His face burned hotter. ’He did it to me, and now he’s doing it to the Holy Son! Is he a serial offender? Does he go around tackling Inner Disciples in the bushes?!’

"Brother Lu!" Gu Zhiwei stepped forward, waving his dirty hands. "You misunderstand! Brother Lin was teaching me the Dao of the Root! It was very vigorous!"

"Vigorous?!" Lu Jianheng looked like he was about to cough up blood. "He admits it! Shameless! Utterly shameless!"

Ji’an massaged her temples. "Okay, first of all, ’Dao of the Root’ sounds terrible, Brother Gu. Second, Sword Lord, get your mind out of the gutter. We were digging up ginger. Ginger! For soup!"

"Soup?" Lu Jianheng narrowed his eyes. "You think you can bribe everyone with your soup? You think just because you have... nimble fingers... and... surprising strength..."

He trailed off, staring at Ji’an’s hands. He remembered those hands pinning his wrists.

He shook his head violently. "No! I will not be seduced by your lies! Step away from the Holy Son, you corrupting demon!"

Ji’an sighed. She looked at her herb patch.

"Listen, Sword Lord. I don’t want to fight you. See that Seven-Leaf Mint behind you? If we fight, the shockwave will bruise the leaves. Bruised mint is a tragedy. Can we reschedule this duel to... never?"

"You are looking down on me again!" Lu Jianheng drew his sword.

Shing!

The silver blade hummed with lethal intent. "You think I am not worth your time? You think my sword is less important than a mint leaf?!"

"Yes," Ji’an answered honestly. "Mint goes in tea. Your sword just makes noise."

"Arrogant!" Lu Jianheng gathered his Qi. The air around him sharpened. Invisible blades of wind began to swirl, shredding the nearby grass.

Gu Zhiwei, seeing the tension, decided this was his moment.

He stepped between them. He threw his arms out wide, looking like a martyr in a stage play. Mud dripped from his sleeve onto the pristine grass.

"Stop!" Gu Zhiwei shouted, his voice filled with tragic passion.

He looked at Lu Jianheng, then at Lin Ji’an. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, which was probably still the pepper residue, but it looked dramatic.

"Please! Don’t fight!" Gu Zhiwei cried out. "We are all disciples of the same sect! Why must there be violence?"

He clutched his chest.

"If you must fight... fight me! Don’t fight for my sake! I cannot bear to see two geniuses hurting each other over me!"

Silence.

Absolute, profound silence descended on the Herb Garden.

A crow flew overhead, cawing awkwardly.

Lin Ji’an physically recoiled. A shiver of pure, unadulterated cringe rippled down her spine, making the hairs on her arms stand up.

’Oh god,’ she thought, her face scrunching up in second-hand embarrassment. ’He said the line. He actually said the line. "Don’t fight for my sake." I’m going to vomit. This is worse than the time I accidentally used salt instead of sugar in a crème brûlée.’

Even Lu Jianheng paused, his sword wavering. He looked at Gu Zhiwei with a confused expression. "Who is fighting for you? I am fighting for my honor!"

"No need to deny it!" Gu Zhiwei shook his head sadly. "I know my presence causes conflict. Brother Lu is jealous of my time with Brother Lin. Brother Lin is protective of me. It is a tragic triangle!"

"Triangle?!" Lu Jianheng looked insulted. "I am not in a triangle with a mud-covered idiot and a cook!"

"Enough!" Lu Jianheng decided to end the conversation before he lost more brain cells. He refocused on Ji’an. "Lin Ji’an! Draw your weapon! Today, I will prove that my sword is sharper than your tongue!"

He lunged.

It was the Azure Cloud Thrust. Fast, precise, and deadly.

Ji’an didn’t move because she couldn’t. Behind her was the Purple-Veined Basil. If she dodged, the basil would die.

’My basil!’ she panicked. ’Do I block with the spatula? It might dent!’

Lu Jianheng’s sword was inches from her face. The wind pressure stung her skin.

CLANG!

A deafening sound of metal colliding with something harder than metal rang through the garden.

Sparks showered down like fireworks.

Ji’an blinked. She wasn’t dead. Her basil wasn’t dead.

Standing in front of her was a figure in white robes.

But it wasn’t the Sword Lord’s white. It was the white of the Eternal Cloud Peak—stark, cold, and terrifying.

Xie Wangchen.

He had appeared out of thin air, using a speed that defied the laws of friction. He held Winter’s Sigh in a reverse grip, blocking Lu Jianheng’s thrust with effortless, brutal stability.

The ground beneath Wangchen’s feet cracked into a spiderweb pattern, but he didn’t budge a millimeter.

Ice began to crawl up Lu Jianheng’s silver blade, screeching as it froze the metal.

Lu Jianheng’s eyes widened. He stared at the person blocking him.

This wasn’t Lin Ji’an or Gu Zhiwei.

This was a monster he had only glimpsed at the ceremony.

Xie Wangchen’s face was a mask of absolute zero. His eyes were dark, devoid of humanity, fixed solely on Lu Jianheng’s throat.

The white tassel on his sword, the matching one to Ji’an’s, fluttered in the sudden gale.

"You..." Lu Jianheng gritted his teeth, trying to push his sword forward. It wouldn’t move. It felt like he had stabbed a glacier. "Who are you?"

"Get back," Wangchen whispered.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

He flicked his wrist. A surge of raw, Flawless Ice Qi exploded from Winter’s Sigh.

BOOM!!!

Lu Jianheng was blasted backward. He flipped in the air, landing skillfully ten feet away, but his boots carved deep grooves into the dirt as he skidded to a halt.

He looked down at his sword. It was covered in a layer of frost so cold it burned his hand.

"Ice Spirit Root..." Lu Jianheng’s eyes narrowed. "Xie Wangchen. Elder Qin’s disciple."

Wangchen didn’t answer. He stood sideways, shielding Ji’an completely from view. He held his sword low, the tip hovering just above the grass, which was rapidly turning white with frost.