BOC AU: SHI 27: Build Up |
After we left the tournament grounds, we went to celebrate at a restaurant—it was called Uncle Bai’s Big Noodles, and it had some of the best hand pulled noodles in the city, according to the Storm Wings.
Like Chao’s before it, it had a big building, and a mascot—a grinning middle aged man with a fabulous and well trimmed goatee stretching noodles between his hands. The side of the store proclaimed that it used only the finest ingredients, and that diners should “watch uncle cook to see the difference!”
The entire place looked fantastic. They had an open concept kitchen—and the chefs showed you the meat and veggies they were going to be using in your meal before they got to cooking it. Unlike Chao, they didn’t have a full museum, but they did have a wall with the history of the shop, and I learned that was an old holdover from when there was a problem in the city of a lot of restaurants adulterating their food, or not using the kind of cuts they said they were using.
The founder, Zhen Bai, got so angry at that practice that this was the result: letting his customers literally see the difference between the quality he used, and watch them cook so they could be certain they were getting beef and not rat meat.
It doubled as a show, watching the chefs pull thick noodles and cook up a storm. The woks they had were massive and sat directly on red fire crystals that occasionally leapt with flame, while massive cauldrons constantly boiled, ready for noodles to be cooked.
The funniest part was that all the chefs were middle aged men, and everyone had a beard that looked like the store’s mascot—they obviously had a barber on hand, because those lines were sharp. They also only responded to Uncle, and called everyone niece and nephew.
It was hilarious, and I instantly loved the place.
We got one of the nicer tables on the second floor, reserved for people who didn’t want to be on the ground floor or at the bar—which I absolutely would have been down for, but the amount of plates Seiyu stacked up made being that cramped a disaster waiting to happen.
“Nephew, nieces, what can uncle get you?” the server asked us, his tone informal.
The most important thing though? The noodles were indeed absolutely delicious. Hand-pulled black bean paste noodles and beef soup after a long day of fighting? Hell yeah brother.
I demolished my bowl while the storm wings chattered, reenacting my defeat of my first opponent, and competing to see who could make the stupidest faces.
Is it bad that I laughed? Eh, dude was a cock head.
But it was nice. Good food, a good atmosphere… and a good time.
I just relaxed, and let the feelings wash over me. It was the first day of my first tournament.
And I had enjoyed myself. It had been fun. And I was looking forward to tomorrow. I wanted tonight to be over already, so I could get back to the arena.
I was… invested. Before, “I want to see how far I’ll go” had been a half-assed and half-hearted excuse.
Fighting in the tournament, watching the others strive, and walk forwards… it had lit a fire in me.
“He was fast, yeah, but that was it! You think speed alone transcends realms? The End of the Profound is still the Profound! As soon as Tianzhe Rou meets one above him, he's finished!” One person shouted to his friend as they both walked in the door.
“You cannot see Mount Tai! Even that blow was restrained! He's the son of the Divine Falcon. Surpassing Realms should be an obvious feat!” someone else shouted back. “He’s going all the way!”
That started it, and soon enough the entire bottom floor and most of the top floor was arguing about my chances. It was kind of funny, actually.
But they were right. I didn’t know how far I could push it.
Liang Daoyi, the favourite to win, had been subtle, and given up little with his movements—but I could see the base of some of his forms. I could see, in my mind’s eye, the outline of his completed strikes.
And I could imagine deflecting them.
It got my blood pumping, blocks and counter-strikes flaring in my mind…
“My, you’ve caused quite a storm, Tianzhe Rou. I haven't heard this much chatter about a tournament before,” a polite voice mused.
I turned, and saw who was approaching us. There were two men. One, I didn’t recognise, but the other…
Well speak of Cao Cao.
He was nearly as tall as I was, wearing fine silk robes that had subtle clouds worked in with golden thread. His hair was long, black, and silky, tied up in the traditional knot. He walked with nobility and grace, and his Qi was as still and placid as a lake in the early morning. Hinting at his power, without shouting it.
Then, he paused as he reached our table, and did a double take.
“… that’s certainly a feast,” he said, looking half baffled and half amused at the sheer number of plates stacked up around Seiyu.
============================
A few minutes earlier.
“Young Master… this place again?” The slightly disapproving tone of Shu Kuang reached Liang Daoyi’s ears as they approached his favourite restaurant. His retainer looked half amused and half exasperated. Kuang was at the Fifth Stage of the Spiritual Realm, and had been at Daoyi’s side since his birth; as a minder, as a mentor… and as he got older, and approached his once-guardian in power, a friend.
As the young master of the Heavenly Pillar Sect, he could have snapped his fingers and eaten the most extravagant of feasts back at one of their many manses. They were, after all, one of the nine core sects of Phoenix Rest Plains that had existed since the Empire’s founding. Though their star had dimmed in the last thousand years, their wealth and prestige was beyond nearly every other sect.
“The chefs at home can never get the black bean paste noodles right,” Daoyi replied, smirking at Kuang, who sighed.
That was genuinely part of the reason. The springiness of the noodles at Uncle Bai’s was unmatched.
It was also a tiny rebellion, to sit so closely with the mortals. His father always expressed disgust at the mortal commoners, claiming the masses filthy, crass and crude. Daoyi had always been fascinated by those stories—and when he finally was allowed outside his sect’s compound with limited supervision at fourteen, he had immediately gone to a noodle shop to watch these crude creatures and find some entertainment in it.
He found something rather more boring. They were not some group of filthy, stupid creatures. They were just people. Honestly, the workers here were more diligent and eloquent than quite a few noble scions he had met.
And that, like many things in his life, was disappointing.
His teachers said his training would be hellishly difficult—and it was fairly difficult, but often not overly strenuous. He had to add twenty thousand more repetitions to his forms to really feel the strain, but then he got stronger after, so the sensation stopped.
They said cultivation required superlative concentration; that it would be a struggle to advance, and he might bottleneck or have to sit in seclusion for years—but in reality it was like steadily climbing a mountain. Just keep at it, and one would advance. Sometimes it was slower, sometimes it was faster.
The entire sect had told him stories about his first Spirit Beast hunt, about the thrill of the battle—and again, Daoyi found only mild inconveniences at best.
That seemed to be life. Yet Daoyi tried not to let it bother him. The Masters said that cultivators must be more than all other men. They always championed decisiveness, perseverance, and walking one’s dao, but Daoyi was rather certain if a cultivator was to be more than others in all things, then patience, prudence, and generosity were included.
So he kept his small smile on his face, and he stepped towards the door, when he and Kuang froze, feeling the interior of the noodleshop, and the Qi within.
“Two Earth Realms and a Profound Realm,” Kuang said. “The Storm Wings… and Tianzhe Rou.”
Daoyi paused for just a moment longer. Tianzhe Rou. Out of every cultivator in his generation thus far… he was the one who was closest to approaching interesting.
It was something about his eyes. About his gaze. Or rather, he was missing something within them, something every other cultivator had when they looked at him.
“How fortuitous then,” Daoyi mused. “Let us go and offer our greetings to the Young Master of Soaring Heaven’s Isle.”
They were neither friends nor enemies with the Isle, so approaching was not rude.
“Wha—” Kuang got out, shocked by the fact that he would just approach, but his loyal friend hurried along behind Daoyi.
He entered the restaurant, and went up to where the more private seating was. There, he saw Tianzhe Rou, leaning back in his chair, a rooster of all things on his shoulder, and a strange moving doll stuffed down his shirt. He was indeed seated with the storm wings, and all three of them were listening to the arguments coming from downstairs.
It was rather amusing how loud the mortals were being.
“My, you’ve caused quite a storm, Tianzhe Rou. I haven't heard this much chatter about a tournament before,” Daoyi said, getting their attention as he walked forwards. All the eyes at the table turned to him, but there was no alarm. Lanlong Bailu even had a small smile on her face, and was still completely relaxed. Wakokukin Seiyu turned, her face blank and— “… that’s certainly a feast.”
He stared at the enormous stack of plates. Where did it all go?
Tianzhe Rou laughed at the observation, bright and open, and not at all like the other children of noble houses he was used to dealing with.
“If you eat, eat a lot! And the noodles are damn good. You want to take a load off, Liang Daoyi?” Tianzhe Rou asked, gesturing to the table, the message clear. He was inviting them to sit with him.
“Much obliged,” Daoyi replied. His manner of speech was surprisingly… unrefined.
“Whats your order?” Tianzhe Rou asked without preamble.
“I am quite fond of the black bean paste noodles. And Kuang likes the braised beef stew.” Kuang shot him an incredulous look. Daoyi disregarded him. If hospitality was offered, it would be rude to refuse.
Kuang glanced at the Storm Wings, while Daoyi just sat down at the other end of the table—placing himself between the Storm Wing’s grasp without hesitation. Both women looked amused by his audacity.
“Yeah, the Black bean noodles are great. How do they get them so springy?” Tianzhe Rou said, instantly proving his keen insight. “Hey Uncle! Black Bean Paste noodles and beef stew!”
The servers confirmed his order, and then Tianzhe Rou turned back round to give a bottle of alcohol… and gave Daoyi great face by pouring his drink.
“My thanks, Tianzhe Rou,” Daoyi said, taking the cup, and nodding his head.
“A guest is a guest, Senior Daoyi.”
Daoyi blinked at the respect freely given. He had been polite in front of the masses, but many wore masks. Here, flanked on either side by the Storm Wings, he could have been his true self; domineering, tyrannical, cold as ice.
Instead… he was this.
“Senior?” he asked. “I heard rumours that you were once mightier than me. Am I truly your senior?”
“The demons once owned the continent. Do we still say they have dominion over us? Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery; the present is a gift to all,” he replied, with a whimsical smile on his face. “So one should try their best to live in it.”
Daoyi laughed, an honest and genuine thing. “Thank you for enlightening me. You are correct; the present is indeed the most important thing.”
“Our captain is the smartest~” Lanlong Bailu said with a proud smile. Both the Storm wings and Kuang had remained quiet, thus far, allowing their Masters to speak. His noodles arrived, and he took a bite. They were indeed fantastic, as always.
“You know, Tianzhe Rou, you’re not quite what I expected,” Daoyi mused after the first couple of bites.
“Oh?” Tianzhe Rou asked. “You expected more domineering and ice.”
“Tianzhe Minyan indeed has that reputation.”
“Yeah, she can be like that,” he replied, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “But… she's a lot kinder than how she acts.”
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“Forgive this one if he does not test that piece of knowledge,” Daoyi replied, his voice deadpan.
Rou leaned back with a laugh, his smile bright. “Probably for the best. It would be a shame if my new friend got turned into an ice sculpture.”
Daoyi paused at the statement.
“Friend?” he asked after a moment. “We are competitors. One shall use the other as a stepping stone. Can friends truly exist in such a setting?”
Rou’s smile dimmed for the first time that night. “What is a tournament to you, Liang Daoyi?”
He asked a question with a question, and Daoyi considered it.
He had been to five so far. He had dominated every single one; there were none who could challenge him. He had received resources, and accolades, and had advanced the prestige of his sect… but they were not particularly exciting chores.
He said as much, and Rou’s eyes took on a look of profound sadness.
“To me… a tournament is the struggle. It's about fighting, and finding someone who can force you to give it your all. It’s to be pushed to the edge of your limits, and in the heat of battle, surpass them, and find new limits—and to do it for your foe in turn. It's not about winning. It's about ascending. When you finally meet someone who can do that—When you meet a sword that sharpens you, just as you sharpen it… what else can you be but friends?”
Daoyi leaned back in his seat. Tianzhe Rou's eyes were filled with purity. His Qi was open as a scroll.
He had no ulterior motives.
He… truly believed that. The only reason he fought… was to get better. To find his limits, and surpass them. In the end, winning or losing was immaterial. As long as that happened, Tianzhe Rou would be victorious.
… what a wonderful sentiment.
“So that is why you call me friend. Because you believe I can force the best out of you?” Daoyi asked, touched by the sheer honesty and lack of guile. Daoyi could tell, from the two fights he had seen. Nobody else here in this tournament, except Daoyi, could provide an actual challenge.
And with Rou’s movement technique… could he provide a challenge to Daoyi too? Daoyi, for the first time in a long time… felt excited.
“Thats the plan. I hope to meet you in the finals. You seem like a great guy—fighting you would be amazing,” he said.
Daoyi frowned at the bit of self doubt in Rou’s voice.
“No. Do not hope, Tianzhe Rou. Succeed. I shall be waiting for you in the finals,” Daoyi said, his voice serious. He looked directly into Rou’s eyes. “Your tournament… show it to me.”
Rou paused, stunned. Then, his smile slowly started to take up his entire face.
“Well now, I can’t leave a friend hanging, can I?” he asked.
================================
I watched as Daoyi and his retainer turned and walked away.
That… that had been intense. The look in his eyes. The feel of his Qi. The spark of excitement, at the prospect of facing me…
Oh yes. This was a tournament. I had a rival, who wanted to fight me.
Four matches. Four Days.
I was feeling… motivated.
==============
The next day dawned bright and early, and we set off into the city again for the next day of matches… only for me to get fucking blind-sided by how fast things had changed.
Namely the big posters with me on them plastered everywhere.
Man, I knew there would be some bullshit from the Storm Wings changing my name on the sheet, but I had severely underestimated how fast news would spread… and how interested people would be in me.
It made sense in Soaring Heaven's Isle. Minyan was one of the leaders there. But here?
I guess with no tv people needed some kind of entertainment.
I did my best to center myself as I walked into the arena for day two.
Yesterday it was packed.
Today I was worried the stands were going to collapse. Every single seat was filled, people were standing shoulder to shoulder in the standing section. Some of the floating islands had been puled over, entire noble villas having a bird’s eye view of the action.
“Attention, attention. This is a reminder; additional seating can be found in the Crimson Feather Pavillion, the Crimson Summit Arena and the Pavillion of Martial Discourse. Transmission stones and Crystal Image Projectors have been erected! If you have purchased a ticket and there is no seating, please speak to a member of staff so that you may be transferred.” One of the organizers boomed over the loudspeaker system this palace had.
I paused, realising what they were saying. They were streaming this to other arenas because this one was too full? What the hell?
“Today’s free wine has been purchased by Lord Zhao Xang, representing the Phoenix Tears Wine and Spirits Guild. They use only the finest rice to produce their wine. Imperial Quality, for an Imperial Palate…” the worker continued, and started to read off more ads.
Yesterday, we had been waiting below ground until the opening ceremony, so we hadn't really heard any of this, but today we were already in our separate little dugouts. We just presented our tokens to the staff and were escorted to our places.
That said… several of my competitors were giving me the stink eye, glaring at me from across the arena.
Those posters had really gotten on people’s nerves, it seemed. I could apologise about it. But I don’t think it would do me any good. I sighed. I glanced up at the Soaring Heaven’s Isle box, which was full as well. Several people noticed my eyes and waved down. I smiled back up at them, then leaned back, and closed my eyes.
Deep breaths, in and out. Just like being in front of the Sect back hom—back at the Isle.
And, well, at least I had one group of people on my side. The Soaring Heaven’s Isle box was just as enthusiastic today… and it looked like Seiyu had given them some gunbai.
The nerves drained away from me. I glanced back up at the board where the matchups were placed… and raised an eyebrow. I was the last fight of the day.
The fights started again, and the awkward feeling disappeared like smoke. Techniques clashed. Competitors roared. The crowd cheered.
The feeling of joy came back, of watching these amazing fights, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Liang Daoyi’s fight was just as dominating as his first two, striking his opponents down with grace and skill. Again, he turned to me, his eyes focused on me, and the demand was clear.
“Hurry up, and get on this stage with me.”
And then, it was my turn. My opponent, Liu Han, was also in the Fifth stage of the Profound Realm.
He was glaring at me, as we walked onto the arena. I focused on my opponent. I gave him the consideration he deserved, locking eyes with him. He breathed out like a bull, shifting his sword in his hand.
I bowed politely, as I had every time before. My opponent's glare sharped, and he bowed back, but it was a tight, coiled thing.
I breathed in, then out. The gazes of hundreds of thousands bored down on my back, like a physical thing.
Pressure. The weight of it all. It was more than I had felt in a long time.
But this? This was temporary. I was already looking past it.
I had a promise to keep.
The gong sounded.
The fight began.
=======================================
And to all those watching this tournament run… so did a legend.
They watched in the main arena—they watched recordings in other arenas. The Sects watched, in their boxes, and the nobles watched from their floating manses.
And far away, the grand arena of Soaring Heaven’s Isle Sect shook with cheers, Every eye in the arena was on the curved disks of air, projecting what was happening all the way in Phoenix Rest Plains.
============================
This one’s sword was better than the last’s. His offence was superb. In the opening moments, he managed to nick my flesh, and then exploded forwards, trying to capitalize, and keep me from using any of my techniques.
It was good insight. I could not bring my antlers to bear properly.
[Mountain Sculptor]
So the antlers became hooves. Hooves that carved bones of the earth into works of art. Hooves that could traverse all the terrain of this world. Hooves that were a sculptor's blade, exacting and perfect and unbreakable.
A silvery sheen coated my hands, and on the next blow… I met it. The sword screamed, and rebounded quaking. My opponent’s eyes widened.
That was the last time Liu Han was on the offense.
==========================
“Kick his ass, Young Master!” Shilong Seireishang roared, after he started just pounding the other guy. His opponent obviously felt it, reeling backwards. It was amazing to be able to see something happening so far away… and more than that, the Elders had splurged, and used a super-powered version of [The Whispering Wind] so they were getting sound too!
The midships were cheering and shouting below her, and Seireishang felt a bit bad about not being with Xishi and the others… but Young Mistress Chunhua and Zou Lin, rising star of the sect, had invited her up for the viewings. Like hells was she giving up the chance to get the good booze, and yeah, it was the good stuff! Sei was already a bit tipsy.
“As expected of my Junior Brother, who learned so well at my feet!” Chunhua boasted, but she looked kind of stunned as the Young Master advanced relentlessly, not giving his opponent time to breathe. “So much better in so short a time, I need to train more—” she muttered under her breath.
Lin was just staring at the Young Master with eyes full of longing. She had her hands cupping her cheeks, and her pinky was dragging down her bottom lip. She sighed dreamily, like she was watching the most romantic thing in the world…
Damn. Girl had it bad.
“Sister Flasher! After this, we shall begin training!” Young Mistress Chunhua demanded. “You too, Lin! When he gets back home, he’ll find his Senior Sisters are still people he can look up to!”
Sei winced at the nickname. “But we all look up at him. You barely come up to his sternum, Young Mistress.”
Chunhua turned and glared at her. “You know what I mean, Sister Flasher! Now let's go!”
Sei was dragged into hell. She really, really wasn’t cut out for the kind of training Young Mistress Chunhua demanded! It hurt! It was scary! It was all she could do to run and dodge until she finally collapsed face first, panting for breath.
“Oh? You’re pretty fast.” the Young Mistress said, looking with interest at Sei’s twitching body. “A flash of silver, like a bait fish… no wonder you have that nickname! I’ll turn you into a shark, don’t you worry!”
Sei let out a piteous whine.
======================
Mu Huang was fast. Very fast. He had a movement technique of his own… but it was still clearly a work in progress.
And sometimes, speed wasn’t everything.
[A Body as Immovable as the Mountains]
Sometimes, you’re the windshield. And sometimes, you’re the fly.
After our collision, I peeled him off my chest as gently as I could.
I had dinner with Daoyi again. We shot the shit, talking a bit about what it was like living in our different sects.
And I immediately thought it was a miracle that Daoyi had turned out as levelheaded and chill as he was. His family… kinda sounded like a pack of dickbags.
============================
Wei Xue Ying, Scion of the Star Banner Mountain, was next. She was surprising—her skin was a deep bronze, like she had a tan from being out in the sun… and she had visible muscles and abs. Girl was built.
So far… well, there had been lots of taunts—and then she had beaten the shit out of them.
Xue Ying was giving me the stink eye like the others, when we met in the arena.
“You have a wonderful physique," I told her sincerely, impressed at the effort and dedication. Like Xiaobao, she had put a lot of work into herself.
My opponent’s cheeks turned crimson, and the mean mug she was giving me dissolved.
“Hu-huh?” she stuttered, before her glare came back. “Are you making fun of me?!”
“No. Your hard work and dedication is obvious. I have the utmost respect for it.” Also because I had heard part of the training their sect did for their cultivation was stabbing burning hot pokers into their skin to toughen it. Getting worked over by Bailu and Seiyu were bad enough, at least my cultivation didn’t require any actual torture. “May we have a good match. Please give me your best.”
She stared at me in shock as I got into my stance, prepared for her.
And then, she gave me a small smile, and got into her own stance. “Yes. Let me see the strength of Soaring Heaven’s Isle’s Young Master.”
We got into a damn good brawl. She was good. She was strong and fast and durable… but she was exactly the kind of person I had spent a lot of time training against… and did it better than her.
=========================
“Ah. I taught him that counter,” Xiaobao suddenly said, her eyes on the lens of air. She had a pleased flush on her face… before that pleased flush turned to a slight scowl, as Rou helped his opponent up.
“Oh? Your boy has some interesting tastes, Minyan,” Lili teased.
The child on the lens of air twirled her hair around her finger, and avoided looking at Rou. Minyan didn’t entirely mind it. That was, after all, how she had met Shen Yu… but the girl was hardly a great beauty like Minyan had been. Those muscles… was that really what he liked? Was it because of his upbringing in the Crucible? No, Shen Yu had never expressed such interests…
“Look at this toad lusting over our young master!” One of the girls shouted, clearly outraged, and her voice was joined in with more jeers and insults.
Minyan shook her head, and instead considered the tournament rankings.
So far… Rou hadn’t shown what he was fully capable of. His movement technique had not come into play again.
He was fighting his peers… and he was holding back.
So far, he had been able to. But the next fight… the next fight would push him.
There would be no more coasting, when his foe was in the Spiritual Realm.
=========================
Sima Yichen of the Heavenly Descent Sect stepped onto the field. I felt it. The immediate shift. The press of his Qi onto mine, trying to dominate me, and force me to my knees. The glare in his eyes… and the promise of danger.
He carried two heavy maces in his hands; massive things that shone with an internal glow. When he swung them, they trailed with light… like shooting stars.
He broke a lot of bones. One of the competitors he smashed was in critical condition, and had only just survived the strike.
“This is as far as you go.” he promised me. “I’ll give you a nice long break from cultivation. Your sisters can pamper you as you recover.”
I cracked my neck, and got ready.
“The little star twinkles bright, his light profound… and burns up before it hits the ground.” I replied with a smile and musical lilt to my voice.
A vein bulged in his neck. The entire crowd “oooh’d” at my words.
And then it was showtime.
He blurred.
And for a moment, I caught the world.
======================
“What the hells is this?” Song asked, her eyes focused like a Hawk. She had been lounging earlier, but was now sitting up straight.
Rou was fighting against one a Realm above him.
And he was controlling the fight. The maces hit only empty air, or were physically punched aside. Rou stepped into every blow magnificently, pressing every opportunity and advantage, turning the giant maces into liabilities.
It was wonderful. It made Minyan’s heart burn with pride to see him move like this—he moved with confidence and without hesitation, his steps free.
But more than that was his movement technique. They, the Elders of Soaring Heaven’s Isle… were having trouble comprehending what exactly Rou was doing to achieve those bursts of speed.
It was like he was freezing in place for a moment—but how did that translate into such a massive burst of force? It was omnidirectional—and it had a cooldown of five seconds before he could use it again—or did it? There was too little strain on his body—he was still holding back.
He was fighting a Spiritual Realm and still holding back. He had his foe’s measure, and was keeping one last card to play.
Minyan laughed. She actually laughed, loud and from her belly as she realised—and as Song, Lili, and Xiaobao realised too.
“His growth is…” Lili trailed off, before starting to mutter. “He was not like this in the sect. Was this the reason why the ancestors could never grow the ships…? Because we kept them…?”
It was a thought Minyan herself had… but she had a different hypothesis. It was not just the Art of the Deer.
It was Rou’s foundation. The foundation Shen Yu had given him. The foundation that had survived a hit from two Earth Realm cultivators. His foundation, that she had helped him refine and repair. She had marveled at Shen Yu’s toughness, but had been confused. It had massively delayed his cultivation. Rou had been talented enough that he could have easily been in the Profound Realm when they had met.
But now, she truly saw the vision. That foundation, prepared for so long… was finally ready to be built upon.
Shen Yu, in his obsession, had crafted a masterpiece.
But he was still absolutely an idiot for not seeing how good Rou was.
===============================
In the Imperial Box, Yunxi and Xieren watched. Yunxi with wide eyes; and Xieren was bouncing her leg up and down, eagerness in her expression.
Liang Daoyi’s smile slowly widened, as he watched Rou, secure that he would fulfill his promise.
==================================
The arena in Soaring Heaven’s Isle had gone silent.
All of them just stared. Even Sei had finally managed to sit up straight, her body still aching from Chunhua’s tender mercies.
If the Young Master had been amazing before… this was something else. The shooting star maces were getting more and more frantic. They were burning brighter and brighter, as the Young Master wore him down.
Until his opponent finally snapped.
“Enough! I won't just be your stepping stone!” Sima Yichen roared, clearly desperate, and exploded with Qi. “You arrogant bastard—fall back to the earth!”
Lin jerked up, and Chunhua looked disgusted. “That fool, using vital Qi for this—lose with more dignity!” She sneered, but worry entered her eyes for the first time.
A Spiritual Realm burning vital Qi was bad news. This was his opponent’s most powerful move!
His opponent leapt, his maces fusing together into one massive hammer, the sky around him darkening like it was turning to night, and the glow of something burned on the horizon, like a shooting star—
[Descent of Heaven!]
The crowd in the capitol gasped. The midships gasped. The stands that had the four winds gasped.
Young Mistress Chunhua shouted, and Zou Lin got to her feet, her sword clenched tight in her hands.
The sky descended. The roar of Qi blotted out the noise. The Young Master made no move to dodge. He planted his feet, his stance wide apart.
He raised his arms.
And he caught the damn sky.
It burned. It screamed. It tried to force him down… and yet it didn’t.
He pulled one fist off the mace, and punched it. It shuddered. Just enough some of the pressure was off.
Which was when his other fist hit it.
His free hand chambered, and punched up again. And again. And again.
His arms started to blur. The thundering sound of his fists meeting iron and flame reverberated throughout the arena—until the giant mace screamed and cracked.
Sima Yichen screamed with it, in shock and disbelief. The momentum stopped.
[Mountain Sculptor]
The giant starlight mace cracked, and cracked and cracked again as its structural integrity failed— and then Yichen started falling again, the mace being torn to pieces by the Young Master’s fists.
No, not torn to pieces. Carved.
The shockwaves, and the reverberation through his Qi filled weapon made Yichen spit blood, his body locking up from the pain.
The mace crumbled, but its core remained, dropping out of the air.
In one hand, the Young Master caught the sculpted form of a deer’s head out of the air, still attached to the mace’s handle.
And in the other, he caught the fallen body of his foe.
His hands were burned. His knuckles were ruined. Sweat stained his face, and blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth.
His legs were trembling slightly.
The crowd exploded. The sect exploded. The lens zoomed out, showing their sectmates in the box seats waving around massive fans and cheering.
He lowered his foe to the ground, then pointed to Liang Daoyi.
Everyone stared at the sheer provocation.
But Liang Daoyi, the favourite to win the tournament, simply laughed.