Most disciples refined Qi.Jiang Yunfan refined chaos.
It wasn't that he didn't want to cultivate like everyone else it was that his Qi refused to move in a straight line. It zigzagged, spiraled, and crackled with mischievous thunder like a drunken dragon doing somersaults.
"Calm down," Yunfan muttered to his dantian, sitting cross-legged on the cliff behind the zither cave. "Just circulate like a normal person. In, out. Breathe. Flow. Don't giggle."
His dantian giggled anyway.
He slapped his own chest. "Stop laughing! I'm being serious!"
Lightning flickered from his fingers in response. A low hum echoed from the broken zither beside him as if it was laughing too.
He exhaled and stood up, reaching for the chipped sword leaning against the cliff wall.
It had no name, no glory. Just a handle wrapped in old cloth and a blade full of dents. Yet when his hand touched it, the lightning inside him stilled just for a heartbeat.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's try that technique again. Just don't explode this time."
He took his stance.
Feet apart. One hand gripping the sword. The other resting on the zither's edge. He closed his eyes.
He thought of a joke. A stupid one.
"Why don't lightning bolts ever get married?""Because they always split at the altar."
He laughed.
So did the heavens.
Lightning surged around him like a tide. His aura cracked like thunder. And as he stepped forward with a wild grin, the sword moved not with form or style, but with rhythm.
"Heavenlaugh Sword Art: First Movement Split the Sky While Smiling."
The blade came down like a dancing arc of madness, and thunder screamed across the cliff.
The stone split in two. A tree behind him shattered. A squirrel exploded.
Yunfan blinked.
"…Well. That was more than I planned."
He looked at the sword.
It purred.
Later that day, he returned to his servant duties, pretending nothing had happened.
The disciples watched him closely now, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled hostility. Rumors spread quickly in the sect, and Yunfan's little duel in the training grounds had become legend overnight.
"Did you hear? He used a laugh to knock out Senior Jin!"
"They say he's secretly an immortal disguised as a fool!"
"Maybe he's possessed by a thunder demon!"
Yunfan, overhearing every word, walked by while carrying a laundry basket and said loudly, "I'm actually just the Sect Master's illegitimate son."
Several disciples dropped their swords.
That night, he sat again between sword and zither under the thunderclouds.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
A girl stood a few feet away, her pale robes flowing like mist, eyes as calm as still water.
Her voice was soft. "Are you the one who plays the zither… during storms?"
Yunfan didn't look up. "Depends. Are you here to complain about the noise?"
"No." She stepped forward, gaze locked on the strings. "Play it again."
Yunfan's brow lifted. "Most people don't ask me to play they tell me to stop."
"I'm not most people."
He grinned. "No. You've got that mysterious fairy aura. Ice beauty type, probably with a secret tragic past. Let me guess your name is something poetic, like… Mu Qingxue?"
She blinked.
He sat up straighter. "Wait. Is it actually?"
"…Yes."
He threw his hands up. "HA! I win! What do I get? A spirit stone? A jade token? A date?"
"You get to live. For now."
"Fair trade."
She sat beside him without permission. "Play the zither."
"Only if you promise not to freeze me after."
"…Play."
He plucked the first string. It sang softly with a whisper of thunder.
Mu Qingxue said nothing, but her gaze narrowed. The sound carried Qi, and it vibrated her own meridians slightly out of rhythm.
He played a second note. This one is sharper and more precise. It struck a boulder several feet away, and a faint crack appeared.
Her voice was cool. "You're weaponizing music."
He smirked. "It's better than my poetry."
"Your technique is incomplete. But dangerous."
"Oh, trust me," Yunfan said, eyes gleaming. "That's my whole style."