Spar Against Xue Qingcheng

As if sensing his thoughts, Xue Qingcheng spoke again, her voice thrumming with barely contained excitement. "Junior Brother Miao, might I trouble you for a sparring match? I would relish the chance to test my own understanding of the sword against one as accomplished as yourself."

There was no flattery in her words, no false modesty or ulterior motive. Xue Qingcheng was a true devotee of the sword dao, one who sought the path for its own sake, not for the trappings of power or prestige. 

At that moment, Miao Ying saw in her a kindred spirit, a fellow traveler on the unending road to mastery.

"Sure, you'll be more fun than anyone else here." he replied, chuckling causally.

The others could only watch in befuddlement as the two squared off, their auras flaring to life like twin suns. 

To pit a mere 2nd stage Qi Establishment disciple against a half-step Houtian expert was unheard of, a defiance of all the unwritten laws that governed the world of cultivation. 

And yet, as they felt the power rolling off Miao Ying in waves, they began to wonder if perhaps those laws did not apply to him.

Xue Qingcheng moved first, her sword flashing out in a blinding arc of silver light. The air screamed as her blade cleaved through it, the very fabric of space seeming to bend and warp in its wake. 

It was a strike of such speed and precision that the other disciples could barely follow it, their eyes straining to keep up with the afterimages that trailed in its wake.

But Miao Ying saw it all with perfect clarity, his senses honed to an almost preternatural edge by his deep immersion in the lightning and sword Daos. 

To him, Xue Qingcheng's movements were as clear as day, each subtle shift of her weight and qi telegraphing her intentions like a beacon fire.

He brought his own blade up to meet hers, the clash of their swords sending shockwaves rippling outwards, carving furrows in the earth and sending the other disciples staggering back, their faces pale with awe and terror. 

The air crackled and sizzled with the intensity of their qi, a maelstrom of sword-light and lightning essence that seared the eyes and set teeth on edge.

For a moment, the two seemed evenly matched, their swords locked together in a contest of pure skill and will. 

But then, with a flick of his wrist, Miao Ying disengaged, his blade whirling in a dizzying arc as he pressed the attack, seeking to overwhelm Xue Qingcheng with a relentless barrage of strikes.

She met him blow for blow, her own sword a blur of silver light as she parried and riposted with preternatural grace. 

The earth shook beneath their feet, the very air seeming to vibrate with the force of their clashing qi. It was a sight that none of the onlookers would soon forget, a duel of such breathtaking skill and intensity that it seemed to transcend the bounds of mortal comprehension.

'Chi!' 

Another ear-piercing eruption of metal clashing echoed out, sending shockwaves rippling through the earth and air. The ground cracked and buckled under the onslaught of qi, jagged fissures spreading out like a spiderweb of destruction. 

The other disciples, mere specks in the face of such power, could only watch in awe and terror as they were buffeted back by the relentless waves of force.

Miao Ying's sword was a living thing, a shard of pure energy that hummed and crackled with barely contained power. With each clash, each moment of contact with Xue Qingcheng's blade, it seemed to grow stronger, more vital, as if feeding off the very essence of their struggle.

Xue Qingcheng herself was a marvel to behold, her slender form belying the incredible strength and skill that flowed through her like a raging torrent. Her sword was an extension of her being, a gleaming arc of silver that danced and wove through the air with a grace that bordered on the divine.

But for all her speed and finesse, she could not seem to gain the upper hand against Miao Ying. His own blade was a match for hers in every way, a perfect counterpoint to her every move. 

And with each exchange, each moment of perfect symmetry, the force behind his blows seemed to grow, a relentless tide of qi that threatened to overwhelm her defenses.

She could feel it now, a faint rumbling that began to invade her sword arm, a subtle vibration that set her teeth on edge and made her bones ache. It was the qi of Miao Ying, a force so potent, so pure, that it seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the universe itself.

In that instant, Xue Qingcheng gritted her teeth as she poured every last ounce of her strength and skill into her sword, desperately trying to counter the inexorable pressure of Miao Ying's relentless assault. 

A shimmering cocoon of pale blue light pulsed and crackled around her sword and arm, a manifestation of her barely contained power that cast an ethereal glow across the barren wasteland.

But for all her efforts, for all the countless hours she had dedicated to honing her craft, Xue Qingcheng could feel the futility of her struggle. 

Miao Ying's qi was a force of nature, a raging tsunami of lightning and sword qi that threatened to consume her utterly. The sheer intensity of his 2nd Stage Qi Establishment cultivation, forged from a perfect fusion of the Speed as Supremacy, Heavenly Cosmic Sword Art, and Thousand Shadow Sword styles, granted him a level of speed and power that defied belief.

With a final, anguished cry, Xue Qingcheng wrenched her blade free from another deadlock, spinning away in a blur of flawless footwork that would have left any lesser cultivator slack-jawed with awe. 

But Miao Ying was already in motion, his spirit sword slicing through the air in a blinding arc of silver light that seemed to sunder the very fabric of reality itself.

In that frozen heartbeat, Xue Qingcheng stared transfixed at the oncoming blade, a sinking coldness settling in the pit of her stomach. 

She could see her death reflected in the polished steel, could feel the inevitability of it in the marrow of her bones. 

And yet, even in that moment of primal terror, she couldn't help but marvel at the sight of Miao Ying in his element. 

The unwavering focus in his dark eyes, the slight curl of his lips that spoke of a strange serenity amidst the chaos...this was a man who had found his calling, who had distilled his very essence into the purest form of the Sword Dao.

Abandoning all pretense of defense, Xue Qingcheng reached deep within herself, tapping into the hidden reservoirs of power that lay coiled within her dantian. 

With a wordless shout, she unleashed the full might of her qi, surging the extra pool that flowed through her arm meridians to grant her a fleeting burst of strength and speed.

Her sword qi flared like a newborn sun as she brought her spirit sword up in a desperate parry, meeting Miao Ying's blow with a thunderous impact that sent shockwaves rippling across the barren wasteland. 

Sparks erupted from the point of contact, each one seemingly like a miniature supernova that seared the eyes and left molten pockmarks in the earth below. 

Xue Qingcheng felt her sword qi gutter and fade, teetering on the brink of total collapse...but somehow, incredibly, it held.

Seizing the slimmest of openings, Xue Qingcheng twisted away, falling back on pure instinct as she primed her body for a, desperate technique. 

"Phantom Sword!" she cried, her words ringing with the force of an oath.

Her qi roared to life, exploding outward in a storm of razor-edged Sword Qi that howled toward Miao Ying's right side with the fury of an uncaged beast.

But even as it flew, Miao Ying was already moving, his dark brows furrowing as he sensed the incoming threat. That maelstrom of Sword Qi was potent enough to carve through the flesh of a half-step Houtian expert like rotten fruit, a killing blow by any measure. 

In that split second, he understood Xue Qingcheng's gambit - by forcing him to defend his flank, she hoped to buy herself some space, to launch a follow-up attack that might turn the tide.

A cold smile tugged at the corners of Miao Ying's mouth. As if he would ever allow such a thing.