Chapter 18

“How is this sneaking out for a bite!” Ying Wei retorted, stepping back until he hid behind Chen Shu. He summoned his courage rather defiantly—like a fox borrowing courage under the tiger’s majesty—and challenged her. “I’m just taking a casual stroll! Where do you see me sneaking a bite?!”

The woman pointed furiously at the sign above the stall entrance. “Don’t play dumb! Where were you heading? If you have the nerve, get out from behind that young lady and try arguing with me directly!”

“I’m not a young lady; I’m older than him, I—” Chen Shu murmured, but was instantly cut off by Ying’s voice behind her.

“I’ll hide if I want! I’m staying right here!” Ying Wei squared his jaw. “Even if I walk into the snack stall, it doesn’t mean sneaking! I’m openly treating someone to a meal!”

“Treat who? Who even would you treat?” the woman shot back angrily. The argument between the two escalated so quickly that no one caught Chen Shu’s half-uttered protest, and they carried on right there in the middle of the street. “Don’t think I don’t know! That silver in your pouch came from Xuan Qin’s hard work guarding merchant caravans! He gave it to you to buy weapons, armor, provisions, and medicine—not for you to squander on playing the big shot!”

“So what if Xuan Qin gave it to me! It’s my money to spend however I like! You have no business meddling!” Ying Wei, flushed and angry, shoved Chen Shu forward. “I’m just treating this hero to a meal! This female warrior is much more formidable than you, obviously! Once I get her to join our sect and become my senior sister, you won’t be Teacher’s sole darling anymore!”

“You!” The woman’s ears flushed scarlet with rage. She took a deep breath, and her bright eyes turned to spear Chen Shu directly. “You wish to join my Qin Xin Bluff?”

Chen Shu stood frozen, scratching her head. “I don’t—”

“Yes!” Ying Wei leaped in. “Her martial skills are way superior to yours! If she joins as my senior sister, your little reign of terror ends!”

“If I may, Miss,” the woman continued, addressing Chen Shu directly, “while our sect is indeed recruiting new members, if you are sincere about joining us, you shouldn’t resort to fooling this young boy or entertaining these underhanded schemes.”

“Ha! Like it’s fine for you to tattle to the teacher every day about how I missed morning practice or snuck off? Yet I can’t seek help from this noble soul?”

As the two quarreled fiercely, they not only settled where Chen Shu should go but had clearly established their pecking order—all without letting Chen Shu herself get a single word in. She tried clearing her throat several times, but the torrent wouldn’t stop. Finally, amplifying her voice beyond endurance, she yelled:

“I ALREADY HAVE A SECT! I USE SWORDS! I’VE NEVER EVEN TOUCHED A QIN! AND I DON’T WANT TO JOIN QIN XIN BLUFF!!!”

Ying Wei and his senior sister instantly fell silent. Panting from her outburst, Chen Shu stood angrily with her arms crossed in the middle of them, glaring as both finally whipped around to look at her.

And it wasn’t just them. The entire street fell quiet. Pedestrians passing by craned their necks with curiosity at the small scene unfolding. Even the people slurping noodles two steps away at a small stall stared, their chopsticks frozen midway to their mouths, noodles sliding off and splattering hot broth, making floral patterns on their lapels.

He Yu had just arrived and heard this final declaration. He halted, stunned into silence.

Chen Shu stood there, locking eyes alternately with the woman and Ying Wei. Only now, during the stalemate fueled by her annoyance, did she finally notice—

The silence blanketing the street seemed strangely profound.

Since this street bordered the Sword Discussion Tournament courtyard houses, all who walked here were martial artists who recognized these sects. Their shock was so palpable that even someone as oblivious as Chen Shu could sense something was wrong.

“…At Qin Xin Bluff, they either wield the qin or the sword,” He Yu whispered.

“…Oh,” Chen Shu stammered. She cleared her throat, feigning indignation while inwardly churning with embarrassment, her blush deepening. “Well… I still don’t like it.”

Ying Wei pleaded, “…Can’t you cover for me? I finally got one over this Demon King—I’ll treat you again! Ow! Don’t pull my ear!”

The woman snorted through her nose but didn’t reply, her grip unrelenting. Though the anger faded from her face, her expression hardened into icy severity. With one sweeping glance, she silenced the covert stares around them.

When she spoke again, it was not to Chen Shu, but to He Yu.

“My apologies, Brother He. Earlier, I was too flustered to notice you,” she said stiffly. “I know Cold Pine Glen faces hardship. Yet this remains a tournament held once every five years. Your sect would do well to discipline its disciples. Know nothing here in Diancang Pass? The day you meet someone less reasonable than me, it’ll end badly.”

Yun Shen frowned, ready to refute her, but her tone abruptly shifted. Yanking Ying Wei forward like a scruffed kitten, she growled: “Take this living example before you! Truly spoiled rotten by that Xuan Qin! Who taught you to incite a young woman to lie for you? Calling me a demon king… Just wait till your master gets hold of you!”

With a curt nod to He Yu, she hoisted the yelping, pleading Ying Wei onto her shoulder. Her fierce strides carved a path through the gawking crowd like a sword cleaving waves, vanishing with only a gust of wind trailing behind.

“Brother He, you know her?” Yun Shen broke the stunned silence. “Her words sounded familiar.”

He Yu rubbed his nose, offering only an awkward chuckle. Yet others, now emboldened, answered eagerly: “Know her? Everyone knows Qin Xin Bluff! You must not be from the north, young sir?”

“I don’t know either. What’s so special about this sect?” asked Chen Shu.

“Special?” One man laughed incredulously. “For the nine smaller sects, look to Biyang Valley; among the six major sects, only Qin Xin Bluff stands unbeaten. Nine out of ten Sword Discussion Tournaments? Qin Xin Bluff claims victory. Came to Diancang Pass without hearing that?”

Within two days, Chen Shu learned this was no exaggeration.

Judging martial prowess by height or build was impossible without sparring. The tournament’s approach became the carrot before a restless rabbit; she could almost taste the duel she craved.

She wasn’t naturally combative. But back home among her sect, constant training was routine. Her senior brother possessed brute strength; her senior sister wielded the sword with intuitive grace. With few other opponents, Chen Shu was either pinned into submission or left flop-sweating onto the practice ground.

Thus, suddenly idle for dozens of days felt entirely new. The rush to Diancang Pass, dodging mounted bandits and battling seasickness hadn’t left room to notice. But now, housed within the tournament’s square courtyard…

The yard was equally square. Had Chen Shu not scaled walls easily, even the sky would look sliced by bricks. Dawn till dusk, she heard drills next door from Biyang Valley disciples: Li Chou’s sharp rebukes, grunts from sparring, the clang of blades, and thuds of bodies hitting dirt.

Sitting atop the eaves, spying on their practice, she’d often glance at her own yard. Their space had a similar training area—dull grey by day, glimmering faintly at night, whispering for her to draw her sword and dance.

But her roommates? A weakling—no, a scholarly scribe—and an injured one at that. A cripple, and this court’s owner himself. Fight? Impossible.

She held no contempt. Sparring with Yun Shen was impossible; not only would it risk calamity, but more crucially, she knew her limits: if he declined, his silver tongue could twist her argument in circles. He Yu knew some martial arts and might spar willingly, but her sword still lay buried in his cabinet. Forcing it felt unkind.

Thus, that casual sign-up now became the tantalizing carrot, dangling closer, drawing Chen Shu’s eager gaze.

The tournament arena stood atop the highest point in Diancang Pass—a cluster of twelve towering pavilions.

These unique structures housed competitors aloft while crowds teemed below. Even at midday sun, spectators could see the combatants clearly. Once matches began, pavilion doors locked, forbidding retreat—unless by concession or… falling.

The tournament opened upon one such high stage. Two unknown wandering swordsmen traded formal, rehearsed patterns.

Crowds whispered their prior accolades. Cheers and claps filled the air, but Chen Shu knew theater. While others held their breath, her eyes wandered to other pavilions.

Other major sects hosted honored guests on adjacent, vacant viewing platforms. The grandest pavilions rose amidst these stars—one currently bearing combatants; the other, occupied.

Shen Jie sat there, expected. But another beside her?

It was that female sword master—the one who’d hauled Ying Wei away. Sharing such prominence with a courtly high official signaled extraordinary status.

Chen Shu stared up, eyes watering until sunlight suddenly ceased. A hand shaded her. She reached up and grasped a distinctively bony wrist, cool to the touch, welcome respite from the blaze.

She didn’t need to look to know whose it was.

“This bout is just for show, nothing worth watching,” Yun Shen whispered near her ear. “Mind your eyes.”

Normally Chen Shu would have complied, but today she suddenly made up her mind. Playfully prying Yun Shen’s hand away from her face, she turned and grinned at him, saying:

“Who cares if it’s all pretend? This is a competition—winning’s the only fun part, right? Just wait till I get on that platform and teach them what a true swordsman looks like!”