I am the Heroine’s Master?

"I'm sorry."

Mo Jian returned to awareness lying on a hard stone bench, his head resting on something unexpectedly soft as those words drifted into his ears. Gentle fingers combed through his hair.

"I got carried away, forgetting you're still only at the initial stage of the Nascent Soul realm. How are you feeling? There shouldn't be any lingering physical or spiritual damage."

Indeed, he felt wonderful, as though he had enjoyed a full night's restful sleep. If anything, he had little desire to open his eyes. After a moment, however, he did. Qing Zhanyue's face greeted him, leaning over so closely that barely an inch separated them. She was looking at him from the side, her expression chagrined. The stone beneath him was one of the many benches surrounding the arena. And the pillow...

His head was resting in her lap.

He immediately tried to sit up, only for a firm – and utterly unyielding – hand on his chest to press him back down. "Be still," she said, straightening slightly. "You could still be injured."

Hadn't she just declared that he was completely healed and free of any lasting harm? The thought crossed his mind, but the awkwardness of his current position left him too off balance to voice it. Instead, he settled for a quiet, "Mm." Her hand never stopped its gentle rhythm, continuing to stroke his hair, fingers slipping through the strands as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"That was well fought," the general said, looking down at him. "I am truly impressed. Though I have no desire to involve myself in politics, I am glad to see Muxue has such a capable protector. Whatever his plans may be, she stands a good chance of succeeding with you at her side."

A faint smile curved her lips as she spoke and Mo Jian immediately looked away. Unfortunately, from this angle, only half her face disappeared from view. Deciding that changing the subject was the wiser course, he latched onto the first question that came to mind. "Why aren't you an immortal yet?" he asked. "Those techniques, and the way you wield your sword – that was xian, without a doubt."

Qing Zhanyue casually waved the hand that had moments ago pinned him to the bench. "I know I'll reach that realm eventually, but I'm in no particular hurry. Besides, there are other considerations. The Immortal Emperor would not be pleased to have another immortal wandering the empire after what happened with Madam Feng. Not to mention all the expectations and obligations that would follow."

Mo Jian frowned inwardly. That made sense… Except she hadn't become one in the novel. At least, not as far as he remembered. There had never been any mention of another immortal beyond the nine he knew of. Nor had the Peacock General appeared as a character at all, despite her strength and obvious status. Someone like her should have crossed paths with Ye Chen sooner or later.

Which meant one of two things: Either she had died...

...or she had been removed from the board some other way.

Had Shi Wanjun's plan succeeded in the original story? Had the Peacock General been forced to-

He cut the thought off before it could finish. "If the Immortal Emperor wouldn't approve," he said instead, his tone dry, "then perhaps an arena built by him isn't the best place to say so. I've heard he can hear everything in the world."

To his surprise, Qing Zhanyue chuckled. The sound vibrated through him as she shifted beneath him. Her fragrance filled his senses, a warm blend of almond, rhubarb, and heliotrope, sweetened by black vanilla husk and touched with cinnamon. He very firmly instructed his brain to stop paying attention to it.

"A bit late for that, I'm afraid," she said. "He watched our entire spar." She gestured across the arena. From the corner of his eye, Mo Jian caught sight of a solitary silhouette seated on the opposite side of the spectator stands, directly across from them.

His heart lurched and he pushed himself upright. This time, Qing Zhanyue let him. When he looked again, the seat was empty. A chill settled over him. He didn't need confirmation. The Immortal Emperor's gaze had been upon them, silently observing every exchange of his duel with Qing Zhanyue.

Beside him, Qing Zhanyue rose to her feet as well, stretching leisurely. "Come. I believe I'm owed a lesson with my new student, and you have a breakthrough to prepare for." She started walking away. Mo Jian hurried after her, his thoughts still lingering on the Immortal Emperor, when she suddenly stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. Her smile was breathtaking. "When you reach the peak of the Nascent Soul realm, let's fight again." Her smile widened ever so slightly. "I wouldn't mind being defeated by you."

It took a heartbeat for the implication to register. Heat flooded Mo Jian's cheeks. By the time he recovered, Zhanyue had already turned and continued walking. As he watched her retreating figure, he couldn't help thinking that perhaps he really was a glutton for punishment. Because if he ever did manage to defeat her...

He wouldn't mind taking responsibility afterward.

……………………………………………..

When Mo Jian and Qing Zhanyue finally returned to the lead carriage of the convoy, they were greeted by a chorus of voices, saying "Welcome back, General!" "How was the fight?"

Or rather, she was. Mo Jian received a rather different welcome, "You survived, Master?" "Perhaps next time, Brother Mo."

His eyebrow twitched. Fortunately, he had enough self-control not to rise to the bait. Objecting to their assumption that he had lost would only invite the inevitable follow-up, "Oh? So you won?" and there was no satisfying answer to that question. Choosing to preserve his dignity, he ignored them and made his way back to his stone seat.

Qing Zhanyue had already settled into hers. "It was fun," she said simply.

The entire carriage lurched. Gue, who was piloting not only the carriage but the entire convoy, whipped around in shock. The flaming wheels beneath the convoy sputtered out, and the carriage immediately lost altitude, dipping alarmingly, and began to fall. A heartbeat later, Gue snapped back to himself. Fire roared to life beneath the wheels once more, the convoy steadied, and they continued on their way as though nothing had happened. The shock, however, remained plainly written across his face.

Perhaps wisely, he turned back toward the front before either Chen Zhuhe's stream of colorful curses or Liu Rushi's icy glare could fully reach him.

Qing Zhanyue, apparently oblivious to the chaos she'd caused, merely nodded. "It was a good fight." Then, as if discussing the weather, she added, "That said, let's increase our pace to the Wall, Gue. I'd like us to arrive on schedule."

Her gaze shifted to Bai Ning. "And..."

Bai Ning met her eyes and gave a small nod, one that somehow conveyed equal parts excitement and resignation.

Qing Zhanyue grinned triumphantly. "Let's go." The moment the words left her mouth, she appeared beside Bai Ning without warning. A sword was already in her hand, and she gave it a light swing, and in the very next instant, both she and Bai Ning vanished.

Mo Jian's half-formed protest- "Wait-" hung uselessly in the air. He immediately released his spiritual sense and found them: they were standing atop the roof of the carriage. But before he could do more than confirm their location, one of the two figures disappeared from his perception.

"Don't think I have forgotten you," Qing Zhanyue said cheerfully from behind him. Mo Jian froze as she suddenly reappeared, one hand resting on his shoulder. He turned – or rather, he was halfway through turning – when he vanished as well, leaving the remaining cultivators in the carriage to exchange glances. Their expressions held the same mixture of surprise and amusement, as though none of them had quite decided whether they had just witnessed something impressive or utterly ridiculous.

Mo Jian quickly discovered that teleportation was nothing like he had imagined. There was no disorientation or nausea, nor the sensation of being torn through space. The world did not spin around him, there was no tunnel of impossible colors, nor any strange whispers echoing through his mind. It was, in fact, so seamless that he almost felt as though he had not moved at all. Only the world had.

Because he had been sitting when they left, he had to straighten himself quickly upon arrival before looking around. He and Qing Zhanyue had appeared in another carriage, one nearly identical to the previous one, except that the stone pavilions and seats along the windows were absent. The space was completely empty save for a rug in the center and the lamps hanging overhead.

Zhanyue watched him survey the room with a proud grin. "This is one of the carriages we leave empty, either as a meditation chamber or in case someone feels a breakthrough approaching. You won't be disturbed here." She paused, then added, "Though I do suggest layering a few formations around yourself first. It is always better to be cautious."

He ignored that, still turning the experience of teleportation over in his mind. "That was you cutting the distance, wasn't it?" he asked, already half certain of the answer.

Qing Zhanyue's proud grin shifted; now, she looked proud of him. "I knew you would figure it out. Yes, I cut the distance between where I am and where I want to be. After that, even the slightest movement brings me to the latter. Quite useful, wouldn't you say?"

It was, but he suspected saying that would only lead to more bragging from her side. Mo Jian immediately changed the topic. "So, how will this wor-?"

That was as far as he managed before there was a sword in his stomach. He gasped, but there was no pain. General Qing ripped the blade free, and it passed through his flesh and robes like an illusion, leaving not so much as a tear behind. The next instant, she was gone.

Mo Jian remained where he stood, feeling an incredible certainty spread through him. It was as though all the little thoughts clamoring inside his head had fallen silent at once, leaving behind a profound, blessed silence. No, not silence. They were still there somewhere. He simply wasn't paying attention to them anymore because they had been cut away. He even felt a vague sense of embarrassment at his earlier hesitation. Those doubts seemed like secondhand memories now, belonging to someone else entirely; a painfully awkward stranger he had once watched rather than the person he was now. He thought, and the path before him unspooled as straight and solid as a paved road.

First the Yuan, then Chengxuan, and then the Immortal Emperor. After that, he could scarcely imagine anything capable of stopping him. Once his plan succeeded, the Immortal of Slaughter would never even emerge from its prison. What had all that useless worrying been for? He was already doing the best anyone possibly could, simply because he was the one doing it.

He settled into a lotus pose and swept his sleeve through the air. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding answered his call, emerging from within his body like a mote of light before splitting into three identical copies. Each transformed into a complete set of formation flags and array plates. The flags shot outward, embedding themselves into the corners of the carriage and arranging themselves in a precise pattern around him, while the plates eagerly drank his qi, weaving together a barrier of three interlocking layers.

The innermost formation – the Eighty-Eight Yang Star Formation – had been taught to him by General Tang. It was a formidable restriction, one he could trust without reservation.

Only then did he turn his attention inward. He had spent remarkably little time examining his Nascent Soul, embarrassed by its appearance, a feeling that now struck him as absurd. It sat peacefully within his dantian, cultivating with every breath of its existence. Cradled in its tiny arms was the true Heaven Enshrouding Ding, held like a child's favorite toy.

Without wasting another moment, he began. He already knew what he needed to do. He had to focus on the moments that had forced him to grow. There was only one memory suitable for the task, and he had always known it. Something – some pointless emotional attachment, no doubt – had kept him from using it properly. Not anymore. He focused on the moment of his transmigration into this world, then summoned a jade pill vial from his storage pouch. The lid flipped open, and one of the shimmering blue pills – the Azure Soul Pills he had traded from Gu Daisheng so long ago – flew into his mouth.

He swallowed, feeling its qi spread through his meridians. Twelve pills remained in the vial, and he possessed all the supplementary ingredients needed to refine extra pills to complement the ones he already had.

He would not leave this carriage until he reached the middle stage of the Nascent Soul realm. There was no hesitation left within his soul. There was only the path ahead.

……………………………………………

Bai Ning managed not to jump when Qing Zhanyue appeared out of nowhere again.

The two of them stood atop the flying carriage, and General Qing had flatly refused to erect a qi barrier, or even allow Bai Ning to use qi to steady herself against the howling wind and the convoy's terrifying speed. Learning in "such fun circumstances," she had declared, was part of the lesson, and Bai Ning ought to be grateful for the opportunity. The general's words, not hers.

Then she had disappeared once more, returning only after a full minute had passed. She waved away Bai Ning's questioning look before her expression brightened considerably. "Alright, now we can get to it without interruptions. Show me your swordsmanship, and use your qi as sparingly as possible. I want to see how deep your comprehension of the sword really is."

Bai Ning glanced to the side. The landscape streamed past in a blur of color and motion. They were flying over a rugged plateau of red stone, its cracked surface broken only by stubborn shrubs and the occasional wind-twisted tree clinging to crevices and shallow pockets of soil. Beyond that, the land stretched out in endless shades of rust and brown. She hadn't seen a single town or village in the past several minutes.

This part of the Empire seemed utterly deserted. It also looked like the sort of place where anything strong enough to survive would be delighted to kill the first person it encountered.

Bai Ning turned back to the General and summoned her sword into her hand. Qing Zhanyue gave her an encouraging smile, though it carried an unmistakable hint of Well? We haven't got all day.

Taking the instruction literally, Bai Ning reinforced herself with only the bare minimum of qi, just enough to ensure she wouldn't be blown off the speeding carriage. She refused to rely on anything more. Even though she could fly, falling off would still be humiliating.

She stepped forward. Her blade flashed toward Qing Zhanyue's shoulder with the clean, direct cut of a mortal swordswoman. It was the first time in ages she had fought like this. The General met her sword almost lazily. Their blades rang together once before Bai Ning's strike slid harmlessly away, diverted by the smallest rotation of Qing Zhanyue's wrist.

Bai Ning flowed immediately into a thrust.

Deflected.

A horizontal slash.

Parried.

An upward cut intended to force open the General's guard.

Redirected before it could build momentum.

She pressed forward, refusing to give her opponent room to breathe, chaining one attack into the next. Every transition was one she had practiced using her memory jade. Cuts became thrusts, thrusts became feints, feints became low sweeps or sudden reversals aimed at joints and wrists, but none of it mattered. Qing Zhanyue barely seemed to move. She took half-steps instead of full ones, turning her body only as much as necessary. Her sword described impossibly economical arcs, intercepting Bai Ning's attacks at precisely the point where they lost all leverage. Every collision robbed Bai Ning of balance instead of her opponent.

A gust slammed into them from the side as the carriage banked slightly. Bai Ning adjusted instinctively. Qing Zhanyue did not, her lack of qi sending her wobbling. Bai Ning used the brief opening to dart inside the General's reach. The flat of Qing Zhanyue's blade smacked sharply against her thigh.

"Too eager."

Bai Ning hissed through her teeth and retreated a single step before immediately surging back in again. Each exchange lasted only a heartbeat before ending exactly the same way. A tap against her forearm. A flick against her shoulder. A sting across her knuckles that reminded her exactly how exposed her grip had become. Bai Ning gradually realized the General wasn't simply responding to her attacks. She was steering them, subtly encouraging certain choices while quietly shutting down others. Whenever Bai Ning attempted something particularly clever, she found herself guided into an even more obvious mistake.

It felt less like sparring and more like walking through an invisible maze whose walls only appeared the instant she reached them.

Then the convoy lurched again as a violent crosswind blasted across the plateau, shaking the massive flying carriage beneath their feet. Qing Zhanyue tottered on her feet again, barely keeping her balance by the tiniest fraction, and Bai Ning took saw it again: an opening.

She exploded forward. She dropped low, almost kneeling, then drove upward in a rising thrust aimed beneath the General's ribs. The angle was awkward enough that few swordsmen would have been able to intercept it cleanly without retreating. Qing Zhanyue's grin widened.

Bai Ning had just enough time to think, Oh, no-

The General's wrist turned. Bai Ning's blade slid harmlessly along Qing Zhanyue's sword before skimming past her side by scarcely an inch. The deflection carried Bai Ning just far enough off-line for her momentum to betray her. She had overextended. The flat of Qing Zhanyue's sword snapped against her back with a sharp smack that stung far more than it hurt.

"Too impatient."

Bai Ning caught herself before she could stumble, turning with a grimace as the General casually lowered her sword. Qing Zhanyue brushed a loose strand of hair behind one ear, looking as though nothing noteworthy had happened.

"You committed before you knew whether I'd actually lost my balance," she said. "Don't be so eager to seize every opportunity. A steady hand wins far more battles than a restless one."

Bai Ning rubbed at the spot between her shoulder blades and lifted the Green Destiny Sword once more, settling back into her stance. Qing Zhanyue waved a dismissive hand. "That won't be necessary. I have a good grasp of your style now."

Bai Ning hesitated before lowering her sword.

"The technique you've bound into your sword is incomplete."

She frowned. "Incomplete? In what way?"

Qing Zhanyue raised her own blade and ran a finger lightly along its edge. Sunlight glimmered across the steel, the thin line of its edge seeming impossibly sharp, as though it were capable of dividing the world itself. "Your technique functions by imposing a certainty upon your sword." She glanced at Bai Ning. "When you strike, your intent defines a reality in which the target must be cut. That certainty is what allows you to touch xian." Without waiting for a reply, she continued. "And make no mistake, being able to invoke even a thimbleful of xian at your realm is extraordinary."

"But," she said, tapping the blade with a fingernail, "you learned the technique while your comprehension was still shallow. At the time, you could only sustain that certainty while using the barest trace of qi. The more qi you poured into it, the more your own thoughts and expectations muddied the intent."

Bai Ning slowly nodded. That much matched her own experience.

"So your technique evolved in the only direction it could." Qing Zhanyue held up the sword. "You used xian to refine the edge itself." She traced the blade again. "Like taking a whetstone to steel. Each insight removed another imperfection and smoothed another rough spot. The sword became sharper and more absolute." Her finger stopped at the tip. "But every blade has a limit. No matter how much you polish it, there comes a point where another pass of the whetstone accomplishes almost nothing."

She looked directly at Bai Ning. "You've reached that point."

Bai Ning frowned. "So... what now?"

"You stop sharpening the sword, and you sharpen everything else."

Seeing Bai Ning's bewilderment, Qing Zhanyue laughed. "Perhaps that's too abstract." She raised her sword again. "This is easier to demonstrate."

Rather than performing a grand slash, she moved with deliberate slowness, every fraction of the motion controlled to perfection. Her sword descended through empty air, and the space before her quietly split apart. A thin line lingered in the air, transparent and utterly motionless, like a wound carved into reality itself.

Bai Ning's eyes widened. She knew that. Or rather... she had seen something like it before. A memory surfaced, of the nameless swordsman whose inheritance she had received. He had once cut a bridge between distant mountains with a single stroke and walked across it as though it were solid stone. This looked eerily similar.

Qing Zhanyue sheathed her sword. Then, without hesitation, she extended one sleeve toward the floating cut. The fabric brushed against it and instantly, the silk unraveled. Cloth became strips, the strips became threads, and the threads became drifting fibers before dissolving entirely, as though they had never existed.

"See?" Qing Zhanyue asked.

Bai Ning stared at the suspended scar in space. "It's... applying the technique somewhere other than the blade."

"Exactly." The General nodded approvingly. "The principle is identical. Instead of using xian to perfect the edge of my sword, I apply that certainty directly to the world itself."

Bai Ning frowned. "Like... a sword light?" Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't right.

Qing Zhanyue caught her expression and smiled. "You realized the problem yourself." She pointed at the lingering cut. "A sword light is merely the projection of a swing. It travels through space until it reaches something to cut. This never traveled anywhere. It simply declared that this piece of space..." She tapped the air beside it. "...had already been cut."

Bai Ning stared at the impossible wound hanging in the air for several long moments before turning back to the General. She knew she was smiling, but she couldn't help herself. "How do I learn this?"

Qing Zhanyue's smile widened. "My teacher used a tree. He would strike the trunk with the flat of his sword. The branches would shake, and every leaf would begin to fall." She held up a finger. "My first task was simple. Cut every leaf before it reached the ground. Once I managed that, he told me to cut them all with a single swing." Another finger. "When I accomplished that, he insisted I cut every leaf before any of them had time to fall."

"In the end," Qing Zhanyue continued, "I had to cut every leaf at the instant his sword touched the trunk. When the branches finally shook, the leaves remained unaffected by his strike before separating along the lines I had already cut."

Bai Ning could only stare. That's... The words refused to come. That's the coolest thing I've ever heard.

Qing Zhanyue laughed at the expression on her face. "We'll start with something considerably easier for you." She raised her sword and slowly traced a shallow arc through the air. A faint line of qi lingered behind the blade before gradually fading. "I'll leave a single cut in the air."

She glanced at Bai Ning. "I want you to reproduce it perfectly. If your understanding differs from mine by even the slightest amount, the qi won't hold the shape. It'll collapse before it can become anything more."

Bai Ning studied the fading line. "And after that?"

"When you can reproduce my cuts flawlessly, we'll begin working on intent. And after that..." Her eyes gleamed. "...we'll see whether the world is willing to acknowledge your sword."

Bai Ning immediately sheathed the Green Destiny Sword and bowed deeply. "I am grateful for your instruction, General."

Qing Zhanyue's lips pursed into an exaggerated pout. "What's with this 'General' business?" She folded her arms. "At least call me Teacher."

Bai Ning froze. Then she straightened, offering an apologetic smile. "I don't think that would be appropriate."

"It would, if you became my disciple," General Qing said with complete seriousness. "I can teach you everything I know. With your talent, reaching Nascent Soul under my guidance would not be difficult."

The offer settled between them and for a moment, Bai Ning was tempted. She knew exactly what Qing Zhanyue was offering. Countless cultivators would have abandoned everything for such an opportunity. But some things could not be abandoned. She lowered her gaze.

"I must decline."

Qing Zhanyue waited.

"There are matters I have to resolve first," Bai Ning said, voice calm. "I have a friend whose death I intend to avenge and a teacher I have to help."

Qing Zhanyue regarded her quietly before giving a small nod. "I understand."

She did not press the matter further. Drawing her sword once more, she pointed it toward the empty air. "Then we'll leave it at that."

A fresh arc appeared before them.

"Now." She stepped aside. "Show me your first attempt."

..............................................................................................

AN: As always, there are advance chapters available on Patreon for anyone interested in reading ahead - check them out to be 15 chapters ahead. Thank you!