Until We Meet

7| 🎗️Start off

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The wind whipped through the arena, a sudden gust that startled the crowd and caused my eyelids to flutter momentarily as I struggled to adjust. The two remaining disciples, Mo Yan and Lu Zhao Yun, leaped onto the stage in unison, landing with a grace that elicited further cheers from the audience. Their flowing sleeves billowed around their arms, adding to the spectacle as they dug their feet into the ground, establishing a firm stance.

My gaze drifted towards Lu Zhao Yun, drawn to the sword he held aloft - the legendary Guo Se. Whispers of envy and admiration rippled through the crowd, for this blade was said to be unrivaled in its potency, capable of shattering any other sword on the continent. Its origin remained a mystery, the secrets of its creation buried alongside the Yihua Palace, which had been eradicated a decade prior.

The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, officially introducing the final duel: "Lu Zhao Yun from the Luoxia Sect and Mo Yan from the Wudang Sect!"

The remaining disciples erupted in cheers, their enthusiasm momentarily dampened by an unexpected interruption. A guard, his head bowed low in deference, approached Duke Wei, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His hushed words, though meant for the Duke's ears, carried on the wind, reaching my attentive ears.

"Honorable Duke," the guard whispered, "three disciples are missing - one from the Wudang Sect and two from the Emei Sect."

My heart skipped a beat at the news. Duke Wei, his expression hardening, turned away from the stage, his gaze now fixed on the guard.

"We'll address this later," he instructed, his voice firm and commanding. "In the meantime, gather all available information regarding the missing disciples. Do not raise public alarm."

The guard dipped his head in acknowledgment, a silent promise to obey. He then turned and swiftly exited the arena, issuing orders to his fellow guards as he went. Duke Wei watched him go, a sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head, the weight of this new development settling upon his shoulders. The excitement of the competition had been overshadowed by a shroud of mystery and a growing sense of unease.

My mind raced with the astonishing news. Missing disciples? How could this happen in such a guarded environment? The implications were dire, and Liang State would face immense scrutiny if the situation weren't rectified quickly. My gaze darted across the remaining disciples, each seemingly oblivious to the developing crisis. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of worry and anger churning within me.

Turning my attention back to the stage, I watched as the wind whipped through the arena, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of the drum played by a lone guard. My eyes followed the strands of black hair whipping around the faces of the two remaining disciples. The elders, too, seemed increasingly disquieted, their expressions more tense than during the previous battle.

Elder Ming's face contorted into a grimace as she spotted Su Ruo standing with the other Emei disciples. Her demeanor shifted abruptly as one of her own disciples leaned in, whispering something urgent in her ear. A similar transformation mirrored on Elder Yu's face as his disciple delivered his own hushed message. The horror in their eyes spoke volumes, confirming that the news of the missing disciples had reached them.

As the wind danced through their hair, Lu Zhao Yun bowed to initiate the duel, his fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword. Mo Yan, in stark contrast, offered only a smile before drawing his own weapon and bowing in return. The tension crackled in the air, the weight of the missing disciples adding a heavy layer of uncertainty to the once celebratory atmosphere.

With the final, resonating beat of the drum, the air crackled with anticipation. Lu Zhao Yun, embodying the defensive-oriented Luoxia Sword Technique, took the initiative. He drew his sword from its intricately crafted golden sheath with a swift, practiced motion. The legendary Guo Se gleamed in the sunlight, its power tangible even from afar.