Chu Wanning had earnt the title of Zongshi like how the periless night earns the benevolent sunshine after. He was proficient in most arts that cultivators wanted to hone and understand; he adapted and created spells while still maintaining his perfect, unblemished, yet thin face. He was so respected and capable that dying didn't taint his reputation, and cheers hailed his exit from seclusion five years after rebirth.

But swords needed sharpening, and a jack of all trades needed to maintain his dexterity. Even with his primary weapon being Tianwen, Chu Wanning also appreciated the sword, and so here he was.

Red Lotus Pavilion was without its usual silence or tranquility: no longer did the wind dominate the loudest of sounds on its lonesome. Instead, Chu Wanning seemed to supplement it with a sword, and he cut the air up like it had initiated the encounter. It was not the sword he had taken from Dawning Peak, but a substitute to allow his body to stay sharp in the mannerisms. or swordplay

Just then, while the Yuheng Elder cut and diced the air with his hair tied back so he didn't chop that as well, he felt the barrier around the pavilion shiver faintly with disruption. But the thought remained as nothing more than a fragment of his periphery, when he was so caught up in this sword dance.

Chu Wanning was a phoenix, with the eyes to boot. But alas, under the peerless beauty and composure, his composition was still that of a roaring ember with an overeager temperament, and so such training set him ablaze and made him yearn for a fight. Something equal, endless, breath-snatching, and—

And you. Several times since exiting seclusion had he gazed upon your long since grown form and thought about having a good spar. He thought alot about that body, yearning in a deep affection that only roiled in what he thought was an impossible amount of additional growth.

No longer where you a small little sapling that could occasionally show stability, but you had overgrown the tall tree which was your own Shizun, so of course he immediately thought about beating eachother to an affectionate pulp.

The man probably pummeled people as a love language. What was the first thing he did upon seeing you after five years again? Oh right, give you a gash to the chest. Accidentally, but still.

Truly, he couldn't care less about why you had come so late. He knew it was something with that wedding he, you, and some others from Sisheng Peak were attending, probably the arrival of the clothes they were to wear— but Yuheng was much preoccupied. He was set aflame in stubborn, endless, almost endearing energy and fighting spirit.

Any words thrown his way were discarded, from where he firmly stood atop the roof with that sword. Even without a holy weapon, he looked awe inspiring— as expected of the Beidou Immortal. The sight of you washed over him and plucked with with an impulse that spread like venom. He lept to the ground lightly as if it were a mere bunny hop, and issued a clear, stobborn challenge.

"First, spar with me!"