Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Though dealt a blow that forced a grunt from him, Qi Ban, driven by sheer will, steadied himself against its force. His grip on the halberds held firm. Seizing upon Chen Shu’s moment of awkward hesitation, he twisted. The halberds swung viciously toward his own chest.

His hands were blindingly fast. With this downward chop, the halberd tips flashed past, slicing precisely—in the blink of an eye—where Chen Shu’s forearm had just been!

Had Chen Shu not retracted her hand, that solid halberd’s chop would have severed her entire forearm!

Precisely this reckless chop made Chen Shu blurt out a bewildered “Huh?” In ordinary combat, especially wielding heavy weapons at close quarters, rarely would someone strike with such desperate, headlong fury. Such a massive, committed move: hitting pays off grandly. Missing… leaves a wide-open counterattack opportunity — your own momentum selling your weakness.

Earlier opponents, those wild practitioners of the Wulin Community, lacked proper fist-and-footwork — understandable in these times of peace; they sprouted from scattered traditions, lacking experience or mentorship. Likely, anyone truly tasting defeat couldn’t stand whole upon this Sword Discussion Platform again.

Qi Ban differed. His first moves showcased years honed in martial arts — angles and instinct profoundly deadly. Here stood an experienced, decisive fighter. Just moments earlier, avoiding Chen Shu’s kick forced him onto the defensive. Yet in this instant, poised so near his foe, he abandoned defence — flung his posture open! All to swing his halberds at Chen Shu’s arm, paying no heed to peril.

That he missed became irrelevant. The committed downward slash couldn’t halt its momentum. It yanked him off-balance, exposing this gaping flaw.

Before acting, Qi Ban’s seasoned mind must have foreseen this outcome. Knowing it… he charged ahead regardless — utterly uncharacteristic of the grizzled soldier forged among slaughter stacks.

Chen Shu was naive but not foolish. She immediately saw through his intention and, with a confused hum, evaded his attack. Instead of rushing to exploit his exposed flaw, she asked,

“How did you suddenly come to hate me so much?”

Upon hearing this, Qi Ban laughed. He likely found the remark rather childish and didn’t respond outright. Instead, he seized the chance to rein in his momentum and steady his stance—acting fairly honorably, since he knew Chen Shu awaited his answer and made no attempt to sneak an attack. Only after settling back into position did he reply.

“This isn’t about hatred. Out in the martial world, you can pursue personal enmities freely. But once you pledge to a faction, both gratitude and grudges carry equal weight—they’re no longer matters of individual preference.”

The phrasing was convoluted. Chen Shu mouthed the words again but still failed to grasp his deeper meaning. She shook her head.

“But we’re on the Sword Discussion Platform. This platform is lofty and remote, detached from worldly noise. Even if factional enmities exist, they’ve been left far below. Why then would you carry such a murderous intent?”

“Some things cannot be left behind just because distance separates you!” Qi Ban boomed with three harsh laughs. Without waiting for Chen Shu’s retort, he charged forward.

His halberd again aimed for the deadliest spot. Earlier it had targeted her face; this time he shifted viciously lower, swinging halfway before abruptly redirecting its tip toward her feet—aiming to pierce her ankles and leave her no escape—

Less than an inch away, the halberd lurched to an abrupt halt, its tip quivering but unable to advance. The crowd below, silent a moment before, erupted in waves of screams.

—Chen Shu faced Qi Ban squarely and struck hard again at the same spot her fist had “hit” earlier.

In that blink, time seemed to stretch and freeze. The impact’s aftershocks rippled across Qi Ban’s expression like droplets disturbing a still pond, the shift both gradual and unmistakable. Over this drawn-out moment, his stunned pause unfolded slowly enough to reveal every nuance—the suffering twisting his face, the whitened knuckles gripping his halberd.

Struck by Chen Shu, he froze, then staggered back several steps amid the crowd’s shrieks before steadying himself again.

Chen Shu gave him no breathing room this time. She flew after him relentlessly, chasing him down with her bare fists alone. Qi Ban fended her off desperately with his halberd.

After two more clashes, even if he longed to tear a piece from her, Qi Ban—overwhelmed by her barrage—could focus only on defending his life, unable to spare a thought for her openings.

At last, he seized an opening: he feigned a counterattack, thrusting diagonally with his halberd. But this was a feint. Using its recoil, he leaped back, dodging her rain-like flurry of punches, and gasped for air.

“Do you concede?” Chen Shu halted her assault to ask abruptly.

Roiling with bloodlust, Qi Ban burned to win this fight. How could he yield? Provoked by her question, he grew angrier and jabbed his halberd at her head. She calmly caught it. Only then did he snarl:

“Concede? My limbs are intact, unharmed! Why would I concede!”

Instead of replying immediately, Chen Shu gripped the halberd teasingly and gave it a light push outward. Qi Ban’s hands didn’t leave his weapon, but before he could react to the swift, subtle release, it forced him back half a step.

No—he lifted a leg backward and planted it squarely beyond the Sword Discussion Platform’s edge, teetering on the brink of a fall!

It turned out this fierce duel had played out entirely under Chen Shu’s control. True to her straightforward nature, moved by mischief, she had steered the hard-pressed Qi Ban toward the platform’s edge. Her last feigned opening deliberately allowed Qi Ban to retreat voluntarily—both dodging her attack and inching himself toward the brink—

At this critical moment, by sheer chance, Chen Shu’s iron grip on Qi Ban’s halberds—having pummeled him till he winced—now saved his life.

Shoved backward, Qi Ban nearly toppled. Panicked, he yanked back on the halberds just as Chen Shu anchored herself like a sea-calming pillar at the platform’s edge. Unshakeable despite his tug, she gave him the leverage to heave himself safely back onto the platform.

His face was pallid, eyes wide, breath ragged. Horror showed plainly through his fierce expression—he was badly shaken.

“Do you concede?” Chen Shu posed the same question again.

This carried a slight smugness. She watched Qi Ban lower his head, recovering, while spectators below took up the chant: “Concede! Concede!” She didn’t press him further. After asking, she waited in silence with near certainty, confident that this public humiliation would lead him to accept the out.

But when she went quiet, so did he. After a pause, he lifted his head with an unreadable look—and deliberately stepped backward to plummet off the platform!

Instantly, one foot hung over empty air. Chen Shu’s triumphant eyes widened as her lips parted involuntarily. She flung down the halbers, leaped forward, and clamped onto Qi Ban’s arm. In a flash, she heaved him back.

By the time Qi Ban’s feet touched solid ground again, his halberds had yet to fall. Chen Shu smoothly snatched them from midair.

He seemed stunned by her act, gaze trembling as he stared at her while she retrieved the weapons. Only later did he recall taking them back, muttering heavily:

“…I concede!”

“Good,” Chen Shu acknowledged, handing them over. “These belong to you.”

The audience in the arena couldn’t clearly see the movements Chen Shu’s previous opponent and she had just made, but the two of them were fully aware. The atmosphere between them turned slightly awkward. Qi Ban silently accepted the great halberd, hefted it in his hand, and moved his lips as if wanting to say something. But Chen Shu simply nodded at him, evidently failing to notice the hesitation beneath his fierce demeanor. Amidst the yamen runner’s announcement of the outcome below, she turned and strode away cleanly and decisively.

Qi Ban was momentarily stunned. All the words he had inside vanished without a place to go. Crestfallen, he also began to head down the platform, only to abruptly bump into Chen Shu, who had just left but was now rapidly returning.

Her face flushed with embarrassment, she pointed at the stairs and said:

“Wrong, it’s all wrong! I’m fighting next! It’s you who should go down!”

The next match was indeed hers. After Qi Ban descended, a woman of the Feiyun Sect ascended the platform.

Unlike Qi Ban, this woman appeared kindly, slightly plump, possessed a solid cultivation foundation, and wielded two long silks. She clearly hailed from a reputable orthodox school, presenting a wholly upright and honorable appearance. After only a few exchanges with Chen Shu, she disengaged and retreated, sighed about the vastness beyond the sky, and declared her defeat loudly to the audience below.

The entire Sword Debate Arena erupted in continuous applause, interspersed with only a few scattered curses from troublemakers.

Of course, whether there were other reasons behind this was perhaps possible. The Feiyun Sect had already lost to the Lingxi Pavilion, and none of its members had confidence in turning the tide in the supplementary matches. This final bout against Chen Shu was essentially winnable but not necessary to win. Her straightforward admission of defeat not only avoided mutual harm with Chen Shu but also thwarted the Lingxi Pavilion’s keen anticipation for a supplementary match. With one simple concession, she elevated Chen Shu into the final contest. Not only did this likely make the Lingxi Pavilion look foolish, but it also won her widespread goodwill.

This was the first time in several hundred years that a martial world figure had advanced this far.

The Feiyun Sect never pursued fame or fortune anyway; otherwise, it wouldn’t have perpetually lingered in the awkward third or fourth place, unable to advance. Now, this admission of defeat brought joy to nearly everyone in the arena, save for those few from the Lingxi Pavilion. The woman grinned, patted Chen Shu on the shoulder, and flew straight down off the platform.

Leaving Chen Shu alone on the stage in a daze, she finally realized that although she had come solely to find a sword, she had fought her way to the very last match of the entire Sword Discussion Tournament. Descending amidst cheers like mountain roars and sea tides.

Yun Shen stood waiting at the entrance to the Sword Discussion Platform. He Yu was also there, as was Xuan Qin, along with the lad Ying Wei, whom he was escorting up for his match. Seeing Chen Shu approach, Xuan Qin nodded at her and murmured shyly, “… You fought well.”

Chen Shu hadn’t fully recovered yet. Seeing him, she jolted in surprise. Ignoring Yun Shen’s stream of reminders continuing behind her, she stepped forward and grabbed Xuan Qin’s sleeve. “I face you tomorrow? If I beat you, then I’m the tournament’s…?”

“No,” Xuan Qin replied, caught but not attempting to flee, answering matter-of-factly. “It’s not me tomorrow. It’s A-Qiong.”

“It’s actually Xu Qiong?” He Yu interjected, asking.

“Ahh! How could you just say that!” Ying Wei yelled, standing on tiptoe to try to cover Xuan Qin’s mouth. “Let’s go, let’s go! It’s my turn! No more talking!”

Chen Shu was just about to ask further when Ying Wei cut her off, pulling Xuan Qin towards the platform entrance like a stubborn child. Xuan Qin seemed inclined to reply but was completely silenced by Ying Wei, who shoved his hand down forcefully without mercy.

Just as the two were about to enter the Sword Discussion Platform, a voice sounded from behind them.

“That’s correct. It’s me. Tomorrow’s duel will be fought between me and this lady.”

Chen Shu spun around. The familiar face before her was unmistakable!