His defense might have been enough to deflect one of her normal attacks, but this time it passed through with no resistance and sliced him in half.

The Demon fell to pieces, and Yerin stood with her eyes closed, spiritual perception drilling deeper, trying to remember this sensation even as it drifted off.

This was her way forward. As she advanced, it would become easier and easier to sense.

Her Blood Shadow squirmed inside her, restless, hungry for both action and power, but Yerin forced it down. Soon, she wouldn’t need the Shadow at all.

Noise penetrated Yerin’s trance, and for the first time she paid attention to her audience. Down on the snowy streets beneath the building, several dozen people had gathered. They raised torches or rune-lights or techniques against the darkness.

And when the Demon of Twin Blades fell, their voices rose in a shout of excitement. It wasn’t quite a cheer, but a wave of cries that broke into chatter and a few individual calls.

Yerin wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but she felt like she was supposed to do something. She waved her white blade down to them.

The sound from the crowd redoubled, and this time it was definitely a cheer.

Well, that didn’t feel too bad.

The Winter Sage had been sending her out to fight with her sword, insisting that this would help her become a “symbol” of swordsmanship and thus get closer to the Sword Icon.

She wasn’t sure if popularity or fame would help with that. Did Icons care how well-known you were?

Yerin picked up the two weapons the Remnant had been carrying—no sense in leaving them for anyone else—and hopped down to the street. The people cheered and shouted out questions, but they also backed away from her. So they liked her, but they didn’t want her to get too close.

That was how people had treated her master, so she wasn’t too bothered. She used the bubble of space around her to make it to the end of the street, but her good mood faded quickly when she noticed another group that the people of the town were avoiding.

The Sage of Red Faith and his students.

The Blood Sage crouched on the street like a frog, looking up at her from his hunched position. Red paint tracked down from his eyes like bloody tears.

A wave of revulsion ran through her, and even her Blood Shadow surged up in willingness to fight.

Beside him was another figure that looked like they haunted children every night at midnight: Yan Shoumei. Her black hair hid half her face, and her one visible eye was too wide. Her sacred arts robes hung loose around her.

Their third companion, Calan Archer, was the only one who wasn’t likely to frighten anyone away. In fact, he had a fine figure, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a handsome face. His Goldsign ruined it all, in Yerin’s estimation, because the scripted rings of living lightning marked him as a member of the Stormcallers.

Putting a good-looking man in a Dreadgod cult was putting a dress on a hog. Didn’t make it any less a pig.

Just seeing the three of them was enough to ruin Yerin’s excitement over her progress. She almost wished they would make a move on her; not only would the Winter Sage not rest until she had her revenge, but if they attacked one of the Uncrowned in Akura territory, they’d have a Monarch and a heavenly messenger to contend with.

But she still wasn’t looking to die, so she dropped the Remnant’s swords and cycled her madra. The crowd took another few steps back.

Yan Shoumei scowled at her and let out a furious whisper. “Didn’t your master teach you better than to fight in a town? Someone could have been hurt.”

The words threw Yerin’s brain into a spin. Was a member of Redmoon Hall lecturing her about collateral damage?

Shoumei walked up to a trio of little girls in the crowd nearby, going to her knees and speaking in a soothing tone. “It’s going to be okay. The demon is gone, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

She still sounded like a witch trying to lure them to their deaths.

The girls stammered something and scurried back, scrambling to put some adults between themselves and the evil-looking Underlady. The adults didn’t look any more at ease than the children did.

Yan Shoumei hung her head, and Yerin could see the depression and disappointment radiating from her back.

Yerin reminded herself to stay on her guard. She couldn’t feel any sympathy.

“You all found a spine and a half if you’re after me here,” Yerin said, hoping the crowd would sense an incoming fight and leave. “The Sage won’t lie down easy when she finds out you’re here to hook me.”

Yerin wasn’t sure if they were here to hurt her or to persuade her to their side, but either way the Sage of the Frozen Blade would be furious.

The Blood Sage wet his lips. “Min Shuei drove me off when I first arrived, and then she appealed to the Monarchs several times to have me removed. She went to Northstrider, to Akura Malice, and to Reigan Shen. They are all aware that I am here, and they will allow me to remain as long as I behave myself. Your Winter Sage is not so tolerant, but she is distracted at the moment.”

He took a little hop closer to her, and that seemed like it was enough for the crowd. They started filtering away, which Yerin thought was unusually perceptive for a bunch of Lowgolds.

“I have tried to speak with you face to face several times, but I was always delayed by the ignorance and stubbornness of others. Clearly, you have good judgment of your own, as you have cultivated your Blood Shadow according to my technique. With my help, you can take it to new heights. Even Monarch is not a dream. I am certain that, under these conditions, we can have a civilized discussion.”

Yerin drew her weapon back and began cycling for the Final Sword.

She had contained herself at the sight of the Sage, because after all, there was nothing she could do to him. But every word out of his pale lips made her angrier and angrier.

“I used to have a wish,” Yerin told him, as madra and aura and soulfire poured into her sword. “I wished that there was one waste of breath handing out Blood Shadows, and if I killed him, mine would go away. All of them would. And everybody…”

She heaved in a breath to stop herself from saying “..and everybody the Shadow killed would come back.” She didn’t need to share that part of it, because it made her sound like a child. She was finding it hard to speak now anyway.

The Sage blinked, looking confused. His two students were alarmed, distancing themselves from him and beginning defensive techniques.

“I have no influence over what the Bleeding Phoenix does,” the Blood Sage said, “and even if you could somehow kill me, it would have no impact on your Blood Shadow.”

Yerin knew that better than she knew her own name.

“True,” she said.

She unleashed the Final Sword anyway.

The crowd was gone, but this still wasn’t a technique she would usually use with homes so close. Silver light lit up the night as a fully detailed sword of madra closed the gap between her and the Blood Sage in a blink. Aura chewed up the ground, nearby walls, and the edges of the rooftops. The air screamed.

The Sage of Red Faith stopped it with one hand. He didn’t even stand up, just raised a palm and intercepted the technique.

The force almost bowled him over.

He stumbled back, channeling more power into defending himself. When the technique faded, blood flowed from his palm.