The Sword Contest Begins

Sun Wenzhu's lightness skill was clearly mediocre, but the cliff was not particularly sheer either. Joking aside, if it had truly been smooth as a mirror and impassable to apes, the argali and snow leopard would never have had the ability to chase and flee across it. Sun Wenzhu clambered and bounded up the precipice, soon reaching the blossoming snow lotus. Gripping the rock face with his left hand, he reached to his waist with his right and drew an herb hoe. Then he began noisily chipping away at the stone with a clatter. Xin Yilong watched from below, completely baffled. "What is he doing?" Leng Jiangzhu answered, "He is harvesting herbs." Xin Yilong was speechless. "I know he's gathering herbs, but shouldn't harvesting them just mean plucking it out?" No one answered him, because everyone else had also assumed that gathering herbs meant simply pulling them up. A snow lotus was not a root herb like ginseng or Polygonatum; all its medicinal potency resided in its floral core. Li Yunxiu's eyes flickered. "Could he be trying to cultivate the snow lotus alive?" Even Qianqian found it hard to believe. "Impossible. A snow lotus blooms for only ten days. How could he keep it alive? Could he somehow make it stay in full bloom all year round?" A moment later, Sun Wenzhu had chiseled away the surrounding rock. He extracted the snow lotus along with a large clump of soil from the stone crevice, then carefully climbed down the cliff. Unable to hold back her curiosity, Li Yunxiu went up to ask. Sun Wenzhu shook his head. "I don't have the ability to keep a snow lotus blooming year-round either. I only wish to investigate how much medicinal potency remains in the roots and rhizome after it blooms, and whether it has other effects." Wang Yu understood. Who would have thought this fellow was a research-minded scholar? Having obtained the Tianshan snow lotus, the group extinguished the embers of their campfire, packed up their tents, and set out on their return together. Hearing that Sun Wenzhu had gathered a freshly bloomed Tianshan snow lotus, people flocked over to look, and Ardai chattered away, recounting the little incident from earlier. "The Red Lotus Cult?" The Laoshan Sect was located in Wanghai Circuit, so Meng Wei was familiar with their name. "This Red Lotus Cult is a rebel force that only rose to power last year. They've seized two prefectures in Wanghai Circuit, rallying people to their cause through their doctrines. Their motto is 'Red Lotus Karmic Fire, Cleansing Evil and Purifying the World.' Their leader is known as the Red Lotus World-Honored One, and beneath him serve the two envoys of Peace-Bringing and World-Purifying, both of whom are Xiantian experts. Beneath them are the Four Guardian Heavenly Kings and the Four Guardian Divine Maidens, all first-rate experts." Xin Yilong clicked his tongue. "If they're called the Red Lotus, they should go look for red lotuses! What business do they have coming all the way to Mount Tianshan for a snow lotus? Don't they even understand the principle of ice and fire clashing?" "Ouch!" Before Xin Yilong had even finished speaking, a hand smacked the back of his head. Startled, he turned in shock, only to see Yang Weiming glaring sideways at him with exasperation. "Tomorrow is the Grandmaster's birthday, and everyone in the back is frantic with work! Why aren't you over there helping?" "I'm going right now!" Xin Yilong feared this master of his more than anyone in the world. At the scolding, he hung his head and scurried off toward the rear courtyard. Holding two wooden boxes, Yang Weiming handed them to Wang Yu and Sun Wenzhu. "These are the Tianshan snow lotuses the Grandmaster promised you two. Both are top-grade specimens harvested between the third and fourth day of their bloom." As mentioned before, all of a Tianshan snow lotus's medicinal potency lay in the seeds within its bud, and these seeds scattered on the wind over its ten-day bloom. Thus, the shorter the bloom, the greater the lotus's potency. Ordinary people could rarely obtain one on the very first day of its blooming, making first-day lotuses supreme-grade; those from the second, third, and fourth days were considered top-grade; the fifth, sixth, and seventh days were mid-grade; and lotuses from the eighth, ninth, or tenth days were low-grade. While their efficacy remained, their potency was vastly diminished. The two snow lotuses Yang Weiming brought out were both top-grade, demonstrating immense sincerity. "Thank you!" Wang Yu and Sun Wenzhu voiced their gratitude and received the boxes. Yang Weiming had no worries about Sun Wenzhu, but he instructed Wang Yu, "A snow lotus can be refined into medicine, or it can be ingested directly. However, its potency is extremely fierce. Take only a little at a time, lest you waste its power." Wang Yu did not answer directly, but turned to Sun Wenzhu. "Brother Sun, now that we have the primary herb, could you lend me some auxiliary herbs on credit and help me refine an elixir?" On the way to Mount Tianshan, Wang Yu had asked Sun Wenzhu to refine medicine for him, but back then they had only just met, and Sun Wenzhu had naturally declined. Now, the two were working together to treat Yan Xiangxue, making them comrades-in-arms of sorts, not to mention that Sun Wenzhu's journey to Mount Tianshan to seek medicine had also been prompted by Wang Yu's persuasion. With the Tianshan snow lotus as the main ingredient, only small amounts of the other herbs were required, which Sun Wenzhu could easily afford to provide on credit. Taking the wooden box from Wang Yu's hands, he said placidly, "I'll give it to you before we descend the mountain." Wang Yu beamed. "Wonderful!" A day slipped by in a flash. On the twentieth of October came Ye Tianlin's centenary birthday. In truth, Ye Tianlin had not wanted a lavish affair, but his disciples had poured their hearts into the preparations. After all, it was the founding patriarch's hundredth birthday, and with disciples from the Seven Great Sword Sects present, it could hardly be conducted shabbily. In addition to the disciples of the seven sects, envoys had ascended the mountain from the Jushi Kingdom, Kucha, and Wusun to present generous gifts, and Yuan Nahe delivered birthday offerings on behalf of the Black Qiang King and Shi Mo. The birthday banquet proceeded smoothly. Reality, after all, was not a novel. With the Tianshan Sect guarded by a Sword Fiend rumored to have a terrible temper, and without some disciple who had vanished for ten years returning entangled with world-shaking treasures, there was naturally no dramatic scene of outside sects barging up Mount Tianshan to make trouble. Once the banquet concluded, the guests took their leave down the mountain. Yuan Nahe seemed to have caught wind of something, for the look he cast toward Wang Yu was distinctly unnatural, harboring a trace of venom and malice. Yet he did not dare let it show in the open, instead hurrying down the mountain alongside the envoys of the Western Regions' kingdoms, as though terrified Wang Yu might follow to hunt him down. "Hmm?" Li Yunxiu noticed something amiss. "What is it?" Wang Yu asked. "The way he looked at you wasn't right," Li Yunxiu said in a hushed tone. Wang Yu chuckled. "I killed four of his senior martial brothers. How could the way he looks at me be normal?" "There was malice and rage in his eyes, but no fear," Li Yunxiu said, shaking her head. "Yet on our first day up the mountain, he was genuinely terrified of you." "Perhaps it's because he's descending the mountain immediately, knowing he'll be out of danger..." Wang Yu stroked his chin, then immediately caught on. "No, he shouldn't know whether we'd chase after him or not." Li Yunxiu's gaze sharpened. "It seems we need to make some preparations." Once all the guests had departed the mountain, the sword contest was about to begin. Ye Tianlin had no intention of watching the duels, returning to Lingxiao Peak on his own. Presiding over the contest were Ling Feiyun and Gu Nanfeng. This was also Wang Yu's first time seeing Gu Nanfeng—a slightly plump, ruddy-faced elder. According to Xin Yilong, he was a man who could never sit still, spending 360 days out of the year away from Mount Tianshan, so one could only catch sight of him during the New Year or the Grandmaster's grand birthdays. Everyone moved outside the Hall of Inquiring Swords to the great plaza of Woxian Terrace for the contest. With Ling Feiyun and Gu Nanfeng presiding, more than ten middle-generation disciples, including Yang Weiming, lined up to the left and right, while the new-generation disciples stood around watching. Yan Xiangxue and her disciple, along with Wang Yu and his two companions, had seats as honored guests, while Sun Wenzhu was nowhere to be seen. Although seats had been arranged for the disciples of the seven sects, they had all declined, standing alongside the new-generation disciples of the Tianshan Sect out of respect. "It's finally starting." Wang Yu rubbed his hands together with anticipation. Although nearly a year had passed since his transmigration, and he had experienced martial clashes and battlefield combat, this was his first time witnessing an organized contest of martial arts between major sects, to say nothing of seeing firsthand the high-level sword arts of this world. One had to realize that when it came to the profound martial arts of this world, let alone learning them, simply catching a glimpse of them was a rare luxury for ordinary figures in the jianghu. For one thing, why would an expert put their martial arts on display for you? For another, even if they fought, an expert dealing with a mediocre fighter would defeat them in a single move—onlookers would scarcely see it clearly. Just because Wang Yu had been able to cultivate Flowing Fire Reflection and the Seven Forms of the Setting Sun right after transmigrating did not mean he could easily witness the swordsmanship and martial arts of the Seven Great Sword Sects and the Tianshan Sect, unless he were willing to test them with his own life. Xin Yilong's figure flickered, landing in the center of the arena. He looked toward the seven visitors, his eyes gleaming with spirited brilliance. "Which of you will go first?" Liu Wuchen stepped forward with a composed expression. "I'll go first." In this sword contest on Mount Tianshan, both the Tianshan Sect and the Seven Great Sword Sects hoped to secure an opening victory. Xin Yilong had taken the field first, and Liu Wuchen would not yield to anyone. Since Xin Yilong was the eldest disciple of the Tianshan Sect, among the visitors from the seven sects, only Liu Wuchen, Fang Shaobai, and Leng Jiangzhu were a match for him. Although Fang Shaobai had the greatest certainty of winning, how could Liu Wuchen, as the nominal leader of the delegation, step aside? "Good!" Xin Yilong swept his sword outward, performing Snowy Ridge Winter Plum, the opening stance of the Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow, to salute his guest. "Please!" "Please!" Liu Wuchen's sword left its sheath, its tip slanting downward, stirring a lock of hair at Xin Yilong's temples like a gentle breeze. As the saying went: "Bashan's clear breeze welcomes the guest; night rain and rustling willows lull them to sleep." Liu Wuchen opened directly with the Bashan Sect's most renowned art, the Wind-Swirling Dancing Willow Sword. His blade moved like a breeze swaying willows—ubiquitous as the wind, ever-shifting as willow branches. Gentle, ethereal, the glinting cold edge seemed almost transformed into a soft, warm breeze brushing through willows, disarming all vigilance and lulling one to revel in a quiet, cozy moment. Xin Yilong felt Liu Wuchen's sword tip blurring into phantom images before his eyes. His heart gave a jolt. Surging with Jade Snow True Qi within, he unleashed the Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow in an unbroken cascade, simply treating every indistinct phantom as real. In the next breath, Xin Yilong seemed to transform into a divine dragon of the snow mountains, his sword acting as dragon scales and claws, whipping up a tempest of swirling snow with furious, blinding speed that swept both himself and Liu Wuchen into its vortex. Fierce, domineering might pitted directly against soft, gentle warmth! Yet amidst the boundless wind and snow, Liu Wuchen remained unhurried, seemingly impervious to Xin Yilong's sword intent. He was like a weeping willow in a gale—though the wind had no fixed form and the willow branches whipped wildly, his core stood firm, unaffected by the tempest around him. In the blink of an eye, the two had exchanged over a dozen moves. Xin Yilong had already circled Liu Wuchen five times, trailing gusts of snow and afterimages, his blade thrusting dozens of times like an unending blizzard assailing his foe. Meanwhile, the sword in Liu Wuchen's hand danced like myriad willow shoots. While its paths seemed traceable, they shifted unpredictably, intercepting Xin Yilong's blade every time, occasionally even thrusting from astonishing angles to turn defense into attack. Their styles were polar opposites, yet the clash was fiercely contested. The surrounding Tianshan disciples held their breath, watching with rapt attention. Liu Wuchen was a kinsman of Sword Saint Liu Suifeng and the leader of the Seven Great Sword Sects' delegation on this trip, his renown rivaling that of Little Sword Immortal Fang Shaobai. Naturally, they dared not underestimate him, nor could they guarantee Xin Yilong's victory. They could tell Xin Yilong was giving his all, yet none could distinguish who held the upper hand. "Liu Wuchen, of course," a stern-faced middle-aged man beside Yang Weiming said in a low voice. "Bashan's Wind-Swirling Dancing Willow Sword indeed lives up to its reputation." This was Gu Nanfeng's disciple, the Sunset Wind Swordsman Feng Rigan, who was known alongside Yang Weiming as one of the Tianshan Twin Eagles. Yang Weiming remarked placidly, "Yet the Grandmaster fought across the seven sects with the Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow." "I know," Feng Rigan nodded. "But Xin Yilong is not the Grandmaster. In internal strength, swordsmanship, and mental state, he is a notch below Liu Wuchen. His furious assault looks impressive, but he cannot break through Liu Wuchen's defense. As long as Liu Wuchen holds out for thirty moves, Xin Yilong will lose." Thirty moves passed in a flash. Liu Wuchen's eyes flashed. With a subtle flick of his sword, a tiny breach appeared in the dense, seemingly impenetrable flurry of snow, allowing his blade to glide toward Xin Yilong's left shoulder, its cold gleam flashing faintly. Both froze in their tracks. Xin Yilong's blade was still a foot away from Liu Wuchen, while Liu Wuchen's tip hovered barely an inch from his left shoulder. "Fine swordsmanship. I yield," Xin Yilong said, sheathing his sword and stepping back, showing no resentment. "Thank you for the match." Liu Wuchen returned the courtesy with a smile, retreating back into his sect's ranks.