai clan at all.” He spun his spear up to grip it in both hands, lowering himself into a stance and pointing the spearhead at Lindon. “But it isn't up to me. I will be as gentle as I can.”

Some of Lindon's nerves retreated. If his enemy was taking it easy on him, then maybe he had a better chance than he’d imagined.

“Ready yourselves,” Naru Gwei said. Lindon leaned forward onto the balls of his feet, flexing his knees, ready to run. Jai Long's fists tightened on his weapon. Madra spun through Lindon's channels even as wind spun through the open space.

Whether he liked it or not, the time was here. And he was ready.

“Begin,” the Skysworn Underlord said, and a thunderclap tore the air between the two fighters.

Lindon shot forward.

I’d contend he thinks of you like a Blackflame, Yerin had told him. He’ll want to hold off and block your first technique. Break through it.

Lindon activated the purple bracelet wrapping his right wrist, casting his hand forward. A bright purple line shot forward like a whip, its tip blue-white.

Back in the Desolate Wilds, the Fishers had a technique they called the Snare. It used their connection madra to stick to prey, which they could then reel in with raw strength. Fisher Gesha had brought a Fisher Remnant from home, and when she and Lindon dissected it, they had found a Snare binding.

When they made it into a construct, they built some modifications. Now, the technique inside the purple bracelet was called the Void Snare.

Jai Long had the speed to intercept the technique, of course. He was a Truegold. He swept his spear through it, but his weapon only passed through the line of Fisher madra and was stuck. The string had no physical substance, but drew objects toward Lindon.

And the tip of the whip, the shining blue-white tip, struck Jai Long in the shoulder.

Inserting pure madra into an opponent's body wouldn't work exactly like the Empty Palm. That technique was designed to disrupt an enemy's body, interrupting their control over their entire spirit, and it had to land on the core.

This was more of a localized pulse, like the sting of a needle compared to the stab of a sword. When the tip of the whip hit Jai Long's shoulder, it discharged its payload of pure madra.

The power in his shoulder was disrupted. Not enough to prevent him from using his sacred arts, but enough to keep him from breaking the line for just a moment.

A moment was enough. With all his strength, Lindon pulled.

His strength was nothing next to Jai Long's, and of course the Truegold resisted. But Lindon wasn't trying to pull his enemy to him.

Quite the opposite.

Lindon pulled himself forward, launching himself toward his opponent.

Struck by the Void Snare, it took half a breath before Jai Long could muster his madra and blow the purple line apart with white light. By the time he managed it, breaking the technique, Lindon was already inside spear range.

“A good fight is a short fight,” Orthos said. “A dragon uses his full strength, whether he's fighting a Sage or a mouse.”

End it quickly.

Lindon had already pulled the launcher from his waist: a crackling bar of living lightning that had once been the wrist-bones of a Remnant. The binding inside snapped with power; it wasn't just lightning, there was more to it, but Lindon didn't need to understand the Path of this strange Remnant to use its power.

He activated the construct, and an arrow of sizzling light blasted Jai Long.

Jai Long's motions blurred as he pulled his spear back, sweeping it vertically in front of himself, leaving a trail of white light on the air. That white light bloomed into a hissing serpent, which was instantly torn apart by the blast from Lindon's launcher.

Lindon could feel the construct snap as he used it—he wouldn't get a second shot. That was the risk of using a construct after having it exposed for so long to let its essence dissolve.

Fortunately, he didn't need a second shot. The launcher was just to keep Jai Long on the defensive; if he had used that speed to take a step backward and attack instead, he would have skewered Lindon through the gut by now.

Instead, he had been prepared for an attack by Blackflame. He had been hit by unknown attacks from unexpected angles, and he was trying to treat Lindon 'gently.'

He hadn't come into this fight with a willingness to kill.

That didn't mean he wouldn't end up killing Lindon if he was in a position to do so, or if things went wrong, but Lindon had been counting on that moment of hesitation to cause Jai Long to decide to defend instead of attack. That was Lindon's chance of victory, and he seized it.

He already had his next move ready.

Even as his right hand cast the ruined launcher construct aside, his left had already withdrawn an object from his pocket: a rounded skull the size of his fist. It was the brown of old parchment and felt greasy in his hand. A single-use, simple construct.

“Warriors focus on weapons too much, you see,” Gesha had taught him. “Powerful treasures, legendary swords, yes? In a duel, the winner is not the one with the strongest weapon.”

Lindon dropped the Nether-drain Swamp construct at Jai Long's feet. The skull cackled as it struck the ground, filled with Lindon's madra. Now free from restrictions, the Remnant skull acted according to its nature: it exploded into a technique.

This technique covered the ground like brown paint in an instant, splattering on Lindon's legs, but covering Jai Long to the ankles. The paint stuck to the floor like glue, but Lindon had expected it—he tore free of the few drops that reached him.

Jai Long was not only caught off his guard, but the technique had originated between his feet. He was stuck fast, at least for the instant before the paint drew itself up into a thousand grasping, scaly brown hands, grabbing his legs and pulling him down toward them.

His eyes left Lindon as he jerked his head down. Now he was not only stuck, but the hands pulled at his feet, keeping him off balance, drawing his attention.

“You may have noticed I don't have a Goldsign,” Eithan had said. “No Remnant, you see.”

Jai Long's core was open. He was swinging the butt of his spear up, intending to crack Lindon in the head, but Lindon was already close enough.

“I reached Gold purely through accumulated power. We can do the same for you, if you like.”

With just a thought, Lindon removed the veil around his Lowgold pure core.

He couldn't disable Jai Long completely. His Truegold madra was too difficult for Lindon's weaker spirit to disrupt. But Lindon could buy himself an instant with a much-weaker opponent. If he were still Jade, his technique would have slid harmlessly off Jai Long's spirit.

Before the butt of the spear reached him, Lindon slammed his Empty Palm into Jai Long's core.

Driven along with the motion, his pure madra slammed like a spike into the heart of Jai Long's spirit. The madra washed through his channels, disrupting the natural rhythm of his soul, choking out his techniques. Madra that could not be controlled by a pattern was useless.

The spear smacked into Lindon's forehead, and his world flashed white. If Jai Long had Enforced the blow or his weapon, that could have been a lethal strike. But the Empty Palm had broken his Enforcer techniques.

Lindon stumbled back, agony stabbing through his head, his eyes blinded by pain and tears. He couldn't even be sure if the effect of his Empty Palm had lasted, or if Jai Long had shaken it off immediately.

He had to assume it had worked, so he focused his breathing on his core. The pain in his skull made it hard to focus, but if the Empty Palm had worked, it would only last for so long.

He had to make it count.

In a breath, he reeled his pure madra back to one of his cores. The one that, in his spiritual vision, shone a soft blue-white.

On his next breath, he drew from his other core.

Black fire ran along his madra channels. His eyes warmed as they changed color, and Lindon focused. He couldn't have put much distance between himself and Jai Long, but the Truegold must be still off-balance from the spiritual disruption. Otherwise, the fight would have ended already.

Under Lindon's direction, Blackflame madra slithered like roots to every corner of his body. According to the ancient Enforcer technique, it ran into his skin, penetrated his muscles, and burned his bones. It felt like his body had begun to dissolve from the inside-out, and the heat was uncomfortable.

He ignited the madra, activating the technique.

The Burning Cloak sprung to life around him, the air blazing with a hazy, translucent shell of black-and-red fire.

His madra would run out quickly, with the Cloak active. The Enforcer technique burned his muscles, and his Bloodforged Iron body activated to restore him. The combined effect felt as though his limbs were constantly sizzling, and both the technique and the Iron body required madra.

He couldn't keep this up for long, but he didn't need to. He had an Enforcer technique, and for the moment Jai Long didn't.

Under the power of the Burning Cloak, Lindon kicked off the stone. He exploded with motion, covering the distance between himself and Jai Long in an instant.

There was a long, frozen moment where Lindon's eyes and his opponent's met.

Then Lindon stabbed him.

This was the fourth and final construct he’d been allowed to keep. Made from only a Remnant's claw, with no binding involved, it was what she called a “dead construct.” It had no abilities apart from the properties of the madra it was made of and any script you carved into it.

In the case of this dagger, there was no script. Its structure wasn't solid enough to be carved, and even if it were, the pressure of a script would have torn it apart immediately.

It was black as ink, the length of one of Lindon's hands, and shaped like a long fang. It felt like a waterskin full of worms, stretching in Lindon's fingers, as everything except the tip was soft and pliant. The point was sharp as a spearhead, and it pierced Jai Long's robes at the chest.

With no Enforcer technique to protect him, the Truegold couldn't resist. Blood sprayed from him as his skin broke.

The dagger wasn't strong enough to penetrate any deeper, but that was enough. As it tasted Jai Long's blood, the dagger squirmed eagerly in Lindon's grip, worming its way into the wound and slithering into Jai Long's bloodstream.

Lindon leaped away, then let the Burning Cloak die.

Jai Long grunted, but he didn't scream as Lindon had expected. Instead he stood, gripping his spear, as he fought the foreign madra inside of him.

If Lindon hadn't broken his defense with the Empty Palm first, this would never have worked. The sheer power of Jai Long's spirit wouldn't have allowed the dagger inside.

Now, the Path of Twisted Blood went to work.

Fisher Gesha had determined that the madra was harvested primarily from life, shadow, and blood aura, but it had been twisted even further by the Path's practitioner. The Remnant from which she took the claw had been sliding inside animals' veins and twisting them from the inside out, breaking every bone in their body at once.

She hadn't been able to determine why it did so. Remnants didn't feed on blood or flesh, but on madra, so killing would only be an expenditure of its energy. Nonetheless, that was what every part of its body did, even when separated from the others. This Remnant's guiding purpose was to kill.

The same was true of its claw.

After a moment, Jai Long's arms both twisted backwards. It looked like he was a toy a child had decided to break. His neck slid to the right, despite his obvious effort to fight. His legs were still snared by the grasping brown hands emerging from the swamp, but the rest of his body had begun to contort.

“You…fight…like…a coward…” Jai Long’s words were choked out one at a time, but they emerged tinged with rage from a tightening jaw.

Lindon didn't expect this weapon to actually kill Jai Long. The Remnant had been at the Highgold level, so Jai Long's madra would eventually exert control again.

But he had planned for one of two things to happen: either rendering the opponent helpless would count as a win, or it would give him an opportunity.

Lindon looked to Naru Gwei, but the Skysworn Captain was still watching through the filthy curtain of his matted gray hair, the burn scar around his left eye giving him a sinister cast. He chewed on a leaf and looked completely unconcerned. Not at all as though he were about to stop the match.

Reluctantly, Lindon gathered black fire into a ball between his hands.

The red-streaked black flame built, wild and difficult to control. It stressed his concentration and his spirit to gather, and only a few months ago he would have had to use some pure madra props to execute this technique at all. After practicing during his enforced isolation, he had improved...though a technique that required several seconds to gather would be of limited use in a fight.

“Surrender,” Lindon said, voice strained with the effort of controlling the dragon's breath.

A white light flashed beneath Jai Long's clothes. It was fitful and weak, struggling against the intrusion of the Path of Twisted Blood, but Jai Long's head snapped straight again. He dropped his spear, but pulled both his arms back under control. The brown hands holding his ankles started to dissolve, the Nether-drain Swamp dissolving under white light.

Lindon released the dragon's breath.

He had no grudge against Jai Long. The man was an obstacle, and one he had to pass to continue, but not quite a true enemy. And he would hate to think that he had healed Jai Chen only to kill her brother.

He hadn't asked for this duel. But over the intervening year, one thing had become clear: he was the weaker party. He didn't have the luxury of pulling his punches.

If he didn't come at Jai Long intending to kill, he couldn't win.

The dragon's fire blasted toward Jai Long, not soft and billowing like a cloud, but a tight bar of almost liquid-looking red-and-black flame. It skewed right, and Lindon had an instant to hope that perhaps it would only take off Jai Long's arm, but leave him alive.

Then there came a blinding flash of white.

Jai Long blocked the bar of red and black with a shaft of pure white madra. The spear was almost seven feet long, smooth, and etched with a web of scripts that Lindon could only see because of their bright glow. The spearhead accounted for a foot of its length, flat and white.

The Ancestor's Spear. He'd taken it from nowhere.

Lindon's heart dropped.

How had he gotten it back? Where had he gotten it? Lindon thought Eithan had taken it. Had his own Underlord returned it?

“I think you have a decent chance of winning,” Eithan had told him. “As long as Jai Long is only a Truegold.”

“If he's an Underlord, then surely they won't continue with the duel,” Lindon had said. “It's only remotely fair in the first place because we're both technically Gold.”

“It's true; if Jai Long has truly reached Underlord, he will become my problem. But there is a...third option.”

Jai Long swept his spear through the dragon's breath, splashing tongues of Blackflame onto the stone floor and ceiling. They hissed when the stone dissolved as though under acid.

“Reaching Underlord requires a Truegold to clear three distinct stages. If he has cleared the second, weaving soulfire from aura, then he will defeat you instantly. The first stage, however, is opening a space in your soul.”

In the same motion as he disrupted Lindon's technique, Jai Long retaliated. An arm-long snake of white madra was born, its jaws agape as it flew toward Lindon. He reactivated the Burning Cloak, cycling madra to his limbs.

“If he pulls a weapon out of nowhere, he's cleared the first stage. That means he has taken half a step into the Lord realm..”

Lindon pivoted into a punch, spraying Blackflame out of the punch in a half-formed Striker technique. The force of the flame met the serpent, and the two clashed in a burst of light. But it wasn't enough to stop the Truegold attack.

From the cloud of Blackflame, the serpent emerged, avoiding Lindon's fist and sliding over his hand.

It burned.

Lindon screamed as the snake slid over the back of his hand and up his forearm, scoring the skin and burning, slicing him like a red-hot knife. The technique's madra dissipated in a blink and the snake disappeared, but it had already traveled up to his elbow, leaving a twisting trail of blood all the way up his arm.

He held up his other hand in defense, though he had no technique gathered. It was just the instinctive panic of a wounded animal. It was hard to see through the pain, and the rising tide of fear that threatened to choke him.

All of his preparation had come to nothing. His weapons were gone. His plans had failed.

He was at Jai Long's mercy.