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Elder Yu shuffled forward, his every step a testament to the years etched on his face. He scrutinized the female disciples guarding the demoness before raising his gaze to her. A smirk, sharp as a viper's tongue, played on her lips as she surveyed the scene with silent disdain. Disciples from the four sects materialized around us like a rising tide, their faces etched with grim determination.

Catching a flicker of anxiety in their eyes, she began a mesmerizing dance with her fingers, a silent command to the needles poised beneath the disciples' skin. "Long time no see, Elder Yu," she drawled, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "Seems age has not been kind. Grown a bit saggy around the eyes, haven't you?" Her gaze swept towards me, and a chilling smile played on her lips. "Perhaps you'd like an anti-aging balm? I've specially reserved one for you."

Elder Yu's lips twitched, a fleeting chuckle trapped within the grimace he offered the balm. He whirled on the disciples, hands raised in a sharp command for attack. Panic flared in my chest as Zhao Yun rushed to his side. I stood frozen beside A'Ying, utterly lost in the whirlwind unfolding before me.

The demoness, a predator in a den of wolves, met their charge with a confident smile. Her disciples flowed around the others, forming a whirlwind of their own, effectively pinning them in place. "What's the matter, Elder Yu? Don't you want my gift?" A sigh escaped her, theatrical and laced with mockery. Before anyone could react, she lunged, tossing a Wudang Sect disciple aside with a flick of her wrist. He crashed to the ground with a thud, his comrades scrambling to his aid, faces contorted in alarm.

Ignoring the commotion, she flexed her wrist, massaging the sting of the blow. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? I'm not here for pleasantries. Return Elder Jing Ke and his sword. That's all I ask."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, a wave of shock crashing over me. I had no clue who this Jing Ke was, but the intensity in the elders' eyes spoke volumes. Clearly, he was a prize worth fighting for.

Before Elder Yu could respond, another voice cut through the tense silence. "How dare you, Bai Ling! We haven't even settled the score for the massacre all those years ago, and you have the audacity to demand a traitor and the secret to the Guo Se sword—"

"Of course not!" she countered, her voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Why else wouldn't you hand over a traitor? Unless, perhaps, you're afraid he'll expose your greed, your little scheme to frame his sect?"

"Bai Ling! You have the nerve to slander elders?" The voice boomed, laced with outrage. "Your master was a saint compared to you! Your viciousness knows no bounds!"

The accusations hung heavy in the air, a tangled web of secrets and betrayals threatening to unravel. Fear prickled at my skin, a cold sweat forming on my brow. I had stumbled into the heart of a viper's nest, and I had no idea how I was going to get out. 

My head tilted, a furrow etching itself between my brows as I stared at the demoness.  Her finger movements, a silent dance weaving intricate patterns in the air, sent a jolt of recognition through me.  Where had I seen that before?  A flicker of memory danced just out of reach, a tantalizing ghost.

Turning to A'Ying, I found her eyes transfixed on the demoness, a statue carved from pure focus.  "A'Ying?" I muttered, my voice barely a whisper.  A tentative tap on her shoulder sent a tremor through her, jolting her back to reality as if from a deep sleep.

Her breathing hitched, ragged and frantic for several moments as she stared at me with wide, unseeing eyes.  Before I could decipher her reaction, the demoness' voice cut through the tense silence.

"You have no right to utter my master's name! As I said, if you don't want a bloodbath here, bring Jing Ke out!"

Zhao Yun, ever the dutiful disciple, bowed sharply to his Shifu.  The other sect leaders, faces grim masks of indecision, huddled in hushed whispers, caught between the audacity of the demand and the potential consequences of refusing.

The disciples, caught in the crossfire, shifted nervously on their feet, their hands hovering over their weapons.  A palpable tension hummed in the air, thick enough to slice with a knife.

A flicker of movement caught my eye.  Elder Ming, her face a thundercloud, stepped out from the group, her signature jade-green umbrella held aloft like a warrior's shield.  With a practiced flick of her wrist, she aimed it at the demoness.

The demoness, reflexes honed by years of battle, reacted instantly.  She dropped to a crouch, her fingers dancing across the air in a familiar pattern.  Needles materialized out of thin air, launched with deadly precision at the tip of the umbrella.  A metallic clang echoed through the courtyard as the needles met their mark.

Elder Ming stumbled back, clutching her arm, a crimson stain blooming on her pale robes.  Su Ruo, eyes blazing with fury, launched herself at her Shifu's side, her own umbrella drawn in a desperate attempt to shield them both.

The demoness, a whirlwind of motion, leaped over the head of the approaching disciple, dodging the clumsy swipe of the umbrella.  A swift counterattack followed, her leg whipping out in a devastating blow.

"What's so difficult about handing over a traitor?" she taunted, her voice laced with ice.  "It seems you'd rather sacrifice your precious disciples than to let him go!"

The words sparked a murmur amongst the disciples.  Doubt and uncertainty flickered in their eyes.  Xiao Fan and Mo Yan, disciples of the Wudang Sect, seemed particularly affected, taking a tentative step towards the demoness, forming a protective circle around the younger disciples.

The demoness pushed Xiao Fan's hand away with a snarl, refusing his help.  A tinge of sadness flickered across her face, quickly overtaken by a steely resolve.  "Such faithful disciples," she spat.  "Such a pity you're being used for their own greed."

My jaw hung slack as A'Ying, her face etched with a strange determination, stepped forward, moving with a slow, deliberate grace towards the demoness.  Panic surged through me, and I let out a strangled cry of protest.  "A'Ying! What are you doing?"

But she seemed oblivious to my shouts, her gaze locked solely on the woman across the courtyard.  Other disciples gaped at her audacity, whispers erupting into a cacophony of confusion.

Just as A'Ying reached a point a few meters from the demoness, the four Elders sprang into action.  With practiced efficiency, they formed the "Eight Trigrams Formation," a powerful defensive technique that utilized the cardinal directions and their corresponding elements to trap and immobilize their opponent.  Elder Yu, his weathered face etched with concentration, raised his hand towards the gathering storm clouds, channeling the power of thunder for a potential attack.

A'Ying, however, stood her ground, her unexpected movement shattering the carefully choreographed steps of the formation.  The Elders faltered, momentarily thrown off balance by her intrusion.  This was a critical moment, a fragile balance teetering on the edge of chaos.

Zhao Yun leaped into the circle formed by the Elders.  His sword, a blur of silver lightning, danced a frantic pattern, its cold breath technique sweeping outwards in a devastating wave.

The force of the attack was a hurricane unleashed in a confined space.  Everyone, including those outside the perimeter, were thrown back with bone-jarring force.  A collective gasp escaped the crowd as figures slammed against the ground, groans and curses erupting in a cacophony of pain.

The carefully choreographed steps of the Eight Trigrams Formation dissolved into chaos.  The Elders, momentarily stunned, stumbled back, clutching their chests.  Zhao Yun, fueled by a desperate urgency, surged forward, catching A'Ying as she crumpled to the ground, a cough wracking her body, blood staining her lips a crimson red.

The shockwave had caught me too, but I recovered quickly, wiping the blood trickling from my lip.  Panic lanced through me as I saw Zhao Yun cradling A'Ying, his face etched with a desperate concern.  A chill ran through my veins, a heavy weight settling in my chest.

The Elders, faces contorted with fury, scrambled to their feet, searching for the source of the attack.  "Lu Zhao Yun! How dare you attack your own people, even your elders?!" Elder Xiao roared, his voice thick with indignation.  The other Elders, their anger simmering just beneath the surface, nodded in vehement agreement.

Zhao Yun, oblivious to their accusations, tightened his grip on A'Ying, helping her regain her balance.  "Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice laced with worry.  A weak nod was his only answer as she attempted to stand on her own two feet.

The demoness, a whirlwind of movement even after the blast, rose from the ground, wiping a trickle of blood from her lips.  Her keen eyes fell upon the sword in Zhao Yun's hand, a spark of recognition igniting within her.  "The Guo Se sword!" she exclaimed.  "You even possess the Cold Breath technique…"

Before she could finish her thought, Elder Xiao, boiling with rage, issued a command.  "Take him down!"  Hesitation flickered across the faces of his disciples.  They knew Zhao Yun's favored status among the sect, and attacking him wasn't a decision they made lightly.

Elder Yu, sensing their turmoil, stepped forward and raised a calming hand. "Yu Meng," he addressed Elder Xiao, "don't tell me you condone this behavior? This time, he's injured even us elders.  He deserves punishment!"

Curiosity battled with anger in the demoness' eyes as she studied the sword in Zhao Yun's hand.  Turning her attention back to A'Ying, she found the younger woman staring back at her with an unsettling intensity.  A flicker of familiarity danced in A'Ying's gaze, but the meaning remained shrouded in mystery.

"Shifu," Zi Su, one of the demoness' disciples, rushed to her side, panic etched on her face.  The demoness turned towards her, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.  She seemed to be battling an internal conflict, a desire to reach out warring with a forced restraint.

A'Ying, her head hanging low, coughed weakly.

"Shifu, are you alright?" Zi Su rushed to her side, offering support.  A'Ying managed a weak nod before turning to address her disciples with a sigh.  They moved back in unison, their retreat a silent signal for their departure.

"I'll return in a month for Jing Ke," the demoness announced, her voice echoing through the courtyard.  "This time, I won't tolerate any excuses!"

Zi Su's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at their Shifu's sudden change of heart.  They held the upper hand, or so it seemed.  With a final, resolute glance at Zhao Yun and A'Ying, the demoness turned and marched away, her disciples following in close pursuit.

The Elders threw their hands up in frustration, unable to fathom the reason behind the demoness' retreat.  My gaze, however, remained fixated on A'Ying, who still stood with the support of Zhao Yun.  Unable to contain myself any longer, I rushed over, pulling A'Ying away from him with a mixture of concern and anger simmering within me. 

"I apologize to everyone for my abrupt decision," Zhao Yun said, addressing the stunned crowd.  "Disciple Lu Zhao Yun is willing to take punishment for his actions."

Elder Xiap, his face contorted with fury, lunged at Zhao Yun, his sword poised for a deadly strike.  But before the blade could find its mark, Elder Yu intervened, his own weapon a blur as he deflected the attack.  The clang of steel echoed through the courtyard, a chilling counterpoint to the ragged breaths escaping my lungs.

My vision blurred for a moment, the sheer recklessness of Zhao Yun's actions sinking in.  What if Elder Yu hadn't been quick enough?  A wave of nausea washed over me, pushing me back a step.

"It's my fault," A'Ying choked out, her voice barely a whisper.  Without hesitation, she stepped forward, throwing her arms around Zhao Yun in a protective gesture.  Elder Die, a cruel amusement twisting his features, let out a harsh laugh.

"You destroyed the formation that could have saved countless lives," he sneered.  "Think of the bigger picture, not your own skin!"

Without thinking, I rushed forward, inserting myself between A'Ying and the sneering Elder Die.  Spreading my arms wide, I stood my ground, my voice trembling with defiance.

"You can't! She's a Princess! You dare lay a finger on her and you'll answer to Liang State!"

The surprise in their eyes was almost comical.  Here I was, a mere disciple, challenging the authority of these powerful Elders.  But desperation fueled my courage.

Elder Die, his face thunderous, whipped out his sword, point aimed squarely at my chest.  Fear threatened to paralyze me, but before he could strike, Elder Yu once again intervened.

"Elder Die! Have you lost your mind?" Yu snapped, his voice surprisingly firm.  "Attacking a defenseless disciple?  Do you want to plunge the sects into further chaos?"

Die scoffed, his fury barely contained. "Don't try to cover for these useless princesses, Yu! Who knows what kind of dealings they have with the demoness! That girl single-handedly ruined our plans!"

"Without evidence, your accusations are nothing but slander," A'Ying retorted, her voice regaining its strength.  She straightened her posture, a flicker of defiance replacing the earlier fear.  With a deep bow directed at Elder Yu, she offered a heartfelt apology.  "I take full responsibility for the disruption caused.  Please punish me, not him."

A death sentence for a mere mistake!  Even with his years of cultivation, the punishment proposed by Elder Die could easily cripple him, if not worse.  And A'Ying, with her relatively low level of training, wouldn't stand a chance.

Elder Yu's face remained impassive, but a flicker of something akin to pity crossed his eyes. "Punishment for unintentional injury to an Elder requires three blows from the injured party," he stated, his voice heavy.

A gasp escaped my lips.  Three blows?  With four Elders injured, wouldn't that essentially be a death sentence?  A low murmur arose from the other disciples, their expressions reflecting the same growing horror I felt.

Before anyone could react further, A'Ying dropped to her knees.  "But for his merit in winning the Bloom Sessions," she pleaded, her voice trembling, "shouldn't his punishment be reconsidered?  I'm willing to take the punishment with him."

The Elders exchanged glances, a hint of unease flickering across their faces.  Clearly, they hadn't anticipated this turn of events.  Harming a Princess was a delicate matter, and they didn't want to incur the wrath of Liang State.

"You? You'd be under Liang's jurisdiction for punishment," Elder Die pointed out, his voice laced with a hint of frustration.  "We have other ways of dealing with you, princess."

My own fear grew, a suffocating weight settling on my chest.  I couldn't let him take the punishment, not with the blood venom coursing through my veins.

A'Ying's scream tore through the tense silence.  She lunged forward, a desperate bid to shield Zhao Yun from the onslaught.  I mirrored her movement, a surge of adrenaline pushing me to act.  Tears streamed down my face, blurring the scene before me, but I couldn't tear my gaze from the horrifying spectacle.

Elder Yu, his face etched with a grim resolve that chilled me to the bone, raised his sword, completing the formation.  Electricity crackled in the air, an ominous prelude to the punishment about to be unleashed.  With a guttural chant, the Elders channeled the power of the storm, their combined energy aimed at Zhao Yun.

The first blow slammed into him like a physical manifestation of thunder.  A raw, inhuman scream ripped from his throat, his body contorting in agony.  The stench of burning flesh filled the air, a sickening counterpoint to the crackle of electricity.  Even from where I stood, I could see the tremor wracking his frame, the muscles beneath his skin clenching and releasing in a horrifying ballet of pain.

The Elders wasted no time.  One by one, they unleashed their attacks, each a brutal echo of the one before.  Zhao Yun crumpled to his knees, his once-proud posture broken.

The sixth blow, a surge of raw power, found its mark not on Zhao Yun, but on A'Ying's back.  A crimson bloom erupted on her pale robes as she was thrown backwards.  A choked cough wracked her body, blood staining her lips a gruesome red.

Desperation clawed at my throat.  Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, my voice ringing out with newfound determination.

"Stop!  He is now my Shifu and Sword Holder!" I declared.  "No one will dare harm a single hair on his head!"

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Why did that demoness retreat?

Why did A'Ying disrupt the formation ?

Do they actually know each other?

Why did Rong'Er put up such a high stake to save him?