Fourth Brother was actually present as well, though he didn't join the commotion, choosing instead to practice his saber techniques alone. I smiled and called out, "Fourth Brother, let’s have a go!"
Qiao Songlin finally turned around, a trace of brotherly affection appearing on his face. "Now that I think of it, since your training was completed, we haven't truly sparred."
"True," I said. "I really miss the old days when the three of us would train our bodies together, getting scolded and beaten by Third Brother or lectured by Eldest Brother. After kneeling on the stone slabs, we’d be howling with hunger..."
The "three of us" naturally included Fifth Sister. Although Lu Lingfeng was around our age, she never studied alongside us. Qiao Songlin’s expression remained unchanged at the mention, merely holding his saber horizontally as a signal for me to strike.
I circulated my movement technique, focusing my mind entirely on the duel.
Fourth Brother had always been the most silent presence on the mountain, yet he was meticulous, gentle, and profoundly kind. When we caused trouble as children, he would take the fall for both Fifth Sister and me. Even when Master knew it wasn't his fault, he was too lazy to distinguish the truth, so Fourth Brother would kneel through the moonlit nights, one after another. Before the dawn broke, he would head to the back of the mountain to practice. No matter how Fifth Sister and I played pranks on him, he never lost his temper. In that silent, wordless way, he had walked straight into Fifth Sister’s heart.
Eldest Brother managed the livelihood of the entire mountain and was more like a father; Fourth Brother was the best elder brother one could ask for. As I parried his sharp saber winds, I found myself wondering: what exactly were his feelings for Fifth Sister? Why didn't he agree back then...
However, he had always possessed the most superb martial skills on the mountain, and his cultivation suppressed mine by far. The moment my mind wandered, his saber grazed my shoulder. Fortunately, he would never truly hurt me; the back of the blade shifted slightly, merely brushing against my clothes without tearing a single thread. Just like when he used to tutor us in our lessons, he simply instructed, "Concentrate," before continuing the next move with rigorous discipline.
As the fight progressed, I gradually realized his saber had changed. Every move and stance carried a hint of bittersweetness, a sense of lost silence, no longer the tranquil, empty stillness of years past. A sudden pang of sorrow rose in my heart. Under his gentle and tolerant saber style, tears actually began to fall. My focus shattered completely, and his blade struck right toward my face, bursting a tear the size of a bean.
I halted my steps and silently lowered my eyelashes. He looked somewhat regretful, speaking softly, "I shouldn't have startled A-Zhi."
I rubbed my eyes and laughed. "Our old 'hodgepodge' style didn't have such exquisite saber techniques. Fourth Brother, you're amazing—you've actually created an entire set of original moves." He must have spent so many nights over these past years, tormented by love, researching and creating this in solitude.
He smiled. "Yes. It still lacks a name. I am not as refined as you, Six, so why don't you name it?"
I thought for a moment and smiled. "Why bother calculating life's gains and losses? Just let the floating clouds pass before one's eyes. How about calling it 'Ren Fu Yun'—Let the Floating Clouds Pass?"
"Good." He agreed without a second thought, nodding just as he had countless times before when we begged him for favors.
I calmed my emotions and was about to suggest we leave together when Qiao Songlin sheathed his saber and looked toward the distant, buzzing crowd of spectators. I was greatly surprised, thinking Fifth Sister might be in there, but after looking closely and not finding her, I questioned him with my eyes. He said, "Let's go see. You're going to be on the arena stage at the Tianshan Meet eventually; we should understand the competition."
I hadn't realized he actually cared about this wretched gathering, so I had no choice but to follow him back to the field.
Listening to the chatter of the bystanders, Guan Shanping had already won seven or eight matches in a row. The members of the Tianjun Sect who had nothing better to do had all gathered to cheer him on, creating a heated atmosphere. I felt a sense of foreboding; surely someone from the Wujing Sect side had already gone to find *those two*...
Just as I was hesitating whether to run, I saw Yan Mingqiu striding forward with his spear, looking heroic as he shouted, "Brother Guan, don't leave yet! Let me try a few moves!"
Just as he slammed his spear into the ground and reached out to take a heavy saber from a nearby disciple, two fingers lightly tapped the back of the blade. Wei Qingming said in a low, indifferent voice, "Mingqiu, let me."
"Fine," Yan Mingqiu said. "Take it easy on him. Don't wear him out too much, or it'll be an unearned victory when I win later."
I covered my forehead, unable to listen further... these brutes.
Yan Mingqiu’s appearance wasn't surprising at all; with a rival sect winning streak, their scouts would have surely flown to find reinforcements. What surprised me was that Wei Qingming had come, and not only that, she wanted to strike first. Given her low-profile nature, why bother wading into this useless mud or seeking such unnecessary glory?
Guan Shanping’s perpetually calm face finally showed a ripple of emotion; clearly, his fighting spirit had been ignited. "Please."
Wei Qingming was in no hurry to summon her saber or sword. Instead, she looked to the side at a young maid holding a vase of flowers and smiled. "May I borrow two peach blossom branches?"
The little maid blushed instantly, stammering out a "yes." Wei Qingming walked over gracefully, lifted her fingers, and selected two branches with buds just beginning to swell from the large vase. It was now late April, and the branches were still somewhat sparse; the maid's master was likely someone with a Zen-like aesthetic, choosing branches that were thin and lonely so they would look exceptionally delicate when they bloomed.
A faint golden light emanated from Wei Qingming’s palm. Suddenly, the field felt as though spring had arrived in full force, as if a warm breeze and a gentle sun were shining down. Those two branches of pale red, densely packed buds abruptly burst into fragrant blossoms. Her Sunlight Power had become even more refined and delicate, gradually reaching the point where it could mimic the essence of the four seasons' sunlight.
The crowd was stunned; gasps of admiration rose and fell incessantly. Wei Qingming stood still with the flowers, extending one branch toward Guan Shanping. "These branches shall be our swords. Whoever loses their blossoms loses the match. What does Brother Guan think?"
"Exceedingly elegant," Guan Shanping said, catching the branch Wei Qingming tossed to him. "Let us begin."
Killing intent rose in Wei Qingming’s eyes. The cold, grim aura surrounding her chilled the spring air in the field as she lunged forward with a light tap of her 'sword.' Her ruthless combat stance was the familiar version of her I remembered.
The peach branches were about three and a half feet long, with over a dozen clusters of flowers—fragile and delicate, liable to wither at the slightest force. The two exchanged twenty rapid moves; as expected, both used light, ingenious strength, and not a single petal was knocked loose. I couldn't help but marvel at Wei Qingming’s creativity. It seemed overly elegant and formal, but it actually aligned with the profound Dao of the sword. A master swordsman, besides attacking the body, targets several key points on the opponent's blade; the positions of the flowers on these branches naturally covered those points. Furthermore, since this was a spar with a guest, the sword moves hitting the body could not use force, or the flowers on top would shatter. This demonstrated a master's control and sense of proportion.
After years of not seeing her, Wei Qingming’s swordplay had lost that slight, nearly invisible trace of calculated effort. It had been refined into something humble, clear, and tranquil, moving closer to the fundamental sword style Yu Niannian studied. She had started with the sword when she entered the Dao; the saber was a later choice based on personal preference, better suited for leveraging her strength and fitting her habit of direct, one-strike kills. But the foundation was there, and her swordplay was truly the best I had seen today.
Even Qiao Songlin couldn't help but praise, "Handling the heavy as if it were light, acting with total freedom... this is a sword intent that cannot be comprehended at the Cloud-Swallowing realm."
Guan Shanping also shifted from his previous loose, rustic, and heavy style. Though his moves were broad and powerful, they were extremely measured. It was clear that Wei Qingming’s style and his were perfect counters to each other; it would come down to who was more skilled and who could keep their sword moves steadier. After a hundred rounds, the two were forced to use high-level movement techniques to dodge and weave, otherwise, the sword winds would become so sharp they would shear off the peach blossoms without even touching them.
Both were actually fierce and domineering by nature; this restrained, entangled fight was a massive test of a martial expert’s temperament. After two hundred moves, the sword momentum had risen, and dangerous strikes appeared one after another. The previously polite mutual restraint transformed into a fierce confrontation.
Finally, Guan Shanping found a gap and pointed his 'sword' toward Wei Qingming’s wrist at a tricky, unpredictable angle. A single peach blossom was knocked loose, and a flurry of pink petals scattered, creating a mist of fragrant powder. Wei Qingming spun and landed, her left hand pinching a perfectly intact peach blossom between two fingers, while the branch in Guan Shanping’s hand was half-shorn, the remaining flowers drooping as petals fell weakly.
The judgment was simple. If these had been real swords, before Guan Shanping could have touched Wei Qingming’s wrist, she would have followed his blade and sliced off his five fingers first.
Wei Qingming, however, smiled faintly and held up the flower. "This flower fell first. I have lost."
With that, she turned and casually tucked the flower into the hair at the temple of A-Wan, who had come to meet her. She then walked back to the maid holding the vase, tucked the single, brilliantly blooming branch back into the jar, and departed gracefully.
The surroundings were silent for a moment before everyone realized what had happened, excitedly grabbing those next to them to discuss the match. Yan Mingqiu, showing no face at all, laughed loudly, hooked his spear up with his foot, and didn't bother fighting Guan Shanping. He turned to chase after Wei Qingming. I actually felt a bit of respect for Guan Shanping; he knew he had lost face, yet his expression remained rock-steady as he accepted this superficial victory. Such endurance was rare. Whether the Tianjun Sect members lacked vision or were simply too tactful, they continued to flatter him, and he accepted it calmly. In truth, this man’s martial arts and temperament were very stable; it was just that he was vainglorious and insisted on currying favor everywhere. He felt "greasy," which was likely the general atmosphere of the Tianjun Sect...
Zhu Yixin found us, asking with a smile, "I’ve already heard about the 'Peach Blossom Sword Strike,' but I’m so annoyed I missed it! Did you all see it?" She was alone today, wearing a thin, gauzy spring dress. It was fine at noon, but now that the sun was setting, a cold wind rose from the earth, making her shiver. Qiao Songlin casually pulled a woman’s cloak from his bag and wrapped it around her shoulders, leading the way to Jixi Tower to book a private room.
I winked at Zhu Yixin, and she made a face at me. I could tell she was smiling happily inside. The two of them walked hand-in-hand behind Fourth Brother.
The Wujing Sect itself was like a small city, with marketplaces and celestial streets, and naturally, there were restaurants and inns for guests. The place we went to was the best restaurant, said to be opened by the former head chef of Fengle Tower—no wonder that "Sparrow's Tongue" dish I had before tasted so much like Fengle Tower’s style. The three of us arrived a step too late; the private rooms were all gone. Then, we saw Yu Niannian lift a pearl curtain from a large elegant room, waving with a smile. "There are no seats left at this hour! Come join us!"
I was going to politely decline, but Yu Niannian grabbed me with one hand and Zhu Yixin with the other, dragging us inside. Once I stood firm and looked around, good heavens... I had accidentally stumbled into the Wujing Sect’s elite circle. Every single one of them was my Martial Uncle.
Yu Niannian scurried over to Wei Qingming’s side—that was her original seat. Since Wei Qingming had made such a splash today, she was naturally seated near the head of the table. To her right were the Yan siblings. I shook my head inwardly; it turned out most of the Wujing Sect members were descendants of nobility, so the seating arrangement followed the capital's custom of men and women sitting together without strict segregation...
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 任浮云 | Ren Fu Yun | "Let the Floating Clouds Pass"; the name of Qiao Songlin's new saber technique. |
| 日曜之力 | Riyao Power | Sunlight Power / Solar Power; Wei Qingming's specific energy/power type. |
| 缉熙楼 | Jixi Tower | A high-end restaurant within the Wujing Sect. |
| 丰乐楼 | Fengle Tower | A famous restaurant, likely located in the capital. |
| 吞云 | Cloud-Swallowing | A specific realm/level of cultivation. |
| 雀舌 | Sparrow's Tongue | A delicate culinary dish (often refers to a type of tea, but here used as a dish). |
