All The Gods We Can Touch

七 Fight, Like the Living

The Jade City was not named so for its ornamental beauty, nor for the viridescent jewellery that adorned its people. It earned its name from the lush, untamed greenery that thrived within its walls. The flowery vine crept through the cracks in the cobblestone streets and wrapped itself around the wooden frames of houses.

The city was a place bustling with life, where the hum of daily bustle mixed with the earthy scent of medicinal herbs. Carried by the wind, the songs of the Youjing Sect's disciples brought serenity and levity.

Legends spoke of a time long past, when one of Huái Lóng's dragon founders sought a cure for its ailing mate. While nothing the cultivators tried ended up saving the dying creature, its love was magnanimous, and so it blessed the land in gratitude. Although such myths were often dismissed in modern times, the spiritual energy coursing through the Jade City was undeniable, palpable even to the untrained.

For those attuned to such forces, like Bái Jiānwēi, the energy was a constant, subtle presence. Beneath his plain coat, chosen to conceal his Sect's distinctive white uniform, he could feel the gentle caress of the city's spirits, their invisible little fingers soothing his weighted spine, a cool touch coaxing him into a state of near-meditation. The crisp, cool air carried with it a calming influence, sharpening his senses yet lulling his mind into a delicate tranquillity.

The Jade City had long been cherished by cultivators, a sanctuary where one could meditate and recuperate, drawing strength from the land's innate vitality. For Bái Jiānwēi, a practitioner of Huái Niàn's Ghostly arts, this connection was magnified, intensifying the city's healing energy into a dual-edged sword; While the city offered solace and restoration, the sense of calm that it forced into him lowered his guard and exposed him to the assault of those who viewed his practices with contempt. Luckily for him, most of Yōujìng's disciples mostly regarded Huái Niàn with scepticism and frustration.

Among these observers were the healers of the Yōujìng Sect, who regarded Bái Jiānwēi and his fellow disciples with a mixture of disdain and pity. Their own methods centred on the preservation of body and soul, emphasising purity and healing through sounds, which led them to see Huái Niàn's cultivation of Ghostly energy as nothing short of sacrilege. To them, the toll it took on practitioners was not just a matter of spiritual beliefs; it was a visible, reckless self-destruction they could not ignore. Their scorn stemmed from concern about the damage they witnessed—both to the body and soul—a defilement that went against everything they hold sacred.

Despite the deep-seated animosity that has festered over the years between the other main sects and Bái Jiānwēi's own, there once existed an unlikely friendship between Yōujìng's Sect Leader and Huái Niàn's. Long ago, both of the women would spend countless hours together beneath a pavilion, where their spirited debates could stretch for days on end.

Their liùbó board and sticks still stood today in the White Pavilion, as silent witnesses to the levity of their conversations.

At some point, visits between the two had become so frequent that they teetered on the edge of impropriety; each leader sought solace in the other's company, drawn together by a shared passion for knowledge despite their stark differences in cultivation paths and the importance of their positions.

Yōujìng's Sect Leader often arrived with a gaggle of eager young disciples, hoping to instil in them the nuances of diplomatic etiquette. On most days, her young followers would inevitably find themselves roped in plays with Huái Niàn's children, their laughter echoing through the air as they played under the watchful eyes of their elders. Among them was Bái Jiānwēi, who had forged a special bond with one of the younger disciples.

Since Huái Niàn's Sect Leader's passing, Huái Lóng Island had not seen its jade-clad friend in a decade. The memories of their shared moments lingered like a faint scent on the wind, but the warmth that had once filled the air had dissipated.