I landed on the stage and let out a soft breath, raising my hand to retract the initial "foundation array." In truth, it wasn't a foundation array at all, but a defensive-offensive formation inspired by "In the Mirror," the illusion array I had seen during the Xiuxi Festival. I had sought guidance from my Eldest Senior Brother regarding this illusion, which belonged to the Canyun Realm, and then discussed it with Wei Qingming to adapt it into a defensive illusion suitable for my current level. It didn't aim for a perfectly realistic reflection of the surrounding world; instead, it focused on the ability to counter-reflect magical attacks.
Yan Xiangjun had not yet left. Yan Mingqiu appeared below the stage, and seeing me look toward them, he chuckled and clapped his hands. I asked Yan Xiangjun, "Do you still want this stage?"
She shook her head and said proudly, "I will win another one myself."
I shrugged and jumped down. The rules allowed one to abandon a stage without defending it, though it incurred a significant point penalty. I didn't mind much and proceeded with my original plan to find the next array master. Immediately, two male cultivators leaped up, eager to seize the empty ground. As rivals in love and competition, whoever won the stage would claim it.
After wandering the Black Zone for half a day and easily toppling two more array masters, I felt that "In the Mirror" was perhaps a bit too effective. Relying on it too much would hinder the growth of my own array skills, so I set it aside for the final two matches. I relied solely on my ability to set and break formations, even refraining from using my stabbing techniques as much as possible. By the time evening approached, I had harvested four "fat sheep." These people had occupied the black stages for a long time, layering formation upon formation and hunting many challengers by waiting for them to strike. Once their points were tallied into mine, I estimated I would be in the top thirty-two, perhaps even the top twenty, by midnight tomorrow.
Zhu Yixin had long since dealt with Wu Puhe. After defending his stage for a while, she abandoned it to proactively challenge a few others, claiming her spot in the top fifty was secure. The two of us then went hand-in-hand to watch Qiao Songlin fight Guan Shanping.
Guan Shanping was actually quite powerful. Although his actual combat prowess was no longer what it used to be, his solid and practiced martial skills usually guaranteed victory against average late-stage or even peak-stage cultivators. Furthermore, there was a tacit understanding among the three major sects; they wouldn't provoke each other without cause during the preliminaries. They were even courteous toward the Buddhist sects, agreeing to clear out the demonic cultivators and rogue practitioners first. Guan hadn't encountered any truly difficult opponents—at most, a few blind rogue cultivators or battle-obsessed demonic practitioners who wanted to test themselves, whom he easily swept aside. Qiao Songlin only declared his challenge as night approached, allowing Guan to accumulate more points from those reckless fools first.
The moment Guan Shanping saw the person who had witnessed the greatest humiliation of his life appear at the edge of the stage, his face darkened. The veins in his temples throbbed, and his breathing grew ragged. Aside from his volatile emotions, the knowledge that this person was fully aware of his "outwardly strong but inwardly hollow" state made him somewhat timid. Furthermore, considering his status as a leader among his peers in his sect, the fact that he was being challenged by an opponent from a minor sect with a lower cultivation level felt like a "tiger fallen into the plains." He had lost the battle of the mind before it even began.
For a martial arts master, a calm and unruffled state of mind—still as water—is paramount. Though Yan Mingqiu and Feng Baili might seem boisterous and loud normally, every move they made in battle was born of cold calculation. This was even truer for deep-thinking individuals like Wei Qingming and Qiao Songlin.
Qiao Songlin stepped slowly onto the stage. Without needing to announce himself, he gave a slight cupped-fist salute, drew the saber from his back, and leveled it in a horizontal strike toward Guan Shanping. At that moment, many Tianjun Sect disciples—who had no hope of winning a stage and were planning to coast on their existing points until the final tally—saw Qiao Songlin's perceived rudeness and began to clamor, shouting for their Eldest Senior Brother to crush him.
Guan Shanping glared coldly at his opponent and then at the crowd below. He unleashed a burst of sword qi, holding nothing back from the very start.
In the previous times I had seen Guan Shanping duel, he was either holding back to preserve strength or was in a state of mental instability facing a formidable foe like Wei Qingming, rarely getting the chance to fully release his sword qi. This single strike made both Zhu Yixin and me tense up; it was incredibly powerful! If Fourth Brother won, his name would shake the Tianshan Mountains; if he lost, even if he kept his life, he would be gravely injured.
Sharp sword qi grazed his shoulders and the hem of his robes, but Qiao Songlin remained unmoved. With his movement techniques only half-engaged, he evaded the strikes. He performed the sixth move of the "As Floating Clouds" style, titled "Life's Regrets," in a lazy, decadent, and bored manner. It easily brushed aside that seemingly peerless sword qi, scattering it into the air. Defeating action with stillness—the true essence of Daoism.
The entire audience was stunned. The shouting and cheering died down into a scattered silence. A mindless cry of "Great move, Eldest Senior Brother!" was left hanging awkwardly in the air, sounding more like a mocking irony.
Zhu Yixin blinked, her face flushing. I felt her hand, which was holding mine, grow warm and sweaty. "Has he become this strong already?"
I turned my head to stifle a laugh. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was because Guan Shanping's strength had greatly diminished; his sword qi was a hollow shell lacking substance. Normally, Fourth Brother would never be able to best him in a pure martial contest... of course, that was only considering martial skills. Including illusions changed everything, and Fourth Brother clearly had no intention of setting his illusions aside.
As the two fought a life-and-death struggle, Qiao Songlin's natal treasure, the Heart-Clarifying Cauldron, quietly floated into the sky, shedding threads of cool mist. Guan Shanping grew angrier as he fought, and more fearful as he grew angry. These two emotions intertwined, turning his face alternately red and pale. His movements became wild and barbaric, turning his high-level swordplay into a mess. For instance, the Sword Saint's "Unintentional Sword" was best suited for dealing with Qiao Songlin's heavy and blunt style; its essence lay in being ethereal and elegant, free of artificial traces, with no clear beginning or end. Its uselessness was its great use, its lack of purpose perfectly fitting the goal. Yet, in Guan's hands, it looked like he was chopping firewood. Qiao Songlin maintained that same indolent expression, his moves relaxed and lazy. This only added to Guan Shanping's self-doubt: Was he, the favored son of heaven, unable to defeat an opponent from a minor sect? When had he regressed to this point, where his opponent could handle him so easily? It was all because of that person's cruelty...
Eventually, Guan Shanping's openings were so numerous that even his sycophantic juniors couldn't find a way to praise him. Qiao Songlin delivered a saber strike that slashed from Guan's shoulder to his waist. Blood sprayed as he tumbled off the stage. Fourth Brother's strength in that strike was incredibly precise; it looked lightning-fast, but in reality, it cut slowly into the flesh. Only when it reached the internal organs did the stage's array deem it a fatal blow, ensuring that Guan was not only injured but utterly humiliated.
Qiao Songlin flicked the blood from his blade, leisurely pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it clean, and sat down cross-legged to meditate. He didn't even sheathe his saber, keeping it by his side, ready for the next challenger. The Tianjun Sect disciples had already swarmed around Guan Shanping to take him for medical treatment. Fourth Brother's heavy hand was likely due to his anger toward such a wretched man coveting his junior sister; he wanted to stand up for his Sixth Sister.
Under the setting sun, his black robes shimmered with a faint red, like a dazzling flame reflected on his sharply chiseled profile.
Fifth Sister's face was also stained the color of pomegranate blossoms. She bit her lip and asked, "Are you guarding the stage?"
"Yes."
"I'll guard you," she said, hurriedly turning her back and sitting on the jade steps at the edge of the stage, so he wouldn't see the uncontrollable, persistent upward curve of her lips.
I was deeply moved by this sweet and warm scene. I smiled and winked at Fifth Sister, saying, "Call me if you need anything," before quickly making my exit to let the two of them keep watch across the boundary of the stage.
I sat down in the area of Mount Yunchun designated for friends, family, and spectators. People were bustling all around, shouting and gesturing. Some excitedly discussed the matches they had just seen, some comforted failed friends, and others harshly scolded their disciples for being useless. Suddenly, I felt that this world was vibrant and ever-changing, a place filled with deep emotion and flavor. The maple forest, competing in brilliance with the morning and evening glows, seemed to set my heart ablaze as well. A world like this... I truly did not want it to fall, not even a little.
"Azhi had quite the harvest today." Before I could miss her for long, Wei Qingming appeared, placing a cup of sweet, fragrant, honey-golden osmanthus wine in my palm. She smiled tenderly at me, clinking her cup against mine just as she used to. "You've worked hard."
"Oh, stop," I said bashfully. "You always make my tiny efforts sound so grand. Compared to the great things you do, what do my trifles matter?"
"Great things?" she smiled faintly. "The affairs of the world's people never held a place in my heart. I only cared about fulfilling my personal ambitions. It was only after meeting Azhi that I gradually wanted to protect a better world for you, so that everything my beloved loves can endure in this world for a long time."
I took a sip of the osmanthus wine and rubbed my eyes. "After hearing Master Wei's words, who needs wine? My heart has already melted from the sweetness."
I leaned into her embrace, and we sat silently watching the red leaves. Though I hated to break such a beautiful atmosphere, I said worriedly, "These six months have been stalled, but will the troops be sent out next year? Will you... have to go to the battlefield?"
"Not in any overt capacity." After all these days, she seemed to have fully accepted this reality, or perhaps she and Eunuch Feng had devised a countermeasure, as she had regained her commanding air of control. "Azhi, I won't lie to you. The Emperor's intent was not formed overnight. For years, Mr. Feng has been making preparations, and I have been planning for a long time. Though it was a dangerous gamble, I survived, and I still have the chance to see you. Heaven has been kind to me. I will simply do my best."
Her words were calm, but I grew frantic, hugging her tightly. "No, don't do your 'best'! Protecting yourself is what matters; nothing else is important! If you leave me, I..." Tears fell uncontrollably as I thought of everything she might have endured and what was to come. I felt I would go mad.
She used a handkerchief to gently wipe away my tears and smiled. "How could I bear to leave Azhi? It would only allow some unsavory characters to covet you."
"Exactly! Every other day, some Guan Shan-this or Guan Hai-that pops up. It would serve them right if you lived!"
"Yes," she laughed. "Azhi is so beautiful; living for a thousand or eight hundred years wouldn't be enough to look at you. I will certainly live a long, long time."
I smiled and told her about my battles over the past few days, discussing ways to improve, and described Qiao Songlin's actions. Wei Qingming nodded with a smile. "Fourth Brother indeed understood my intent. With his strength, guarding the stage is no problem, and entering the top sixteen shouldn't be an issue. However, he'll have to fight hard for the top eight."
I then asked her who she expected her opponent to be in the finals. I thought she would say Yan Mingqiu, but she gave an unexpected name: "He Hong."
"What!" I exclaimed. "Is she really that strong?"
"She carries an aura of slaughter," Wei Qingming said, narrowing her eyes with a hint of eager anticipation. "It wasn't honed through sparring with sect peers, but... from killing many people. It formed naturally."
I thought to myself, *Well, isn't that just like you? You've truly met your match...*
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Dreams of the Ancient Mountain: The Cat's Masquerade | Chapter 102 | Sunset and Osmanthus Wine | Novela.app | Novela.app
