It was already a quarter past the hour of Hai, yet Wei Qingming still leaned her elbow against the edge of the platform, her eyes narrowed as she gazed at me without blinking. It was as if she had no intention of competing at all and simply wanted to idle the time away until the deadline passed.
The thought that the thousand-year reputation of the world’s greatest sect might be ruined by my distractions made me far more anxious than her. I urged her repeatedly, pushing at her shoulder. Only then did she frown with feigned reluctance. Though she finally agreed, she added peevishly, "I never wanted to attend this tiresome assembly anyway. What use have I for a few hollow titles?"
Her tone was indifferent, yet it carried a willful, spoiled quality. It struck me then just how close we had become. Though it was the countless time I had felt this dizzying happiness, I felt a fresh, sweet surge of reality regarding our relationship. I knew well that given her precarious, thread-like situation, the more she stood in the spotlight, the greater the danger. The title of the Tianshan Meet’s champion offered her no benefit. But since it was the task entrusted to her by her sect, she could not ignore the twelve years of nurturing she had received; she had to seize this empty fame as a repayment to her masters.
A thought occurred to me, and I said, "How about I go watch you fight that brute? No one will come to challenge me now. If I leave a phantom double here, it should be fine."
She had suggested this very thing herself after sunset, yet at this moment, Master Wei did not scold me for failing to adopt her suggestion sooner. Instead, she nodded with a delighted smile. I set up the illusion and quietly slipped out of the arena’s bounds. The moment I emerged, Wei Qingming caught me in her arms, lifting me high and kissing me with reckless abandon. By the time she set me down, my head was spinning. As I shyly smoothed my hair and reapplied my lip rouge, the realization hit me: her posturing all day had been a ruse to lure me out of that annoying restrictive array.
Hand in hand, we walked toward Yan Qing’s arena. Tonight, the moon was dim, and a few stars huddled together like trembling grass insects, shrinking away from the bone-chilling cold of the autumn night. Yan Qing had also seen no challengers for a long while. When he spotted a pair of "clandestine lovers" approaching through the unchanging darkness, his eyes widened with an excited grin, and he sprang to his feet.
Master Wei had the foresight to make me wear a veiled hat. Ostensibly, it was because I was supposed to be defending my own stage, and it wouldn't do to be caught wandering by the disciples of the Jingle Palace. In truth, she simply didn't want this boorish man to lay eyes on my face.
She glanced at me, and I squeezed her hand. She turned and stepped slowly up the stairs. Contrasted against the eight-foot-tall giant composed of solid muscle, she looked more fragile than the frailest scholar.
As the seventh day’s final tally approached, most matches had concluded. Only the top-tier experts were now making their way to the arenas, like apex predators waking from slumber, ready to tear into their prey. The crowds around every platform were denser than ever. Though I knew the possibility was slim, I couldn't help but imagine Master Wei being pummeled black and blue by that brute—a humiliating scene she would deserve for ignoring my concern and insisting on such an opponent!
Wei Qingming stood firm in the center of the ring. Usually the picture of elegance with her fluttering wide sleeves, she actually reached down, gathered half of her hem, and tucked it neatly into her slender waist sash. For her, this was a significant state of disarray, yet I stared at her as if possessed, unable to look away. Even in such a rough, practical posture, she was breathtaking.
She symbolically shook her sleeves out—though the silk was so fine and supple that it simply slid back into place—and casually announced her name: "Wujing Sect, Wei Qi."
"Yan Qing, Tiansha Sect." The brute had long since lost patience with her "womanly" preparations. Without even asking if she intended to use a weapon, he leaped high into the air and brought a fist crashing down. As I expected, Wei Qingming leaned aside to dodge the wind of the punch, but then she did something unexpected: she raised her palm to parry. Her slender, pale hand, delicate as a jade plate, struck squarely against the opponent’s fist—which was as large as a vinegar crock—meeting his strength head-on!
I, who claimed to know her style well, was stunned. Yu Niannian and Yan Xiangjun, who had rushed over to watch, were equally shocked. Only Feng Baili, showing no resentment that both people on stage had surpassed him, chuckled and shouted, "Little Wei, not bad!"
The first move was merely a test of depth. Seeing someone meet him with brute force only excited Yan Qing. His previous strike had used only thirty or forty percent of his power; now, he held nothing back, unleashing a barrage of iron fists. Wei Qingming moved sometimes like a bird fluttering its wings in a light dodge, and sometimes like a torrential downpour, returning several punches and palm strikes of her own. At other times, she seemed lazy and careless, letting the tail end of a punch strike her body, only to hook her toe in a ghost-like maneuver that sent the giant stumbling.
I had never practiced martial arts, let alone seen Wei Qingming use such "savage" techniques seriously. I couldn't understand it at all. Yan Mingqiu arrived just in time to explain to our bewildered circle of spectators: "That is Shishi Wrestling. Wei the Third has fused it with our martial arts; she’s fighting with total unpredictability. Yan Qing has already pulled back his strength and slowed his attack speed because he can't figure out when she’ll switch between the two styles. He wants to clear his head and find her rhythm first."
Feng Baili began discussing it with him: "That punch from Yan Qing wasn't bad. Wei the Third didn't dodge it easily; if she’d been off by a hair, the wind of the punch would have caught her, and she might have fallen. How would you break that, Brother Yan?"
"In terms of raw strength, I'm a bit stronger than Wei the Third, so I wouldn't need to dodge like that," Yan Mingqiu said, demonstrating the move himself. "This way is steadier and allows for a counterattack."
"Oh, she’s going for a throw. Look, here it comes."
Sure enough, Wei Qingming hooked and parried, granting Yan Qing his first "Tianshan Meet Face-Plant." The impact was truly earth-shaking.
Yu Niannian joined the discussion with great enthusiasm. Yan Xiangjun and I shared a helpless look and instinctively moved a bit further away, having no patience for their increasingly technical chatter.
In truth, their cultivation realms were not far apart. For those brave enough to clash with physical techniques, their body tempering was likely at a similar level, as were their offense and defense. It was difficult to land a fatal blow with just fists and feet, so the match inevitably dragged on. Wei Qingming likely wanted to settle the ranking in a single fight and seemed to be intentionally prolonging the process. Yan Qing was in even less of a hurry; if they reached midnight without a victor, he would be declared the successful defender. Thus, the two fell into a rhythm, flying back and forth like they were merely playing a game.
The young mistress Yan Xiangjun grew displeased. "I didn't expect to see such a 'fine performance' today. Master Wei the Third could go to the southern streets of Daxiangguo Temple to perform in the variety pits."
Though I somewhat agreed with her, I couldn't stand her belittling my beloved. I smiled and shot back, "I wonder, once Qingming wins and steps down, what grand reward will Sister Xiang give her?"
She realized the offense in her previous words and, using her socialite skills, laughed immediately. "It was just a joke. Between your family and the Duke of Wei’s house, which one could I possibly afford to 'reward'?"
I shared a smile with her then, pouting as I replied, "It really has dragged on too long. Aside from those martial idiots who are mesmerized, who has the patience for this!"
Perhaps my words reached Master Wei as a royal decree, or perhaps Yan Qing felt stung by a beauty like Yan Xiangjun mocking him for "performing." Suddenly, both combatants struck with heavy hands—one erupting with dark purple baleful aura, the other flashing with pale gold spiritual light. In the blink of an eye, they collided!
Yan Qing’s massive fist, wrapped in black demonic energy, aimed for the side of Wei Qingming’s head, intending to snap her porcelain-like neck. Wei Qingming aimed a fist straight for his solar plexus, striking with immense force. As the winds of their punches met, both were forced to tilt slightly, pushing their power even further.
There was a deafening, explosive crack. A blinding light of protective spiritual energy burst from Yan Qing’s abdomen, and he was sent flying out of the arena. Wei Qingming was also caught by the fierce wind of his punch; her slender waist sash snapped, and her tucked-up hem slid down. Today, she wore a moon-white, wide-sleeved robe. As the night wind caught it, she looked like a great bird spreading its pristine wings, fluttering gracefully backward.
Yet, even in the midst of this, she didn't forget to reach out and pluck the silver sash from the air. She landed unhurriedly and tied the belt back in an instant.
Even the moon chose that perfect moment to slip from behind the dark clouds, hurriedly drenching her in clear radiance. It was as if Chang'e of the Moon Palace had just chosen a new Houyi on earth and was inviting him up to the Laurel Palace.
"Stop posing and adjust your breathing!" That punch’s wind hitting the waist was no joke. Yan Mingqiu and Feng Baili, the two men, couldn't bear to watch her vanity anymore. One looked at the sky while the other picked at his ear, both urging her to stop acting cool.
But we women loved to see it. Yu Niannian had long since abandoned martial theory; the three of us watched her with wide eyes and blushing faces.
Wei Qingming finally gave a faint smile and walked slowly to the edge of the platform. Right in front of everyone, she reached her hand out toward me—this was her asking for her "reward."
I stared at her for a long time before "thwacking" two tins of Sweet Ointment into her hand. She didn't find the stuff cloyingly sweet at all; with a beaming smile, she twisted a tin open and took a spoonful. Her gaze held a hint of regret, implying that if so many people weren't watching, she wouldn't eat the medicine unless I fed it to her...
Everyone else refused to give her another look. Yan Xiangjun finally stamped her foot. "Brother, aren't you supposed to be defending a stage? How did you end up here in less than fifteen minutes?"
"I finished," Yan Mingqiu said casually. "I stuck my spear into the stage. Anyone who sees it understands."
Yu Niannian nudged Feng Baili with her elbow. "What about you, Brother Baili? Did you stick your saber into a stage too?"
"No," Feng Baili said proudly. "I lost."
To be proud of losing... we were all speechless. Yan Xiangjun looked at him with disdain. "Then you must have lost to a beauty."
"Hehehe, Sister Xiang knows me best." Feng Baili rubbed his hands together. "It was Miss Su’s senior sister, the one in white."
It was actually Lu Lingfeng... Although her two ghosts were not to be trifled with, Feng Baili’s saber was meant for suppressing evil and driving away demons; it should have been a perfect counter! I only heard later that Lu Lingfeng had actually advanced to the next stage in the middle of the fight. Because it was night, a burst of violent ghostly wind was the only celestial omen, and since it was as pitch-black as the night sky, none of us had noticed... The explosion of spiritual power from her advancement had blown Feng Baili right off the stage, and apparently, it had made the young man’s heart bloom as well...
Wei Qingming and I had only been chatting across the array for a short while when her pale face was suddenly illuminated by a brilliant light. Fireworks exploded above us, announcing the end of the preliminaries. A massive golden screen of light unfurled, visible for miles, inscribed with the names of the successful defenders, ranked by their points.
First was naturally He Hong, who had occupied the Number One arena since the start and never lost, setting a record unseen in nearly five hundred years. Following him were Duan Hongyun and Qiu Zhengshan. The Buddhist cultivator Zhi Ding had dropped to fourth. Then came three members of the Tianjun Sect, with Bai Yuyu at eighth. Several Buddhist and demonic cultivators occupied the ninth through fifteenth spots. Yan Mingqiu was sixteenth, Wei Qingming eighteenth, and Zhang Yuande nineteenth—all of whom had only fought a single match. Qiao Songlin was twenty-first, and Feng Baili was twenty-seventh; after watching Wei Qingming’s match, he had quickly seized another arena. Lu Lingfeng, who had taken the lion's share of his points, was twentieth. Guan Shanping, after struggling to catch up following his recovery, was twenty-eighth. I was ranked exactly thirtieth, Yu Niannian thirty-first, and Yi Fei was thirty-second. Speaking of which, those two were quite remarkable; they were among the only three in the top thirty-two who were still in the mid-stage of Cloud Swallowing. Although Bai Yuyu was also mid-stage, his formations allowed him to fight across ranks, which was a different matter entirely...
My third senior brother, Ren Xuzhou, had been too lazy to step onto an arena since we saw through his disguise. These past few days, he had spent his time wandering about, stirring up trouble with his silver tongue and causing many arenas to change hands repeatedly. Despite this, the points he had accumulated from his earlier "scams" kept him in the top sixty. Later, when the six of us from the sect met up, Ren Xuzhou said with a grin, "Aside from the three great sects, our Gumeng Mountain has the most people entering the next round. We’re basically the fourth-largest power in the world now, aren't we?"
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 矢鹰角抵 | Shishi Wrestling | A martial arts style (Arrow-Hawk Grappling/Wrestling). |
| 魏晵 | Wei Qi | Wei Qingming's formal or alternate name used for the competition. |
| 天煞门 | Tiansha Sect | The sect of the brute Yan Qing. |
| 故梦山 | Gumeng Mountain | "Mountain of Old Dreams," the narrator's sect. |
| 甜甜膏 | Sweet Ointment | A medicinal sweet/paste. |
| 大相国寺 | Daxiangguo Temple | A famous temple in Kaifeng (historical setting). |
| 棘盆 | Variety Pits | Areas for public performances/entertainment. |
| 吞云 | Cloud Swallowing | A cultivation stage/realm. |
