The Purewater Peak was home to both the Spiritual Flowing Purewater sect and its cousin branch, the Earth Rending Sword. It was also, in Guan Yi’s estimation, the most beautiful place in the world. Especially during spring and autumn, though as he gazed up at the glittering falls that gave the mountain its name, he considered that it was just as lovely in summer.
Of course, he would be the first to admit that his travels were limited, but even the grandest mountain on the continent, The Forbidden Peak, had failed to compare. Certainly, Mount Geumji was imposing, but it was too wild and untamed. The cultivators of Purewater Peak had spent millennia slowly refining its natural beauty into the enormous piece of art it was today. The colors reflected in the unfathomably tall waterfall gave it a scintillating effect that perfectly matched the rainbows produced by its mist. Guan Yi couldn’t imagine that there was anything else like it in the world.
Yet, as beautiful as the mountain Guan Yi called home was, it had recently become the background for another beauty—one of a different sort, albeit no less stunning. She danced before the Purewater Mists in a demonstration of grace and power that was a perfect match for her natural beauty, as if for all its wonders, the Purewater Peak’s true purpose was to serve as the backdrop for her performance. Guan Yi felt as though the sight of it would move him to tears.
It didn’t, of course. Guan Yi had always taken his emotional regulation quite seriously—perhaps a bit too seriously, but he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, his legendary stoneface was an excellent tool for teasing his best friend. People often thought that Guan Yi’s stoney expression meant that he had no sense of humor or didn’t feel the same emotions as everyone else—he was happy to leave them to their misconceptions.
So as he watched Yan Yue conduct her morning training, Guan Yi was not moved to tears. Nonetheless, no matter how many times he saw it, he couldn’t help but be awed by the beauty of her dance. He wasn’t the only one, either. Since her arrival in the sect three years ago, Yan Yue had become something of a local celebrity. Beautiful, smart, graceful, and powerful—a fitting partner for the young scion of the Great Sect. Little did they know that it was all a farce.
Yan Yue’s dance was more than just a performance. Each twist and twirl, each snap of a fan, and each step to the unheard rhythm of Yan Yue’s song had an implied violence to those who knew how to look. To the gathered throng of enraptured viewers, it was an exotic dance—an unusual form of physical training from a distant land. But Guan Yi saw its true nature as a powerful martial art—a weapon just as deadly as the glaive he carried.
With a final flourish so forceful that it generated a small gust of wind, Yan Yue’s performance ended, and she bowed to the applauding crowd. Just as she did every morning. It was a wonder they didn’t get tired of it, but then, neither did Guan Yi. She flicked open a fan and waved it idly to cool herself as she approached. Even the droplets of sweat from her exertion seemed to be placed with artful deliberation.
“Good morning Guan Yi. You know, if you’re going to visit for my practice each morning, you’re welcome to join in. I could use a proper sparring partner.”
Guan Yi bowed in greeting, refusing to allow the way his heart fluttered at the invitation appear on his face.
“So you have said each morning.”
Yan Yue’s dazzling smile threatened to shatter his mask of stone in an instant.
“And yet, you always decline—how disappointing.”
“It would be imprudent of me to intrude. Besides, I wouldn’t dare deny the crowd your performance.”
That comment earned Guan Yi a few good natured cheers from those that had yet to disperse in order to go about their own business, but Yan Yue just rested her free hand on her hip and glared up at him.
“I’m not doing it for them, you big oaf. By the way, that glaive looks new—is it the one you’ve been working on?”
Yan Yue gestured towards his weapon with a nod, and Guan Yi held it out proudly—well, as proudly as he could with a neutral expression.
“Indeed! I finally finished the detailing last night. While the Grandmaster is not here to assess it, I have every confidence that it will serve as an excellent basis for a personal artifact.”
Guan Yi’s favorite subject back at the academy had been enchanting. He adored the way Grandmaster Murayoshi refused to put on airs, and something about working with metal just felt right to him. Murayoshi hadn’t been a very good teacher, if Guan Yi was being honest, but he was extremely wise and his begrudging guidance had set Guan Yi firmly on the path of artifice.
Yan Yue examined the polearm with genuine interest, tracing her fingers gently along the delicate detail work—which Guan Yi had painstakingly designed to combine form and function, serving both as formation script and decoration.
“It’s quite beautiful. You’ve certainly come a long way from that hunk of metal you tried to present to Murayoshi. What are you going to call it?”
“I have chosen to call this weapon Yanyuedao.”
Guan Yi desperately fought down the tingling warmth that threatened to crawl up onto his cheeks as Yan Yue leveled a flat glare at him, silently judging. He scrambled to justify himself.
“The name is a coincidence, I assure you. It’s named for the curved shape of the blade, invoking the image of a crescent moon.”
Yan Yue’s glare didn’t budge.
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“Just a coincidence that you happened to name your personal artifact after the exact same thing that I am named after?”
Yue’s withering glare was too much for Guan Yi to bear. He could feel himself losing the battle against his treacherous face’s attempts to blush. Yan Yue was even better at cracking his mask than Lee Jia was—it was time for a change of subject.
“I heard about the letter you sent to Miss Lee. Do you think that was wise?”
Yan Yue narrowed her eyes, then huffed irritably, thankfully playing along as she responded.
“I’ll not be wed without my best friends present, Guan Yi. The least I could do is send them an invitation. The tricky part was phrasing it to be obvious enough that they’d understand, but subtle enough that it wouldn’t be intercepted.”
“That seems like an impossible task. If Lee Jia could grasp your meaning, then surely your family would as well.”
She rolled her eyes at his words.
“Don’t be absurd—of course they know. They want Yoshika here just as much as I do.”
Guan Yi chewed that thought over for a moment.
“Do you think they’ll really come?”
Yue covered her face with her fan and giggled.
“Do I think Lee Jia and An Eui will come here? Into the heartland of their greatest enemies, directly into what will almost certainly be some kind of trap. They would have to be insane, stupid, or both.”
Guan Yi grunted in acknowledgement.
“Allow me to revise my statement. When do you think they will be arriving?”
Yan Yue doubled over in laughter and it made Guan Yi want to smile and laugh with her. He kept his composure, though, and after a moment, Yan Yue regained hers.
“Ah, your sense of humor is delightful as always. I can’t say, though. The sooner the better. I don’t know what my father has in store—to say nothing of Shen and his awful cronies.”
Guan Yi nodded in agreement, though he had his own ulterior motives for it. He hoped that the pair of unusual half-spirits would throw everything into chaos and somehow stop the wedding entirely.
His infatuation with Yan Yue had been shallow at first—she was, after all, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met—but it had changed, especially over the last three years. His feelings were still a bit complicated. She had betrayed Guan Yi and his friends on several occasions when they had first met, but if Lee Jia could forgive her, then so could Guan Yi. At some point along the way, that infatuation had given way to something deeper, and much to his chagrin Guan Yi had fallen quite entirely in love with Yan Yue.
This was a bit of a problem since she was engaged to the only person in the world that he loved as much as her. Xin Wei was like a brother to him—though even that felt like a shallow comparison to their bond. One couldn’t pick their family, but Guan Yi and Xin Wei had chosen each other, and they’d been lifelong companions for as long as either could remember. He didn’t love Xin Wei in the same manner as he did Yan Yue, but the bond was no less profound.
It was in spite—no, because of Guan Yi’s love for the pair that he couldn’t bear to see them married. The two were alike in many ways—which Guan Yi begrudgingly admitted to himself was probably part of why he liked Yan Yue so much—but neither of them would be truly happy with the other. Yan Yue valued her freedom far too much to be tied down to the future leader of a sect, and her coquettish attitude would be unbecoming of such a figure—not that it stopped Xin’s mother.
Xin Wei wouldn’t be happy in any marriage. He resented his duties as scion of his clan, and would only begrudgingly do whatever he had to. Guan Yi knew just how enormous of a favor it had been for Xin Wei to save Yan Yue—the sacrifice that he had made. That was why Guan Yi would honor that sacrifice and repay the favor. That was why he couldn’t allow the two people he loved the most to marry each other. That was why he was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the agents of chaos that would help him put a stop to it.
“The sooner the better.”