Chapter 21

Chen Shu indeed leapt as nimbly as a swallow mid-air, vaulting back onto the stage.

Amid the collective gasps from the audience below, the announcer who had been declaring the result choked back the second half of his sentence. Up on the stage, the old woman’s wizened and sinister face now registered stark shock for the first time.

Chen Shu, however, appeared unperturbed. She clapped her hands together and pointed at the crutch lying smashed below stage, complaining: “Why didn’t you hold it tight? Throwing things from high places is dangerous, granny. What if it hit someone?”

“You—”

“Oh, right,” Chen Shu exclaimed, tilting her head exaggeratedly as if suddenly recalling something. She spoke as if talking to herself, “Earlier, you said the blood on your face was human blood?—Well, that makes sense! You deliberately rammed into me! So you’re actually a villain!”

“Hah! In these times,” The old woman, looking disdainful, spit viciously directly in front of Chen Shu’s direction, “if you don’t become a villain, is there any fool who would choose to be good?”

“Do bad deeds and you’re a villain; do good deeds and you’re a good person. What does the state of the world have to do with it?” Chen Shu countered. “How have you lived so many years in vain without grasping something so simple?”

Provoked to near insanity, the old woman hissed through gnashed teeth: “You little brat… You don’t know the hunger of the starving since you’re well-fed yourself! When you’ve wandered this world more and seen more, there’ll come hardships aplenty to teach you a lesson!”

“You’ve got it all wrong there,” Chen Shu laughed. Yet she too was riled up, declaring loudly: “You villains, committing all manner of wickedness—it’s a wonder you’re still alive today! I suspect you’ve suffered the least hardship! If I were the Heavenly Dao, I’d have long since skinned you piece by piece! For each drop of blood you’ve taken, I’d carve off a piece of your flesh, ensuring you die badly!”

“If you dare, just try and take it!” the old woman screeched hatefully.

“Fine!”

Chen Shu wasted no more words. She answered clearly, launching herself forward as her right palm swept up decisively.

The uplifted hand rose openly and squarely, aimed directly at Granny Painted Face’s forehead. It loomed like Mount Tai, radiating immense pressure that seemed to freeze one in place. Just one look, and Granny Painted Face shut her eyes tightly, terror etched on her face.

—”I forfeit!” she shrieked with her strange, distorted voice.

Backlit, Chen Shu’s palm descended like an iron hand, still aimed at the old woman’s brow, seemingly intent on shattering her skull, spilling her brains. Terrified into incoherence, her complexion shifting wildly, Granny Painted Face screamed wildly: “—No attacks after forfeit!”

Down below, the yamen runner announcing the matches also shouted urgently: “Contestant Twenty-Eight! Cease immediately upon forfeit! Or you’re disqualified!!”

“—Help! Murder—”

The word “murder” had barely escaped her lips when Chen Shu’s right palm finally halted, barely a hair’s breadth above the old woman’s head. The sheer speed of the palm strike meant that even as Chen Shu drew back the force, she had already cleanly shorn off a piece of Granny Painted Face’s right ear.

After a long moment—or perhaps only an instant—dark red blood oozed from the wound, matching the hue of the painted bloodstains on her face.

“—Haven’t you killed quite a few people?” Chen Shu bluntly questioned. “How is it your nerves aren’t even as stout as that petty thief I caught a while back?”

—

The audience below, unaware of the brief exchange on stage, saw only Chen Shu leap back effortlessly and the old woman inexplicably reduced to terrified stammering. They assumed it was admiration for her lightness skills and that the two had mutually agreed to cease fighting. Frustrated murmurs rose through the crowd, complaints that it was unsatisfying, cut short too quickly.

The once-bustling, noisy crowd promptly began to thin.

By the time Chen Shu descended the stairs first, the entrance had quietened considerably. Spectators clustered in small groups, most drifting toward the next scheduled match. The figures of He and Yun stood together—one with an eye patch and fiercely imposing, the other handsome, clad in a gray robe—they stood out distinctly among the scattered spectators. Chen Shu spotted them instantly from the crowd and hurried cheerfully toward them.

Predictably, He Yu was already pouring on the praise before she even reached them: “Miss, your lightness skills are truly becoming even more astonishing!”

“Of course!” Chen Shu declared, stopping before them with hands on hips, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Did you both see me fighting that old hag just now?”

Though the blows exchanged sounded lengthy, the overall clash lasted mere moments. Add the fact that the final move involved close-quarters, bare-handed combat—how could any details be discerned from below? But He Yu, ever inclined toward agreeable flattery and keen to praise, enthusiastically agreed. He commended Chen Shu’s swift, decisive action to claim victory instantly—while other platforms hadn’t even begun their bouts—and extolled her heroic spirit in confronting a fearsome opponent. He elaborated at length about Granny Painted Face’s past exploits in the Sword Discussion Tournament.

Only then did Chen Shu learn that over a dozen Sword Discussion Tournaments, this Granny Painted Face, though never advancing beyond the first round, had established a certain notoriety. Ironically, among the brutal match examples He Yu had used earlier to try to daunt Chen Shu, one infamous case involved this very Granny Painted Face.

She indeed lived to the venerable age of over eighty. But over the decades, the contestants who lost to her were not so fortunate. Most who managed to shout their surrender were left with broken hands or broken legs. As for those who couldn’t utter surrender in time, they were beaten to death right there on the stage by this old woman, their blood splattered across the Sword Discussion Platform.

Chen Shu, halfway through hearing this, showed astonishment in her face, saying, “How could such a person, with heinous crimes piled upon her, be allowed to participate in this Sword Discussion Tournament?”

“Because in the jianghu, one doesn’t rely solely on pure good or evil,” Yun Shen replied indifferently. “Jianghu affairs, beyond right and wrong, also emphasize a word: ‘righteousness.’ Yesterday you slaughtered my whole family; today I exterminate yours. Enmities and grudges are the norm since ancient times. Some feuds last longer than dynasties—how could they be governed? Just speaking of this tournament: blades and swords have no eyes. Since it was stated before the contest that fatalities were beyond account, how could you truly hold her accountable if she killed her opponent?”

“What does it matter what grudges or what ‘swords having no eyes’? To me, that’s nothing but fallacy!” Chen Shu turned her head toward him, tilting her chin up. “Even if swords have no eyes, human eyes weren’t grown in vain, were they? Decades of martial training, yet unaware of how to harm or not to harm—why practice at all? If it were me, I would never let my blade wound an innocent soul! Granny Painted Face repeatedly commits such offenses—clearly her heart is wicked. Why not hold her accountable? Can it be that the lives of those in the martial world are worth less than the five-tael tournament fee?”

“It’s not as simple as you think,” Yun Shen chuckled. “Setting aside other matters, even if Granny Painted Face should be expelled from Diancang Pass and forbidden from competing again, what about others? What if someone accidentally injures another due to insufficient skill? How could that be judged? If everyone feared being barred forever after one accidental slip, wouldn’t they become timid and hesitant in matches? That contradicts the tournament’s very purpose.”

Chen Shu naturally disagreed, pressing closer to Yun Shen. “What fuss is needed to run a contest? Just don’t kill people—is it so hard?”

She was brash by nature and lacked sense of measure. Her nearness brought her so close to Yun Shen that her breath touched the lapel of his robes, seeping beneath the collar, brushing over the skin of his throat.

“These villains aren’t so only because of the Sword Discussion Tournament,” Yun Shen said. He allowed Chen Shu to lean so low that her forehead nearly touched the tip of his nose, retreating not an inch, continuing coolly, “Even if you swept aside the whole tournament, these evildoers would remain evil. What difference would it make? While victims are innocent, in the jianghu, they can only hope for karma.”

“All right, all right, didn’t we win?” He Yu’s head was pounding as he hastened to mediate. “What are you two arguing about? Instead of wasting words, why not save some breath to curse the old hag? Isn’t that so?”

“Karma? And where is it? I see none.” Chen Shu snorted, straightening up as advised, and chirped, “Better trust in karma? Ha! Better to trust in me!”

That drew a laugh from He Yu. “Yes, indeed—trust in you! You’re the heroic figure defending justice! Is there anything you couldn’t settle? Even adjudicating cases in a courtroom would be easy for you!”

The two contestants for the second round had mounted the Sword Discussion Platform. Whatever the scene of combat below caused the spectators to erupt in noise and debate, even as some who had left earlier now pushed toward this Xuanzi Platform. He Yu’s words were nearly drowned out amid the fervent crowd.

But Chen Shu knew he must be praising her anyway. Her mood brightened. Smiling widely, she was about to voice her agreement when a reply floated coldly from behind her:

“Since Brother He puts it so casually, I never knew presiding in the courts was such an easy matter.”

At someone refuting them, Chen Shu instinctively sought Yun Shen’s expression. But how could it have been him? The voice came from behind her. She caught Yun Shen’s gaze shifting past hers toward the back, then she heard him speak a name:

“Right Supervisor Shen.”

In a flurry, she turned around. Indeed, Shen Jie stood behind her, close enough to make out the details. Today, she looked unlike her usual unadorned self. Instead, she wore an official cap firmly in place and a robe of office—a deep indigo silk brocade finely embroidered with a pattern that could be either wild geese or cranes shimmering faintly under the light as though alive.

But stepping back slightly to see the discomfort upon Shen Jie’s face felt dissonant with the imposing official robe.

Chen Shu’s eyes drifted behind Shen Jie, peering to see if anyone else had followed—but she found no one. Dissapointment seeped through.

“Ha! What might the young lady be searching for? I didn’t dare bring anyone today.” Shen Jie swept past Chen Shu, smiling at the two behind her, her voice deliberate and clear. “No need for civilities. Let’s cut to the chase. I came on someone’s behalf to deliver a message: The drawing of the Sword Discussion Tournament’s second round begins in two quarter-hours. Kindly proceed there, Hero He.”

“Oh! Right!” He Yu suddenly remembered. “I forgot this completely! My deepest thanks, Lord Shen!”

“Since Hero He can make his way there, I’ll not accompany you.” Giving a breezy laugh, Shen Jie turned to address Yun Shen briefly with a nod. “Frankly, I was using the tournament’s tedium as an excuse to slip some leisure. Might as well dive back into my office for my scrolls.” Without waiting for a farewell, she spun a little capriciously and walked away, the hem of her official robe stirring a breeze.

He Yu gestured at both of them before hurrying along with the surging crowd.

In a blink, the conversation ended: one was walking out, one pushing into the throng, leaving only Chen Shu and Yun Shen standing alone.

Yun Shen glanced at Chen Shu, yet showed no inclination to move.

“Aren’t you joining him to see?” he asked.

Just as Chen Shu was about to reply, he spoke again:

“I know what you were thinking just now.”