The moon bathed the rooftop in silver light, its reflection shimmering off the quiet tiles. Zhen Huan sat cross-legged, eyes fixed on the horizon, his thoughts adrift in silence.
Behind him, light footsteps echoed softly.
"You sat here all night?" Qing Chen's voice carried a note of concern.
Zhen Huan gave a small smile. "Couldn't sleep. That's all."
She stepped beside him, arms folded across her chest. "Still brooding over something?"
He shook his head. "No. Just felt… peaceful."
Qing Chen gave a faint sigh. "Peaceful is boring. Come. Let's spar again."
A grin tugged at Zhen Huan's lips. "Didn't get enough yesterday?"
"I want a rematch."
They headed back to the clearing where they had fought before—now a familiar battleground for two warriors slowly learning each other's rhythm.
"Suppress your cultivation to the 7th Layer," Zhen Huan said, gripping his sword.
Qing Chen raised an eyebrow. "But you're at 6th."
"I want to test myself."
She smirked but obliged, reining in her strength with ease. "Alright, but don't complain when I beat you."
Their weapons clashed, energy crackling through the air. Qing Chen's strikes were swift and heavy, forcing Zhen Huan to retreat. He danced back with Wind Steps, reappearing behind her with a sudden slash.
She dodged, whipping her sword with a burst of icy aura, slicing the air with deadly force. Zhen Huan met it with his own sword aura, and the ground trembled beneath them.
"Not bad," she muttered.
He didn't answer. Fire blazed from his blade—Inferno Slash: First Form—meeting her frigid winds head-on. Steam hissed into the air as their forces collided.
In a blink, Zhen Huan vanished and reappeared in front of her, his blade at her throat.
"Checkmate."
Qing Chen blinked, then laughed. "You really beat me. And I'm a layer above you…"
"It's not about layers," Zhen Huan said, lowering his sword. "I train combat more than cultivation. Strength means nothing if you don't know how to fight."
She nodded, eyes sparkling. "Then… let's keep sparring. Daily."
Zhen Huan smiled. "Deal."
---
Days passed. The forest bore the scars of countless duels, and with each battle, their movements became sharper, their teamwork tighter. Zhen Huan was no longer just a match for Qing Chen—he was a rival.
The night before the Thunder City Competition, they sat together once more on the rooftop, the moon their silent witness.
"Tomorrow's the day," Zhen Huan murmured.
Qing Chen nodded. "And I won't be joining."
Her tone was light, but her eyes lingered on the stars longer than usual.
"Because your cultivation is too high," he said.
"Right. I'll wait until you return."
A quiet moment passed.
"Zhen Huan… can I ask something?"
He glanced at her. "Of course."
"Who is Yun Sha to you?"
Zhen Huan tilted his head, then smiled softly. "Yun'er? She's… like my wife."
Qing Chen's body stiffened slightly. She looked away quickly, her voice almost too calm. "I see. Your wife."
Something subtle flickered in her expression—shock, sadness, maybe regret—but she hid it well.
"You alright?" Zhen Huan asked, noticing the shift.
"Oh, nothing. It's just… I used to think I could always get what I wanted. But maybe not this time."
He stood to ask more, but she waved a hand.
"I'm going to take a walk. Need some fresh air."
Without another word, she descended from the rooftop, her silhouette fading into the night mist.
Zhen Huan watched her go, a confused frown settling on his face.
"What did she mean by that?"
But his thoughts were soon overwhelmed by anticipation. The Thunder City Competition was coming—and with it, the next step in his journey.