Dusk finds Xifeng and Xia walking, as often they did, through the Royal Conservatory.

“There’s a connection between Xiurong, the Void Sect, and Bao’s death,” says Xia with finality.

“Is that what your affinity tells you?”

Xia’s frown tells Xifeng everything she needs to knows.

“Fate has been shrouded, ever since that damned Weimin went missing.”

“You think he was responsible? That’s a stretch, even from you,” answers Xifeng, doubt in her voice.

“No, nothing like that. It’s like… do you remember how Fate users see their affinity?”

“I’m a cultivator,” is Xifeng’s nonplussed reply. “Of course I remember.”

“Humor me.”

“Cultivators of Fate see their affinity as tethers or cables connecting two or more individuals or objects. The width of the cables is dependent on the amount of karma between the connected entities,” answers Xifeng, voice flat and unemotive.

“There had better be a reason you made me remember that accursed place.”

Wincing, Xia continues. “Right, but what they left out is that secondary affinities can influence how a cultivator visualizes their affinity. With my fire affinity, I see the karma of an individual as a flame.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You know how every Fire Cultivator has a slightly different colored flame?”

“What about it?”

“During the Festival of Light, the seven strongest Masters combine their flames with father’s. Despite that, we know that father’s flame is the most powerful by the red hue of the final product. Similarly, the color of an individual’s karmic flame mirrors their greatest karmic connection. Red for enmity, green for amity, yellow for neutrality, white for life, and black for death.”

“I still don’t understand how that implicates Weimin in Bao’s demise.”

“Bear with me. Bao’s flame has never been visible; the disparity in our cultivation prevented that while he was alive. But Weimin is different.”

“I’m not sure I see how.”

“For starters, his karmic flame is as clear to me as it’s ever been.”

“Didn’t you say you couldn’t see the karmic web of Core cultivators,” questions Xifeng, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Precisely.”

“Then how did-,” begins Xifeng before her sister’s interruption.

“How did Weimin defeat Yingjie so soundly? That predicament is what led me down this path of questions in the first place!” Xia’s sigh carries with it the exhaustion of her sleep-addled mind. “It’s not completely unheard of for a member of Foundation Establishment to overcome a cultivator stronger than them.”

“Maybe for one blessed by the heavens. But Weimin has always struggled with his cultivation. It’s why he was denied a seat at the table.”

“Yes, but that was before he humiliated Yingjie.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Wait, what? When did this happen?”

“You didn’t know? That’s uncharacteristic of you.”

“Perhaps once,” starts Xifeng, “but there is little in this world more discerning than the eyes of Fate.”

To Xia, Xifeng’s words are heavy, holding meaning beyond her comprehension. Blood runs freely from her nose and eyes as her Dao expands to encompass this new understanding. “Jie Jie, you know better than that,” she chides. “The secrets of the Dao are not yours to share.”

“Sorry,” mumbles Xifeng.

Xia pauses before continuing, wrestling with borrowed understanding. I got lucky, she thinks. I was close to understanding the concept anyways, so my cultivation wasn’t damaged permanently. She barely notices when an enchantment on her clothing whisks away the blood that seeks to stain it.

“In short, Weimin has returned to the palace. Immediately after being named a Contender, he bested Yingjie in both strength and speed, with all of the Progressive Faction Contenders bearing witness. Though this may only be cause for suspicion, it proves he has the strength to exert influence.

“His karmic flame has evolved, though that’s to be expected considering the circumstances. His flame itself though… I’ve never seen enmity so concentrated.”

“I still don’t understand how this implicates Weimin.”

“Simply put… I had a tracker placed on him,” admits Xia nervously.

“You’ve known where he was this whole time!?”

“On the contrary; the tracker was somehow deactivated around the time he disappeared. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Shortly before he reappeared, I was able to reestablish connectivity. I would have said something, but I was distracted by-”

Xifeng cuts Xia off with a wave of her hand. But Xia isn’t insulted- her sister wasn’t the type to act without purpose. At first, she worries her sister is angry. But Xifeng’s severe expression holds none.

The elder Contender closes her eyes, concentrating as she uses a communication jade- or so Xia infers. Moments later, the sisters are surrounded by tall figures in crimson garb.

The Royal Guard are distinguishable by their weapons; a pair wield guandao as a talisman master steps forward with only a brush, their strokes transforming crimson qi into a mantle that settles upon the shoulders of a shield bearer. The soldier activates a soul burn technique, temporarily increasing the strength of her soul in exchange for a significant recovery time.

Xia knows how soul burn techniques feel. Before discovering her affinity, she’d relied on them to compensate- a choice made out of necessity. The technique wasn’t so bad at first; it started with a slight pressure in the cranium, where the extra dimensional Soul Cage overlapped with one’s physical body. But it got worse.

It always got worse.

In theory, soul burn techniques were practical. They offered an increase in battle strength by consuming the soul itself as fuel. They were also flexible, allowing the cultivator to select from multiple levels of consumption. But the detriments were stark. Soul burn techniques were trump cards- and one that had a significant cooldown. An incense time of even the least draining techniques was enough to put Xia herself out of commission for a day or more- and that was disregarding the week or even month long recovery period afterward.

The other downside was inherent to the nature of the technique. The Soul was a metaphysical catalog of an information describing an individual- an amalgamation of all their knowledge, lived experience, and personhood. Soul burn techniques eliminated this vital information to provide that tantalizing increase in battle strength.

Xia doesn’t even notice when warm blood trickles from her nose, her body unable to mitigate the disturbance in ambient qi. It’s a sign she is simply not ready for this level of combat.

The first attack is too fast for Xia to see. One moment, her mind is overwhelmed at the confluence of powerful techniques, and the next, reality itself has torn open.

She wishes Xifeng had simply been angry.

The talisman artist scrambles to paint over the window into the Void, but the assailant doesn’t relent. Three attacks in as many heartbeats is all it takes to shatter the shieldbearer’s defense, sending shards of enchanted metal exploding in all directions. She never stands a chance.

The pair of guandao wielders fare better than the rest, repelling attack after attack. Even the speed of the assailant can’t break through, falling prey to the polearms’ reach advantage. In light of the dire situation, even Xifeng contributes.

“SCREEEEEEEE!”

Xifeng’s bloodline ignites, feathers of crimson flame enveloping her as the shrill cry of the Phoenix echoes off the glass ceiling of the conservatory. But the Phoenix longs for freedom, and the garden, with qi lanterns in lieu of the harsh desert sun and meticulously maintained formations simulating nature, is anathema to it.

So she uses the only technique available to her.

Flame flows like water in whorls, crawling up her arms. When it reaches her shoulders, it collapses outwards,

Even Xia, a beneficiary of an entire nation’s knowledge and resources, knows little about domains. Knowledge of transcendent techniques is limited.

Xia’s expectations are shattered moments later as a scythe of dark power cleaves through their protection like paper.

In a handful of heartbeats, Xifeng dodges strike after strike. Throat, ear, back, avoided by the slimmest of margins. Explosive qi burst from nodes across her body, extricating her from certain death when her agility failed.

And then it’s not enough. Without fanfare or indication, Xifeng’s defense fails, and the assassin's blade slips between her ribs.

Xia is frozen as she watches her sister gurgle dark blood before collapsing to the ground. The assassin sheathes their blade, fading from view.

And then a hand bursts from its chest.

Xia’s eyes flit back and forth between the perishing assassin and her sister's corpse once, twice, thrice before she realizes that the latter is a mirage. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding as the tension leaves her body.

And then everything goes black.