As eager as Jia was to get her grudge match with Bai Lin, her match was scheduled to be the second on the day of the semi-finals. So, for the time being she was snuggled up next to Eui to watch one of the most anticipated matches of the entire tournament—Dae versus Hayakawa. The odds, for those who liked to gamble—and more than a few students and visitors did—were still in Hayakawa’s favor, but the first time there were people entertaining the idea that she might just lose. They were both recently broken through to the third stage, they were both known for being remarkably talented, and martial artists were generally disadvantaged against mages. If anything, the fact that Hayakawa was still favored to win just went to show how much of an impression she had made. Of course, Dae had made quite an impression as well with his use of a teleportation spell in his last match.

Jia could admit that she was pretty excited for the match, as much as she was eager to get to her own. Eui wrapped an arm around Jia and held her close, entwining her tail with Jia’s as if to reassure her that, yes, it was still there and functional. The intimacy of it made Jia’s face heat up and her stomach do all kinds of impressive feats of acrobatics, but it was reassuring. At least until Haeun started to feel left out and leapt up onto their laps.

Jia and Eui were a little bit annoyed at having the mood ruined by the spoiled little princess, but neither could stay mad at her for long. Soon, they had all settled into a comfortable little cuddle-pile, with Eui brushing the little fox-girl’s hair while Jia took care of grooming her tails.

“Haeun, your tails are so soft and pretty! I’m jealous—mine always gets all frazzled and prickly.”

Eui shot Jia a flat look.

“That’s because you’re always sitting on it, you slob. I know it’s not prehensile like mine, but you could at least pay a tiny bit of attention to it.”

Jia just shrugged as Haeun giggled and hummed happily.

“Mommy says my tails are proof of how special I am, that because of them I might be the next queen or the one after.”

That gave Jia a moment of pause as she realized just who’s tail she was brushing. This was how spoiled brats like Yan Yue and Sun Jaehwa were created, wasn’t it? Jia glanced at Eunae and saw her resigned expression. Then she looked back down at the little girl in her lap, kicking her legs and swaying gently back and forth as Eui bugged her to stay still. Yeah, no chance she was going to stop doting on this cutie—if she got spoiled, that was the Seong clan’s problem. Besides, it was probably better than leaving her to get neglected by Misun. Then again, what did Jia know? She wasn’t a parent.

At that thought, her eyes were drawn to Heian, the crown jewel atop their pyramid of snuggles curled up in Haeun’s lap. The cat spirit looked up and met her eyes with it’s piercing blue gaze, as if it had read her mind—and to some degree, it probably had. Maybe Jia needed to give a bit more consideration to properly raising a child after all.

She was grateful for the distraction as she went back to idly brushing the fur of Haeun’s tail. Jia had been deeply disturbed by Bai Lin’s fight with Eui. She realized now that the dismemberment was never really meant to be permanently crippling, not with a number of talented qi healers around. It was just another way of trying to goad Eui, and it had worked—just not on Eui. Jia had been so incensed. She had felt Eui’s pain and anguish, stronger than even Eui herself had. Did it mean that they were connected, even when they weren’t close enough to share essence?

Jia didn’t want to think about it right now. She’d have her chance to strike back at Bai Lin, and then one day she would end her. Jia didn’t like to hold grudges, but this one felt different. It wasn’t just about her personal feelings—though there was more than enough of that. Bai Lin was dangerous. She was a threat to Jia and everyone she loved—the kind that had to be removed at any cost. Not for a long time, though—it was another in what felt like an increasingly long list of oaths that Jia would complete ‘one day’. She was still too weak.

She shook her head and squeezed Eui closer to herself. Jia could think about Bai Lin later. Right now she just wanted to enjoy the warmth of her girlfriend, the company of her friends, and enjoy the spectacle of her other friends trying to beat each other senseless. Friend—she had to correct herself—Hayakawa had made her position clear. She privately rooted for Dae, hoping that perhaps if she was humbled, Hayakawa Kaede might overcome whatever strange notion of pride was forcing her to keep herself so distant.

Jia and the girls were enraptured by Hayakawa’s duel with Dae. It had started out simple enough—Hayakawa predictably charged forward at the start of the fight, and Dae defended himself by surrounding himself with stone spikes, rather than a traditional wall that she would just smash through. Naturally, Hayakawa tried to jump over them, but Dae blocked her jump with a pillar of stone that threatened to topple over and crush her. All the while, he simultaneously kept a constant offensive of all manner of elemental projectiles that Hayakawa had to defend herself against.

It was a remarkable demonstration of the advantage mages had over martial artists. Hayakawa was inflexible—she only had one mode of attack. She had to get close and hit him. Conversely, Dae could attack and defend at the same time, easily predict her actions and match them with his own spells, and keep his distance. Of course, Dae’s rapid-fire spellcasting was fairly unique to him. Normally, a mage had to prepare a spell by imbuing the talisman with mana. A skilled mage could do a few at once, hold on to a prepared spell without immediately casting it, or—in the case of Jia, Fujino, or other martial artists who’d dabbled in the arcane—quick-cast a compatible spell by empowering it with their ki instead. Dae’s spell-trigger technique allowed him to prepare spell after spell, dozens of them at once, seemingly without limit.

Hayakawa found herself unable to get past Dae’s apparently endless supply of rapid-fire spells, and even took a few minor injuries as she grew increasingly frustrated by the battle. The fighting reached a climax when Hayakawa had clearly built up enough ki to unleash her ultimate technique. Jia knew that Dae preferred to hold his defensive spells in reserve until they were needed—he wouldn’t cast a shield or wall until there was an actual attack coming, in order to preserve resources. With the speed at which he could cast spells, it made sense—he could conjure a wall of spikes or a shield of force in the blink of an eye—but here she knew it would be his downfall.

Jia wanted to close her eyes when she saw what she recognized as Hayakawa’s weightless fist technique. With a sharp crack of displaced air, Hayakawa vanished as if she had teleported, and it was all that Jia could do not to wince as she reappeared—two meters away from Dae with a shocked expression on her face. A precast bolt of force slammed into Hayakawa’s head and sent her sprawling to the ground.

Poor Haeun was nearly dumped onto the ground as Jia suppressed the urge to jump out of her chair and cheer at the unexpected turnaround. Dae didn’t let up his offensive, but Hayakawa wasn’t out of the fight yet either. She rolled to her feet, knocked an icy spear out of the air and wiped the blood from her mouth with a deep scowl. Jia had no idea how Dae had managed to stop Hayakawa’s technique, and it seemed like neither did she. She took a deep breath and changed her stance.

What she saw after that was something that would stay with Jia forever. Hayakawa began to walk forward—not slowly, but each step was careful and deliberate. Her breathing was slow and controlled, as though she were meditating, and face was a mask of intense concentration. She had completely abandoned her usual style in favor of—what looked like Ienaga’s Bujutsu style. Each step she took was measured and purposeful, and suddenly it seemed as if Dae’s aim had gone off. Jia felt a shiver run down her spine as she recognized the movements—the same ones that Ienaga used in their spars against her. Each attack was dodged by the barest fraction, those that couldn’t be dodged were deflected with the minimum amount of energy.

The flow of the battle reversed in an instant. Now it was Dae that was frustrated at every turn. None of his spells could land, and Hayakawa slowly forced him into a corner as he lacked the mobility to escape around her. As she closed him, Dae tried to put up defenses, but they were all bypassed. Spikes were carefully broken and walked past, a wall was smashed through, and a pillar attempting to push her away simply failed to budge her—she still had her weight-altering technique. Inevitably, inexorably, implacably, Hayakawa’s approach brought her face to face with Hyeong Daesung.

Dae swallowed nervously as she simply stood over him imposingly, not bothering to attack. He knew as surely as she did that the fight was over, and that he had lost. He raised his trembling hands into the air and hung his head as he surrendered. Jia didn’t hear the exchange, but she saw the moment that the fight ended, as Hayakawa’s face instantly softened and she offered Dae a few words. Probably complimenting him on how hard he had pushed her, if Jia had to guess. Hayakawa was, in many ways, a fairly predictable person. She had a strict personal code which she adhered to unerringly, and it made her simultaneously easy and completely impossible to deal with.

Jia leaned back in her seat and sighed. In the end even Dae had been so overwhelmed by Hayakawa that she hadn’t even needed to lay a hand on him to force a surrender. Today wasn’t the day that she was humbled, and after what she’d seen, Jia didn’t think it was going to be tomorrow either. She shook her head and forgot about it—a concern for another time. Now it was time to deal with her newest nemesis—Bai Lin.

As Jia prepared for her semi-final match, she did a bit of light meditation. She felt within her domain for a familiar presence—not Eui, since she had to wait back at the house, but Heian.

“Heian, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

“Myommy!”

Since Heian had learned to use words, Jia had discovered that she could communicate mentally with her spirit familiar. Technically, it was better for Heian’s development to speak out loud, but some conversations were better left private—not that Heian’s conversational skills were all that good in the first place.

“Mommy’s about to fight some other spirits, and I think I’m probably going to need your help. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes!”

“Good girl! I love you!”

Heian didn’t answer verbally, but Jia felt a warm, happy feeling emanating from within her soul. Getting Heian to communicate emotions verbally was a massive hurdle. Speaking didn’t come naturally to spirits, and they usually communicated in raw thoughts and emotions. To Heian, feeling an emotion and communicating it were the same thing. Jia hadn’t gotten her to cross that particular gulf yet, but it was an ongoing process.

Jia finished her meditation and stepped into the ring across from Bai Lin, who had the same unsettling smirk on her face as usual. She wanted to slap that stupid smirk off Bai Lin’s face. Not since Yan Yue had Jia ever felt such hatred for another person. On some level, she knew that it was the emotional intensity of her third-stage soul that was making her feel that way, but she didn’t care.

They heard the signal to begin fighting, but Jia was in no rush. Bai Lin wasn’t an aggressive opponent, and she specialized in stymying aggression from others—there was no point in rushing in. Instead, Jia focused on her domain and felt the new presences skittering about the ring, weaving their traps for Bai Lin. There were three of them—apparently Bai Lin was no longer interested in hiding her abilities—with weak domains. Jia wasn’t sure whether they were just lesser spirits, or if the process of binding them was to blame for the weakness, but they didn’t come anywhere close to the Greater Heian.

Jia began to press her own domain against them but against three at once, it was difficult to suppress them. She could do it, given enough time, but they were unlikely to just sit there and let it happen. Bai Lin raised an eyebrow at Jia’s passive stance.

“Just going to stand there? What happened to the aggression you displayed in your previous matches?”

Jia sighed.

“I can see what your spirits are doing. I’m not just going to walk into your traps.”

“Ahaha! Why not? Your girlfriend did. Alas, another imperfection marring such a beauty—not so easily fixed as the physical ones, unfortunately. Why you, I wonder? If she was going to be a deviant, you’d think she’d at least go for someone attractive.”

Jia frowned—she knew that Bai Lin was just trying to goad her, but it was working, damnit! Bai Lin wasn’t just standing still, either—while the spirits weaved their traps, she probed Jia’s defenses with swipes of that razor thread of hers, continuing her taunts as she did.

“She must care about you quite a bit if she’s bothering with someone so ugly. I wonder how she would feel if I fixed you for her? She was remarkably resilient, but perhaps I was approaching things from the wrong direction.”

Jia dodged another slash from the nearly invisible wire, then ducked under a loop that attempted to wrap itself around her neck. She was losing ground that she could escape to, as the spirits closed their webs around her. Bai continued to taunt her.

“There might be something to work with, if I strip you down to the canvas. First the tail, I think—it’s only fair. Then your ears—they’re so unsightly! Then I’ll pluck out your fangs and claws. Finally, the eyes. Not much left to work with at that point, but at least you’ll be human. In body, if not in spirit.”

As Bai Lin ranted on, Jia felt the bile rising in her throat. She fought it back—Bai Lin was a vile person, but she’d already known that. She couldn’t rise to the taunts. Instead, she tried to probe for information to buy more time to finish her own preparations.

“What happened to your other spirit? Eui said there were four of them. She didn’t actually destroy the first one, did she?”

Bai laughed derisively.

“Hah! Trying to learn my secrets? I don’t mind telling you—that one was damaged too badly to be useful. I’d need to share my own cultivation to revive it, and I wouldn’t waste power on something so trivial. It’s outlived its usefulness to me—perhaps I’ll hand it down to a sect junior, or just dispose of it.”

That answered Jia’s real question. Bai’s relationship with her spirits was purely exploitative. Jia didn’t know if that extended to the entire clan or just her, but she obviously didn’t think much of either spirits or half-spirits. Every moment, Jia felt more confident in her hatred of Bai Lin.

Jia sidestepped another attack from Bai Lin, but caught her arm in one of the webs. They had completely enclosed her, but she still wasn’t quite ready—Jia needed more time to build up her essence. Before the spider spirits could approach her, Jia let her Dragon’s Heart flare up around her, burning away the web that had caught her. The webs of qi didn’t burn as quickly as she would have liked, but it did release her. The aura would also make the spirits think twice about trying to bite her directly, but Jia doubted that the risk of harm to the spirits would give Bai Lin even a second of pause.

The aurora of rainbow flames bought Jia a little bit more time, until at last all the pieces came together. She began to emit the signature glow of her Lightning God Transformation, but didn’t unleash it right away. Jia had to drop her plasma aura as she brought the essence of shadow up from her dantian, and through her body—not for Steps of the Stalker, since it was impossible for her to use that with her other technique. Instead the shadow essence continued its path up and into her domain, where it was matched by Heian.

The entire arena dimmed as though a cloud had passed overhead, though the sky was clear. Bai Lin had been about to take advantage of Jia’s lowered defenses, but paused to look around as the world grew dark around her.

“What’s this? Some kind of darkness aura?”

Jia didn’t answer as she focused on maintaining her techniques. She had to hold on to the lightning ki threatening to surge through her, prepare for Absolute Awareness, and manipulate her shadow essence in a way that she’d never tried before all at the same time—it took all of her concentration, and she even took a few attacks from Bai Lin that she couldn’t afford the mental capacity to dodge. Wryly, she considered that she had to stop trying to invent new techniques in the middle of important fights.

“Are you ready, Heian?”

“Yes!”

Jia was nervous—she had no idea if this would even work, but Heian seemed confident. She focused on the concepts of Unity and Shadow within her domain. Heian was a part of her—not just a pet or a child, but an extension of herself. Jia still didn’t know why the Greater Heian had imparted a piece of itself onto her, but that bond felt like it went far beyond one of kinship. The shadow essence—Heian—spread out through her domain, and she felt a gentle tug at the edge of her mind.

It was a familiar feeling—one she’d experienced numerous times with Eui. It was the first experience that Jia had ever had as a cultivator—the feeling of her mind touching another. It took some effort to make it work, as Heian’s mind was more alien to Jia’s than Eui’s ever had been, but gradually, those differences reconciled themselves and Jia felt the line between her and Heian blur until she could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

The feeling was surreal. Unfamiliar instincts, alien thoughts, and a body that was simultaneously new and confusing, yet familiar and comforting. The huntress wasn’t sure who she even was anymore, but it didn’t matter. Her prey was before her. She could see the spiders closing in on her, trying to take advantage of her moment of weakness—they were clear as day to her senses, now. The foul usurper holding their vessels moved them like a puppeteer, and the huntress could see the threads of control that held the spirits captive.

She lowered herself down to the ground and prepared to pounce—her form wasn’t perfect for the pose, but she made do. As the spiders enclosed her, the huntress allowed the techniques she’d been holding on to go. Lightning raged through her body, time slowed to a crawl, and she plotted a course through the haphazard maze of spiritual webbing—child’s play for a cat.

When the spiders’ fangs were so close she could almost feel them against her soul, the huntress pounced.