The man in white stands still, his sword held behind his back, while Kang acknowledges him with a bow. Almost as if an invisible bell was struck, the two of them move in unison. They circle the ring, mirroring each other with careful, deliberate steps.
Until the Crane draws his sword in one swift movement, and the graceful curve of it is revealed. He wields the single-edged dao, different from Kang’s slender, double-edged blade. The White Crane raises one arm, holding his sword above his head, lifting the opposite leg, until he is birdlike in appearance. He holds that form only for a moment, gathering his inner strength, then explodes forward with a flurry of slashes.
The weapon must be heavy, but in his hands it appears featherlight, twisting in the air with the ease of an arrow. I sense the twitch of Kang’s muscles echoing within my own as he moves to block, his sword rising up to meet the other weapon, the impact ringing in our ears. The two of them are then joined in a frenzied dance of blades.
Sweat begins to drip down from my hairline into my eyes, from the exertion of pulling the negative energies away from him. The remnants of Wenyi’s magic are the swiftly moving feet of hundreds of crawling spiders, trying to find purchase. They want to bite, to feast on the gold essence flowing through Kang’s body, their intended target. But because they cannot have him, they devour me instead, leaching my energy, until my eyes threaten to flutter closed.
I pinch myself at the tender points between my fingers, forcing myself to stay awake. The drumbeat of Kang’s heart pulses with my own, beating in my ears. My body continues to burn, begging for a reprieve from the relentless heat.
The fight continues in front of me in a whirlwind. I encourage the powers of the purple mushroom, giving him the ability to withstand the Crane’s repeated strikes. The yù jīn eases the ache in his limbs. My hand clutches at the table, even as I can feel the sword in his hand, how his body moves through the memory of the forms he learned from a young age. He practiced in rain and the dark of night, in bitter cold winds on the side of a cliff, or blindfolded in the snow, when the slippery stones under his feet threatened to throw his weight off-balance.
All his training is unleashed in this single moment, heightened by the effects of the water-lily bud. A break in the pattern of the Crane, changing the grip of his hand to move to another form. Kang turns in a flash, whipping the edge of his sword in an opposing motion, catching his opponent’s blade out of alignment. The man stumbles, caught unaware. With another thrust, Kang slashes the air, and a piece of white fabric flutters down to the ground.
The White Crane stops, lifts his sword in front of him, and bows. The tattered remains of his sleeve slide down his arm, revealing a clear line of blood. Defeat.
I spit the medicine ball out of my mouth into the waiting bowl, breaking our connection. I cannot stand to be in his mind a moment longer, the burden on my body unbearable. Finally, the waves relent, the heat easing until I can draw a breath, until I am a little more myself again and less of him.
It’s done. The final round, and I am still here.
The officials are slow to clap, but once they begin, it is a thunderous sound in the hall. They have recognized the feat I have completed, and for once, I can acknowledge the power I am growing into. That I will become worthy of my mother’s legacy.
“Wait!” a voice calls out, disrupting the glow of my success. The Esteemed Qian, the former court shénnóng-shī, steps forward. “Your Highness, it is with great regret that I must report there is something amiss.”
I stare at him, not understanding. I have completed the task at hand. What could I have done wrong?
“Speak,” Princess Zhen commands, even as she appears reluctant to hear his next words.
After a hurried bow, he straightens and clasps his hands behind his back. “As an experienced shénnóng-shī, I have witnessed many trials, many ceremonies. I had my suspicions, but today, after viewing the final round, it confirms everything I suspected.”
The Esteemed Qian stops in front of my table, too close for comfort. I want to move away, but my legs still feel too weak to hold me, and I fear falling for the entire court to see.
“The girl from Sù.” He turns to glare down at me, his hatred as apparent as Wenyi’s disdain for Kang. He raises his arm and points one finger at my face, and the other in Kang’s direction. “And the son of the Banished Prince. They had a connection prior to this final round of the competition. A traitorous alliance.”
Sputtering sounds emerge from my mouth, nonsensical. It is the princess who recovers first, quickly speaking. “I was made aware of a previous meeting between Xu Kang and some of the previous competitors. Zhang Ning had also come forth of her own accord and relayed her concerns privately. However, she did not know the identity of the champion in the final round; that was decided only hours ago. I do not believe they intended to deceive the court.”