Chapter 41

Thus, when Chen Shu took the platform, even though a moment prior Li Chou of Biyang Valley had neatly dispatched his challenger to roaring cheers, the sound that now erupted dwarfed that applause. It mingled with astonished gasps from uninitiated spectators.

“Who’s that?”

“Is that girl Chen Shu? She doesn’t look formidable… Is it her opponent?”

“Wait—this the Chen Shu? Has she stepped onto the stage?”

“Is it that slip of a girl… or her giant of a rival?”

Her challenger hailed from Lingxi Pavilion, one of the six major sects, alongside Qin Xin Bluff. The match-ups followed a rotation seeded based on earlier draws: having faced Yu Ding Peak (placed fifth) previously, today Chen Shu went against the second-seeded entrant—Lingxi Pavilion.

The six victors were split into two groups of three. The winner from each group would advance to the Tournament’s final duel.

Furthermore, recognizing opponents grew ever fiercer by the final rounds—and balancing sect interests—the format now permitted sects to field different disciples per match. Li Chou was an outlier: Biyang Valley lacked deeper reserves; despite injuries and prior battles, Li Chou remained its sole competitive hope, compelled to compete repeatedly.

Martial world figures faced greater odds still. Those battling from Round One through to this third phase had fought countless grueling matches merely to breach the final six. Now, each trio vied via three rotating bouts to crown one victor. Should no clear winner emerge, more fights ensued. Consequently, no independent fighter had ever cleared this third phase to contest the final duel.

Hence, save those few who’d glimpsed Chen Shu earlier on, the spectators reeled seeing who’d fought all the way from the first round onto the Sword Discussion Platform here—this utterly unremarkable slip of a girl facing Lingxi Pavilion.

It was all the starker considering who Lingxi Pavilion sent opposite her: Qi Ban, a former Mountain Bandit turned sect disciple. Headaches to the Imperial Court due to local tyranny, his gang was eradicated by Lingxi Pavilion. Spared only for showing repentant leanings, he entered this “sanctuary,” and bizarrely flourished. Drawing upon his nefarious past, he cleared bandit strongholds north and south of the great river. His martial skills sharpened too, wielding twin iron halberds for battlefield dominance—clashes both mid-stride and face-to-face proved him formidable.

Beside Qi Ban—scarred and thick-jowled—Chen Shu seemed small. Fragile, even.

Before the bell, the chaotic roar around the Sword Discussion Platform held cheers for Chen Shu—and plenty of jeers.

“That slip of a girl is the Chen Shu? Got in on luck, surely!”

“General Qi—easy there! Don’t bully the weak!”

“No guarantee Qi Ban wins. I watched her last match—her lightness skills alone were sublime!”

Both factions—bellowing support or sneering skepticism—obscured sense within the noise. It echoed like ten thousand chickens crammed into one coop; impossible to separate one voice from another. Even Chen Shu and Qi Ban glanced down, searching: the bellringer himself struggled mid-crowd, pinned by shoving bodies. Struggling uselessly, he could only cry out:

“Start!—You may start!!”

Up in the platform’s isolation, Chen Shu merely blinked cautiously, barely catching it.

“I think I heard… someone down there say to begin?”

“I think I heard it too,” Qi Ban replied.

“Then…”

“Let’s start. Even if it hasn’t truly begun, they wouldn’t drive us off the platform for starting early.”

Their exchange was utterly civil and courteous, delivered with warm smiles. Yet moments after these words, as both moved simultaneously, the ferocity of their clash became palpable. It burned like liquid-hot iron, scorching the air around them, forcing nearby spectators to recoil even before contact was made. The intensity made onlookers hesitate to come near.

Gripping his great halberd, Qi Ban thrust it toward Chen Shu’s face again and again, each strike accompanied by searing winds. This battlefield veteran chose angles so treacherous that even when Chen Shu dodged, the halberd’s downward sweep followed unerringly toward her throat. Clearly, his intention was to end her life!

But Chen Shu was no ordinary adversary. Not only was she unafraid, but as each blow descended, she instantly deciphered his intent—and a surge of defiance electrified her. Instead of retreating, she charged forward.

For their first move, both rushed toward the center of the Sword Discussion Platform. Chen Shu stomped her foot. Just as the crowd thought she’d kick against that halberd, she stomped the ground instead. Leaping skyward…

…she landed, amidst gasps and startled cries from the audience, directly upon Qi Ban’s halberd!

Despite Qi Ban’s colossal strength and momentum, such a leap left him gaping. Unconsciously, his charge faltered. Before he could react, Chen Shu landed; her weight slammed onto the halberd. Though not as sharp as the weapons wielded by Li Chou or Meng Xu, the great halberd was sturdy. It didn’t shatter under her foot but sank violently downward. Qi Ban’s palms took the full impact, searing with pain. He hissed through his teeth, nearly dropping both halberds onto the platform.

That marked one exchange. But Chen Shu’s movements flowed too seamlessly to remain constrained by mere back-and-forth blows. Her opening moves always set up follow-throughs. Using the halberd’s rebounding force as a springboard, she launched herself once more, spinning with brutal precision in mid-air—her hair whirling around her—drawing a perfect arc. Faster and faster she rotated, aiming a devastating kick squarely at Qi Ban’s vulnerable lower back!

Fortunately, near-death moments were battlefield routine for him. His experience rivaled even Chen Shu’s daily rigorous training. As she hurtled toward his back—in the time most below hadn’t grasped what occurred—he reacted instantly. Not only did he fiercely grip his weapon tighter, but he intuited her attack. Without looking, pure instinct drove him sideways, tumbling twice. He barely dodged that thunderous kick.

Their clash, barely moments long, was already a cascade of brilliance. The crowd roared louder. Those who’d favoured Chen Shu from the start now gloated openly, bellowing, “Knock his pride down!” as if their mere approval had allowed her to gain the upper hand against Qi Ban on this Sword Discussion Platform.

Yet the distant roar of the crowd scarcely reached the platform’s combatants, especially at such a critical juncture. The sun seemed to blaze hotter now. When Qi Ban’s halberd thrust forward, its blade reflected the harsh light, dazzling Chen Shu. She lifted a hand, unthinkingly rubbing her eyes. In that fraction of a second—

Qi Ban attacked anew. This assault possessed even greater ferocity than the last. His broad, muscular back shuddering as he strode forward, his footfalls sent tremors reverberating through the entire tournament platform.

Chen Shu, sensing it all, slowly lowered her hand from her eyes. As Qi Ban smashed toward her, she sidestepped, leaving only a clenched fist hovering at her waist. She didn’t push—held steady as an iron pillar. Qi Ban, momentum unchecked, slammed directly into that waiting fist. Likely seeing only that idle-looking fist and dismissing it, he hadn’t slowed. But Chen Shu’s fist wasn’t mere flesh—it struck with the hardness of unbladed steel. His collision left her fist unmoving. Instead, it was Qi Ban who let out a choked grunt. More than that: a trace of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

His face, hardened by rough muscle, snapped toward Chen Shu as if to hurl curses. Startled by his reaction and seeing the greyish pallor bloom across his face, Chen Shu felt a sting of guilt. She started pulling back her fist, meaning to explain… only to realize his glare wasn’t hostile words, but pure resolve. He’d swallowed his own blood — seized this chance to inflict damage on her at any cost. All for Lingxi Pavilion to earn its spot in the final duel.

Understand: Lingxi Pavilion stood as the second mightiest sect under heaven, teeming with renowned Wandering Swordsman. Even without Qi Ban, whether in the second round or the ultimate duel, filling the ranks with capable fighters presented no issue.

Few belonged to the class of Li Chou or Yan Ji, forced to desperately fight consecutive battles to eke out victory for their sect. Thus, whether Qi Ban was wounded or even killed, for Lingxi Pavilion—at least within this Sword Discussion Tournament—it was inconsequential.

For Chen Shu, it differed drastically. Unlike even Li Chou or Yan Ji, a single injury, the slightest drain on her strength… meant no replacement stood ready. At worst, she could easily meet her doom beneath the blades of some prestigious orthodox sect as nameless prey.

Moreover, seeking to pack the event schedule, the Tournament had scheduled Chen Shu’s two duels consecutively. After finishing once, she wouldn’t get even a moment’s rest. She wouldn’t need to step off the platform—only wait there for her next challenger: a disciple of the Feiyun Sect.

Conversely, suffering injury in this duel spelt uncertainty for the outcome of the next.

Lingxi Pavilion already boasted considerably more strength than the Feiyun Sect, having won its earlier bout. If Chen Shu truly lost to Feiyun Sect, this three-sided contest would extend into tiebreakers—a scenario profoundly unfavourable to Chen Shu, bearing wounds and exhausted after two gruelling matches.

After these handful of exchanges, Qi Ban’s chance of victory grew faint. Yet he risked his life for a single, desperate gamble—not for this match, but the next, and perhaps those tiebreakers!

True, he’d proven himself a soldier shaped by battlefields, utterly heedless of survival. Even facing death, he would tear a cruel chunk of flesh from Chen Shu!