Wudang's Lost Sword Returns

A few hours after the midday bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Wudang disciples dispersed from the dining hall and made their way to the courtyard before heading to the training grounds for their usual afternoon practice. Despite sharing the same space, the disciples of Wudang and Mount Hua remained apart, an unspoken divide hanging in the air between them.

The tension in the training grounds had barely settled when the steady rhythm of approaching footsteps cut through the murmurs. Instructor Yuan strode forward, his presence alone commanding immediate silence. His sharp gaze swept over the assembled disciples, pausing momentarily on a few individuals before he finally spoke.

"Since you all seem eager to test yourselves, we'll be holding a training exercise," he declared. "A team deathmatch in the forests of Wudang. Two teams—Wudang versus Mount Hua. Victory conditions? Disarm or incapacitate your opponents. Surrender if necessary, but fight as if your life depends on it."

A stir ran through the disciples. Team-based training was not unusual, but a direct competition between sects? That was something else entirely.

Yuan continued, his voice unwavering. "This isn't just about combat prowess. You will learn teamwork, strategy, and the ability to fight in unfamiliar terrain. Each team will have an assigned area to begin. At my signal, the match begins."

As Yuan finished speaking, several figures clad in black robes emerged. Though their garments were draped in shadow, the insignia of Wudang was subtly woven into the fabric—barely visible yet unmistakable to those who knew what to look for. However, another unfamiliar symbol was also etched onto their robes, leaving disciples from both sects puzzled by its meaning.

"They will oversee the training," Yuan continued, his tone firm. "A word of advice—don't do anything reckless. But if you do… rest assured, they are more than capable of handling it." 

As Jiang Chen fixated on the figures, Juan Lei's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Ah, the Veiled Sentinels. As expected. Each one is a shadow forged in Wudang's steel—strong enough to match even a core disciple of the Seven Masters." His smile carried a trace of amusement. "The Demonic Cult is certainly making a move... but I doubt that changes anything. You're all in safe hands."

But just before fading away, he added one last remark. "For Wudang to unveil its shadows to mere outer disciples—what has changed? No, more importantly… who has changed?" His words hung in the air for a moment before his presence fully disappeared.

"Huh? What do you mean, Master?" Jiang Chen asked, furrowing his brows.

Juan Lei's voice echoed faintly in response. "In time, you'll understand. Strength is not just power—it is the right to know. For now, focus on the battle before you." A small laugh followed, then silence.

Jiang Chen exhaled slowly, realizing only now how tense his shoulders had been. His fingers, which had instinctively curled into fists, relaxed at his sides. Whatever schemes were at play, at least for now, they were in safe hands.

The Mount Hua disciples exchanged glances. One smirked, rolling his shoulders, while another cracked his knuckles with deliberate ease. Their eyes gleamed—not with fear, but with the thrill of competition.

One disciple stepped forward, hesitant but unable to keep the question in. "Instructor Yuan, what of injuries?"

"Minor wounds are part of training. Major ones? That depends on your ability to fight with restraint and skill," Yuan answered without hesitation. "I expect discipline, not recklessness. Now, gather your teams and prepare. You move out within the hour."

The disciples dispersed, excitement and nervousness rippling through their ranks. The forests of Wudang loomed ahead—a proving ground where steel and skill would be tested to their limits. As they prepared, the Veiled Sentinels vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving many disciples stunned at their sudden disappearance.

Yuan stood silently in the courtyard, watching the last of the disciples head off to their assigned areas.

"Do you think this is wise?" he asked, his voice low.

From the shadows, Jung-hi emerged, having somehow slipped away from the meeting between Master Liu and the others.

"Our disciples have grown complacent. This will motivate them," Jung-hi replied, his tone firm and unwavering.

Yuan narrowed his eyes. "And your body double? You expect them to fool Master Liu for long?"

Jung-hi's lips curled slightly. "Xu is meticulous. He ensured everything is in place. Even if Liu suspects, he won't act without proof."

Yuan exhaled sharply. "Tch. Even with his skill, this is risky. What did he use?"

"A little refinement of his Heart's Stillness Elixir—a concoction that suppresses fluctuations in Qi and masks the subtleties of presence. The double won't just look like me; they'll feel like me."

Yuan exhaled sharply. "And if he finds out?"

"Then I suppose I'll be forced to improvise." Jung-hi vanished into the trees, leaving Yuan alone in the courtyard, scowling.

Left alone, Yuan let out a weary sigh before following suit. "The world's gone to hell," he muttered.

The Wudang forest was a realm of towering pines and twisting mist, where sunlight barely pierced the dense canopy. The air carried the crisp scent of pine and damp earth, while the ground, slick with morning dew, made footing uncertain. For the Wudang disciples, this land was second nature. For Mount Hua, it was unfamiliar ground—both an obstacle and a trap.

As the hours passed and preparations neared completion, the Monkey Hour arrived. A deep, resonant horn echoed through the mountains, signaling the two teams to begin.

The forest loomed before them—thick, dense, and treacherous. While the Mount Hua disciples held the advantage in sheer strength, the terrain itself favored Wudang. Here, amidst the winding roots and towering trees, the battlefield belonged to those who knew its secrets.

Within Wudang's camp, the disciples gathered, murmuring among themselves as they strategized their approach. No doubt, the Mount Hua disciples were doing the same.

"What's the game plan?"

"We need a leader, that's for sure."

"And who could that be?"

A brief silence followed before someone spoke with certainty. "It has to be Yujin."

Before the murmurs could build, Yujin cut in. "There are too many of us for me to lead alone." He crossed his arms, his mind already working ahead. "What about this—we split into four teams, each with its own leader? That way, commands will be easier to relay."

The idea hung in the air for a moment before Haoyu scoffed. "And who exactly are the other leaders?" His arms tensed at the thought of being led by someone weaker than him—more so at the idea of losing to Mount Hua.

Before anyone could answer, a sudden presence made several disciples flinch. Qin Tianzhao had appeared beside Yujin without anyone noticing. His voice was casual, but the weight behind it was undeniable. "I'll take a team. No objections, right?"

The disciples stayed silent, as it was no longer a debate considering that Qin Tianzhao was already an inner disciple candidate and student of a master.

Haoyu clicked his tongue. "If you're leading, then I am too." He stepped forward, his tone brooking no argument. "I'm the third strongest here. If we're picking leaders based on strength, then I deserve a spot."

Yujin chuckled. "Just don't go roughhousing your team if you do." He glanced around. "That leaves one more. Who's taking the last spot?"

"I'll take a go at it," Jiang Chen declared, raising his hand.

A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some disciples nodded in approval, recalling his match against Haoyu, while others remained skeptical—his long-standing reputation as the weakest still lingered, and some dismissed his victory as mere luck.

Before the debate could escalate, Qin Tianzhao's voice sliced through the tension. His gaze lingered on Jiang Chen—steady, unreadable. Then, with a faint smirk, he said, "I trust him."

The statement stunned the gathered disciples. Even Yujin and Haoyu turned to Qin Tianzhao in surprise.

"What?" Haoyu frowned. "I mean, I'm fine with picking Chen as a leader for a team, but why the hell would you agree to that?" He scratched his forehead, baffled by the prodigious Qin Tianzhao placing his trust in Jiang Chen.

Qin Tianzhao's expression remained unreadable as he answered, his tone cool. "It's none of your concern, junior brother."

The way he emphasized junior sent an unspoken challenge through the air, leaving Haoyu gritting his teeth but saying nothing more.

"I'm with them," Yujin declared, stepping forward with newfound authority. "Chen has changed. I'd wager he rivals most of you now." His usual easygoing demeanor sharpened as he settled into the role of a leader. "Enough talk—we need to move. Mount Hua won't be standing around waiting for us."

As if on cue, a thunderous explosion echoed from the direction of the Azure Dragon Courtyard. The clash of swords alone should not have caused such devastation—yet the sheer force behind the techniques unleashed there defied ordinary duels. 

A plume of smoke rose from the dense treetops, carrying with it the scent of scorched wood and shattered stone. This was no simple exchange of strikes; the Inner Disciples of Mount Hua and Wudang were already testing each other's limits, their blade arts infused with enough qi to sunder the earth itself.

"Well, that's our cue." Yujin smirked, unfazed by the sudden eruption. He turned back to his group, decisiveness in his gaze. "For clarity, we're assigning team names. Haoyu, you're Rock. Jiang, you're River. Qin, you're Leaf. I'm Air."

Without hesitation, he split the disciples into their respective groups with near-perfect efficiency, as if he had long studied each individual's strengths and weaknesses. None were surprised—Yujin was the most social among them, always observant.

"If any of you need backup, just yell your team's name as loud as possible. It's ambiguous enough that Mount Hua won't know what it means." His eyes glinted with excitement. "Now, let's show them what Wudang is made of."

As the disciples disappeared into Wudang's forest with their teams and leaders, a lone shadow remained. Jung-hi stood silent among the ancient trees, his presence nearly unseen. Across the clearing, Qin Tianzhao met his gaze—just for a moment—before offering a subtle nod. Then, like a breath lost to the wind, the moment passed.