He Lingchuan did not answer. Turning to the old woman who had just brought in hot water, he instructed, "Fetch a portion of hot rice and dishes for her. Tell them it's for Eldest Young Master He." With that, he nodded to A-Jin, stood up, and left.
After he departed, the soldier guarding the area dashed to He Chunhua's tent to report their conversation.
He Chunhua merely smiled upon hearing it. "The boy isn't acting foolish after all?"
For the next three days, rain fell incessantly.
He Lingchuan tossed and turned at night, unable to sleep, so he simply got up and ordered his personal guards to pitch a larger, more spacious tent for him. Its dimensions were nearly on par with those of a provincial governor.
Inside the tent, he practiced his saber.
The saber qi of Fusheng was far too fierce, and He Lingchuan did not want rain leaking into his tent from every angle while he slept. Thus, he carved himself a crude wooden saber. Aside from eating, he spent every waking hour using it to practice Wave Slash.
Constrained by the limited space, he did not combine his saber technique with footwork, choosing instead to repeatedly chop and slash through each stance individually. Whenever a soldier happened to pass by his tent, they would see Eldest Young Master He using the most basic footwork to deliver the most basic cuts.
Yet to He Lingchuan, ever since he had leapt into the river to face the surging currents, it felt as though a great blockage had been cleared. Things he had previously struggled to comprehend now came naturally; he knew how to deliver each strike.
His body had begun to memorize that "feeling."
Were it not for the Han River churning with violent, deadly waves that no human could survive, he would have loved nothing more than to plunge back in and test himself again.
The endless sound of rain muffled the faint rumbles of wind and thunder echoing from the wooden saber.
The sounds swelled loudly at times, only to fade away the next.
Passing by, Shan Youjun saw He Lingchuan deliver a plain, unremarkable strike toward the ground. He had already sheathed his stroke by the time a crisp crack sounded and a furrow suddenly split the earth.
He noticed that the tip of the wooden saber had never touched the ground, yet the furrow was neat and ran an inch deep into the soil.
When Shan Youjun returned several hours later, the rain had slackened. Eldest Young Master He was standing at the entrance of his tent, yawning. Catching sight of him, He Lingchuan asked, "Do you know under what circumstance drawing a blade can cut off water?"
Shan Youjun played along readily. "Please enlighten me, Master?"
"Right now."
He Lingchuan suddenly drew his blade.
Seven falling raindrops—whether near the ground or just about to land on Shan Youjun's forehead—abruptly became fourteen.
Every single one was sliced right down the middle.
Shan Youjun felt two successive chills right between his eyebrows.
Glancing at the tip of He Lingchuan's saber, he saw it remained completely dry, untouched by moisture.
He had struck using saber force alone.
"Master, that's very dangerous!" When He Lingchuan drew his saber, Shan Youjun's glabella had gone numb, and a prickle of chill had pierced straight through to the back of his head.
He knew full well that although the wooden saber had not touched him, if that strike had been intended to take his life, he would likely be lying dead on the ground right now.
"Exhilarating! Absolutely exhilarating!" He Lingchuan pursed his lips and let out a long whistle, feeling invigorated from head to toe.
The fruits of this enlightenment had been firmly consolidated. He tossed the wooden saber aside and rolled his neck, which popped in a rapid succession of cracks.
Only then did he realize that through his ceaseless cultivation, he had not closed his eyes for two whole days and nights. Exhaustion of body and mind surged over him like an overwhelming tide, threatening to bowl him over.
"I need to sleep," he instructed Shan Youjun. "Unless it's an emergency, don't disturb me."
With that, he ambled over to his cot, collapsed onto it, and instantly fell asleep.
...
Why was it so noisy in his dream too?
He Lingchuan rubbed his eyes and found himself standing in what looked like an army camp again, surrounded by burly, fierce men.
Shouts, applause, and jeers filled the air.
He looked around.
Hm? The Martial Review Hall?
How was it that the moment he entered the dream, he was standing beside the largest martial arena in Panlong City?
Turning his head, He Lingchuan saw Sun Fuling standing right beside him, looking up at the fighting ring.
Before he could speak, someone clapped him on the back. Skinny's voice was almost drowned out by the surrounding din: "Broken Saber, are you placing a bet or not?"
"On which match?" He Lingchuan asked, turning around, only to find Hu Min standing right beside Skinny. "Hey, what are you doing here too?"
"Just killing time with a couple of bets to see if there's an upset to be had." Hu Min pointed at Skinny. "I just put down a wager with him."
"On which ring?"
"Which one else?" Skinny pointed south. "Arena No. 7! Wild Boar against Meng Shan!"
Startled, He Lingchuan turned to look, and sure enough, two massive brutes were standing in the ring. One was a familiar face: Meng Shan.
The very Meng Shan who had beaten him out of the dream in several previous encounters.
Meng Shan's opponent today was likewise a muscular giant well over eight feet tall, his face thick with fierce flesh.
In terms of both build and sheer ferocity of countenance, the two were evenly matched.
Moreover, Arena No. 7 was situated at the southernmost end of the Martial Review Hall, with half of it jutting out over the street. The commoners of Panlong City needed only to stand in the street to watch the bouts.
As a result, fights staged in this arena were highly entertaining and drew the largest crowds.
Right now, the center of the street was packed tight with spectators. Men and women alike craned their necks in anticipation, and some people were even bold enough to balance on the iron railings along the edge of the arena to get a view.
The dull daily lives of the city folk craved a brutal fight and sprays of blood to spice things up.
He Lingchuan asked Skinny, "Whose odds are higher?"
"Wild Boar's, of course." Skinny pointed at the hulking brute on stage. The man had an oily face, large ears, and an underbite; the moniker certainly hadn't come out of nowhere. "Meng Shan is an undefeated general in the South Courtyard of the Martial Review Hall, and even after going to the North Courtyard, he's only lost once."
"Then what's the point of betting on this match?" He Lingchuan said, disappointed. "Everyone must be backing Meng Shan to win."
"Not necessarily. I put my money on Wild Boar," Hu Min chuckled. "That fellow looks like he has potential. Besides, if he wins, a small stake yields a huge payout."
Beside them, Sun Fuling smiled as well. "I bet on Wild Boar too."
"You're a teacher of the people, a hardworking gardener..." Is it really appropriate for you to gamble so openly?
Sun Fuling's delicate brows furrowed slightly. "What gardener? I don't weed gardens!"
He Lingchuan turned straight to Skinny. "Fine, I'll bet on Wild Boar to win too. Half a tael of silver."
"Pah!" Skinny spat in disdain. "Stingy bastard."
Slung over his back was an enormous leather pouch bulging with loose coins. Evidently, an extraordinary number of people were placing bets today, with commoners from beyond the grounds joining in droves.
Then, rapid drumbeats began to roll.
These were the preparation drums.
The moment the drumming ceased, the two behemoths crashed into each other like raging bulls.
Two commoners perched on the railing were instantly knocked down by the shockwaves of the collision, as the surrounding spectators roared and cheered.
Meng Shan's usual opponents favored hit-and-run tactics, but upon entering the ring, Wild Boar met him head-on in a test of pure brute strength, trading blow for blow in brutal, bone-jarring impacts.
The crowd below was thoroughly thrilled, bursting into thundering applause again and again.
Within a few exchanges, He Lingchuan could see that Wild Boar excelled at grappling and throws; twice, he caught Meng Shan in his grip and slammed him onto his back. Even someone as thick-skinned and rugged as Meng Shan struggled to take it, lying on the ground to catch his breath for several gasps before clambering back to his feet.
The moniker 'Wild Boar' was truly misleading. He Lingchuan overheard someone nearby grumble resentfully, "Shouldn't a boar root with its snout? He ought to be called Wild Bear instead."
That was probably someone who had bet on Meng Shan to win.
Having suffered twice, however, Meng Shan learned his lesson. Each time he was grabbed, he locked Wild Boar's joints, preventing him from pulling off his specialty maneuvers again.
Cupping his hands around his mouth like a horn, Hu Min bellowed, "Counter-lock! Counter-lock him! Gah, what an idiot, a step too slow again!"
Amidst the mountain of cheers from thousands of voices, He Lingchuan somehow caught Sun Fuling's sigh: "It's over. Wild Boar is going to lose."
Sure enough, having pinned Wild Boar, Meng Shan slammed a savage headbutt straight into his opponent's forehead.
The dull, sickening thud made He Lingchuan's back molars ache just listening to it.
Evidently, Meng Shan possessed the harder skull. Wild Boar saw stars from the impact, and his grip slackened.
Bracing his footing, Meng Shan stomped heavily onto the man's instep, and with his other fist struck Wild Boar's diaphragm with pinpoint accuracy!
Wild Boar was instantly knocked breathless.
In the blink of an eye, he had taken three heavy blows.
Although he managed to collect his senses afterward and fought hard to retaliate, the outcome was already sealed.
The two traded blows for another fifty-odd breaths before Wild Boar finally collapsed, his entire head battered and swollen until it truly resembled his moniker.
Several guards from the Martial Review Hall climbed into the ring and carried Wild Boar away for medical treatment. Meng Shan wiped the blood from his nose, pounded his chest, and let out a furious roar at the crowd:
"Who's next?!"
The roar shook the heavens, ringing out over even the thunderous applause.
"My half a tael of silver..." He Lingchuan was glad he hadn't wagered more; it had just been for the occasion. He asked Sun Fuling, "How much did you lose?"
Sun Fuling let out a long sigh. "Three taels."
"Whoa, you gambled that much?" Three taels of silver was enough for him and Hu Min to drink more than a dozen rounds at the Frost River Tavern.
"A bold bet turns burlap into silk," Sun Fuling muttered dejectedly. "I saw the generous odds and thought if Wild Boar won, I wouldn't have to worry about food for the second half of the year."
He Lingchuan looked at her in a completely new light. He had always assumed Sun Fuling was detached from worldly desires, never guessing this neighbor of his, who seemed above earthly concerns, harbored quite a gambling streak.
In that respect, she seemed rather similar to her brother, Sun Jiayuan.
She added, "Just like that, two years' worth of firewood and charcoal money is gone." Even burning firewood and charcoal for two whole years wouldn't cost that much.
Watching others go collect their winnings from Skinny, Hu Min stamped his foot in frustration. "What a loss, what a loss! I should have gone with the crowd."
Watching Meng Shan preening triumphantly in the ring, He Lingchuan asked, puzzled, "The North Courtyard of the Martial Review Hall has plenty of skilled fighters. Why doesn't someone step up to take the wind out of his sails?"
"Meng Shan hasn't been in the North Courtyard long, but he's a formidable newcomer. Ordinary Gale Army soldiers can't beat him. And if the squad leaders or commanders go up, winning wouldn't bring much glory, while losing would be downright humiliating."
To tell the truth, Meng Shan's performance in the Yanliang River Valley had been plain for all to see. That had been a real battle between two armies; many Gale Army soldiers had fought him firsthand and knew they stood no chance against that humanoid raging rhino.
What was more, the rules of the Martial Review Hall favored power-type fighters on the whole.
Hu Min laughed. "As for generals and high commanders like Commander Xiao, they aren't allowed to fight ordinary soldiers in Arena No. 7."
"Why?"
"It's not fair. Putting aside the fact that the commanders have far more refined martial skills, fighting your immediate superior in public puts an immense amount of pressure on a soldier." Hu Min shrugged. "If you told me to fight Boss Xiao in Arena No. 7, I'd be scared too."
Soldiers were accustomed to obeying orders from their commanders, whose authority was deeply ingrained. Once in an open ring, that psychological pressure became an unfair advantage that inevitably hampered their performance.
Even so, someone was unable to resist the provocation after all, leaping into the ring to challenge Meng Shan to a duel.
Chapter 290