Chương 64: Valor

"Fahai Sattavadeva vs. Yue Shuangyi." Yue Shuangyi ignored the announcement entirely, her voice sharp with urgency as she pressed Li Kang.

"This isn't cowardice," she said.

"You know it. I know it. Even Ancestor Qing likely knows it. If you fight Fu Zhan, you will die. He was denied the kill last time, so this time he'll go straight for the jugular. Unless you have some miraculous way to bridge the gap between him and you and strike through the effects of his banner, there's no point. Listen to me. If I were in your place, I would forfeit too." Li Kang's expression hardened into open defiance. He stared at nothing, jaw clenched, a deep scowl etched across his face.

"It's not about winning or losing," he insisted stubbornly.

"It's about the message surrender sends. I fight my way into the top six, only to give up at the first sign of trouble? And what about the people I defeated to stand here? Are they not dishonored as well?" Yue Shuangyi looked as though she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Instead, she drew a slow breath and forced herself to remain calm.

"The only message you'd be sending is that you have a modicum of sense," she said.

"What will dying fruitlessly prove? Do you really think anyone will care? Ancestor Qing likely won't even remember your name a few days from now. And as for the ones you defeated; do you truly think Chen Zhuhe would begrudge you for choosing to live rather than dying helplessly in a suicide match?" At her side, Bai Ning nodded in quiet agreement. She hadn't spoken till now, unsure what she could add to Yue Shuangyi's words, but she shared the same view. Li Kang's misfortune lay in drawing Fu Zhan as his opponent.

His insistence on fighting without any real means of victory helped no one. Even so, she understood him. Having come this far, forfeiting now was a bitter pill to swallow. Still, bitterness was preferable to a grave. Li Kang wasn't stupid. He understood that as well. From outside their viewing box, the announcement rang out once more.

"Contestant Yue Shuangyi, step forward or be disqualified. The match will not be paused at this stage." Yue Shuangyi rose to her feet. She gave Li Kang one last look, her lips pressed thin, eyes resolute, before stepping out of the viewing box and drifting down toward the white stone ring below. Opposite her, Fahai Sattavadeva already stood in place, looking as ancient and venerable as ever.

He seemed entirely unbothered, as though he could have remained there until the mountains themselves crumbled into dust, if required. Inside the box, Bai Ning moved to the edge, eyes fixed on the arena and its combatants, while Li Kang remained slumped in his chair, his scowl unsoftened. Bai Ning's own match against Ming Tailong would come last, after both Yue Shuangyi's and Li Kang's bouts. That afforded her the luxury of watching her friends fight without immediate concern for herself.

And, uncharitable as it might be, her match was also the easiest. Yue Shuangyi faced the monk, enough said. Li Kang had drawn the demonic Fu Zhan. By comparison, Ming Tailong might as well have been a harmless puppy. Below, both fighters stood ready. Or at least, Yue Shuangyi did. She had already produced her Ever-Frozen Silkworm Lotus, its crystalline petals glimmering in her hands, while Fahai Sattavadeva looked as though he were asleep on his feet. The announcer's voice rang out once more.

"Begin." Yue Shuangyi wasted no time. She blew gently across the delicate lotus cradled in her palms, and its icy petals burst apart, scattering through the air like drifting snow. Half of them spun wildly, swelling and sharpening until they became swords carved from frost, which hurled themselves toward the seemingly defenseless monk. The remaining petals circled Yue Shuangyi, forming a fragile yet beautiful defense of ephemeral ice and snow.

"Nirmanakaya: Manjusri." A colossal flaming sword swept across the ring, annihilating the icy blades and the remaining petals alike, reducing them to mist in an instant. Behind Fahai Sattavadeva, a radiant golden figure had appeared. It possessed no lower body, only a torso and arms, while its head was lost within the brilliance of a blazing halo. In one hand, it wielded a sword of fire: the very blade that had just erased Yue Shuangyi's opening strike.

High above, Bai Ning drew in a quiet, admiring breath, even as worry tightened her chest.

"The Lord of Wisdom," she murmured, recalling Monk Chanakya's tales of Manjusri, who burned away ignorance and delusion alike. There was a soft shuffle of footsteps behind her. Li Kang finally rose and joined her at the edge of the box, his gaze fixed on the ring below. He narrowed his eyes, his expression dark.

"That's almost a perfect counter to Fairy Yue Shuangyi's ice," he said.

"This won't be easy." Bai Ning snorted.

"You should remember that when it's your turn," she shot back. Li Kang scowled at her, but she didn't relent. Now that Yue Shuangyi was down there fighting, it fell to Bai Ning to hammer some sense into his stubborn head. Together, they watched as Yue Shuangyi blew upon her lotus again. More petals scattered into the air, each one swelling and reshaping into weapons and tools that streaked toward Fahai Sattavadeva from every angle. It was all for naught.

A single sweep of that burning sword reduced even the sharpest constructs to mist and vapor. Any petal that strayed too close didn't just melt – it outright evaporated. Yue Shuangyi's attacks never even reached the monk, rendered utterly ineffective before they could threaten him at all. Yue Shuangyi's brows drew together as the Ever-Frozen Silkworm Lotus in her hands grew increasingly tattered, its brilliance dimming with each failed assault. At last, she retreated half a step.

The remaining petals tightened into a wary orbit around her, frost trembling in the heated air as she reassessed her options. Fahai Sattavadeva did not advance. He stood exactly where he had been, hands folded within his sleeves, eyes half-lidded, as though the storm of ice and frost had never touched the ring at all. Behind him, the radiant form of Manjusri hovered in silent judgment, its flaming sword held at rest. Even so, the heat it radiated bent the air above the arena into shimmering waves.

Yue Shuangyi's gaze hardened. She lifted the lotus once more. The final petals wilted and fell away, shattering into fine frost before they touched the ground. Within the flower, revealed at last, lay a delicate crystalline silkworm cocoon spun entirely from ice. At the sight of it, Fahai Sattavadeva cracked one eye open. The cocoon flared. Threads of ice unspooled from its surface, spreading outward as though it were about to unravel completely.

Instead, the strands thickened and grew, weaving together as they expanded. In the span of a breath, the cocoon enveloped Yue Shuangyi entirely, sealing her within a shell of living frost, like a silkworm that had spun its own icy sanctuary. Cold radiated outward in an unbroken pulse. A widening circle of frost spilled across the white stone ring, glazing it in slick ice. The pale white stone flickered briefly beneath the surface, then vanished beneath the spreading cold.

The temperature plunged, the air growing dense and biting. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. It did not reach Fahai Sattavadeva. Around him, within the quiet dominion of his golden manifestation, the stone remained untouched. A perfect circle of bare white lay at his feet, with the monk at its center. Neither ice nor cold could cross its boundary. In the next instant, the golden figure behind him raised its burning sword, and brought it down on the cocoon.

The impact triggered a blizzard. A violent torrent of cold erupted from the crystalline cocoon, as though an entire glacier had shattered outward in defiance. Ice surged across the arena in jagged, swelling formations, swallowing the ring in moments. The temperature plummeted further still, until snow began to fall from the clouds above, fine and relentless. The chill sank deep, biting into bone and marrow alike.

Breath froze against lips, and the air itself turned sharp and painful to draw, as the arena vanished beneath a sudden, roaring winter. From above, where the spectators watched from the cloud ring, a great pulse of qi surged outward, erecting layered wards against the cold. Even so, those closest to the ring – the contestants of the third round – were left to fend for themselves. The formations surrounding the arena blunted the worst of it, but did not fully block the creeping frost.

Bai Ning exhaled a thin plume of mist and immediately began circulating her qi through her meridians, forcing warmth back into her limbs as the cold pressed in from all sides. Below, the radiant golden figure of Manjusri was half-buried beneath a mountain of ice. Snow clung to its halo, and the flaming sword had dimmed to a smoldering glow. Fahai Sattavadeva himself remained untouched, standing at the center of bare stone, but he had finally opened his eyes fully.

The frost continued to inch outward from the crystalline cocoon where Yue Shuangyi stood sealed within. She was unharmed; the fiery blade had failed to pierce her shell, leaving only a faint scratch across its otherwise pristine surface. The monk sighed.

"Nirmaṇakaya: Samantabhadra." The golden light behind him shifted. The flaming sword dissolved, its heat dispersing as a vast, luminous presence spread outward instead, quiet, immense, and inexorable, like an unseen tide. The ice around him did not melt. That word was wrong. It outright vanished. As though wiped clean by an invisible hand, the ice was simply gone. Snow ceased falling from the sky above, and inch by inch, the frozen ring returned to bare white stone.

The cold receded without resistance, leaving no steam, no water, and no trace. When the effect reached the icy cocoon, its crystalline threads softened. Like real silk plunged into boiling water, they lost cohesion and strength, sagging and unraveling. The shell opened slowly, layer by layer, until it could no longer support itself. Moments later, it was over. Yue Shuangyi spilled free, stumbling half a step, eyes wide with disbelief as the remnants of her lotus vanished outright in a scatter of fading frost.

The arena stood bare once more. For a moment, there was only silence, crushing, and almost tangible, before she dragged herself upright. Her robes were in disarray, hairpins loosened, a lock of hair falling half across one eye. By contrast, Fahai Sattavadeva appeared untouched. There was not so much as a wrinkle in his robes, or a shift in his stance. Standing above, Bai Ning realized just how little he had moved: not a single step throughout the entire exchange. Her fists clenched in frustration.

Had this even been a fight for him? Yue Shuangyi's expression mirrored that thought, bitter and tight. The only reason the battle had lasted this long was because Fahai Sattavadeva had not struck once, merely deflected, dismantled, or outright erased her techniques. It was almost condescending, like a master allowing a novice to flail about for sport while watching from above. Bai Ning's lips twisted, a sour truth settling in. The two of them had just lectured Li Kang on the dangers of unnecessary pride. And yet…

"I surrender," Yue Shuangyi said. Her chin remained high, eyes sharp, but Bai Ning could see the shame burning beneath the surface. Continuing the fight offered no victory, and would have led only to futility. To persist further would have been worse than defeat. Still… The announcer's voice rang out once more.

"Victor: Fahai Sattavadeva." The monk inclined his head toward Yue Shunagyi, then canceled his technique and began to turn away. She exhaled, letting the cheers and shouts from the crowd above wash over her for a brief moment before she, too, turned to leave. Bai Ning's eyes lingered on her friend, noting the tension in her shoulders, the quiet weight she carried. Yue Shuangyi had been the last representative of the Lord of the Lonely Roads in the tournament.

The pressure on her had been immense, even if they had never spoken of it aloud. But there was no time to dwell. Barely had a few moments passed when the dreaded announcement cut through the air: "Fu Zhan vs. Li Kang." Li Kang didn't hesitate. Without waiting for Yue Shuangyi to return to the box, he leapt from it, drawing his flying sword mid-air and gliding lightly toward the arena. Bai Ning caught her breath, frustration coiling in her chest, but she swallowed her warning.

She exchanged a quick, commiserating nod with Yue Shuangyi, who had just flown back into the box. Words would come later. Right now, they simply watched. A fight was about to begin. Fu Zhan descended more patiently, riding a red cloud from his own box. His Sanguine Blood Banner was already in hand, its pink wood catching the light and reflecting it almost prettily. He spun the banner expertly, twirling it in a way that made the cloth flutter and snap in the wind. The crowd erupted in cheers.

Bai Ning wanted to frown. She couldn't understand the adoration. Fu Zhan was a demonic cultivator, notorious for killing and torturing countless people. Yet ever since the tournament began, his popularity had only grown. At first, hushed whispers of his strength and brutality had circulated in awe or fear, but now, he was treated like royalty, almost as if he were Ancestor Qing's own heir. Remembering all the lives lost so far, and thinking of Yun Hanyue, a bitter ache coiled in Bai Ning's chest.

She could only hope that Li Kang would survive; that he would not become Fu Zhan's next victim.

"Begin." Fu Zhan's grin widened, and the banner in his hand pulsed, releasing a dense cloud of red mist that surged forward, nearly swallowing the arena whole. Almost, because the moment the announcement came, Li Kang drew a deep breath and shouted, "I forfeit." The words hung in the air for a heartbeat. The red mist rolled forward, thick and suffocating, smothering the ring completely, but then, with a sudden rush, it blew apart.

Fu Zhan remained where he had begun, face dark and stormy, as forbidding as a gathering thundercloud. Li Kang, meanwhile, was surrounded by a shimmering barrier, braced for battle, but as soon as the mist vanished, he shouted again, voice ringing clear: "I forfeit." The crowd froze. A beat later, disappointment erupted, a wave of boos and frustrated shouts crashing down from the stands. Li Kang's shoulders hunched under their weight, but he did not retract his words.

The announcer's voice carried the same note of reluctant resignation.

"Victor: Fu Zhan." Above in the box, Yue Shuangyi drew a quiet, relieved breath. Bai Ning allowed herself to relax as well. He had chosen the smart path after all. Down in the arena, Fu Zhan's expression remained hard and unyielding. He glared at Li Kang with the intensity of a predator denied its prey. A curl of disdain touched his lips, and without another word, he turned and flew back to his box, leaving the crowd to erupt in frustrated roars at the abrupt end. The announcer wasted no time.

"Ming Tailong vs. Bai Ning." Bai Ning hesitated, glancing back at Li Kang. Part of her wanted to stay, to offer some comfort, but Yue Shuangyi's hand on her shoulder stopped her. With a firm push, she said, "Go. I'll deal with Li Kang." Bai Ning nodded and leapt from the box, releasing her paper crane mid-air to carry her gracefully down to the ring. The wind of her descent swirled lightly around her, brushing her robes as she landed.

Opposite her, Ming Tailong set foot on the pale white stone of the arena, his flying boat vanishing instantly into its storage pouch the moment he touched the ground.

"Begin," came the announcer's voice. Bai Ning immediately summoned her tools: the Crimson Parasol in her left hand, the Green Karma Sword in her right, ready for the battle. She knew little about Ming Tailong beyond what she had gathered from questioning her friends and from pestering master Mo Jian. By all accounts, he was the least promising contestant remaining in the third round. Yet he had clawed his way this far through a mixture of talent, grit, and extraordinary luck.

His fight against Song Shaixue – the one she had missed – had apparently been a near thing. More importantly, it had exposed cracks in the alliance between Song Shaoyue and the mainland Song clan. Ming Tailong was theoretically fighting in her name, but at the same time, she was the woman responsible for the downfall of his family. Bai Ning had no idea how that had come about. Was he being coerced? Bribed? Willingly playing along? Who knew? It was due to that her first move was cautious.

She activated the barrier of the Crimson Parasol, surrounding herself in a crimson bubble of force and waited to see how he would strike. It was a mistake. Ming Tailong, tall and wiry, his close-cropped hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, raised a bandaged hand. A shout broke from him; defiance, pain, and determination rolled together in a single, resonant sound. Above his palm, a flicker of red and gold ignited.

For an instant, Bai Ning thought she saw a molten sun suspended in the air, impossibly vast and radiant, before it vanished, revealing instead a single, shattered piece of metal hovering above him. Even before the crushing spiritual pressure of the artifact slammed down upon her, Bai Ning knew what it was. She recognized it instantly.

The last time she had seen it had been at the Ming family auction: their grand item, the final prize of the auction – a shattered piece of the Celestial Furnace, the natal artifact of the legendary Nascent Soul cultivator of antiquity, Cai Cao. A shiver ran down her spine. This fight had just become far more dangerous than she had imagined.