Chapter 138 — White Crane's Chief Disciple

CHAPTER 138

White Crane's Chief Disciple

Xie Wenyuan bowed from the opposite side of the platform.

“White Crane Pavilion, Xie Wenyuan,” Xie Wenyuan said. “Please advise me.”

“Great Liang, Shi Feng,” Shi Feng replied.

Shi Feng returned the courtesy and looked at the stone beneath his boots. A white line marked the boundary three steps behind Xie Wenyuan. Beyond it stood the referee, Zhou Ke, and a short stair leading into the candidates' passage.

There was no need to break anything expensive.

Xie Wenyuan drew his sword. Its narrow blade carried a pale green gleam, better workmanship than Shi Feng's plain weapon. His stance was balanced, with the left foot light enough to turn in either direction.

A proper swordsman. Shi Feng could acknowledge that without pretending they were evenly matched.

In the White Crane seats, Han Zheng leaned toward the railing. Lu Qingxue sat beside two other disciples, hands resting together over her knees. She recognized the simple sword and the face above it. The cultivation beneath that face still seemed difficult to accept.

The boy dismissed at Qingshi stood at mid Foundation Establishment.

Zhou Ke lowered his hand.

“Begin,” Zhou Ke said.

Xie Wenyuan stepped forward. His blade drew three green lines through the air, each aimed to force a different response. The first threatened Shi Feng's sword wrist, the second his shoulder, and the third the space he would enter if he retreated to the left.

Shi Feng didn't retreat.

He caught the first line on the lower half of his sword and turned his wrist. Turning Wave guided the narrow blade across his body. Xie Wenyuan felt the contact change, tried to recover, and found that his arm was already travelling too far to the right.

A quiet push of qi reached him through the blades.

His stance broke.

Xie Wenyuan stepped back to regain balance. Shi Feng followed one pace, keeping the swords joined, then let the pressure turn outward. It lifted the chief disciple cleanly from the stone and carried him over the white line.

Xie Wenyuan landed on both feet outside the platform.

His sword was still in his hand. His robes weren't torn. The next breath he took was the first one he had found time to take since attacking.

Zhou Ke looked at the boundary, then at Shi Feng.

“Shi Feng wins,” Zhou Ke announced.

The first cheering came late.

“Already?”

“That was White Crane's chief disciple!”

“Wait—Shi Feng of Great Liang? Isn't he the Qingshi boy whose meridians White Crane Pavilion declared ruined when Lu Qingxue broke off their marriage?”

“Ruined? He just threw White Crane's chief disciple over the boundary with one turn of his wrist!”

“Look at Steward Han Zheng's face in the White Crane row!”

Xie Wenyuan looked down at his sword. A small tremor ran through the blade before he steadied it. His right wrist hurt slightly, but nothing had been damaged.

That made the result clearer, rather than easier to bear.

Shi Feng had chosen where he landed.

Xie Wenyuan sheathed his sword and bowed again.

“I lost,” Xie Wenyuan said. “Thank you for controlling the last push.”

“Your opening was clear,” Shi Feng replied. “I found the return before you completed it.”

Xie Wenyuan nodded slowly. He had expected an insult or a smug explanation. The short answer gave him something useful to check later.

Zhou Ke opened the exit passage. Shi Feng put away his sword and stepped down. There was no wound to treat and no need to stand in the middle while people decided what they thought of him.

In the White Crane seats, Han Zheng's hand tightened around the rail.

“Wenyuan was careless,” Han Zheng said.

Lu Qingxue looked at the platform, where the attendants were already checking the next pair's names.

“He wasn't careless,” Lu Qingxue said. “He was moved.”

Han Zheng turned toward her. The other disciples suddenly found the empty platform very interesting.

“Everyone can make a mistake,” Han Zheng said.

Lu Qingxue didn't argue further. A mistake didn't explain why Shi Feng could place another mid Foundation Establishment swordsman beyond the boundary without hurting him.

White Crane had called him finished. Han Zheng had made that judgment sound certain before half a town.

The cheering below reached their seats again.

Certainty had become a difficult thing to hold.

Duan Yichen waited near the drinking water when Shi Feng returned. The sabre user had already won his own match, judging by the attendant's fresh stamp on his plate.

“That was quick,” Duan Yichen said.

“I had a clear boundary,” Shi Feng replied.

Duan Yichen looked at him, then laughed.

“I watched your feet,” Duan Yichen said. “You didn't need the boundary.”

Shi Feng took a cup of water. He didn't explain how much less he had needed it than the other man imagined.

“You're through?” Shi Feng asked.

“My opponent kept trying to knock the sabre aside,” Duan Yichen said. “It weighs more than he thought.”

The man's tone held satisfaction without a demand for admiration. Shi Feng found it easy enough to stay beside him while the next contestants entered.

A porter arrived with a basket of clean cups. Duan Yichen shifted his heavy weapon out of the narrow path before the porter asked. Shi Feng noticed the small movement. Manners showed more clearly there than in a bow made before crowded stands.

Xie Wenyuan appeared at the passage entrance with a White Crane attendant. He paused when he saw Shi Feng, then raised his hand in brief acknowledgment.

Shi Feng returned it.

The chief disciple went to his sect without inventing a grievance over a fair loss.

“He looks less angry than his steward,” Duan Yichen said.

“He's the one who actually fought,” Shi Feng replied.

From the delegates' seats, He Zhen wrote a short line beside Shi Feng's name. Mu Shuyun watched the next contestants approach, while Wei Chengyuan continued speaking to a visiting official.

One clean first-round win hadn't stopped the tournament.

Shi Feng preferred that. He could sit beneath the awning and watch how the remaining candidates moved. He wanted to know the common standard here, how the officials handled close boundaries, and which weapons the better fighters trusted.

Lu Qingxue came down the steps with a folded cloth in her hand. She paused beside the drinking water until Shi Feng looked toward her.

“You left this beside your cup,” Lu Qingxue said.

Shi Feng recognised the plain furnace cloth.

“Mine,” Shi Feng replied, his voice softening with quiet courtesy as he accepted it. “Thank you for bringing it down. The glare off the lower rail is sharp this afternoon—keep to the shaded row if you're watching the next pair.”

“I will,” Lu Qingxue said, pausing a breath longer. “Wenyuan said he landed exactly where you wanted. He's gone to check the first turn again.”

“He fought properly,” Shi Feng said mildly. “He'll find something useful in it.”

Lu Qingxue nodded and went back toward White Crane's seats. Shi Feng put the cloth away, glanced across the steps where Ling Qingzhu stood, gave her only a brief, silent nod, and turned to the next platform.

Ling Qingzhu had seen all of it.

She stood beneath the opposite stair with her white veil in place. He had offered Lu Qingxue an easy, unguarded warmth, yet when his eyes met hers across the passage, he had spared only a cool nod.

She remembered how evenly he now said Fairy Ling. He could speak gently to a former fiancée because no recent mistrust stood between them, while the quiet care Ling Qingzhu remembered from their home in Qingliu Lane was gone. She couldn't stop wondering whether the same calm distance explained his manner toward her.

The thought frightened her more than anger would've.

She lowered her eyes before he turned toward the stands.

The bell rang for another completed match.

Shi Feng rested his hand on his ordinary sword and watched a one-eyed youth retrieve his spear from the broken stone. The youth looked delighted.

That might be worth watching.