Wudang's Lost Sword Returns

Jiang Chen's fingers hesitated over the seal of the Azure Dragon Courtyard. A part of him wanted to tear it open immediately, to face whatever lay inside. Yet another part of him—the one that had spent years scraping by as just another nameless disciple—feared what answering this summons might mean.

Yujin nudged him with an elbow. "Well? Are you going to stare at it all day?"

Jiang Chen let out a slow breath and broke the seal. The parchment within was crisp, the ink still fresh.

Jiang Chen,

Your presence is required at the Azure Dragon Courtyard at midday tomorrow. Master Yun Sheng will oversee your audience. Do not be late.

There was no signature, only the sigil of the Azure Dragon Courtyard. Short. Direct. Uncompromising.

Yujin let out a low whistle. "Master Yun Sheng himself? That's serious."

Jiang Chen frowned. "What do you know about him?"

Yujin leaned back in thought. "The Cloudborne Sage? One of the masters of the Seven Daoist Peaks—silent, secretive, and selective. He takes only a handful of disciples each year, trains them ruthlessly, but never without purpose. He has no patience for mediocrity.

His gaze sharpened. "If he's taken an interest in you, it's either a rare opportunity... or a warning."

Jiang Chen's grip on the letter tightened. He knew better than to believe this was some kind of reward. No, this was scrutiny. The kind that could unmake a disciple's future as easily as it could elevate it.

He folded the letter and tucked it into his robes. "I'll deal with it when the time comes."

Yujin clapped him on the back. "Good attitude. If it goes badly, just make sure they don't throw you off the mountain."

Jiang Chen shot him a dry look, and Yujin only laughed.

The morning passed in a blur. Jiang Chen spent most of it recovering—cycling through light exercises before settling into meditation. His qi was sluggish, his body aching not just from the match but from Juan Lei's interference. Even a few seconds under his master's control had pushed his limits, forcing his body to wield a technique it wasn't ready for. His muscles protested with every breath, his meridians strained from the unnatural surge of power.

Even now, his qi felt unstable. If he were attacked—or if suspicion fell upon him—could he handle it without Juan Lei in the meantime?

At midday, he ascended the winding path to the Azure Dragon Courtyard. Though grand, it was dwarfed by Wudang's outer sector—the White Tiger Courtyard—a vast expanse that housed the training grounds for outer disciples and the sect's revered temple.

Yet, despite the White Tiger Courtyard's deep ties to Wudang's history and relics, it was the Azure Dragon Courtyard that stood as the more imposing of the two. Its very presence commanded both awe and fear—a reputation forged by the strength of its inner disciples.

As he climbed, he felt the shift in atmosphere. The air here was thinner—not from altitude, but from sheer presence. Every disciple who trained here carried themselves differently—each movement refined, each step deliberate. The outer sect had its share of talent, but the gap between outer and inner disciples was like that of a stream to an ocean.

At the courtyard's entrance, an inner disciple stood waiting. His robes bore the insignia of the Azure Dragon, his posture rigid with authority. He barely spared Jiang Chen a glance before turning on his heel.

"Follow me."

As he pushed open the gates, the sight within was enough to leave any outer disciple—and even Jiang Chen's past self—frozen in place. The disciples here were a world apart from those in the outer courtyard. Each moved with effortless grace, their steps light as drifting clouds, every motion infused with qi. Even at rest, they exuded quiet mastery, while those in training wielded Wudang's advanced techniques as if they were mere fundamentals.

At the heart of the courtyard stood a grand tree, its presence both serene and commanding. Legend held that Grandmaster Lu Taichong—The Dao That Moves—had once meditated beneath its branches. It was here that he had conceived Wudang's flowing, cloud-like techniques, including the revered Rising Cloud Slash.

As Jiang Chen made his way toward the Azure Dragon Hall, he felt the weight of countless gazes upon him. Though outwardly composed, the inner disciples carried an unspoken wariness—judgment, caution. If not for Juan Lei's teachings, he would have struggled to perceive the emotions hidden behind their practiced restraint.

"I suggest you keep walking, brother." The disciple leading Jiang Chen finally spoke, his voice even. "As fellow disciples of Wudang, we hold no ill will toward you. But with the elders watching, unease lingers—especially with the one who has summoned you."

The hall they entered was simple yet imposing. At its center sat a lone figure, a tea set arranged before him. Beside him stood Qin Tianzhao—an outer disciple, yet he carried himself with the bearing of an inner disciple, standing guard as if he belonged among them.

Despite the man's unassuming presence, his gaze pressed upon Jiang Chen like the weight of a mountain.

Master Yun Sheng, The Cloudborne Sage.

"Jiang Chen," the master said, his voice as smooth as flowing water. "Sit."

Jiang Chen obeyed, lowering himself onto the mat across from the elder. Silence filled the room, broken only by the distant rustling of leaves.

"Mountains do not move without reason, nor do dragons stir without cause. The wind carries whispers of unease—I hear them even in silence."

For a time, Yun Sheng said nothing. He poured tea with slow, deliberate movements, as if weighing his words against the weight of the world itself.

Finally, he spoke.

"A river carves stone not through force, but by flowing where it must."

His gaze was unreadable.

"Winds shift, paths change. I would have guided you—but now, the currents turn against me."

A pause. His fingers rested lightly on the teacup.

"The elders cast their nets, but I do not fish in troubled waters." His eyes flicked to Qin Tianzhao. "This one watches, but I have no taste for shadows."

Yujin's words crept back into Jiang Chen's mind. It seemed he was right—Master Yun Sheng was elusive, his words winding like the river, never taking a direct path.

Then, as if the matter had already passed beyond his concern, he lifted his cup and took a sip of tea.

"A lantern in the storm casts light, but at the price of its own flame. Take what you must—before the wind claims it."

Qin Tianzhao stepped forward, his tone measured. "Forgive my master's way of speaking. In simple terms—he is warning you, at great risk to himself."

He hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line, as if weighing his next words. When he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, cautious. "You already know of the Elder Council's concerns. This is tied to that, that is all I can reveal to you."

Yun Sheng beside him speaks again. "Time flows, yet echoes remain. For the sake of the past… let an old man glimpse the shadow of an old friend's hand."

"He desires for you to use Juan Lei's techniques." Qin Tianzhao cuts in to translate.

Jiang Chen's mind swirled with confusion—how could the master know that? He had expected the elders and masters of Wudang to grow suspicious after his display, but for Yun Sheng to outright declare that it was Juan Lei sent a clear warning. Whatever the truth was, it was evident that the higher-ups of Wudang understood far more than they let on.

"I'm sorry, but what do you mean?" Jiang Chen attempted to deflect.

"The winds carry whispers of Zhang's design… but I have heard enough. Do not veil the moon—show me the steps of an old friend."

Yun Sheng's gaze sharpened, piercing through him like a blade.

This time, Jiang Chen needed no translation. The message was clear, and Qin Tianzhao knew it as well.

He hesitated. What he was about to say would reveal everything—his newfound power, his secret. Could he trust the Cloudborne Sage? Wudang's teachings spoke of the Dao, of peace, balance, and flow, yet at the heart of all martial artists lay ambition.

And ambition could be dangerous.

"I… I can't."

Yun Sheng and Qin Tianzhao exchanged a glance, their eyes flickering with brief confusion.

"The eyes of the elders do not pierce these walls. Even they dare not cast shadows upon a master's words," Yun Sheng said, his voice calm, as if reassuring him that privacy was not a concern.

"It's not that…"

Jiang Chen caught his breath, hesitation gripping him. The words he was about to speak could spell disaster—for both him and Juan Lei—if they fell into the wrong hands. But this was a master he was speaking to. There was no escaping this conversation.

"I need qi to show it," he finally admitted.

A flicker of thought passed through his mind. Yun Sheng had spoken Juan Lei's name, but he had never confirmed how much he truly understood. If there was ever a chance to navigate the truth without fully revealing it, this was it.

Juan Lei was more than a name. More than a technique. He was a voice—an echo lingering in his mind, bound by qi itself. And that, Jiang Chen could not reveal.

Yun Sheng studied Jiang Chen in silence, his gaze piercing yet unreadable. In that brief moment, Jiang Chen knew—the master had already seen through him. A flicker of disapproval passed through Yun Sheng's eyes, subtle yet unmistakable.

There was no need for further inspection. His qi reserves were pitiful—barely above a third-rate martial artist's at his best. And now, after the match, he had none at all.

"Qin, fetch the Flowing Jade Pill. The current must flow." Yun Sheng's command was quiet yet absolute. Without hesitation, Qin Tianzhao turned and left the hall.

Two thoughts clashed in Jiang Chen's mind.

The Flowing Jade Pill—an elixir reserved for Wudang's inner disciples, potent enough to elevate a third-rate martial artist to second-rate. Yet here he was, about to receive it without holding that title.

But a far more pressing question gnawed at him.

Could he truly trust Yun Sheng?