Martial Exhibition

Li Jingqiu glanced sideways at the grand arena adorned with carved railings, where an elderly man with a saber stood alone atop a high platform in the vast imperial palace. The old man projected an overwhelming, domineering presence, while the aura of the disciple beside him, known as the King of Blades, was entirely different in temperament.

Song Linjie’s gaze was fixed solely on the imposing elder, who, in turn, looked back with piercing eyes and offered what he believed to be a kindly smile.

The officials gathered outside the balustrade were equally shaken in their hearts; for once one reached a certain realm, a mere surge or withdrawal of qi could create the unique, effortless authority of a grandmaster. All the more so for Song Qingtian, whose blade technique was inherently domineering—just by standing there, he commanded absolute respect.

With a voice that seemed to shake the air, Song Qingtian declared, “Our Chengdao Academy serves as the guardian sect of the Chen Kingdom, enjoying the nation’s favor. Since the academy dares to claim these privileges, it naturally possesses the strength to do so. The disciples we select are chosen for quality over quantity, and today’s martial exhibition is for your complete and utter conviction.”

Though advanced in years, the old man’s vigor was undiminished. He looked to the disciples below and said, “Jingqiu, the rest is yours.”

He stomped his foot flatly, and the center of the high platform cracked as he strode away, unruffled.

Jingqiu leapt lightly onto the platform and called out in a clear voice, “Zhou Ying, Xiao Yiyu, come forward.”

As the three rotated out, two young men jumped onto the dais. Li Jingqiu retreated to within three feet of Ren Pingsheng, then announced, “You may choose your own weapons.”

Xiao Yiyu, the second son of the Xiao family known for his rakish flair, lifted his Ink Python Sword. Its hilt was adorned with beaded tassels, and the black-gold long blade flashed as he brandished it, pointing at his opponent.

His challenger wore plain garments, but a closer look revealed his cloth shoes were worn and grey, a clear sign of humble origins. The young man had spent all his money on his outfit and had none left for a weapon—he was left only with his resolve.

Zhou Ying, though poor, possessed a steadfast spirit. Even when faced with this grand occasion, his heart was as calm as still water. He drew a standard military saber from the weapon rack, focused his mind, and called out in a steady voice, “En garde!”

Xiao Yiyu, born to a prominent family, failed to sense his opponent’s determination. As his golden-embroidered sword tassel fluttered behind him, his long sword thrust straight at Zhou Ying. Zhou Ying planted his foot, twisting it hard against the stone floor, and when the sword came near, he swiftly dodged aside.

Xiao’s initial strike missed, so he followed through with a diagonal slash.

Zhou Ying responded later but seized the initiative, not waiting for the ornate sword to change direction. He raised his foot and kicked out forcefully. Xiao Yiyu, stumbling backward, hastily struck out again, but Zhou Ying, with a single deft movement, flicked the sword aside with his saber and held the blade at Xiao’s throat.

Xiao Yiyu was left reeling, his mind in turmoil. It took him a long moment to recover, his gaze unfocused as he looked into his opponent’s resolute eyes.

Neither man spoke a word; they simply lifted their hands in acknowledgment and left the platform.

Li Jingqiu had observed every move with a calm eye. “Xiao Yiyu treated this merely as a gentleman’s contest. From the very beginning, he never truly recognized the resolve in his opponent’s heart.”

Ren Pingsheng added, “That’s why, no matter how advanced their martial arts, disciples from powerful clans are more likely to stumble once they enter the wider world. Without the tempering of the harsh frontier, even the most imposing army is just a rabble of hollow men.”

He called out to Zhang Ling, who seemed not to hear. Only when the scholar leaned close and called in his ear did Zhang respond, rubbing his ear and murmuring, “No need to shout, I heard you. I was just reflecting on Zhou Ying’s mindset during his duel.”

Ren Pingsheng waved him off dismissively. “You’ve never endured the hardships of common folk—you can hardly empathize.”

Zhang Ling shook his head. “I understand.”

Ren wasn’t sure whether he truly grasped the experience or merely agreed for form’s sake.

Li Jingqiu called out to the next pair of young men, “Mo Li, He Xunfeng.”

A disciple clad in luxurious finery ascended the dais, wielding a renowned jade ruler sword. He raised his finely shaped brow and flaunted the fire-jade at his waist, a symbol of his status, then looked down at the work-clothed youth opposite him with a smirk. “I know your martial arts are formidable, and you’re the new leader of the Mo family. Others may not know, but my father is a Cavalry Adjutant. These days your Mo family is little more than a lamb beset by wolves, just waiting to see whose jaws it falls into. If you surrender now, I could ask my father to help your Mo clan submit; once you join our He family, you might still serve as your clan’s leader.”

A flash of savagery crossed Mo Li’s face as he approached with a smile that concealed a blade. The He family scion mistook this for surrender, but when they were only a foot apart, Mo Li’s friendly smile twisted into a killer’s grin as he seized He Xunfeng’s throat. The latter’s breath was entirely cut off, his desperate struggles futile.

From below, Li Jingqiu shouted, “Mo Li, enough!”

He wasn’t showing favor to the Cavalry Adjutant’s son—members of the Academy feared no one—but if Mo Li killed him, the officer might well seek vengeance at any cost, dooming the Mo clan forever.

Mo Li considered for a moment, then flung the wretch from the platform.

Atop a lavish pavilion, a man in yellow robes from Chenliu watched all that transpired. Beside him stood a cringing eunuch, and Song Qingtian, fresh from the martial grounds, now stood at his side as well.

Song Qingtian also watched the scene intently. “This Mo family leader came to the Academy seeking Mo Shoucheng, hoping to help his clan regain its footing in the martial world. Various officials have tried to win them over, for the Mo clan’s weapons far surpass those produced by the Ministry of Works.”

The man from Chenliu’s expression remained unchanged; holding high office for so long, nothing surprised him. He asked, “So, Headmaster Song, how do you think I should proceed?”

Song Qingtian replied calmly, “I believe Your Majesty should not pressure the Mo family, but rather protect them. Now that Mo Li is bound to become an Academy disciple, and his skill in engineering rivals that of the elder generation, matched by exceptional martial talent—if Your Majesty treats the Mo family well, perhaps he may one day lead them to join Chen. Even if he does not, the fact that he dares to shoulder the burden of leadership shows he is a man of gratitude—his worth far exceeds that of a mere Cavalry Adjutant.”

The Chenliu man smiled faintly. “That’s not the whole story, Headmaster Song. What you speak of is his future worth—so this is a wager.”

Song Qingtian made no effort to hide his partiality. “It all depends on whether Your Majesty dares to place that bet.”

The man from Chenliu laughed heartily, pointing at the old headmaster. “You are indeed bold, Headmaster Song, to speak of favoritism before your emperor.”

The two most powerful men in the state of Chen fell silent, content to watch the events unfold in the arena below.

The rounds of competition drew to a close, leaving six contestants.

Now two more ascended the stage: Ye Yumi, from a wealthy merchant family, entered unarmed, while his opponent was Fang Haiding from the Sevenfold Cottage.

Even Li Jingqiu tightened his grip on his saber as he watched Fang Haiding intently. In the previous bouts, Fang had fought with ruthless ferocity, striking to kill even in victory. If not for timely intervention, someone would surely have died today—though who it might be remained uncertain.