Chapter 32
A grin spread across his face as he opened his eyes, looking straight at Lin Yi. "Shi fu?"
Lin Yi shrugged lightly. "Go ahead."
Wuming's head snapped toward him. "No. Stay away."
Weiyang grinned wider. "Oh come on. We're friends. We're supposed to help each other out, right?"
And then—
He ran.
Straight at Wuming.
Wuming didn't hesitate.
He turned—and ran.
What followed happened so fast that the air itself seemed to twist.
They circled each other at incredible speed, their movements sharp and fluid, feet barely touching the ground as they accelerated. Dust lifted. Wind spiraled. Their motion created a visible current, like a small whirlwind forming around them as they darted back and forth, changing directions in blurs of motion.
Lin Yi watched.
And for the first time—
He was genuinely impressed.
"…wow," he thought.
Not far away, Yinghua and Wei Zhi stood side by side, watching. Yinghua's eyes widened, her breath catching slightly. "They're… so fast…"
She could barely track them.
All she saw—
Was flashes.
A streak of yellow.
A streak of black.
Like lightning colliding with shadow.
Then—
They stopped.
Abruptly.
Wuming stood on the left.
Weiyang on the right.
Both completely still.
Both breathing normally.
Not even a hint of exhaustion.
Wuming's black robes settled around him, the jade pendant at his side swaying faintly, a thin red string slipping loose against the fabric. His golden eyes gleamed faintly, sharp and unreadable.
Across from him, Weiyang stood with the same steadiness, his yellow attire catching the light, his hair matching it almost perfectly, blue eyes bright with excitement.
Neither looked tired.
Neither looked strained.
Lin Yi's silver eyes flickered between them.
And for a moment—
He said nothing.
Because this—
This was not normal.
And he knew it.
They stood facing each other, the air between them tense but quiet, as if something unseen had already begun. A little distance away, Wei Zhi, Yinghua, and Lin Yi watched without interfering, their attention fixed entirely on the two.
Weiyang rolled his shoulders and raised his voice casually, as if trying to keep things light. "It's just a bit of practice, okay?"
Wuming didn't move. His gaze stayed on him, steady and cold. "If I let you use me now, you'll continue to do it later."
Weiyang smirked, unfazed. "Then you can use me too in return."
Wuming gave no reply.
That silence itself was an answer.
The next moment, Weiyang moved.
His wind rustle formation activated instantly, air gathering violently around him. The pressure rose so fast it shocked the space itself, a sudden burst of force pushing outward in all directions. The ground trembled faintly, and a sharp shockwave tore through the area. A streak of yellow flashed through the air, so fast it was almost impossible to track.
Before anyone could react—
Wuming was on the ground.
Weiyang's kick had landed cleanly into his stomach, the force driving him down in a single decisive strike. Dust rose around him as the impact settled.
Weiyang stood upright, breathing steady, eyes locked on him. "If you let me," he said, his tone sharpening, "then I'll forcefully."
Wuming remained on his haunches, one hand against the ground, his body angled sideways. His hair fell forward slightly, shifting with the leftover wind, but his gaze lifted slowly toward Weiyang.
And then—
He opened his eyes.
Something changed.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
Wei Zhi's expression shifted instantly. "No way…" she whispered under her breath. "…he opened it."
Yinghua blinked in confusion. "Why did his eyes change?"
Lin Yi answered calmly, without taking his eyes off Wuming. "Don't you know? He's a pure descendant of the Xuan clan."
Yinghua looked at him again, surprised. "He is?"
Lin Yi gave a slight nod. "What you're seeing is his Xieyi Tèzhì… the Excusatio."
By then, Wuming had already moved.
He rose from the ground in one smooth motion, his body steady despite the hit he had just taken. His gaze had sharpened, locked entirely onto Weiyang.
Then he stepped forward.
Too fast.
His movement broke the distance instantly, and before Weiyang could fully react, Wuming's fist connected with his face. The impact sent Weiyang flying back, his body slamming hard into the trunk of a nearby tree.
The sound echoed.
Weiyang coughed as he pushed himself up, blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. Across from him, Wuming stood the same way, blood faintly visible at his own lips, his expression unchanged.
They didn't stop.
They moved again.
This time it wasn't just speed—it was a clash.
Fists collided, strikes landed, hands blocked and redirected. Kicks, punches, sharp movements with no hesitation. Their bodies moved instinctively, reacting faster than thought, each hit answered by another. The sound of impact echoed through the space as they fought without holding back.
Weiyang stepped in with another punch, yelling as he drove it forward, but Wuming caught it mid-motion. His hand closed firmly around Weiyang's wrist, stopping the strike completely before pushing him back with controlled force.
Weiyang staggered a step, momentarily thrown off.
That was enough.
Wuming moved again.
He vanished from sight and reappeared close to him, his body angled sideways. One leg grounded him while the other moved fluidly through the air. In one clean motion, he split his stance and struck Weiyang across the face with his other leg.
The hit landed hard.
Weiyang was lifted into the air, his body carried by the force of the strike as wind followed him, spiraling violently around him. The pressure of the air built up around his form, rushing past him in sharp currents as he was thrown back.
Wuming lowered his leg slowly, completely composed—like nothing had happened.
Wuming remained where he stood.
He spat the blood from his mouth to the side and wiped his face with the back of his hand, his expression calm again—but his eyes still carrying that same unnatural depth.
This scene is already really strong—your fight choreography and energy are 🔥. I'll continue your scene in the same tone, but cleaner, sharper, and more readable while keeping your style and intensity.
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Weiyang lay on the ground, a low groan escaping his lips as he tried to catch his breath. Dust clung to his clothes, and faint streaks of blood marked his face.
Wuming didn't look at him again.
He simply turned and walked toward Wei Zhi.
She was already holding out two bottles. Without a word, Wuming took one and drank, water running down his throat as his chest rose and fell steadily.
Lin Yi said nothing.
He just watched.
A moment later, Weiyang pushed himself up and stumbled over, grabbing the second bottle from Wei Zhi. He drank quickly, almost desperately, both of them breathing heavily in the quiet aftermath of the fight.
Yinghua stepped closer, चिंता clear on her face.
"Are you both okay?"
Weiyang wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned.
"Yeah… of course."
It didn't look like it.
Blood still lingered at both their lips.
Clap.
Lin Yi's hands came together sharply, the sound cutting through the moment.
"Alright," he said calmly. "Weiyang—try it on Wei Zhi."
Weiyang blinked, then looked at him.
"…Now?"
Lin Yi didn't repeat himself.
Weiyang nodded and turned, focusing. His expression shifted, becoming serious as he gathered a small amount of qi. The air around his hand stirred faintly before he struck forward.
The impact wasn't strong—but enough.
Wei Zhi stumbled back, losing her balance.
Weiyang reacted instantly, catching her before she could hit the ground. He lowered her carefully, supporting her head as she lay down.
He looked up.
"How was it, Shifu?"
Lin Yi observed quietly.
"…Better than before. At least."
Weiyang made a face, clearly unsatisfied.
"Should I release the point?"
Lin Yi gave a small nod. "Do it."
Weiyang inhaled and focused again—this time gathering much more qi.
The air shifted sharply.
Lin Yi's expression changed.
"No—don't strike."
Weiyang froze mid-motion.
"Look at the amount of qi you've gathered," Lin Yi continued. "If you hit like that… you could stop her breathing."
Weiyang glanced at his own hand, confusion flashing across his face.
"…Sometimes it's too little. Sometimes too much. Why is it so unstable?"
Lin Yi exhaled slowly.
Because someone placed something monstrous inside you.
But he didn't say it out loud.
"You should ask your father, well he's not here anymore you have to find it yourself." he thought instead. "I can't fix it. I can only teach you how to control it."
A brief pause.
"…You're abnormal, Weiyang."
"I can't tell you what you are," Lin Yi thought again quietly. "…It's forbidden."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then—
"Try again."
Weiyang did.
This time, barely anything formed.
A weak flow of qi flickered and disappeared.
Yinghua laughed softly. "That was nothing."
Before Weiyang could react—
"Idiot."
Wuming's voice cut in.
Weiyang turned sharply. "What did you say—"
"Watch."
Wuming stepped forward slightly.
He closed his eyes.
His hand rose in front of him, fingers curling into a fist—then shifting. His index and middle fingers extended forward, the rest folding inward with precision.
Qi gathered.
At first—dense.
Then—
It compressed.
Smaller.
Sharper.
Controlled.
Wuming opened his eyes, his voice calm.
"Do it like this."
Weiyang stared at him, then scoffed.
"That's what I am doing, you asshole."
He tried again.
This time—
Too much.
A sudden burst of qi exploded outward.
Weiyang yelled instinctively, the force scattering leaves and sending birds flying from the trees in alarm.
Thwack.
Yinghua smacked the back of his head.
"Keep it down! There are animals here—we're in a forest!"
Weiyang rubbed his head, annoyed but deflating.
"…Why is this so hard?"
Wuming glanced at him.
"Loser."
Weiyang snapped instantly.
"And what are you, huh? Idiot!"
He started gathering qi again—Lin Yi sighed.
"Enough."
He turned. "Yinghua. Wuming. Come with me."
Without waiting, he walked toward a nearby rock formation.
Wuming followed on his left.
Yinghua on his right.
Weiyang looked up in panic.
"Wait—hey! Wait for me!"
Lin Yi didn't stop.
He stepped onto the rock and turned back, standing above them.
Wuming and Yinghua remained below.
"…We'll take a break," Lin Yi said. "In the meantime—let's get to know each other."
Yinghua brightened slightly. "Okay, Shifu."
She stepped forward.
"I'm Lan Yinghua. My clan… doesn't have any special Xieyi Tèzhì. No forbidden bloodlines. What we have—we built ourselves."
Lin Yi nodded.
"It wasn't always like that, was it?"
Yinghua hesitated.
"…No."
A small, tight smile formed.
"After the clan massacre… we lost everything. Every history book, even my parents and friends."
A brief silence followed.
"I'm sorry," Lin Yi said.
Yinghua looked at him directly.
"You don't need to pretend."
His face hadn't changed at all.
No sympathy.
No sadness.
Just calm.
Lin Yi shrugged slightly.
"…Being positive helps more people than being sad."
Yinghua blinked—then laughed softly.
"…Maybe."
She took a breath.
"My dream is to become a Renshou. A great one. And… a healer."
Lin Yi nodded once.
Then his gaze shifted—to Wuming.
"…And you?"
Wuming didn't answer immediately.
His eyes had returned to normal now—golden, cold, unreadable.
For a moment, he was looking at Weiyang in the distance.
Then slowly—He turned back.
Wuming frowned slightly. "Wasn't the introduction and getting-to-know done yesterday?"
Lin Yi shook his head. "No. That was nothing. We're doing a proper introduction now."
Wuming's gaze sharpened. "I thought you already knew about everyone."
"I do," Lin Yi replied calmly, folding his arms. "But I don't know what's inside your mind. This isn't about facts—it's about you. Think of it as a choice, Wuming."
There was a brief pause.
Then Wuming spoke, his tone flat, almost indifferent. "Xuan Yin Wuming."
Lin Yi waited.
"…My dream is revenge."
For the first time, Lin Yi's expression shifted slightly. "Revenge?" he repeated. "From whom? What could someone possibly do to a child to make him carry something like that?"
Wuming slowly lifted his eyes.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unreadable.
End of 32