Chapter Text
The first time Di Feisheng hears the name is in a shabby tea house, far from any town of notable significance. In the middle of the place, there’s a gaggle of patrons gathered around a bunch of self-proclaimed heroes, all too eager to tell anyone in the vicinity about their sojourn at the Capital.
None of this is information Di Feisheng is interested in knowing. He doesn’t really have a choice. They’re just being obnoxiously loud. He considers leaving, but the next stop on their route is a while away, and they’ve already paid for the food here. He doesn’t really pay attention, and instead goes back to mentally listing out the allies he’s gathered so far.
They aren’t nearly enough to make a sect just yet, but soon they may be strong enough to take over one of the average demonic sects of the central plains. Before any attempts to form a sect, however, he needs to get better. There are still five names above his when one lists the best swordsmen of the martial world–
“Junshang,” Wuyan murmurs to catch his attention, and nods towards the noisy crowd curiously. Di Feisheng takes his suggestion and listens properly. Almost every single story is about a new hero who’d shown up just weeks ago.
Li Xiangyi. Sounds vaguely familiar. A rising star, they say, speaking of things like protecting and avenging smaller sects wiped out by bigger ones. A master swordsman with one impressive victory after another under his belt.
Di Feisheng couldn’t care less about the first half of it, but he pays attention to the rest. He knows every swordsman worth anything in the martial world, and has defeated most of them. Most of those Li Xiangyi has defeated are among them too.
“How old is he now?” one of the more cynical patrons asks the group of martial artists who started the whole talk and had attracted a good crowd around them.
“Fifteen! And he’s already so good!”
“He’s challenged the Blood Demon? Nobody has done that in decades!” The crowd murmurs in awe. The Blood Demon! She’s first on the list. What a fool, to challenge someone so clearly out of his league.
Di Feisheng looks to Wuyan to check if he really heard that right. Wuyan meets his gaze, taken aback. He has the air of someone who wants to ask something but isn’t sure if they can.
Really, he’s a bit too tactful at times. “What is it?” Di Feisheng asks.
“Would… would you survive a battle against the Blood Demon?” Wuyan asks.
“Not at my current level.” Not for at least a couple more years. He knows his limits, and his enemies’ strengths. “This Li Xiangyi will be dead before he amounts to much more than a fool.”
But Wuyan frowns. “Junshang, did you miss what they said a while before?”
Now it’s Di Feisheng’s turn to frown. Wuyan sets down his cup, looking agitated, which is the equivalent of a screaming fit for him.
“The challenge was yesterday. Li Xiangyi won.”
Di Feisheng stares. He himself is still fifth on the list. By beating the Blood Demon, Li Xiangyi has jumped right to number one.
There’s a new name to his goal, then. He must defeat Li Xiangyi.
~~~
The stories he’d first heard in the teahouse and then with increasing frequency over the next year are exaggerated, and not entirely true, but neither are they false. Li Xiangyi is in the inner circles, has made all the right friends and enemies, and has rallied a skilled and sizeable following of heroes who are intent on remaking the Jianghu.
Di Feisheng hopes that whatever remaking they do, it makes for less gossip about the politics; he has enough of that while trying to run his Alliance. He has no intention of challenging Li Xiangyi just yet, but their similar age, the fact of them establishing powerful sects, and their opposite allegiances as righteous and demonic ones hasn’t escaped the world’s fancy. His newly-invented Yangzhouman is as famous in the martial world as Di Feisheng’s blade is infamous. The world has decided they’re each other’s biggest enemies.
Word is that Li Xiangyi is in Yangzhou too, celebrating one among an endless string of victories. It’s a chance to witness the one he will ultimately go up against.
And so, he sees Li Xiangyi for the first time when they're eighteen, and he's dancing on a rooftop with a ribbon tied to the fastest sword in the world. People say he’s dancing for his beloved. Frivolous. It's foolish and indulgent and arrogant, beautiful and seamless and skilled.
Every movement of the sword mimics the ribbon's fluid, careless grace. Every movement of the ribbon is a precise and measured thing. He steals the ribbon's grace and gives it his precision in return.
Di Feisheng watches the whirl of silver and red, following every step. He has never seen anyone shine this bright.
He must fight Li Xiangyi.
~~~
They meet for the first time a year later, when he himself is second on the list of the Jianghu's best swordsmen. The Jinyuan Alliance has built a reputation for infamy based mostly on the less-approved methods and skills of its members. It is good to be feared. Safe, if balanced well enough.
Consequently, nobody ever thinks of extending them an invitation to the various occasions for socialising that these other sects keep coming up with. It’s a relief. He’s never had patience for the politics of it.
The first time an invitation arrives, it is for a meeting hosted by Li Xiangyi’s Sigu Sect.
Di Feisheng goes.
Li Xiangyi looks every bit the righteous, noble hero they say he is. It is, strangely enough, disappointing. After some pointless peacocking, matters of governance and such are discussed. It isn’t the most captivating of topics, but it is necessary for anyone running a sect. Annoyingly enough, Li Xiangyi seems to be one of the incredibly few among dozens of these people who understands that. The rest just keep peacocking.
The banquet afterwards is even worse. Di Feisheng is already quite close to his limit with it all when a self-important asshole decides to approach him and make snide comments about the Jinyuan’s Alliance’s ‘proclivities’. He’s from Sigu Sect too, one of those who sat behind Li Xiangyi at the council and looked bitter about it.
“It’s being said that urchins have been disappearing off the streets in the area under Jinyuan Alliance’s influence,” the man says pointedly. Di Feisheng ignores it and picks up his cup of wine. But the man is either dense or doesn’t give a fuck about annoying him, because he goes on. “Wherever wicked skills and tricks go, they say that misfortune follows, Di Mengzhu.”
Di Feisheng holds back the urge to sigh and fixes him with a dead-eyed stare he’s perfected over time. “We’re taking them as novices. One must get them as early as possible, so as to blacken their hearts thoroughly.”
There’s a beat of dead silence all along the table. The asshole looks equal parts scandalised and furious at being so evidently mocked. Di Feisheng downs the rest of his wine and catches Li Xiangyi’s eye from further down the table, amidst all the affronted, confused, blustering faces.
It's the slightest of movements, but Di Feisheng catches it- Li Xiangyi raises his cup towards him before drinking from it. He feels his eyes follow as he leaves the banquet.
Di Feisheng could just leave altogether, but finds himself wandering along garden paths, following his nose. He had hoped to catch Li Xiangyi one-on-one and challenge him. It is the right time, with the Jinyuan Alliance having become strong enough that he has once again been able to dedicate himself to training and improving his skill.
The path he’s on ends in a wooden gazebo, he suddenly notes. Flowering plants grow over and around it elegantly. It is a movement that’s caught his attention, a shape sitting on the railing shifting to lean against a pillar. It’s familiar from a night nearly a year ago now– a figure on a rooftop, relaxed and confident, powerful even when languid under the influence of wine.
He walks over. Li Xiangyi doesn’t turn away from admiring the crescent moon hanging in the sky, but the corner of his mouth ticks up at his approach. “Di Mengzhu. Have you come to blacken my heart and indoctrinate me into your evil sect?”
What a thing to say. Di Feisheng crosses his arms and looks him over. “You don’t seem like an urchin to me.”
Something flickers over Li Xiangyi’s face before switching back to amusement. He turns to Di Feisheng, a telltale flush along the line of his cheekbones. “Then you must be here to challenge me,” he says, not even making a move for his sword, which is propped up against the railing at his feet. “You have quite a reputation for climbing up that list. Rather murderously, I might say.”
Part of him bristles at Li Xiangyi’s arrogance in calling him dangerous and yet not moving an inch to defend himself, dismissing him as though he poses no threat. Another part is annoyed that Li Xiangyi has somehow brought it up before he himself can.
“Do you really have to be that ruthless about it?” Li Xiangyi goes on, eyes fixed on him sharp and clear. He isn’t nearly as tipsy as he’s led Di Feisheng to believe so far.
“I do what I must,” Di Feisheng answers.
“Whatever does happen to those urchins?”
“I answered that already.”
Li Xiangyi laughs. It's sharp, wickedly amused. Which noble hero laughs at the mockery of this own subordinate, however well deserved? “Keep your secrets,” he says, hopping off the railing and picking up his sword. He flips it around and holds it up along the length of his arm with the ease of habit. “See you around, Di Feisheng.”
As he starts to leave, Di Feisheng steps in his way. Li Xiangyi looks up at him, one arrogant brow raised, eyes wary, and Di Feisheng says, “Fight me to keep the first place, Li Xiangyi.”
He smiles at that, but there’s suddenly a hard, calculating edge to his gaze. “Our sects have been at odds since they were founded. Don’t you think the leaders fighting to death would make things too volatile?”
Our sects, not we. It’s carefully worded, as careful as the decisions that must have led Li Xiangyi to extend an invitation to him for this gathering. It’s also a real concern, but the solution is simple.
“A fight between one swordsman and another has nothing to do with sects,” Di Feisheng says. “Heaven and Earth are witness enough. I just have to defeat you.”
Curiosity sparks in Li Xiangyi’s eyes. “Only if you can promise me it won’t be a death match,” he finally says.
Di Feisheng smirks. “Are you worried you’ll die at my hand?”
Li Xiangyi smiles, wide and bright and utterly false. “I just don’t want to end up killing you and starting a war. Public battle or not, I’m sure people will notice that.”
How arrogant. That arrogance could very well give Di Feisheng an edge in the battle. “I’ll spare your life,” he answers even as Li Xiangyi rolls his eyes. “You have my word.”
“How much is it worth?”
“More than the allegiance of the weasels in your sect.”
Li Xiangyi’s jaw clenches. “They’re worthy people, even if they have their faults. Watch your tongue.”
“Then don’t question my honour.”
He pauses, and Di Feisheng gets the impression he’s taken aback. The cocky smile is back on his face in seconds. “But it must be tomorrow, this match of ours. I’m currently at a disadvantage,” he says, holding up his pot of wine for Di Feisheng to see before sipping from it.
Di Feisheng scoffs and nods. “I’ll fight you at your best, or not at all.”
“Indeed a man of honour!” Li Xiangyi leaps back onto the railing lightly, apparently back in the mood to talk. “Tell me, Di Mengzhu, was none of the splendid banquet tonight to your taste? Our kitchen is rather good at its job. How come you ate just rice?”
He had been paying attention, then. “Food is food. I do not need anything more.”
Li Xiangyi shakes his head. “Tastefulness is wasted on you.”
The extravagant spread of the banquet flashes through his mind. “It is wasteful.”
Li Xiangyi leans forward, and Di Feisheng realises that they’re closer than before. His brilliant eyes are fixed onto Di Feisheng, sharp in a new way, and the pink on his cheeks stands out more in the light. For once, he looks more flesh-and-blood than a shining star.
Many call him the sun, but Di Feisheng only thinks of the moon that had been in the sky on the day he’d first seen him.
“The next time you pay us a visit,” he says, “I’ll make sure you taste more than just rice. Eating something else might make you lighten up a bit.”
“It’ll be useless. I don’t taste anything.”
Li Xiangyi’s gaze flickers to his mouth and back again. There’s a new and suggestive tilt to his smile. “A pity. Are you quite sure? We could check.”
Di Feisheng narrows his eyes, then scoffs incredulously. “Do you make passes at all your guests? Does your woman not care?”
“The understanding we have is none of your business. And as for that first question…” Li Xiangyi leans back against the pillar with a sigh and that still-suggestive smile. “Just the ones that seem like they’d be a good time.”
“Frivolous,” Di Feisheng declares, and tightens his grip on his sword’s hilt. “We will fight tomorrow, Li Xiangyi. I’ll meet you outside the gates of your sect. Be prepared.”
As he leaves, he hears Li Xiangyi’s quiet laughter before he calls out, “See you then.” Even when he reaches his rooms for the night, the restlessness under his skin doesn’t abate. Anticipation for the match tomorrow, no doubt.
~~~
The next morning, he receives the message that Li Xiangyi had to leave to address a dispute in the town over. Instead of awaiting his return like a jilted maiden, Di Feisheng finds out where he’s gone off to and follows.
It’s some rich merchant’s home just outside the city. The disregard for their promise is frustrating, but the sight of Li Xiangyi’s charming and commanding look slipping into a second of utter bewilderment on spotting Di Feisheng through a window is almost amusing enough to make up for it.
He isn’t going to barge in and disrupt whatever is happening, but Li Xiangyi clearly thinks it’s a possibility. There is a hint of unease and haste to him now, and the conversation he’s in ends soon. No doubt something tiresome again.
Di Feisheng waits at the corner of the building just by the entrance, where the horses of the party from Sigu Sect are tied. Li Xiangyi stalks over the moment his party steps out, clearly annoyed.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“You promised me a match.” When Li Xiangyi gapes at him, Di Feisheng ignores it in favour of drawing his blade and declares, “I’m ready.”
A scoff of laughter comes out of Li Xiangyi’s incredulous expression. “Are you always this clingy?”
“I believe in keeping my word, unlike certain other people,” Di Feisheng bites back.
Li Xiangyi rolls his eyes. “Just- keep your blade away. This Minister is already giving us grief for foiling the shady dealings his cronies have been doing in the Jianghu. If he somehow spots the Chief of the Jinyuan Alliance brandishing a weapon outside his residence, we’ll both have to handle the ensuing drama. Spare us.”
“Just kill him,” Di Feisheng suggests. Li Xiangyi stares at him, and Di Feisheng raises a brow. Half-mocking, half-serious, he suggests, “If you’re worried about your reputation and such, I could kill him for you.”
“Di Feisheng!” Li Xiangyi hisses, alarmed. Making sure his disdain shows, Di Feisheng sheaths his blade and he lets out a small sigh of relief.
“So where are we going to fight?” Di Feisheng demands.
Li Xiangyi stares at him like that for a long moment before sighing again.”Di Mengzhu, let it go. You of all people must understand, right?”
“Understand what?” he snaps. He is not known for his patient temperament, and the limit is quite close.
“Sect Leaders like us have to fulfill our responsibilities, no matter the cost.” Li Xiangyi looks once again like the very model of a righteous hero as he says this. “We must have our priorities straight.”
Di Feisheng laughs. “Some of us value our skills above all else. It is indeed a pity that someone with your abilities is stuck playing Hero.”
With a smile that is way too condescending and self-righteous for Di Feisheng’s liking, Li Xiangyi replies, “It’s just that I’m willing to do what it takes to mend this broken world. It indeed is a pity that someone of your capability is wasting his time with ranking lists.”
Di Feisheng doesn’t deign to reply to that nonsense. Before he can draw his blade again and provoke him into a challenge, though, Li Xiangyi turns his back to him and goes back to his group to ride back towards the city.
Di Feisheng narrows his eyes at the retreating figure. Does he really think it will be that easy to dodge him?
~~~
He spends most of the day watching Li Xiangyi sit through an endless string of meetings with people of his sect, people allied with his sect, people trying to tear down his sect. The plan hadn’t included waiting this long, but as annoying as it is, the Jinyuan Alliance has some standards to maintain despite its infamy, and its sect leader cannot really be barging in on an enemy sect’s premises and meetings without unsavoury repercussions.
The more Di Feisheng observes, the more intriguing it is. Li Xiangyi really does do everything with all the righteous zeal of someone all too convinced of their abilities. His arrogance keeps him going, and Di Feisheng can’t look away from it. It’s some sort of morbid fascination.
In the late afternoon, Li Xiangyi surprises him by setting off alone and visiting a neighbouring sect. It’s a small place with a handful of disciples, a little way into the nearby woods. It has no remarkable presence in skill or legacy, barely marked on any maps.
What is even more surprising, however, is that Li Xiangyi is there as a guest of honour to judge a competition. A competition between children who have evidently learnt to hold a sword mere months ago.
Di Feisheng watches the smiling old master of the sect greet Li Xiangyi with respect but also an easy familiarity. He watches as Li Xiangyi sits without fuss on a plain old wooden seat alongside the master, like he’s used to it, and watches a dozen little kids between five to ten years of age wave around blunt swords at each other.
Li Xiangyi presides over it with amusement, but also focus. It’s a competition only in name; it’s more of a training lesson. After each bout, Li Xiangyi instructs both parties. A few times, he even picks up their little weapons which are barely more than toys, and demonstrates.
It’s sunset by the time the old master wrangles her little disciples and they bid Li Xiangyi farewell at their gate. Di Feisheng crosses his path the moment they are out of sight.
Li Xiangyi looks exasperated, but not surprised. “You’ve stalked me all day, Di Mengzhu. Should I consider this an ambush?”
Di Feisheng ignores that. “You know why I’m here.”
Li Xiangyi looks at him weirdly. “I’ve never met anyone as single minded as you. What do you get out of fighting me?”
“I finally get to cross blades with a worthy opponent. Is that not reason enough?” Di Feisheng answers. What is he really asking?
With a laugh, Li Xiangyi absentmindedly plucks a stalk from a tree along the path and starts walking again. He waves that stalk at Di Feisheng over his shoulder. “How arrogant, Di Mengzhu.”
“You’re one to talk.”
The look Li Xiangyi throws him is a strange mix of amusement and annoyance. Di Feisheng strides forward till they’re walking beside each other, and asks the question that’s been nagging at the back of his mind. “Why is a hero like you teaching such young things from an insignificant local sect? There’s nobody watching. Those kids are too young to pose any sort of challenge to your skills.”
“It’s the duty of the bigger sects to guide and assist the smaller ones in nurturing a worthy generation of martial artists.” He looks sidelong at Di Feisheng, who simply raises a brow. Li Xiangyi shakes his head and twirls around that ridiculous twig he’d plucked, fingers as sure and deft in this little motion as they are with a sword. “Nobody’s watching, and the kids are too young to care about who I am,” Li Xiangyi admits.
It seems that arrogance alone isn’t enough to keep him going, then. Before Di Feisheng can even think of what to say, Li Xiangyi is waggling that twig right at his face. “And you. How the hell are you, a Sect Leader, getting the free time to run around stalking me all day? Don’t you have a Sect to run, work to do?”
“My sect and its people are capable of looking after themselves for a bit. I can rely on my subordinates.” Di Feisheng smirks and adds, “Looking at how you’ve run around all day, it seems that the great Li Xiangyi either has no understanding of the concept of delegating work, or no reliable subordinates. What’s the use of having a sect if you do everything yourself?”
“My Sect’s administration is my business,” Li Xiangyi snaps back, like he isn’t the one who started it in the first place. “Why did you ever establish a sect, Di Feisheng? You don’t need one to become the foremost swordsman. Wouldn’t the life of a rogue wandering swordsman have suited you better?”
“My reasons are none of your business.” He can feel Li Xiangyi’s attention stay on him, and looks. He’s stopped looking like he has a righteous stick up his ass and is frowning at Di Feisheng, head tilted to a side. It’s very much like a curious bird.
“It’s been nearly five years since I entered Jianghu,” Li Xiangyi says. “Everyone seemed interesting at first, but now… well. It’s been a while since I’ve honestly been able to say this to anyone, but I’ll say it now - I’ve really never met anyone like you.”
Is that supposed to be a compliment? It means nothing, anyways. “None of that matters.”
“You’re a puzzle, Di Feisheng.” A glint sneaks into Li Xiangyi’s eyes as he smirks. Something a lot like that night in that pavilion. “I like puzzles.”
Di Feisheng stops walking, and a step later, so does Li Xiangyi.
“We’ve talked enough, Li Xiangyi. Draw your blade.” Di Feisheng raises a brow and adds, “Or are you too afraid?”
Li Xiangyi looks at him like he’s ridiculous, then sighs. “It’s been a long day. Can you just hold back for a minute?”
Di Feisheng reaches unsheathes his blade halfway.
“Alright, alright,” Li Xiangyi groans, but makes no move towards his sword. “Tomorrow morning, at the clearing in the bamboo grove to the east of the sect grounds.” The usual arrogance is back on his face. “Let’s see how good you are. And be prepared to lose.”
Di Feisheng returns his weapon to its sheath. “You better show up.”
~~~
Li Xiangyi does show up this time. He’s already waiting when Di Feisheng gets to the arranged spot at the crack of dawn, sitting on a small boulder at the edge of the clearing, sword leaned against it.
As Di Feisheng arrives, he glances up from whatever he’s picking at on his pristine robes. “Excellent! You’re on time.” He springs to his feet and picks up his sword, before more or less sauntering to the centre of the clearing. “Ah, Di Mengzhu, let’s get this over with fast. I have a meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes.”
There isn’t a single bone in Li Xiangyi’s body that’s taking this match seriously. Di Feisheng doesn’t bother hiding his irritation. He just takes care to separate it from any frustration that might hinder his focus. Without another second wasted, he draws his blade.
Li Xiangyi’s eyes linger on it. “Interesting blade. What is it–”
He never gets to finish the sentence, because Di Feisheng puts said blade to use. If it were a lesser swordsman, they would’ve been impaled already. Li Xiangyi, however, moves aside and fluidly turns into a step that puts him behind Di Feisheng.
Di Feisheng turns with him, blocking Li Xiangyi’s strike. A flick of the wrist turns his blade and he uses the leverage to push Li Xiangyi’s sword a few inches left before bringing his dao down in a slash. The blades ring as he’s stopped mid-strike, weapon crossed. In terms of raw power, they more or less stand as equals. This battle will come down to how well they can use it.
Di Feisheng’s heart pounds. Li Xiangyi’s face, glimpsed from between crossed blades, sharpens. Di Feisheng catches the most fleeting hint of a frown before he’s moving again, lightning fast footwork and measured precision in every arc his blade cuts.
Li Xiangyi is fast, almost incredibly so, but that’s not his biggest strength. What makes him the best is that he thinks . His instincts are excellent, and a lesser swordsman would rely on them heavily. But Li Xiangyi is thinking, anticipating, actively choosing everything he does. Every time Di Feisheng dares to think he’s a step ahead, Li Xiangyi takes two more and he runs to catch up again.
It's endless. It’s frustrating. It’s exhilarating .
Ultimately, Di Feisheng realises his mistake too late. By the time he sees through the move, the point of Li Xiangyi’s sword hovers over his heart while his own blade hangs half-raised. There is no way out. The tip of Shaoshi brushes the front of his robes with every breath. They’re both breathing heavily, his heart is pounding in his ears, and his blood is still racing through his veins, still catching up as it sinks in that…
He lost.
For a moment, a fleeting fraction of a second, dread weighs him down to stillness.
He looks up at the man holding the sword pointed surely at his heart. The moment dissipates by the next heartbeat, blown away by the way Li Xiangyi’s eyes are fixed on him. There’s surprise there, and triumph and exhilaration all together.
“I win,” he declares, a little breathless.
Di Feisheng lowers his blade. He’s not all that surprised, because he isn’t an arrogant brat who underestimates his opponents. “For now.”
Lowering his sword as well, Li Xiangyi raises his brows, amused. “If you want to cross swords with me again, I can only assume you like losing to me.”
The thrill of that match still singing in his veins hasn’t entirely dampened the annoyance of losing. Di Feisheng scoffs. “All I want is an equal, and now I have found my match.”
With a twist of his wrist Li Xiangyi flips his sword hilt-downward, the blade along his arm. “You lost, I won. How does that make us equals?”
Every line of Li Xiangyi’s face gives him away, a mirror of Di Feisheng’s own excitement– the heady satisfaction of finding someone worth losing to, someone who will push one’s limits to the breaking point only to make each other better. And yet, Li Xiangyi can’t help but run his mouth about winning. “A pity that it’s someone with a head as big as yours,” Di Feisheng tells him. “You’ll shut up the day I win.”
There’s a moment’s pause as Li Xiangyi takes that in. A moment where he contemplates it as a real possibility for the first time. Something about him shifts, sharper and brighter than ever before. “Aren’t you being a sore loser?”
“I'm only stating the inevitable.”
“You won’t be the only one learning from his mistakes, Di Feisheng,” Li Xiangyi says. “You won’t be able to keep up even if you keep improving, I'm afraid.”
“Are you afraid of another match? Can’t you handle losing now and again?”
Li Xiangyi opens his mouth to reply, but gets distracted by something over Di Feisheng’s shoulder. He turns to see Wuyan emerge silently from the woods.
“Junshang.” Wuyan raises his arm to his forehead in salute before looking up from the ground. They exchange a glance, and Di Feisheng knows. He’d asked to not be disturbed until it was absolutely necessary, and if Wuyan was here interrupting, it could only mean something had to be dealt with in the Alliance.
Holding back a sigh, Di Feisheng turns back to Li Xiangyi, who smiles knowingly. “It's time for you to go be Sect Leader again, isn’t it. It’s fine.”
“The next match-”
“The tides of the Jianghu are unpredictable.” Li Xiangyi smiles, polite and mischievous at once, and walks backward as he speaks. “Who can say with certainty when we’re meant to meet again?”
“Dramatic.”
“Till the next time then,” Li Xiangyi cheerfully declares before leaping into the air and vanishing over the bamboo grove. Di Feisheng takes some measure of petty satisfaction in the fact that he is most definitely late for that meeting he’d bragged about.
Wuyan clears his throat, and Di Feisheng lowers his eyes from the clear, summer sky before starting back to the Alliance.