Chapter 33
Chapter 33
The sky was pristine that morning. Viewed from the base of the Sword Discussion Platforms, the azure canvas appeared scrubbed clean only to be partially swallowed by the dark mass of makeshift stands that had sprung up overnight. Knowing the rivals would duel from opposing platforms heightened the intensity. Framed by the stands, the slants of sunlight breaking through seemed more brilliant, the Platforms themselves towering oppressively, dizzyingly high. It was nothing short of breathtaking.
Yun Shen and Chen Shu lifted their gazes toward the immense structure, sharing its intimidating glance, but soon lowered their sight. Turning toward He Yu, Yun Shen asked, “Wouldn’t fighting this way be… dangerously precarious?”
“Without danger, there wouldn’t be so many eager eyes glued to the spectacle,” He Yu replied with a sigh. “The Sword Discussion Tournament builds its name upon such daring, unconventional battles, drawing a massive crowd of spectators. Only with this audience—”
“—can those ‘Members of the Wulin Community’ win fame, satisfy their craving for renown,” Yun Shen cut in smoothly.
He Yu chuckled ruefully, scanning his surroundings before adding in a lower tone, “Though perhaps not solely for vanity. Powerhouses mainly spar to build clout; clout attracts talent; attracting talent ensures a martial sect survives centuries.”
“Centuries?” Yun Shen queried, a clear hint of irony coloring his tone. “Those grand sects live excessively. Merely recruiting new disciples annually can’t keep coffers full. Your Cold Pine Glen relies on skilled craftsmanship, easier to sustain. But martial arts sects thrive differently. For masters merely versed in combat arms, this five-yearly bout—the clout it grants—holds far greater value than the obvious payment. Observe the masses filling these viewing stands—dense, overflowing. Future clients linger among them, promising numerous deals.”
Chen Shu, initially absorbed in peering at the overnight construction and its eclectic spectators crowding stands above, turned her head upon hearing this. “Why look down on combat? Martial training expends energy no worse than farmers toiling all day in fields. If you possess decent skill, hunt a few rabbits, and you won’t starve!” She tilted her head toward Yun Shen, arguing spiritedly. “Why then waste energy dressing everything up all fancy? Just to pry a few extra coins out of those spectators’ pockets?”
Yun Shen glanced at her, his expression softening as if recalling something. “Do you think everyone is like you, willing to retreat to the woods to hunt rabbits for food?”
“True,” He Yu remarked thoughtfully. “Others might not know, but at least Li Chou wouldn’t want to.”
As they spoke, the three exchanged looks, then silently chuckled at the sight of Li Chou ahead, dressed even more opulently than the day before.
Whether or not Li Chou overheard their remarks was unclear, but his back remained ramrod straight. His laurel crown dazzled beneath the rising sun, its black and white feathers swaying in the breeze like his wide sleeves, setting him apart within the crowd of contestants clad in practical uniforms.
Shortly after, several contestants were led to the seating area at the base of the Sword Discussion Platform. Gongs clashed as the authorities hauled several enormous crimson drums from the yamen. The drumbeats, synchronized with clanging cymbals, grew from precise strikes to a thunderous, impassioned rhythm like pounding raindrops. Spectators stirred, their cheers rising in unison with the drums, louder and fiercer, until finally fading into the lingering clarity of a single bell toll.
Unconsciously, Chen Shu emitted a small gasp. Noticing this, He Yu turned and smiled at her; she bashfully covered her mouth.
“The Sword Discussion Tournament, third round, first match!” a yamen runner atop the platform bellowed. “Southern Platform: two combatants—Zhao Li from Platform Tian, and Mo Yong of the Carefree Palace! Northern Platform: two combatants—Yu Xu from Platform Hong, and Bi… Biyang Valley…”
The announcer likely hadn’t anticipated such an explosive matchup for the very first bout. Zhao Li and Yu Xu were both celebrated figures in the jianghu—one a remarkable woman who survived years of humiliation by clinging to a cliff’s edge before returning to exact vengeance; the other, a third-generation master of a famed lineage who deserted the imperial guard of the previous dynasty, burdened with secrets yet eventually returning to seclusion. Rumor even spoke of a past entanglement between them, though its truth remained unknown. Beyond the sheer appeal of their clash, the two sects drawn—one, the Carefree Palace, ranked lowest among the six major sects; the other, Biyang Valley, striving for decades among The Nine Minor Sects, possessed of strength yet perpetually thwarted—further heightened the tension.
For nearly a century, the hopes of the Biyang Valley had rested almost entirely on Li Chou.
No wonder many claimed Biyang Valley ought to have joined the ranks of the major sects long ago. The previous day, Li Chou had fought three consecutive bouts. By the final match, he merely shed some extra sweat, his robes stained a little crimson. Had Chen Shu witnessed more of his battles, she’d have known even the blood-red dye upon his garment was but priceless brocade woven by the valley—its threads gleaming vividly like blood beneath the sunlight.
“Biyang Valley, Li Chou!”
Before the trembling tones of the yamen runner fully faded, another voice, resonant as a drumbeat, rang out from below. Instantly, the multicolored-cloaked figure of Li Chou moved. Before the assembled crowd’s eyes, he leapt upward, grasping the newly constructed walkways overhead. In moments, he soared onto the Sword Discussion Platform like a bird, his robes fluttering majestically.
Gasps of awe rippled through the crowd.
Even He Yu gaped, exclaiming involuntarily, “Such lightness skills are truly extraordinary!”
Chen Shu, however, blinked and murmured, “Could it be he dressed so ostentatiously and cumbersome today just for this single leap?”
“…Doesn’t he always dress like that?” He Yu replied uncertainly.
“No,” Chen Shu mused, thinking carefully. “His robes are exceptionally voluminous today, and the crown smaller, making him much lighter than usual. Ordinarily, the Sword Discussion Platform is bare—no such walkways existed to lend leverage. Only today allows him this display—”
Their casual chatter was overheard with keen enjoyment by another contestant standing in front of them. He even turned sideways, listening intently, before finally voicing, “Well reasoned.”
“Right?” Chen Shu instantly swelled with pride, clapping him companionably as if they were close confidants.
Yet the man was notably tall and not standing very close, so Chen Shu’s pat landed awkwardly on his arm, lacking any sense of flair. He Yu observed this with an awkward smile. He bowed slightly to the stranger and told Chen Shu, “Your way of speaking grows more and more like Yun Shen’s—layer upon layer.”
“I’m becoming more sophisticated!” Chen Shu declared, puffing out her chest. “Was anything I said wrong? Come to think of it, what Brother Yun said about those outwardly resplendent sects—Biyang Valley likely fits—”
“It’s true,” the tall stranger agreed. “Most prestigious sects are outwardly glorious yet internally struggling.” He added a touch bashfully, “For one so young, not only did you qualify for the third round, but you also pierce right through to the heart of matters. Truly a prodigious gift…”
“You do know how to flatter!” Wide-eyed, Chen Shu flushed with embarrassment. “You’re quite impressive yourself, making it to the third round—”
The man smiled gently and shook his head as if poised to respond when sudden cries of alarm swept across the spectators. All heads jerked up, eyes riveted on the platform. In those fleeting moments, Li Chou had already thrust his sword towards Yu Xu’s chest, the tip bearing a hint of red. In that critical instant, Zhao Li on the Southern Platform hurled her curved blade through the air! The projectile forced Li Chou back two steps. He turned, face darkening with fury. “Good!!” he spat twice, his anger shifting focus from Yu Xu entirely. He leapt again, the green robes sweeping a bold arc through the air as he landed steadily upon the Northern Platform.
Defenseless after discarding her weapon, Zhao Li could only desperately evade two blows before Li Chou, consumed by rage, drove her to the platform’s edge. Elite spectators leaned forward in their seats, holding their breaths, eager to witness the conclusion. Chen Shu clutched He Yu’s sleeve, muttering commentary—one more thrust, and Zhao Li would be skewered by Li Chou’s treasured blade—
Suddenly, a pair of iron fists tore through the wind, striking Li Chou squarely on the back!
The blow was precise and savage, exploiting the intensity of his focused assault, amplifying the momentum of his downward sword-swing. Of the four combatants, Yu Xu remained frozen on the opposite platform; Zhao Li struggled precariously. Who else could have delivered that blow but Mo Yong of Carefree Palace? Succeeding, he nimbly retreated two steps, distancing himself with ease. Zhao Li, however, faced no such relief—the cold steel blade grazed past her cheek, carving a stark, bleeding gash across her face!
Li Chou staggered back two steps in flurry. Poised to tumble from the platform, he clenched his jaw, hardened his resolve, and pulled his sword back for a desperate downward slash. The razor-sharp blade carved a fissure into the platform itself, anchoring him. Yet, as he wrenched the precious sword free from the stone’s split, the once-fine edge had curled.
This weapon was his treasure. Brushing his hand against the blade—ignoring that it sliced open his finger—Li Chou lifted his head, glaring venomously at Mo Yong. He spat blood toward the newly formed crack on the platform, and declared abruptly, “Three against one, eh? Fine! Li has faced one against three before. Today is your chance!”
“Hah! What three opponents remain?” Mo Yong scoffed coldly. “Both are wounded, yet you still boast defiance? Only you and I stand whole upon this stage! Victors emerge solely from single combat!”
“Done!” Li Chou snarled in reply. He surged forward immediately, locking blades with Mo Yong in fierce combat.
After all, Carefree Palace still ranked among the six major sects. Though Li Chou had managed to find Mo Yong’s openings several times after his sword was damaged, the bent blade could not sink in deeply, merely grazing the skin. Instead, Mo Yong seized the chance and pounded him severely several times. Li Chou spat out flecks of blood, staining his cyan robe a jarring scarlet.
Down below in the audience, the spectators couldn’t help but erupt in unison with the unfolding battle—some gasped in tension, others roared loudly. But over at the competitors’ seats, most remained calm. Only Chen Shu leaned against the railing in front, standing on her tiptoes, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Li Chou since that palm strike, refusing to look away for even a moment.
He Yu turned around twice and finally noticed. His heart likely feeling a bit unsettled, he asked curiously, “So you’re this concerned about Li Chou?”
“I’m not concerned about him!” Chen Shu retorted. She finally spared a glance as she spoke, just in time to catch Yun Shen seeming to look their way from amidst the crowd. She paused, unsure what inexplicable emotion welled up within her. Thinking she had mistaken it, she rubbed her eyes. Realizing Yun Shen had seemingly looked away without noticing, she finally turned back to He Yu to finish her sentence.
“I pitied that fine sword of his!”