Few people in the Central Realms had never heard of the Seven-Petal Sword Saint.
He was a living legend.
He could slice falling petals mid-air without touching the stem.
His sword qi once parted a lake—and cooked the fish inside it.
They said his techniques were so profound they could split karma and sever dreams.
So naturally, when he heard rumors of a "divine beast cat who annihilated a demon sect in his sleep," he was intrigued.
Then he was insulted.
"A cat?!"
"A creature that naps instead of meditates?"
"A beast that meows instead of reciting the Dao?!"
The Sword Saint's pride would allow no such challenger to remain untested.
And so he descended from his floating sword pagoda, wind swirling dramatically around him, robes billowing as he landed atop the Azure Cloud Sect's arena.
"Bring me the beast!" he declared. "Let him face my blade!"
Down in the herb garden, Whiskers stirred from a nap, flicking an ear.
"Loud."
"Master!" Xi-Xi cried, wings aflutter. "There's a challenge!"
"Ignore it."
"He's very shiny. And smug. He's yelling in verses."
Whiskers sighed.
"Of course he is."
Within minutes, the entire sect had gathered to witness it:
The duel of the decade.
A cat.
Versus a Sword Saint.
The arena pulsed with suppressive barriers. The wind howled. Qi rumbled through the air as the Sword Saint raised his weapon.
It was a seven-petaled lotus blade—ancient, forged from starlight and whispers. It hummed with sword intent so sharp it could shave pride from a peacock.
Whiskers sat three meters away, tail flicking. Grooming his paw.
The Sword Saint frowned. "Do you not fear my blade, divine beast?"
Whiskers yawned. "Do you fear my paw?"
Gasps.
Someone fainted.
The Sword Saint narrowed his eyes. "Then let us duel."
He raised his sword.
A ripple of petals burst forth, swirling around him like a floral storm.
"Lotus Cut of the Seven Fates!" he cried, slashing toward Whiskers.
The petals shimmered—each one a compressed edge of qi and intent.
They whistled through the air.
Whiskers sighed.
He lifted one paw.
And flicked it.
Thwap.
The air cracked.
A single ripple pulsed outward—soft, lazy, almost bored.
It passed through the petals.
And they vanished.
Not sliced. Not burned.
Erased. As if they'd never existed.
The Sword Saint blinked.
Then his sword snapped in half.
The arena fell completely silent.
Even the wind was too stunned to blow.
Whiskers stood, stretched lazily, and padded toward the Sword Saint. The man stood frozen, sweat on his brow.
Whiskers stared into his soul and asked the only question that mattered.
"…You done?"
The Sword Saint dropped to one knee.
"I have seen the Dao in your… paw pad. Forgive me, Senior."
Whiskers blinked. "Go home, petal man."
The Sword Saint bowed three more times, turned, and flew away.
Later that evening, Xi-Xi skipped through the garden, chirping joyfully.
"Master! You were amazing! Will you teach me the Paw Flick of Ultimate Judgment?!"
"No."
"Pretty please?"
"Go fetch my sun-fish jerky first."
"Aye, Master!"