Chapter 4 – The Trial of Blades

The training grounds of Azure Peak stretched wide beneath the rising sun, the air alive with the clash of steel. Disciples sparred in neat rows, their movements sharp and precise under the eyes of stern instructors.

Lyra stood at the edge, heart pounding.

She hadn’t intended to come here. Yet when Cassian’s summons arrived that morning—cold, curt, commanding—she had no choice. Now, dozens of eyes burned into her, their whispers louder than steel on steel.

“Why is she here?”

“Lady Ying Yue hasn’t trained in weeks.”

“Maybe she’ll humiliate herself again.”

Their laughter stung, but she forced her chin high.

Cassian waited at the center of the grounds, dressed in black, his sword resting lightly at his side. His posture was relaxed, but the weight of his presence bent the air around him.

“You said you want to be different.” His voice carried across the grounds, calm yet edged with steel. “Then prove it. Take up a blade.”

Gasps rippled through the disciples.

Lyra’s stomach clenched. Huang Ying Yue’s body was weaker than most—spoiled by indulgence, never tempered by discipline. Yet to refuse him now would only feed the rumors.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the rack of practice swords. The wood felt heavy, unbalanced, like a foreign weight.

Cassian’s eyes flicked over her, unreadable. “Attack.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Show me.”

The crowd stilled.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. If I fail now, everything I said will mean nothing.

Biting down on fear, she raised the blade and lunged.

The strike was clumsy, her grip unsteady. Cassian deflected it with a flick of his wrist, sending vibrations jolting through her arm. She stumbled, but did not fall.

Again and again, she struck. Again and again, he turned her aside effortlessly. Yet with each clash, the fire in her chest grew. Her muscles screamed, sweat stung her eyes, but she refused to lower her blade.

Finally, her knees buckled. She fell, chest heaving, sword clattering against stone.

Whispers swelled among the disciples.

Cassian approached, looming over her. For a moment, she braced for scorn.

But instead of ridicule, his gaze held something else—measured, considering.

“You lasted longer than I expected,” he said quietly, pitched for her ears alone.

Her head jerked up, shocked. His face revealed nothing, but his words sparked a flicker of pride in her chest.

“I…” Her throat was raw, but she forced the words out. “I’ll last longer next time.”

Something in his eyes shifted—so slight she wondered if she imagined it.

He turned away, voice once more cool and commanding. “Enough for today.”

As he walked off, the disciples buzzed with disbelief.

“She actually fought?”

“She didn’t give up…”