Wei Wuxian leaned against a vermilion pillar, arms crossed, observing the exchange with keen interest. Nie Mingjue stood like a mountain forged of iron – broad-shouldered, jawline sharp as his saber, every movement radiating the unyielding authority of a sect leader who had shouldered responsibility since youth. The man's voice boomed from his chest, resonant enough to shake dust from the rafters.
Impressive, Wei Wuxian mused, biting back a grin. No wonder Huaisang trembles at his name.
When Nie Mingjue turned to address him, Wei Wuxian straightened with practiced ease. "Young Master Wei," the Qinghe Nie leader clasped his fists, "My brother speaks highly of you in his letters."
Wei Wuxian returned the salute, smile bright as summer lotus. "Nie-zongzhu flatters me. Young Master Nie's company is always...enlightening."
The corner of Nie Mingjue's mouth twitched – the closest he came to amusement. "Directness suits you."
His attention shifted to Wei Xuan. "This one owes Miss Wei a debt." He produced a qiankun pouch embroidered with snarling beast motifs. "Your intervention at Qishan's border saved my men from a yao ambush."
Wei Xuan's fingers lingered mid-air. "Coincidental timing, nothing more."
"Coincidence or fate, blood debts demand repayment." Nie Mingjue thrust the pouch forward, unyielding as his blade stance.
With a sigh that misted crystalline in the cold air, Wei Xuan accepted. "Qinghe's hospitality is payment enough."
"Then let me repay it further." Nie Mingjue's eyes kindled with the fervor of a warrior scenting worthy prey. "Your blade work intrigues me. Spar with me."
Nie Huaisang's fan slipped from numb fingers. Lan Xichen's serene smile froze mid-curve.
Wei Wuxian stepped forward, protest half-formed, but Wei Xuan was already nodding. "This one would be honored."
——
The training grounds fell silent as Nie Mingjue and Wei Xuan took their positions. Sunlight glinted off Baxia's jagged edge, the saber humming with restless energy. Wei Xuan's unadorned blade seemed a twig in comparison, its surface dull as weathered stone.
Murmurs rippled through the gathered Lan disciples:
"A lamb challenging a tiger..."
"Nie-zongzhu will snap her in half!"
"Quiet."
The single word from Lan Wangji crystallized the air. Frost crept across nearby training dummies as his gaze swept the crowd.
Wei Wuxian elbowed him, grin undimmed by tension. "Lan Zhan! Your glare could freeze the Sunshot Campaign mid-charge!"
——
Nie Mingjue struck first – a testing blow that would have cleaved granite. Wei Xuan's blade met Baxia not with resistance, but a fluid deflection that sent the saber's momentum spiraling into empty air.
Clang!
Sparks erupted where steel kissed steel. Nie Mingjue's eyes widened as Wei Xuan pivoted, her movements economical as snowfall. Her counterstrike aimed not for flesh, but the gaps in his armor's spiritual wards.
"Seven Stars Piercing Cloud?" he growled, recognizing the rare GusuLan technique.
"Adapted for single-blade combat," Wei Xuan corrected, ducking beneath a horizontal slash. Her boot skidded on frost-slicked tiles – her own power rebounding.
The dance intensified. Nie Mingjue's assaults were thunderclaps, Wei Xuan's evasions the wind between lightning strikes. When Baxia finally locked against her hilt, their faces inches apart, Nie Mingjue's breath fogged the air between them.
"You fight like you're already dead."
Wei Xuan's blade flared with sudden cold. "And you," she whispered, ice crawling up Baxia's length, "fight like you're afraid to live."
The saber screamed as she disengaged. Around them, disciples rubbed suddenly numb fingers, breath visible in the unnatural chill.
Nie Mingjue stepped back, chest heaving. "Again."
"Enough!"
Lan Qiren's roar shattered the tableau. The Grandmaster stood at the pavilion's edge, beard quivering with outrage. "You turn Cloud Recesses' sacred grounds into a...a..."
His tirade died as Wei Xuan sheathed her blade. The frost melted instantly, leaving only the memory of winter.
Nie Mingjue bowed stiffly. "This one overstepped."
Wei Xuan mirrored the gesture, face pale but composed. "The fault is mine."
As the crowd dispersed, Nie Huaisang fluttered to his brother's side. "Da-ge! You nearly froze Miss Wei's – "
"Silence." Nie Mingjue stared at the retreating siblings – Wei Wuxian's arm slung protectively around his sister, their laughter carrying back like wind chimes. "That woman...she's carved from Burial Mounds ice."
High above, a snow lily petal drifted down, its edges blackened as if scorched.