Chapter 6: Joint Training Camp Mistblade Valley
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The outer sect was bustling by the time Qi Feng strolled into the training arena, arms behind his head and a lazy grin on his face.
He'd woken to the sound of trumpets—actual trumpets—blasting across the valley.
"Must be a funeral," he'd murmured, still half-asleep.
"It's a welcome parade," Jin Xian said from the doorway, looking unusually stiff.
"For whom?"
"Qi Wei."
Qi Feng blinked. "Who?"
"Your older brother. Sect Leader Qi Zheng's legitimate heir. He's returned."
Qi Feng's yawn caught in his throat.
"Oh."
---
Banners hung from the skywalks as disciples lined the path from the front gates to the main plaza. Qi Feng lazily pushed through the crowd, ignoring the glares and murmurs.
"He dares show his face?"
"After everything he's done…"
"I heard he beat Elder Sun's nephew and destroyed his whole garden!"
Qi Feng glanced over his shoulder. "The nephew came onto me. And the garden started it."
Ahead, the crowd parted. The man at the center of it was tall, poised, and irritatingly handsome. Dressed in crimson and gold, with a sword strapped to his back and pride strapped to his spine, Qi Wei walked like the sect already belonged to him.
He saw Qi Feng and paused.
Their eyes met.
A beat.
Then Qi Wei smiled—a slow, perfect smile that had no warmth in it.
"Little brother," he said.
Qi Feng returned the smile, twice as wide and ten times more dangerous. "Welcome back, big brother."
"You've been… busy."
"You know me. Always making friends."
Qi Wei chuckled. "And yet, I heard you've been summoned by Father."
Qi Feng tilted his head. "You jealous?"
"Curious." Qi Wei stepped closer. "What did he want?"
Qi Feng leaned in as if to whisper, then said, loud enough for the crowd to hear, "He asked me to pick out his funeral robes."
Gasps.
Qi Wei's smile tightened.
Jin Xian sighed from behind them. "We're all going to die."
---
That evening, the sect buzzed with rumors. The outer disciples gossiped, the inner disciples speculated, and the elders pretended not to care while sending spiritual birds to one another with urgent messages.
Qi Feng ignored them all.
He was in the library, flipping through a forbidden scroll about demonic artifacts while eating candied hawthorn.
Jin Xian sat nearby, watching him like one might a small forest fire—contained, but potentially lethal.
"He'll challenge you soon," Jin Xian said.
Qi Feng looked up. "Who? Father?"
"Qi Wei."
"Oh." Qi Feng turned a page. "Let him."
"He's strong. His cultivation is mid-Golden Core. He's trained under the Grand Masters in the Eastern Realms."
Qi Feng popped a candy into his mouth. "Cute."
"He might try to provoke you into attacking first," Jin Xian warned. "Then use that to demand your exile."
"He wouldn't be the first to try."
"You're taking this very casually."
"I'm older than dirt and twice as stubborn." Qi Feng smirked. "Let him dance. I'll enjoy the music."
---
The next day, the sect held a joint training camp.
Outer disciples, inner disciples, and a select few elite students were summoned to the Mistblade Valley—a spiritual training ground filled with illusory beasts, ancient traps, and just enough chaos to encourage bonding or betrayal, depending on your mood.
Qi Feng arrived late.
Naturally.
He wore plain robes, carried no weapon, and looked like he'd mistaken the event for a picnic.
"You," barked a senior disciple, "are in Team Nine. With Jin Xian… and Qi Wei."
Qi Feng blinked. "That's not a team. That's a pending murder scene."
He made his way to the staging grounds, where his "team" awaited.
Jin Xian looked stoic.
Qi Wei looked amused.
"Oh good," Qi Feng said. "The homicidal siblings and their emotional support sword."
"Brother," Qi Wei said with a grin. "Let's have fun today."
"Sure," Qi Feng replied. "I love team-building exercises. So tell me: who do we throw off a cliff first?"
---
The Mistblade Valley was beautiful—lush with mist-draped trees, glowing fungi, and chirping birds that may or may not have been minor spirit beasts in disguise.
Each team was given a map, a mission, and a warning:
"Stay together, survive the night, and collect three soul shards to pass."
Qi Wei took the lead immediately.
"We should head north," he said. "The denser spiritual energy there will attract stronger beasts—and rarer shards."
Qi Feng sighed. "Yes, let's charge toward the danger. What could possibly go wrong?"
Jin Xian gave him a look.
They moved.
---
Mist deepened as the trio pushed deeper into the valley. The trees grew taller here, ancient and twisted, their bark blackened as if scorched by forgotten lightning. A damp stillness clung to the air, broken only by the occasional rustle—too rhythmic to be wind, too fleeting to be anything friendly.
Qi Wei stopped atop a narrow ridge and unfurled the jade map. It glowed faintly, veins of golden light crawling across its surface like living script. The central rune pulsed once—twice—and then turned a deep crimson.
"We're close," he said, narrowing his eyes. "The qi here is dense, but... warped."
Jin Xian stepped beside him. "You think it's the shard?"
"No shard gives off this kind of aura by itself," Qi Wei replied. "Something's guarding it. Something powerful."
Qi Feng, who had been idly balancing a pebble on his finger, yawned. "Oh, good. A beast that eats cultivators. I was beginning to worry this place was too safe."
They followed the surge of energy down the ridge. The terrain changed—grass gave way to dark moss, and the roots of trees twisted unnaturally, forming shapes that looked vaguely like runes. The silence was unnerving. Even spirit birds, usually bold and curious, were absent here.
They reached a clearing where the trees parted like curtains, revealing a forest glade bathed in an otherworldly violet light. At its center lay a shallow basin of cracked earth, as if something immense had fallen—or risen—from below. Jagged claw marks gouged the surrounding stones, some of them twice the height of a man.
Qi Wei crouched at the edge of the basin and pressed his palm to the soil. His sword vibrated softly at his back. "This ground hasn't seen sunlight in a hundred years," he murmured. "But it's warm. The shard is here. I can feel it."
Jin Xian knelt beside one of the claw marks, tracing it with a finger. "These ridges… this thing didn't just climb out. It tunneled up. Burrowed."
"Something with claws and patience," Qi Wei said grimly.
Qi Feng looked around, his voice casual but low. "Funny. Why would a shard—a spiritual treasure meant to be found—bury itself somewhere like this? Unless…"
"Unless it was consumed," Jin Xian finished.
Qi Wei stood, unsheathing his blade with a hum. "And now it's the core of something alive."
A low growl rolled across the glade like thunder trapped in stone.