Pa — pa — pa!
Li Qiye laid into Zhang Yu with merciless swings. Among the three hundred disciples, Zhang Yu's cultivation ranked toward the bottom, though he had entered the sect a year or two earlier than most.
Though his Dao strength was shallow, his endurance was like that of an old ox — unyielding, dogged, and relentless. Each strike of the Snake‑Beating Staff made his bones scream; it was a pain as if his very marrow were being peeled away. He could barely stand.
Yet he kept rising. Again and again he dragged himself to his feet, only to be sent crashing down once more. Li Qiye was deliberately testing him that day, each blow looking light but weighed with the pressure of mountains — each strike a lesson in pain and perseverance.
No one else could have endured so long; many would have stayed down after a single strike. But Zhang Yu rose again and again until his limbs convulsed, his body curled on the ground, pale and sweating, too weak to move.
The scene made countless students tremble, some looking away in terror, and even the girls felt pity tighten their hearts.
"Perseverance and tenacity — good," Li Qiye said calmly, eyes on the trembling boy. "If I wanted to vent my temper, I wouldn't bother with you small fish. If I truly meant to torture you, I could devise three to five hundred methods far worse than this."
His words were for Zhang Yu and for everyone present.
Then he pointed the staff at someone else. > "You — stand out."
The selected disciple blanched; his hair seemed to stand on end. Forced by fear, he stepped forward on shaking legs.
"Do you know why I beat you?" Li Qiye asked, still smiling.
To the boy, that smile was more terrifying than any snarl.
"B‑because we offended Senior Brother … !" he stammered.
"Wrong." Li Qiye smile grew slightly wider. > "Resist."
Pa — pa — pa! The staff crashed down again and again until the boy howled.
"Next."
Another was called out and met the same fate. Soon the valley echoed with cries and the crack of the rod; under its shadow, none could escape pain.
"Well? Do you know why I beat you?" he asked at last, after one more student lay bruised and gasping.
That disciple had given up fighting; he just curled on the ground and croaked, > "N‑no … I don't know …"
He offered answer after answer, none stopping the next blow — until a timid voice spoke up from the crowd.
"E‑every strike from Senior Brother … breaks our flaws — p‑perhaps he's testing the weakness in our techniques?"
The yard fell quiet. Li Qiye turned his head toward the voice. It belonged to a girl with large eyes and a timid air — he remembered her.
She shrunk back under his gaze, palms sweating, as her friends anxiously tugged her sleeve.
"You — step forward," Li Qiye said with a smile.
The girl inched out reluctantly, a small white lamb before a wolf. She was older than he by a year or two, yet the pressure he exuded left her breathless.
"Now tell me — why do I beat you all?"
Her face was pale as she whispered, > "I … I think every strike you make breaks our flaws, S‑senior Brother, testing for weakness in our arts …"
Then she peeked up at him anxiously — and quickly lowered her head again.
Li Qiye tilted his head. > "Your name?"
"Xu… Xu Pei," she managed.
"Xu Pei. Xu junior sister," Li Qiye said pleasantly. > "Good news — you guessed right."
Gasps spread through the crowd as relief filled her eyes.
"From now on you're senior sister of this group. You'll lead all three hundred disciples of the valley." He paused, still smiling. > "But now it's your turn to strike."
The announcement shocked everyone — especially Xu Pei.
"B‑but … I answered right," she said timidly. "D‑doesn't that mean I‑I don't get hit?"
"You did," Li Qiye replied cheerfully. > "But I never said I'd let you go. I'm a very fair person — I treat everyone the same."
His smile was more terrible than a wolf's snarl.
Forced by fear, she raised her sword, murmuring almost under her breath, > "P‑please … don't hit the face …"
Vanity was a woman's nature — even a cultivator bristled at the thought of her face becoming a swollen pig's head.
"I'll consider it," Li Qiye said pleasantly — then the staff lashed straight for her cheek.
Startled, Xu Pei leapt aside — her palace gates flared beneath her feet, dodging gracefully. But the staff followed like a shadow; for every step she took, it pressed in relentlessly.
"If all you do is run, believe me — I will make that pretty face look like a pig's," Li Qiye's cold voice rang out.
Terrified, she stopped fleeing and turned to fight, crying out as her sword swept toward him in a silver arc.
Bang! The staff landed squarely on her shoulder; pain brought tears to her eyes as her delicate bones seemed to shatter.
"That move — 'Sweeping Away the Dust with One Sword' — is too soft," Li Qiye said evenly. > "A sweeping sword must be as its name implies — firm and dense; let no grain of dust remain."
He spoke as he struck, each blow precise and measured.
"Again!" he ordered without a hint of leniency. > "In battle to the death, one needs a heart as clear as dust and a courage as boundless as the sky. At the clash of life and death, the brave alone survive — remember that!"
Every comment cut to the heart of her flaws. Her fingers tightened around her sword as tears blurred her vision, yet she fought on, pouring everything into the next exchange.
Bang! His rod struck her waist.
"This move, 'Sea of Swords,' lacks grandeur. The essence lies in the word vast — hao. You must embody the righteous vastness it names."
Bang! Each strike shattered another flaw; between blows, Li Qiye spoke with the ease of a master commenting on a painting.
"Your 'Swallow Returns South' is well‑practiced, but don't grow complacent — its timing is still a fraction off. When perfected, its weakness becomes strength."
Li Qiye had read every manual in the Valley's collection, and many of those techniques were his own legacy from ages past, back when he had taught Immortal Emperor Mingren himself. Every word he spoke was truth forged from eras of experience.