Chapter 95:
Invitation

 

EARLY ONE MORNING, an unexpected visitor appeared at the foot of Mount Tai.

He ascended the mountain, sword in hand, his steps as light and graceful as if he were treading over flat ground. It wasn’t long at all before he was already halfway up the mountain, outside Bixia Sect’s gates.

Zhao Chiying was leading the disciples in sword practice when she heard the report from Fan Yuanbai, who was on duty. He said that someone had arrived from Qingcheng Mountain’s Chunyang Monastery and was currently waiting for her.

Bixia Sect and Chunyang Monastery had a fairly good relationship. They’d had many back-and-forth dealings, but as Bixia Sect waned and Chunyang Monastery grew, the friendship inherited from the previous generations gradually faded. Though Chunyang Monastery had never looked down on Bixia Sect’s lower status, the two were still separated by a vast distance. For example, when Bixia Sect experienced its previous crisis, distant waters couldn’t quench a close fire. If not for Shen Qiao dropping out of nowhere, it would’ve been far too late by the time Chunyang Monastery received the news and came to their aid.

News of happenings below the mountain trickled in bit by bit. Zhao Chiying didn’t know as much as Yan Wushi, but she had heard of Hehuan Sect and the Buddhist discipline’s rapid expansion. Bixia Sect was on a remote mountain, distant from imperial rule, so for the time being they could afford to pay attention to only themselves. But now Chunyang Monastery had sent someone to them, and that meant an urgent matter.

As she was thinking, the visitor was led inside by Fan Yuanbai.

His expression was frosty, his bearing dignified. His steps were steady, and even as he walked, the grip on his sword remained firm, without the slightest quiver.

It seemed that Chunyang Monastery had found its successor. Zhao Chiying sighed to herself—she was somewhat envious.

“Li Qingyu, disciple of Chunyang Monastery, greets Sect Leader Zhao.”

“So you’re Abbot Yi’s favorite disciple?” she said. “As expected of one of the Twin Jades of Qingcheng. Abbot Yi is truly fortunate!”

“Sect Leader Zhao is too kind.”

“I was in seclusion for a long time. Even though I’ve exited, I still haven’t had the chance to meet with Abbot Yi. I trust that his martial arts have scaled even greater heights?”

It was obvious that Li Qingyu wasn’t a martial artist accustomed to exchanging pleasantries. “To tell the truth, this one came as a messenger on behalf of Liuli Palace,” he said. “It regards the matter of the Sword Trial Conference.”

Sword Trial Conference?

Zhao Chiying and Yue Kunchi exchanged a glance.

“If I remember correctly, the Sword Trial Conference takes place once every ten years. Isn’t this only the ninth year?”

“That is so,” said Li Qingyu. “However, a few days ago, someone from Liuli Palace visited us, saying that they planned to hold it early and wished to use Chunyang Monastery as the venue. Shizun agreed, so I came to deliver the message and invite Sect Leader Zhao.”

Fangzhang Isle was an island, one that was impossible for most people to find. There was only one sect on that island: Liuli Sect. They were self-sufficient and rarely participated in the conflicts between the powers of the jianghu, yet they were also fond of making records of the Central Plains’ martial arts circles. For example, rankings like “The World’s Top Ten Martial Artists” that were so often discussed were created by none other than Liuli Palace. And they were also the ones who organized the once-a-decade Sword Trial Conference.

The disciples of Liuli Palace were neither impressive nor famous when it came to martial arts, but due to this tradition, members of the jianghu would still give them some face whenever they met. After all, that sect had little worth coveting, so there was no point in making a mortal enemy out of them. If someone was dissatisfied with the ranking, they could simply seek out the martial experts ranked ahead of them; there was no need to make things difficult for Liuli Palace.

If any great martial advancements happened within those ten years, the names on the next ranking would naturally change. As the saying went, “no first place among scholars, no second place among martial artists.” Martial arts wasn’t something you could obtain through deceiving others. Who was the true number one, who was stronger, those things could be determined at a glance. Even if two masters appeared to be equally matched, a single duel would be enough to distinguish victor and defeated, superior and inferior.

The Sword Trial Conference was where the jianghu rankings were determined. It happened once a decade, and invitations were sent out en masse. Anyone could participate to spar and test their skills. As Liuli Palace was in a remote area, they’d borrow a venue from a sect within the Central Plains and host it there. The sect in question could take the opportunity to bolster their reputation, so they’d naturally be willing.

As the ones in charge of the rankings, their insights were keen despite not being martially impressive themselves. Everyone trusted Liuli Palace’s rankings because they were almost always free of errors. Such as in the case of Qi Fengge, who did not participate in the Sword Trial Conference ten years ago despite still being alive at that point. Even so, he remained in first place, and it was seen as deserved—no one voiced any complaints.

Over the years, as Liuli Palace rose to fame, many rankings emerged one after another. They’d yet to hold another Sword Trial Conference since the likes of Qi Fengge and Cui Youwang passed. As the next ranking from Liuli Palace would take too long, people began making their own lists of “Top Ten Martial Artists.” Though Shen Qiao never used to show his face in the jianghu, they’d entered him into the rankings because he’d succeeded Xuandu Mountain. After he dueled Kunye and fell from the cliff in defeat, those busybodies also added Kunye and Yu Ai’s names.

But as Liuli Palace hadn’t created those rankings, many people’s hearts naturally surged in excitement and anticipation the moment news that Liuli Palace would hold the Sword Trial Conference emerged. Other than rankings like “The World’s Top Ten,” Liuli Palace created various other lists as well, such as those for swords and sabers. Since the sword was the king of all weapons, the land had a vast number of sword users, and “swordmaster rankings” also became the focus of many people’s attention.

True martial arts grandmasters who’d entered echelons occupied by Qi Fengge, Yi Pichen, and Buddhist Master Xueting didn’t need to use Liuli Palace’s rankings to bolster their own reputations. Their names being on the list or not didn’t affect their fame at all—the ranking was merely an extra touch, like embroidering flowers on extravagant brocade.

As for Shen Qiao, he couldn’t care less about these things. Even if he were still in charge of Xuandu Mountain, even if Yu Ai’s plot against him had yet to happen, he probably still wouldn’t have sent anyone to the Sword Trial Conference after receiving this news.

But exceptions aside, there were still many who needed to use Liuli Palace to boost their fame, and Liuli Palace also needed a way to validate their existence. Both parties benefited.

Zhao Chiying didn’t crave fame, but currently, Bixia Sect needed to recruit new disciples for their long-term development. If she or Yue Kunchi managed some achievements during the Sword Trial Conference, they’d gain a fair number of admirers who’d come forth to learn martial arts from them.

“I’m grateful to Abbot Yi for sending word to us about the conference,” she said, “Bixia Sect is so remote, if we waited for outside news to arrive by itself, I fear we wouldn’t have made it in time.”

“If Sect Leader Zhao has finished with her preparations, this one can accompany her there,” said Li Qingyu. “That way I can also assist you on your trip.”

“No sects you need to inform, Li-daoyou?”3

“Normally, Liuli Palace is responsible for informing sects across the land. But since Chunyang Monastery and Bixia Sect have always had a good relationship, Shizun had me come here. We heard that Bixia Sect suffered a crisis a while back. Because of the vast distance separating our sects, we were unable to offer our assistance in time. We hope that Sect Leader Zhao doesn’t hold it against us.”

As he was Yi Pichen’s personal disciple, his status was higher than normal. Rumors said that he was likely to inherit Yi Pichen’s mantle, making him Chunyang Monastery’s future leader. And when it came to martial arts, Zhao Chiying might even be a level below him. His personally coming here to deliver the news was already giving Bixia Sect more than enough face. Of course, Zhao Chiying knew this, so she treated Li Qingyu with great courtesy and didn’t face him with the attitude of a sect leader.

“I also know that distant waters cannot quench close fires,” she said, “so I didn’t wish to trouble Abbot Yi. I’m already deeply grateful that Abbot Yi remembered us regarding this matter. I’ll explain things to our disciples, then we can set out tomorrow. If Li-daoyou does not mind, you may stay here for tonight.”

Li Qingyu nodded. “Feel free to do as you wish, Sect Leader Zhao.”

But suddenly, he seemed to recall something. “May I ask Sect Leader Zhao? Shen Qiao, or Shen-daoxiong—is he also at Bixia Sect?”

 

Shen Qiao had planned to guide his disciples through sword practice that morning, but Yan Wushi invited him to spar at the mountain summit. Yan Wushi said that it had been a long time since he himself had practiced the sword, so he wanted to exchange a few moves with Shen Qiao. He even borrowed a sword from Yue Kunchi. But unexpectedly, Shen Qiao remembered something. “What happened to Taihua?” he asked. “You traded with Sang Jingxing for it that day.”

In the past, Yan Wushi had fought Cui Youwang and lost. His Taihua also fell into the other man’s hands, which was how it ended up with Cui Youwang’s disciple Sang Jingxing. But Yan Wushi was extremely arrogant. No matter how excellent the sword was, it was still a mere worldly possession, something separate from himself. If the enemy took it away, first it became a weakness that could be exploited, and second, it compounded the humiliation of defeat. So he’d decided to give up on the sword—instead he created the Spring Waters finger technique, unrivaled in all the world.

So, when he’d exchanged Shen Qiao for Taihua then, he hadn’t actually cared about the sword at all—he merely wanted to take the chance to humiliate Shen Qiao, to make him understand that he was worth less than a sword. That way, he expected, Shen Qiao would sink into a state of absolute despair over the human heart.

As for Taihua, after taking it back from Sang Jingxing, he instantly tossed it to Yu Shengyan without even a second glance.

Still, no matter how egotistical Yan Wushi was, he knew very well that he couldn’t speak these thoughts out loud or Shen Qiao’s current placidity toward him would be utterly annihilated.

Perhaps the Yan Wushi from back then had never expected that a day would come when he’d fall into a pit he’d dug himself…

Fortunately, Shen Qiao didn’t pursue the matter further but brushed it aside after asking that single question.

The two of them dueled on the mountain summit. After they had exchanged hundreds of blows, the sun peeked out, its golden rays spilling over the mountainside and illuminating their surroundings. Shen Qiao lost by a small margin, but it wasn’t because his swordplay was lacking—rather, his internal energy had yet to recover to its previous highest point. In contrast, with the help of the Zhuyang Strategy scroll, Yan Wushi had been able to repair the flaw within his demonic core in only three short months, and his skills had grown even greater. He’d indeed been blessed with heaven-given talents—they were awe-inspiring to behold.

Those endowed with extraordinary talents were always arrogant and ambitious, and they’d find it difficult to accept the existence of people who were even more gifted than themselves. But Shen Qiao didn’t have this issue—his temperament was mild, and he maintained a generous heart toward everyone and everything. Whenever he encountered a problem, he’d examine his own mistakes before blaming others. Now he sheathed his sword and straightened, then cupped his hands. “When my late master was still here, he once mentioned that Sect Leader Yan would be his equal within a few years. Sure enough, that has come true. This humble Daoist is grateful for your guidance—I have learned much.”

This was no empty flattery. He truly believed that Yan Wushi was stronger than he was, and thus his gratitude was sincere as well. He felt neither envy nor fury at his defeat: a win was a win, and a loss a loss. There was no need for other emotions like resentment or anger. To Shen Qiao, things were just that simple.

Yan Wushi thought that he could look at Shen Qiao’s earnest expression hundreds of times without growing bored. In the past, he’d wanted this man to fall into the pitch-black abyss, to hate and curse the world, but he now adored his warm and gentle heart with that same fervency.

He savored the other man’s expressions again and again, and smiled as he said, “A-Qiao, your words are far too distant considering our current relationship.”

What current relationship? Shen Qiao’s mouth twitched as he forced himself once again to endure an irrelevant remark from Yan Wushi. If he couldn’t stop himself from retorting, he knew that he’d be on the receiving end of another flood of twisted reasoning.

He silently lambasted him with “Zong Youli” several times but said, “It’s getting late. I should return to teach Shiwu and Qilang some swordplay.”

The two of them descended from the mountain summit, one after the other. The one in front walked with somewhat hurried steps while the one behind was neither fast nor slow. A consistent distance of five paces remained between them, which also reflected their current relationship.

The mood hovered between irreproachable and eerily ambiguous. Their relationship was like a snapped lotus root that, on closer inspection, remained still linked by dangling threads, heavy with words and feelings unvoiced.

When Shen Qiao returned to the grounds of Bixia Sect, he saw a man standing by his door. The person in question seemed to have also seen Shen Qiao walk toward him from afar, for a trace of a smile emerged on his cold, youthful countenance. It was an expression he hadn’t even shown in front of Zhao Chiying.

“It’s been a while, Shen-daoxiong.”