At the edge of the Abyss, the primeval gap that averted all endeavours of man to discern its depths, fractals of infinity effloresced in those gaps between tangibility and reverie. An unending humdrum came from within its depths, the resounding of a great drum, or perhaps an ancient gong. Bing Meilu could not tell as she fell.
And she was falling.
For all the arguments one could make, that in an ethereal gap where distance and direction did not endure, the very meaning of falling was reduced to but a word and nothing more. Yet it helped Bing Meilu center herself, to imagine it as a great fall, rather than the strange plunge into incoherence and cabalistic madness it truly was.
'What had she been thinking?' the woman question herself.
As a Celestial of the Birthing Dao realm, Bing Meilu really, truly, absolutely should have known better than to ever trust the words of a Devil from the depths of the underworld.
Yet the promise of a breakthrough to the Paragon Realm, where her own cultivation had stayed stagnant for uncountable eons, was too sweet a prospect to deny, and in her impatience, Bing Meilu had failed to truly comprehend the ramifications of her accord.
For the Devil had not lied to her, and the truth was oft more insidious than any falsehood. Indeed, Bing Meilu could already feel the power within her, that been stifled for so long, erupting into new heights, beyond anything that Bing Meilu could have ever achieved on her own.
This was the Paragon Realm.
'The Highest Order.'
For those few, lucky or talented enough to reach the realm of Paragons, they would stand unchallenged, as the zenith of beings below the mighty gods. When the prestige of a Paragon was unleashed, even the endless river of time would tremble before their might and power, and even the stars above would bow in obeisance. Bing Meilu could finally proudly declare herself as a paragon, something she had dreamed of for so, so long.
Yet, it was only after the bargain had been struck that Bing Meilu had discovered the cost. Bing Meilu's Celestialhood, the heaven and earth within her own body that had been borne from her cultivation, had been sacrificed as the spark to catapult her power to untold heights, but the sacrifice had also served another purpose.
It had provoked the descent of a great Devil-God from the Pit, whose might and will had sundered the skies, scraped away the fabric of existence and pierced open the wall that held back the Abyss.
Yet, the clawing void could only uselessly gnaw at her body, unable to destroy one who had reached such heights.
So she was left adrift, falling in an unending gap where reality itself had begun to fray at the edges, where logic failed and truth was no longer immutable fact.
Bing Meilu looked across the eroding world, as the unquenchable void began to infringe upon the very baseline of existence, a tear falling from her eyes.
'How long had it been since she had cried?'
As a Paragon, Bing Meilu could survive in the Abyss, that nether place that was neither dream nor existence. She could drift here for millions and billions and trillions of years without a single hair moving out of place...
'No. No more,' Bing Meilu thought angrily.
She hadn't cultivated for so long, given up so much for- for this! To watch as the Sect she and her junior sisters built up from nothing was consumed by the all-devouring void, to watch as the destruction spread across the Ether, spilling down from higher realms to annihilate the hapless mortals below.
Bing Meilu raised her palm, unleashing the might of a Paragon, the power of someone deserving of the title 'unchallenged below the gods'.
"Appear!" Bing Meilu ordered crisply, and her voice rang out across the Ether like natural law itself, an unquestionable order.
Before her eyes, a mighty river erupted, a mighty, surging river that knew no equal. It was not a river in any normal sense of the word, it was not a channel that carried water to the sea, nor any other such fluids.
This was the River of Time itself, the manifestation of the Heavenly Laws of Time.
'Am I really going to do this?' Bing Meilu questioned. 'Sacrifice it all for a long shot?'
'Yes, yes of course I am.'
Her convictions, her own 'Dao' would not allow her to simply give up and admit defeat, not when there was even one option, one other path.
So she would shatter her own cultivation, the unbounded might of a paragon that would allow her to roam across the sea of stars unchallenged, to go back to the beginning.
It was a secret art, the fifth technique recorded in the 'Crystal Providence Absolute Tome' that Bing Meilu had received so long ago.
"Freeze time, freeze fate, freeze this accursed reality!" Bing Meilu spoke, her voice resounding across the many plains of reality with unchallenged might. "Frozen Godly Renewal!"
Frost began to spread across Bing Meilu's body, as her body seemed to cover with ice.
'This is it,' the woman thought sadly as her vision faded to black.
----
When Bing Meilu awakened, it was like she was wrapped in thick cotton. She felt weak, weaker than she had ever felt before. The woman tried to stand up, forcing herself up onto soft, trembling limbs.
'Was this what it's like to be a mortal?' Bing Meilu questioned. She hadn't remembered ever feeling so weak and small.
Bing Meilu shook her head, slowly, moving forward, barely keeping her frail body from falling. She looked down examining herself. Tiny, childlike hands poked out of her wrists, her pale jade-like skin glistening slightly from her sweat.
"...I think I may have gone back a little too far," Bing Meilu winced.
She had planned to return to the day before she had begun her journey of cultivation, at the age of fourteen. Instead, it seemed she had awoken in the body of her child self, somewhere around the age of eight or nine.
Suddenly Bing Meilu felt a hand grab her shoulder.
"Who dares touch this Lord? You lowly gnat! Do you not believe this Lord will shatter your nine generations and flay the skin off your body?" Bing Meilu said, turning to glare coldly at whatever filth had dared to-
Bing Meilu caught sight terrified face of her little brother, whom she hadn't seen since she had been a mortal all those years ago.
The small child, no older than six began to tremble, tears welling up in his eyes.
Transmigrated back into the body of her child self, can the mighty Celestial, Bing Meilu survive in a Xianxia world all the while staving off the advances of arrogant young masters and wannabe protagonists alike?
Why is life so hard for the Icy Beauty?
Any corrections or criticisms are welcome, I hope you enjoy Chapter 2: A Nostalgic Embrace
---
The small child, no older than six began to tremble, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Waaaah!" Being Meilu's brother cried, his shoulders shaking and snot dripping from his nose.
Bing Meilu, faced with a sobbing child for the first time in what could very well be eons, stood stock still, unable to decipher the proper approach to console the crying adolescent.
"What's going on in there?" came an irritated voice, a voice that could only be Bing Meilu's mother.
The older woman entered into the room Bing Meilu and her brother occupied, staring at the little girl sternly.
"Meilu! Don't tell me you made your brother cry again?" the woman asked.
Bing Meilu looked up at her mother, staring nostalgically. Soft wrinkles adorned Bing Wuying's face, her skin tanned dark from her life labouring in the boiling sun of the Bird Talon Continent. In her hands lay a large wicker basket, formed of some strange, coiling green.
Bing Meilu's shoulders began to tremble slightly, as she looked around.
Logically, she knew she had gone back to the beginning, but it had not yet registered with her emotionally. Bing Meilu looked around at the small bedroom she shared with her only sibling. Her small, dirt brown bed greeted her, atop which lay a small handwoven dove-doll that had accompanied Bing Meilu for much of her childhood.
Harsh sunlight streamed into the room through many cracks and breaches in the construction of her home, the shoddy and subpar quality all too common amongst the mortal masses that lived and died in the outback of the continent.
It was home, her old home. A place she had not seen since her own youth, a place she never imagined she would see again. A deep feeling of nostalgia filled Bing Meilu.
"Sorry, mother," Bing Meilu apologized, voice blank, forcing herself to bow her head respectfully. "I spoke in haste and was insensitive. I accept responsibility for my actions."
It had been so long since she had been forced to bow her head to a living being that she had almost forgotten how to do it. It was not an enjoyable feeling, bowing one's head, and Bing Meilu resolved to recover her cultivation as quickly as possible in order to avert having to bear it once more.
How embarrassing would it be for her to be forced to kowtow in obeisance to people who had once been so below her that she could eradicate them with but a half muttered word?
"Oh, my little Meilu," Bing Wuying sighed. "Only nine and already speaking like a frozen tuna fish. How will I get you married at this point?"
Bing Meilu's eyebrow began to twitch uncontrollably as her mother began to lament her efforts in marrying off Bing Meilu.
'So I'm nine,' the cultivator thought to herself, resolving to ignore her mother's rant as best she could.
As Bing Wuying began to calm down the crying boy, Bing Meilu began to leaf through the few things she could remember from her time in the Bird Talon Continent.
For the first ten years of her life, Bing Meilu had lived on a farm with her mother and maternal grandparents, her father's line having died off from plague. Bing Meilu had never been forced to do hard labour or work on the farm instead, being sheltered and kept from the sun. It was a bid to preserve her good looks and pale skin to attract a nice husband, perhaps a wealthy merchant or local official.
In the end, Bing Meilu's rapidly growing beauty had been noticed by a local lord and she was hired as a servant in the Jiang Manor. For the next four years, she had lived as a maid, until a fateful night right before her fourteenth birthday.
A passing cultivator from the Moon Crying Swan Palace, a branch of the Twelve Headed Bird Sect had noticed that Bing Meilu's body possessed an unusually large amount of Yin energy, making her perfectly suited to cultivate the secret arts of their sect. Thus had begun Bing Meilu's journey of cultivation, and the last time she had ever seen her mortal family.
"I can't wait that long," Bing Meilu muttered, remembering the four long years she had spent in service of the Jiang Family.
Indeed, she was sure her sanity would not last four years of work, serving mortals as if they were somehow her betters, nor did she wish to start her cultivation so late.
Normally, the earliest a Mortal could begin to cultivate was the age of twelve, but with the proper expertise, expertise that Bing Meilu had more than enough of, one could commence far earlier.
Only one obstacle stopped the woman from awakening her cultivation immediately.
'Resources.'
To being the process of cultivation, of elevating one's being and divesting the self from the restriction of the world, would require the help of a senior, or in lieu of that, resources. Rare herbs and ores, the blood of Demon-Beasts and other such elixirs. With her near-infinite knowledge, she could easily substitute such rare substances with normal, mortal materials, at the cost of weakening their effectiveness, but the same problem still faced her.
As a nine-year-old from a peasant family, Bing Meilu could not gather even the most mundane artifacts, her wealth non-existent. For a moment, Bing Meilu considered attempting to gather money, perhaps sing her musical talents or her knowledge of the other fine arts.
"It is better to wait," Bing Meilu decided, discounting the idea.
It was not worth weakening her future cultivation by being overzealous in her haste. Bing Meilu could endure until she reached a suitable age of twelve, and she could seek out her old Sect by her own accord, without having to subject herself to the indignity of lowering her head to mortals.
To show recognition to one's own mother was not unusual, but Bing Meilu's pride would not allow her to bow her head to any petty nobles simply because they believed that land or wealth placed them above her in status.
"And I will train," Bing Meilu pronounced.
While she could not yet begin the process of cultivation nothing stood in the way of her training her body and mind. Even to a cultivator, prowess in the martial way was still imperative to one's success.
Bing Meilu's small, underdeveloped body was too juvenile to pursue any strenuous programmes, but there was still much she could do to develop her flexibility, agility and dexterity.
-----
Months later, Bing Meilu was seated under the shade of a tree in meditation. Even under the cover of the plant, the ever-present heat that defined the Bird Talon Continent still irked her, casing beads of perspiration to blossom on her skin.
Even in a place as far to the north as Jiang City, the heat was still far beyond what was comfortable to Bing Meilu. However, this did not impede her meditation, rather it enhanced it. The harder it was to reach that state of pure emptiness, where one's soul began to faintly touch upon the attainment of nirvana, and the world ceased in one's perception, the more beneficial it was to attain.
So entranced in her meditation was she, that Bing Meilu failed to hear the sound of fighting approach her, nor see the group of boys roughhousing in her vicinity. Bing Meilu was still habitually adapted to a state where her very soul could see all that was, and she had failed to consider how undergoing such deep meditation might cripple her senses.
So Bing Meilu did not awaken, even as the tumbling, brawling boys neared her tree.
It was only when a drop of blood flew onto her skin that the girl's eyes snapped open and she stood up, gazing cooly at the group of boys, who had too failed to sight her.
Bing Meilu looked down, at the drop of blood that had landed on her, staining her skin, then at the group of mortals, still roughhousing before her with impunity.
She hadn't been disrespected like this in epochs…
Bing Meilu wiped the droplet of blood from her skin, sneering in disgust as she saw the trail of stained crimson that ran across her fingertip. The old, and yet so very young girl stood up, clearing her throat loudly.
The group of boys, five to be exact, still fought in front of her. Had Bing Meilu been more cognizant, less blinded by anger, she might have realized this was not in fact a free-for-all tumble between boys, but a fight where several had grouped up on one.
Several of the boys stopped fighting, turning around to see, unexpectedly that behind them stood a little girl, clothed in a tawdry brown dress. The girl gazed upon them coldly, her eyes looking at them with faint disdain and ambivalence.
"And what exactly?" Bing Meilu drawled, her tone emotionless. "Do you think you're doing here?"
One of the boys, a brunette dressed in sandy shorts stepped forwards, unconsciously assuming the role of speaker for the group.
"Nothing. We were just playing around-"
"Shut up, wretch," Bing Meilu interrupted. "I could not be less interested in your petty excuses. Immediately remove yourself from my presence or-"
"Or what?" sneered the boy, anger filling his gaze.
"Or you will Die," Bing Meilu responded coolly, narrowing her eyes.
The boy froze in place, not from ice nor temperature but with fear, a paralyzing primal fear that lay within the depths of all men when faced with a great predator. The boy's legs trembled as if he were standing before the maw of a great lion, with razor teeth and crimson eyes, and not a pale-skinned little girl who looked like she had never worked a day in her life.
For Bing Meilu, was old, so very ancient. She had killed so much that oceans was not enough to describe the amount of blood on her hands, she had witnessed the births of stars and watched as galaxies were rendered into ash and ground into dust, and with that age came prestige, an unconscious aura that surrounded her.
Perhaps it was in the way she carried herself, or the sheer confidence in her tone, but to any who watched, what stood in her pace was indeed not a little girl but an apex predator.
Bing Meilu closed her eyes, and within moments, of the boys, four of them began to run away, too scared to even bother screaming. Only one remained, a thin, almost sickly looking boy who lay on the ground, bruises and lacerations covering his face and arms.
"T-Thank you," the boy said. "You saved me."
Truth be told, Bing Meliu had not even noticed the stick-thin boy, too concerned with the fact that a group of mortals had stained her august self with dirt, but if her actions had aided someone, Bing Meilu did not mind.
Bing Meilu turned away from the boy, sitting back down in meditation, completely disregarding him.
"My name is Zhang Yi," the boy introduced. "What's yours?"
Bing Meilu attempted to ignore the mortal, but from the sound of his breathing, she could tell he was not leaving. Eventually, an irritated Bing Meilu stared back at Zhang Yi
"I am called Bing Meilu," she responded. "Now, I am attempting to meditate, so please leave."
For some strange reason, the mortal did not obey her order, instead electing to gaze at her strangely, with an almost infatuated look.
"... Why did you save me?" Zhang Yi eventually asked, staring at her intensely.
"I didn't," Bing Meilu said. "I was merely attempting to send them away so I could resume meditation."
"...Oh," the boy eventually said, looking down at his feet.
Bing Meilu closed her eyes, attempting to once more mediate. Yet, the boy still remained. Eventually, Bing Meilu opened one eye to see the boy still gazing at her.
"... Why are you still here?" she asked.
"If I stay near you, they'll leave me alone," Zhang Yi reasoned. "Since you scared them off."
"Do they give you trouble often?" Bing Meilu asked, watching the boy nod. "Then, how does a bargain sound? I will teach you how to deal with them, and in return, you leave and let me meditate."
After a moment of silence, Zhang Yi agreed.
Had Bing Meilu retained her cultivation, she might have noticed the dusky copper coin hanging from a necklace on Zhang Yi's throat.
She would have perhaps realized that the seemingly unimportant mortal boy before her was enshrouded in a great destiny, a destiny that she had just been entangled in, the threads of karma wrapping around her even as she spoke to him.
---
And so Bing Meilu has become the 'childhood friend' trope character to her first protagonist! What will happen next? Find out next time!
Last edited: 19/2/2021
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ninjastar
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Monke
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Transmigrated back into the body of her child self, can the mighty Celestial Bing Meilu survive in a Xianxia world all the while staving off the advances of arrogant young masters and wannabe protagonists alike?
Why is life so hard for the Icy Beauty?
Any corrections or criticisms are welcome, I hope you enjoy Chapter 3: A Lesson learnt
---
Bing Meilu walked through Jiang City, ignoring the whispers of pointing children. Despite the name, Jiang City was more of a small town, only given such a grand name because the Jiang Family who ruled it would feel slighted if it was referred to as anything less. In the end, the town was small enough that rumours spread as fast as wildfire and already news of her encounter with the boys bullying Zhang Yi had been told and retold a hundred times.
However, Bing Meilu was not perturbed by the derision of the small mortal children. She instead made her way to the same place she had met Zhang Yi, a lone tree in the middle of a wide, grassy field.
The young boy stood there, the wind blowing through his ebony hair. He stared at her silently as she approached.
Today would be the first of the lessons Bing Meilu had promised Zhang Yi. It was slightly annoying to have to waste her time instructing a mortal boy, but having him follow her around like a baby duckling would be far more annoying.
Bing Meilu bit her lip slightly, deep in thought. She knew thousands of martial arts, courtesy of her unending lifespan, but none were suitable for a mortal, much less a child. Bing Meilu sifted through her memories, selecting the weakest martial art she could remember.
It was a rather weak martial art known as the Nine Heavenly Stances of the Immemorial Palace Gate, and Bing Meilu had trained in it back when she was only at the peak of the Immortal Realm, Dao Decimating.
"Good morning Junior Sister Bing," Zhang Yi greeted.
Bing Meilu raised her eyebrow at the form of address. Zhang Yi was in all likelihood older than her, so for him to address her as Junior Sister was technically proper. However, while Bing Meilu could swallow her pride and allow herself to be referred to something other than 'Your Highest Majesty' or 'Your Utmost Excellency', she drew the line at being called a Junior of this little boy.
"Call me Senior Sister Bing," Bing Meilu instructed tonelessly. "And I will call you Junior Brother Zhang."
The quiet boy nodded his head wordlessly, unperturbed about his shift downwards in the hierarchy.
"Now, Junior Brother Zhang, how much training do you have in fighting?" Bing Meilu inquired.
The boy had been beaten brutally the day before, so Bing Meilu assumed he lacked any training in the martial way.
"... None," Zhang Yi admitted, confirming Bing Meilu's thoughts. "Is that bad?"
"No, it just means I don't have to break you out of any bad habits," Bing Meilu answered, shaking her head.
Any training in lowly martial arts would only hinder him from comprehending the profundity of the Nine Heavenly Stances of the Immemorial Palace Gate, his body and mind accustomed to using lesser arts.
"Now, tell me, do you know what the Nine Palaces are?" Bing Meilu questioned.
Surprisingly, Zhang Yi nodded affirmatively.
"Yes, the Nine Palaces are the nine experiences in life that allows one to attain enlightenment. The Palaces are Health, Wealth, Prosperity, Relationships, Creativity, Travel, Employment, Family and Wisdom. Once one has 'passed' through each of the Nine Palaces-." Zhang Yi said.
"You don't need to explain the Nine Palaces to me, I already know what they are," Bing Meilu cut off. "However, I would like to know where you learned about them."
While the Nine Palaces were not exactly an obscure or esoteric concept, it was doubtful that a peasant boy like Zhang Yi would have stumbled across them normally.
"My grandfather used to volunteer at the Daoist temple and sweep up incense ashes. He picked up a few things and sometimes taught them to me," Zhang Yi shrugged noncommittally.
"I see then," Bing Meilu nodded. "Then this will be a lot easier for me. The technique I will be teaching you is known as the Nine Heavenly Stances of the Immemorial Palace Gate. Each stance conforms to one of the Nine Palaces, and once you master all nine, you will attain ultimate mastery over the trials and tribulations of life."
"... That sounds rather gaudy and over-exaggerated," Zhang Yi stated questioningly.
"Do you want to learn it or not?" Bing Meilu asked coldly.
"I do!" Zhang Yi quickly responded.
"Then stop questioning it," Bing Meilu ordered. "I will now begin training you in the first stance, which pertains to the palace of Prosperity."
"Straighten your shoulders... Legs wider apart... Loosen those muscles..." immediately Bing Meilu got to work on instructing Zhang Yi.
She first fixed his stance, posture and form, then moving on to show him how to walk and run without having to leave stance.
Bing Meilu was pleasantly surprised at how fast of a learner Zhang Yi was for a mortal. He picked up new concepts like a sponge absorbed water. At this rate, she could finish their deal in only a few weeks instead of the months she had expected.
Bing Meilu was, of course, not planning on teaching him the entire martial art, only the basics and foundations. Any of the actual techniques or moves would require an active cultivation base and Qi to spare. Nevertheless, just the basic forms should be enough to deal with the petty bullies that had assaulted him yesterday- and splashed blood on her eminent self.
"Now, that's all for today," Bing Meilu stated. "Leave so that I may begin my meditation."
Zhang Yi nodded wordlessly, turning away to leave. Bing Meilu sighed in relief.
"Now I can finally get to meditation," Bing Meilu sighed, closing her eyes.
---
Zhang Yi walked alone through the streets of Jiang City. His well-worn robes waved in the wind, far too large for his thin and slim body. They had been hand-me-downs from his grandfather's own youth since Zhang Yi could not afford to get a new pair.
The boy continued walking until he reached a dimly lit alleyway. He stepped inside of it, slowly making his way to the dead-end at the back of the alley. There lay a small, humble shrine. A pot of rice next to a bundle of flowers and some sticks of cheap incense.
Zhang Yi kneeled before the shrine, grabbing one of the sticks of incense. He placed it in a crudely made, hand-carved wooden holder while grabbing a pair of flintstones. Zhang Yi began to crack the flintstones together, small sparks flying off them and onto the stick of incense. It took several minutes of repeated attempts for the incense to light, but once it did, Zhang Yi bowed deeply towards the shrine.
"Good morning, grandfather," Zhang Yi said morosely.
Zhang Yi had been born an orphan, his mother a prostitute who died in childbirth, and his father nowhere to be seen. He had been adopted by Zhang Lu, his grandfather, who ran a small antique shop. Although they had not been wealthy, they had been happy.
However, that had not lasted forever. Zhang Y's grandfather had died, ostensibly of old age, but Zhang Yi knew the truth. His grandfather had been killed, over the very copper coin that now hung around Zhang Yi's neck.
It had been sold to them by a mysterious passerby, along with a well-made mahogany box and Zhang Lu, deciding it was not very valuable, had fashioned it into a necklace for Zhang Yi.
The next night a thief had broken into the shop, taking nothing but the mahogany box, and leaving Zhang Yi's grandfather dead.
Since that day, Zhang Yi had lost everything. His grandfather had died and the shop had been stolen by the Jiang family. Even the engagement he had with the daughter of a well to do merchant had been torn to shreds.
Zhang Yi had survived on the streets, doing odd jobs in return for food or meagre pay, and enduring relentless bullying by other children.
"One day, I will take revenge for you, grandfather," Zhang Yi swore to the shrine, standing up.
The young boy left the alleyway, walking back through the city. He needed to find a job if he wanted to eat anything today. As Zhang Yi walked, he began to feel an uncomfortable tingling on the back of his neck. The boy immediately spun around, seeing Li Renlong and his three bootlickers.
Of all the people who tormented Zhang Yi, none were crueller than Li Renlong. It was his sister that Zhang Yi had been engaged to and the day their engagement had been cancelled, the boy had begun to assault Zhang Yi.
"As grandfather used to say," Zhang Yi muttered, begging to run away. "The fastest way to win a fight is to avoid it!"
Zhang broke into a mad sprint, desperately running from Li Renlong, who began to follow in turn.
Suddenly, a fist slammed into the side of his face, knocking Zhang Yi to the ground. Zhang Yi looked up to see Li Jinglong standing above him grinning cruelly.
Li Jinglong did not often involve himself in the attacks on Zhang Yi, but when he did, they were always far more brutal.
By then, Li Renlong and his subordinates had arrived, laughing to themselves.
"That witch isn't here to save you now, little worm," Li Renlong laughed.
Zhang Yi slowly stood up, eyeing the five boys warily. Subconsciously, his body shifted into the stance that Senior Sister Bing had taught him.
"She's not a witch," Zhang Yi objected, frowning.
Bing Meilu had been the only person to save him, even if she hadn't really meant to. That automatically made her a very good person in Zhang Yi's opinion.
"Do you really have the face to attack me now, after having run away from a small girl?" Zhang Yi asked. "I suppose, if I had known that small girls were your secret weakness, I could have finished you off ages ago."
"That's funny coming from the person less intimidating than a small girl," Li Jinglong laughed stepping forward. "I suppose now that you've realized my sister is too good for an urchin like you, you've begun to pursue that witch?"
Zhang Yi narrowed his eyes, suddenly dodging to the side, a fist missing his head by mere millimetres.
Although Zhang Yi didn't know this, couldn't know this, the Nine Heavenly Stances of the Immemorial Palace Gate was far beyond any ordinary martial art. It was a technique inherently connected to the universal principle of 'the Nine Palaces', and simply by training in the most basic stance of it, he had begun to draw on the power inherent in such a concept.
Specifically, he had begun to train in the first stance of 'prosperity'. Bad luck had begun to shed from him, washing away from his body like water over a lotus leaf. At the same time, good fortune had begun to abound around him.
Dozens of blows shot at Zhang Yi, each missing him by only a hair's breadth, as he nimbly dodged each attack.
Zhang Yi's own fist shot back in retaliation, slamming into Li Jinglong's left shoulder.
Li Jinglong, who had recently injured his left shoulders in a spar, screamed as the old wound flared up. Zhang Yi ducked, slamming another punch into Li Jinglong's... 'family jewels'.
"Aaah!" the older boy screamed, falling to the ground.
Zhang Yi turned left, sweeping his foot at the legs of one of the boys who followed Li Renlong. The boy fell to the floor, only for Zhang Yi to stomp roughly on his ankle joint, a loud snapping sound erupting as the bone popped out of its socket.
Sobbing sounds filled the air as the injured nursed their wounds, Zhang Yi jumping backwards to avoid a wild swing from Li Renlong.
He looked down noticing an empty glass bottle, that had once likely stored alcohol. Zhang Yi picked up the glass bottle, jumping forward to slam it down on Li Renlong's head.
The bottom end of the glass smashed onto Li Renlong's head, knocking him to the floor.
Left with a now jagged bottle of glass, Zhang Yi glared at the final boy, who gulped fearfully.
"Get out of here," Zhang Yi stated, imitating the cold authoritative tone of his teacher as best he could.
The final boy nodded nervously, before turning on his heel and running away as fast as he could.
Zhang Yi sighed, dropping the bottle onto the floor.
That had been the first time he had ever beaten off his assailants. Zhang Yi was a slim, sickly boy, primarily due to his malnutrition. He simply couldn't put out the raw power of the wealthier children who could afford to eat each day.
"I suppose sometimes technique beats brute force," Zhang Yi smiled.
He had his teacher to thank for this. not only had she saved him, but she had even taught him how to hold off the Li Jinglong and his friends.
"I wonder where teacher learnt how to fight like that?" Zhang Yi muttered.
He hadn't even noticed the fact he had subconsciously begin to refer to Bing Meilu as 'Teacher' rather than 'Senior Sister', her status in his eyes rising beyond that of someone from the same generation.
---
Bing Meilu yawned as she stood up, stretching her dainty limbs. It was already almost evening, the sun lazily falling down the horizon, illuminating the sky a dim orange.
Yang Qi would slowly decline as the solar luminary fell and the lunar luminary rose, the air filling with chilling Yin Qi.
Bing Meil had always thought that dusk was a beautiful moment, to those sensitive to Qi underlying the world. One could observe as Yin and Yang mingled in the air, forming profound transformation in the cycle of existence. Disappointingly, Bing Meilu, as a mortal, was now blind to those beautiful astral phenomena.
The ten-year-old girl shook her head, clearing away the nostalgia. She could reminisce later.
Bing Meilu began to make her way back to her family farmhouse on the outskirts of town. As she walked she caught sight of a cultivator dressed in robes that marked him as an outer disciple of the Heroic Dive Sect. The young man swaggered arrogantly across the road towards Jiang City, his wide robes fluttering in the wind. Bing Meilu shook her head disdainfully. Someone that weak actually walked so arrogantly?
"Don't block the road, trash," Bing Meilu remarked offhandedly as she passed the cultivator.
Feng Xiaochun stopped still in shock as he heard the casual remark from the small girl. As a cultivator from the 11th ranked Heroic Dive Sect, he was not unused to being looked down upon but...
"Did a mortal girl just call me trash?" Feng Xiaochun asked himself, still stunned, before shaking his head. "I must have drunk too much today. Time to head back to the sect."