pyroclastic repose ~ 1/1, complete; 5k words
Almost bleeding from his fingertips, Yue Qingyuan's qi branches through the blade and sinks into the steel with no lasting impression. Physically, the only mark of what he’d done is caught amongst the fire: when he shifts aside for the hearth to burn bright, all traces of where his qi had spread now set an icy sheen in the perfect metal. Reflecting nothing of the flames which surround it. Placed in complete stasis. “Sever these fissures.” Doused in glacial waters, Wei Qingwei dumbly chokes out, “What?" “Sever it,” the sect leader calmly repeats. No glance is spared. “It is ready.” “It is my shifu’s last work,” he manages through his shock. Yue Qingyuan intently traces the veins of the blade and gives a sympathetic nod. “Therefore, your only resource.” His shixiong tilts his head only just. “Are you not curious?”
or, the blades of Cang Qiong & the legacy of the previous Wan Jian Peak Lord—as tainted by Xuan Su. What does it take to find catharsis?