The final showdown between Lin Yuancheng and Song Zhixiu truly lived up to the name.
This clash of saber and sword was not only the highest-level and most spectacular duel of the Youth Heroes Assembly, but the two of them were also fully capable of representing the absolute pinnacle of martial skill among this generation of jianghu youths.
Lin Yuancheng was a prodigy—a prodigy destined to become a peerless master.
His background was far humbler than Song Zhixiu's. Although the Seven Stars Swordplay he had practiced since childhood was a first-rate sword art, the internal energy manual that accompanied it was quite ordinary, hardly providing the foundation of a superior internal art.
Later, Lin Yuancheng joined the Xingyi Sect in Cangzhou. Although he learned a great variety of martial arts there, they were fundamentally second-rate techniques.
Yet none of that could hinder his growth.
As the saying goes...
The dull-witted imitate blindly, forcing round pegs into square holes.
The clever-clever miss the substance for the superficial, adding legs to a snake.
The exceptionally gifted apply what they learn, inferring whole patterns from a single instance.
The one in ten thousand comprehends all upon hearing once, blazing their own path.
A true genius like Lin Yuancheng was never trapped in rigid forms, only bound by comprehension. The same basic long fist that others threw clumsily and sluggishly became fierce as a roaring wind in his hands; the same martial technique that others mastered to one hundred percent, he could comprehend beyond that, arriving at a deeper understanding and even making fitting adjustments.
Throughout history, nearly every master of the highest tier had either created one or two superior styles of their own, or elevated some miraculous art passed down from their predecessors to heights never before achieved.
This phenomenon was by no means an accident. Put simply, it was sheer talent.
To borrow an example from the well-known characters in Mr. Jin's works: people with the natural gifts of Guo Jing and Shi Potian could become top-tier masters through all manner of miraculous encounters, yet they could never create superior martial arts of their own. Characters like Xiao Feng, Zhou Botong, Yang Guo, and Huang Yaoshi, on the other hand, were capable of streamlining the Twenty-Eight Palms of Subduing the Dragon, inventing the Technique of Ambidexterity, the Melancholy Palms, the Divine Flicking Finger, and more.
Lin Yuancheng belonged precisely to that latter sort—someone who could study a motley assortment of techniques and still continuously glean insights and advance his craft.
As for Song Zhixiu, while her aptitude was certainly excellent, compared to Lin, she could hardly be considered a prodigy.
Fortunately, she had an illustrious pedigree.
Liaodong's Shendao Mountain Villa stood at the very head of the realm's saber sects.
The current master of the villa, Song Wudi—Song Zhixiu's father—was dubbed "Song the Invincible" by all, his exquisite saber technique virtually unmatched across the jianghu.
Moreover, Master Song had just turned forty-two, right at the peak age for a martial master, and was one of the few supreme experts still actively walking the realm today.
As his only daughter, Song Zhixiu had naturally been taught extraordinarily profound internal energy and saber methods since childhood. Practicing them for over a decade, combined with no small talent of her own, it was only natural that she outshone her peers.
Unfortunately, today she had crossed paths with Lin Yuancheng.
Compared to Lin Yuancheng, Song Zhixiu still lacked a great deal. She had barely roamed the jianghu and lacked real-combat experience; she had never taken a life with her own hands and had no true grasp of what it meant to fight on the razor's edge of life and death.
Her blade had not yet touched upon the true essence of martial arts, so how could she truly contend with Lin Yuancheng?
Thus, although the two exchanged dozens of moves in this final bout of the martial exam, Lin Yuancheng never once doubted that he would win.
In truth, had he wished, he could have brought the battle to an earlier close. It was only that... he wished to witness more of Shendao Mountain Villa's saber techniques, so he had drawn the contest out a little longer.
In the end, Lin Yuancheng still secured victory, knocking the single-edged saber right from her hand.
Song Zhixiu's defeat was by no means disgraceful, and at least she herself noticed nothing amiss. Even among the eminent masters watching from the sidelines, only "Silver Daoist" Bai Ruhong faintly perceived signs that Lin Yuancheng had held back; the rest remained oblivious.
And so, the civil and martial contests of this Youth Heroes Assembly drew to a close.
By the time they finished fighting, mealtime was drawing near. That evening, the Justice Sect hosted yet another banquet for all the guests. Attendance was not mandatory, of course; anyone who felt exhausted or simply disinclined to attend was free to skip it and return to their inn to rest.
However, on the following evening—the night of the sixteenth of the eighth month—there would be the Heroes Banquet, an event everyone was expected to attend.
In nature, the Heroes Banquet served essentially as the assembly's closing ceremony. Sect Leader Shen would formally announce the final tournament standings, openly and impartially present the prizes to the top three young heroes, and then drink heartily with all the gathered luminaries to toast and discuss heroes of the realm.
Only after this banquet would the Youth Heroes Assembly officially reach its grand conclusion. Come the seventeenth, the attendees would gradually depart Luoyang on their journeys home, and the night markets of Luoyang would slowly wind down as well.
Of course... all of this was merely how things were supposed to unfold according to ordinary routine.
***
Words are long when there is much to tell, and short when there is none; the Mid-Autumn Festival passed without further incident, and in the blink of an eye, the following afternoon arrived.
At three quarters past the hour of the Wei, on a narrow path outside Luoyang.
Bai Ruhong walked alone.
Though this Daoist master carried some silver on him, he rarely took carriages or horses. He preferred to travel on foot: first, because it tempered his legs, and second, because it let him leisurely admire the scenery along the road. After all, he was wandering aimlessly anyway, doing righteous deeds or watching the excitement wherever he went.
The reason he appeared here at this moment was naturally that he had no desire to attend the Heroes Banquet tonight.
He had not set out to slight Shen Youran on purpose; he simply detested occasions of that sort. With his uncompromising, plainspoken temperament, going would only end with him offending people left and right.
Therefore, as soon as noon had passed, Bai Ruhong checked out of his inn, slung his sword across his back, gathered his travel bundle, and quietly departed Luoyang on his own.
After walking some distance, Bai Ruhong seemed to notice something, but he neither spoke nor looked back.
He merely stepped quietly off the main road and onto a secluded path.
Only after traveling quite a long way down this narrow path did he suddenly halt, turn around, and address the empty space ahead: "Having shadowed this poor Daoist for so long, are you not going to step forward and say hello?"
Shortly after the words left his mouth, a figure indeed strode slowly out from the woods beside the path.
It was a middle-aged man—neither tall nor short, neither fat nor thin, with utterly ordinary features. His clothing made him look like a common laborer, lacking any distinguishing trait.
A man like this would never draw a second glance on a bustling street.
And when he concealed his internal breath, even a martial artist would find it impossible to tell that he practiced kung fu.
However, the Silver Daoist was no ordinary martial artist. He was a master of the supreme class, an existence second only to the absolute apex; had he failed to notice someone tailing him, he would have lost his life long ago.
"This one is You Jing. Greetings, Daoist Priest Bai." You Jing spoke with clear courtesy, yet his eyes held no respect whatsoever.
"Do I know you?" Bai Ruhong made no polite pretenses, asking bluntly.
"You do not," You Jing said. "However, you ought to know my master."
"Who is your master?" Bai Ruhong asked.
You Jing gave an evasive answer. "Follow me to meet him, and you will understand."
"Hmph..." Bai Ruhong gave a cold sneer. "And what if this old Daoist refuses to go?"
You Jing answered expressionlessly, "Then I will have no choice but to offend..."
"Oh?" Bai Ruhong arched an eyebrow. "With just you?"
"With my martial arts, I naturally cannot hope to match Daoist Priest Bai." You Jing was speaking the plain truth.
"Then how do you—" Bai Ruhong began to press, but as the words reached his lips, a realization struck him, and he thought to himself: *Wait, something is wrong... The emphasis of his words was not on 'I', but on 'martial arts'.*
In other words, the other man had a means of subduing him that did not rely on martial arts at all.
Yet by the time Bai Ruhong realized this, it was already too late. In You Jing's palm, unbeknownst to him, rested a cage-shaped metal object slightly smaller than an egg.
*Jingle, jingle, jingle...*
The moment You Jing gave the trinket a gentle shake, Bai Ruhong was seized by an unbearable itching all over his body, shifting rapidly between blistering heat and bone-chilling cold. One breath brought suffocating tightness, the next filled his lungs with bursting pressure.
As a seasoned veteran of countless battles, Bai Ruhong's instinctive reaction was to circulate his energy to shield his internal organs. Yet the instant he urged the breath in his dantian... an indescribable agony erupted from his qi reservoir, surging through his entire body and rushing straight to the crown of his head.
In a single instant, Bai Ruhong spat out a mouthful of fresh blood and collapsed to the ground, unable to rise...
Chapter 54