Petals in the Training Hall

Chapter 2 – Petals in the Training Hall

The Moon Veil Sect sat upon a mountain wreathed in endless mist, its spires rising like ivory towers above a sea of clouds. Unlike the rigid halls of Azure Cloud, here the courtyards shimmered with floating lanterns, plum trees bloomed even out of season, and the air itself seemed woven with enchantment.

Liang Yue followed her guide through stone archways until they reached the sect’s inner training hall. It was vast, the floor polished obsidian, the walls engraved with moonlit runes. A hundred disciples knelt in meditation, their breathing synchronized, the air trembling with their collective qi.

But Liang Yue’s gaze betrayed her discipline.

For at the center stood Shen Xiang.

Clad in flowing lavender robes, she moved like water, hands weaving sigils through the air. With each gesture, petals of light bloomed around her, swirling in intricate patterns before shattering into motes of silver flame. Her illusions weren’t just tricks—they carried weight, pressure, and the faint scent of plum blossoms.

The watching disciples murmured in awe.

When Shen Xiang’s performance ended, her violet eyes sought Liang Yue immediately. The teasing smile returned, as if she had expected her all along.

“Azure Cloud envoy,” Shen Xiang said, voice ringing across the hall. “I challenge you.”

A ripple of excitement ran through the gathered disciples.

Liang Yue stepped forward, drawing her sword. “This is supposed to be an alliance, not a contest.”

“And yet,” Shen Xiang’s eyes glimmered, “to understand a sword, one must first cross blades. Or… perhaps you fear my illusions?”

A faint smirk. A deliberate provocation.

Liang Yue’s heart quickened, though her face remained cold. “Very well. I accept.”

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They faced one another at the hall’s center. The air stilled.

“Begin!” cried the presiding elder.

Shen Xiang moved first, her hands blurring into a sigil. The hall dissolved into a moonlit forest, petals raining down in endless cascades. Phantom figures danced in the shadows—illusions meant to distract and deceive.

Liang Yue closed her eyes. Do not trust what you see. Trust the sword. Trust the qi.

Her blade flashed. With one precise cut, the illusion peeled away like silk. Shen Xiang gasped softly, clearly surprised.

“Not bad,” Shen Xiang said, lips curving into delight. “But what about this?”

The world fractured again, this time into countless reflections of Shen Xiang herself, circling Liang Yue like mirrors. Each reflection spoke in unison:

“Catch me, Silent Blade… if you can.”

Liang Yue’s sword hand tightened. But before she struck, she caught the glimmer of genuine amusement—and perhaps admiration—in Shen Xiang’s real eyes, just for a moment.

Her chest stirred with something dangerous. Not anger. Not rivalry. Something warmer, more perilous.

She slashed through the illusions anyway, steel singing like a dragon’s cry. The echoes shattered, petals scattering into nothingness. When the dust cleared, Shen Xiang stood before her, chest rising with breathless laughter.

“Beautiful,” Shen Xiang whispered, voice too low for others to hear.

“You shine even brighter when you fight.”

Liang Yue froze, pulse betraying her calm façade. Around them, disciples cheered the display of skill, but in that instant, the world narrowed to just two figures—the Silent Blade and the Moonlit Smile.

Neither victory nor defeat was declared. But a bond, dangerous and undeniable, had already begun to form.

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