Watching the youth walk slowly toward them, Xiao Mei and her companions all came to a halt, and the sound of their chattering, carefree laughter gradually faded by several degrees.
Several fresh-faced girls at Xiao Mei's side opened their large, limpid eyes and stared at the young man who had once been hailed as the very glory of their clan. On their young faces the expression was singularly hard to read — whether it was pity, regret, or something else entirely, no one could quite say.
Xiao Mei stood rooted where she was, a tangle of thoughts weighing heavily upon her heart. Deep down, she, too, would have liked nothing more than to chat at length with the young man she had once so thoroughly admired. Yet reality told her plainly that the gulf between the two of them had widened only further with each passing day, and to keep her heart fixed upon a cripple, a man from whom all hope had drained, was plainly an unwise thing to do.
On the other side of the hall, Xiao Yan was leaning casually back against a bookshelf, one scroll spread before him. His eyes traced over the cultivation method of the Crushed-Stone Palm, though from time to time his gaze would drift across to the training field, where the fighting raged hot and fierce. The spacious hall seemed divided, in truth, into two separate worlds — to the west, an unceasing clamor; to the east, a quiet and serene calm.
Out on the training field, Xun'er's opponent was a youth as well, though he looked to be around seventeen or eighteen years of age. His bearing was quite handsome, little different from the Jie Lie'ao they had encountered that day in the market. The youth was named Xiao Ning. He was the grandson of the clan's great elder, and his talent in cultivation was by no means a mean thing — at only seventeen years of age, he had already reached the eighth stage of Dou Qi, and within the entire clan there was only Xun'er who could keep him beneath her.
Xiao Yan had never carried much of an impression of this paternal cousin of his. On those rare occasions when their paths did cross, they would exchange a distant, formal greeting before going their separate ways. Perhaps it was owing to the tense and less-than-harmonious atmosphere between his grandfather and Xiao Yan's own father, for Xiao Yan could always sense that this cousin of his seemed none too well-disposed toward him. Yet perhaps it was also on account of the unbecoming idleness and dejection Xiao Yan himself had worn like a cloak over the past few years, for during all that time this cousin had never once troubled to come looking for his trouble…
Shaking off his recollections with a faint, ghostly smile, Xiao Yan returned his attention to the Crushed-Stone Palm scroll in his hands and resumed his study of it.
Upon the training field, Xun'er moved like a pale purple butterfly, elegantly and fleetly evading Xiao Ning's fierce and unrelenting onslaught. Yet all the while, upon her delicate, refined little face there lingered an unruffled calm, as flat and unmoving as still water — as though she were not sparring at all, but merely idling through the motions. And indeed, her small, soft hand did seem to deflect Xiao Ning's close-range attacks with a touch of boredom, her gaze drifting lazily round the hall.
Then, abruptly, her wandering gaze came to a sharp halt.
It had landed upon the youth leaning against the bookshelf on the east side of the hall, his head buried in his reading. And at that sight, a faint, gentle, and utterly soft smile rose upon Xun'er's composed face — so lovely that all the youths gathering near the field found themselves struck stupid in the wake of that smile, fleeting as a night-blooming flower.
"Cousin Xun'er, watch out!" Just as Xun'er's attention wandered elsewhere, an urgent cry rose suddenly from amid the crowd.
Feeling the fierce energy sweeping in ruthlessly from behind, Xun'er arched one delicate little brow — yet, in the very same breath, her gaze swept once more across to the youth beneath the bookshelf.
At that very instant, Xiao Yan, too, raised his head. Gazing at Xun'er, who had been so suddenly ambushed in the middle of the field, he softly knitted his brows and gave a helpless shake of the head, a faint and barely concealed flicker of worry passing through his eyes.
Catching that affectionate reproach and concern in Xiao Yan's expression, Xun'er blinked her beautiful, large eyes in a playful, mischievous manner, and then her slender figure suddenly sidestepped a single pace to the left. Just that one step — somehow eerie in its impossible grace — slid her out of the path of Xiao Ning's incoming attack with perfect, unerring precision.
Even as her feet shifted, a faint golden shimmer surged forth from Xun'er's delicate, jade-white palm. Like a butterfly threading its way through a barrier of blossoms, she slipped straight past the lock of Xiao Ning's two hands and, in the end, sent a weightless, drifting palm strike lightly against his chest.
Her toes, as light as a feather, tapped once against the blue stone floor, and Xun'er spun into a graceful circle to shed the opposing force that had been thrown back at her. Then she turned a calm, level gaze upon Xiao Ning, who had been driven staggering a dozen paces at least, until one foot carried him clean out of the bounds of the training field.
At the sight of Xun'er defeating Xiao Ning in a single palm, the space around the training field fell briefly still. The next instant, a chorus of admiring cheers erupted all at once.
"Heh heh, Cousin Xun'er deserves her name as the foremost of the clan's younger generation indeed — she only grows stronger." Knocked off the stage by Xun'er, Xiao Ning nevertheless wore a genial, easy smile all over his face as he stepped forward and spoke in a soft, gentle voice.
Fixing his gaze steadily upon the girl before him — beautiful as a green lotus — the admiration within Xiao Ning's eyes was almost impossible to conceal. Though they were nominally cousins, he well knew that most people within the clan shared no close blood ties at all, and that between himself and Xiao Xun'er there was not a drop of blood relation to be found.
As if she had not felt the scorching heat of Xiao Ning's gaze in the least, Xun'er gave a polite, yet distinctly distant, faint shake of the head and murmured, "Cousin Xiao Ning is far too kind in yielding." With that said, and without awaiting any chance for Xiao Ning to press his friendliness closer, she turned on her heel and walked, smiling, toward that youth in the east of the hall who was still hunched tight over his scroll.
As the one around whom the whole hall revolved, Xun'er's every move naturally drew the attention of every soul present. A host of gazes followed along her path, drifting step by step, until at last they came to rest upon the youth beneath the bookshelf.
Yet of all those burning stares flooding the training field, the youth seemed to take not the slightest notice. Deeply engrossed as he was, he remained utterly lost within his own little world.