Chapter 165 — Top Eight

CHAPTER 165

Top Eight

“Eight names,” Zhou Ke said, fixing the new board in place. “Don't crowd the passage.”

The candidates crowded it anyway.

Shi Feng stood far enough away to read without being pushed. His next opponent was Xiahou Lie. Beside them, Gongsun Ce faced Cao Zhenyu. Bai Chenxi would fight Tan He, and Gu Zhan drew Yuan Kuang.

The quarter-finals were settled.

Duan Yichen stood beside him, one hand still resting on his bruised ribs. The recovery pill had helped, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe a fresh injury vanished because he disliked it.

“Xiahou Lie,” Duan Yichen said. “He'll want you to hit him.”

“That's convenient,” Shi Feng replied.

“He might ask you to do it again,” Duan Yichen added.

“Then he should stay on the platform,” Shi Feng said.

The sabre user laughed quietly and checked the lower board. His own placement opponent was Qi Yuan. Sima Lan would face Han Zhuo, while Lu Ting drew Chu Ning and Cen Ruchen drew Zhou Yan.

Nobody could enter the final ten merely by pointing at the main bracket.

They still had work to do.

By afternoon, the surviving eight couldn't cross the waiting courtyard without receiving an invitation.

Yuan Kuang accepted Martial Palace's congratulations with the ease of someone who expected them. Gongsun Ce listened to He Zhen while checking the joint of a puppet's wrist. Bai Chenxi spoke quietly with Mu Shuyun beneath the shade.

Xiahou Lie asked whether the sect kitchens served enough meat.

Shi Feng found that the most useful question of the day.

Wei Chengyuan stopped him beside the outer gate. The Martial Palace delegate's late Golden Core aura was concealed, but the surrounding attendants stepped aside without needing a gesture.

“You've done well,” Wei Chengyuan said.

Shi Feng nodded politely.

“The tournament hasn't finished,” Shi Feng replied.

“Which is why it's sensible to think ahead,” Wei Chengyuan said. “Martial Palace rewards ability. Your sword deserves proper teaching.”

Shi Feng thought of the worn journal he'd returned to He Zhen. Xu Changhe's teaching already proved useful against stronger-looking opponents. He wasn't going to dismiss it because another sect wore finer robes.

“I'll decide when the choice is offered,” Shi Feng said.

Wei Chengyuan studied him.

“Don't assume an offer waits forever,” Wei Chengyuan said.

“Then don't wait for my answer today,” Shi Feng replied.

The delegate's smile thinned. He stepped aside, allowing the young cultivator to pass.

Duan Yichen waited beyond the gate with a small paper bag of food.

“You refuse powerful people very calmly,” Duan Yichen said.

“I answered a question,” Shi Feng replied.

“He might not think so,” Duan Yichen said.

“Then he'll have something to consider,” Shi Feng answered.

The sabre user offered him a steamed bun. Shi Feng took one and asked about the ribs rather than Martial Palace.

“They'll hold,” Duan Yichen said. “The placement match isn't going to fight itself.”

“Don't ask them to hold a spear again,” Shi Feng replied.

Duan Yichen looked offended, then began laughing before the first bite.

He stopped when Shi Feng pointed at the angle of his wrist.

“Your second cut was good,” Shi Feng said. “You kept turning after it missed.”

“I wanted to recover the weight,” Duan Yichen replied.

“You offered him your side,” Shi Feng said. “Next time, stop the wrist first. Move your feet before pulling the whole blade back.”

Duan Yichen tried the motion with an empty hand. His expression became serious.

“That would've saved the ribs,” Duan Yichen said.

“Some of them,” Shi Feng replied.

The sabre user grinned and repeated the movement once more before finishing the bun. He wasn't too proud to use advice that made sense.

He Zhen found Shi Feng near the inn later that day. The Artificer Hall delegate carried no great gift box, only a folded note and a wooden brush case.

“Xu Changhe's things are safely packed,” He Zhen said.

“Good,” Shi Feng replied.

“The sect will want the location when we return,” He Zhen added.

“I marked it,” Shi Feng said. “You already have the account.”

He Zhen nodded. He didn't ask the young man to swear lifelong service because a dead elder's journal changed hands.

That improved Shi Feng's opinion of him.

“You don't have to choose us because of him,” He Zhen said.

“I know,” Shi Feng replied.

The delegate looked relieved, though a little disappointed. He'd come prepared to say something difficult and found no argument waiting.

Then he noticed the alchemist's new certification token.

“Golden Core medicine at your age,” He Zhen said. “That will make the other invitations louder.”

“It won't make the medicine refine itself,” Shi Feng replied.

He Zhen smiled and left the folded note. It listed the quarter-final time and the official rest period. Nothing about it promised a divine sword or a fortune.

Shi Feng put it away with the other tournament papers.

Gu Zhan didn't notice the invitation waiting beside his door.

He thrust the spear forward, stopped it an inch from the wall, and drew it back. The motion was so direct that a nervous inn servant moved the water jug away before being asked.

Wei Chengyuan stood in the courtyard for three whole thrusts before clearing his throat.

“Gu Zhan,” Wei Chengyuan said.

The spear user turned with obvious interest.

“Do you fight?” Gu Zhan asked.

Wei Chengyuan paused.

“I'm a Martial Palace delegate,” Wei Chengyuan replied.

“That doesn't answer it,” Gu Zhan said.

From beneath the awning, Nie Wufeng laughed into his tea. The old master wore a plain robe and sat with one leg stretched across a second stool.

“Answer him,” Nie Wufeng said. “He'll keep asking otherwise.”

Wei Chengyuan looked from the old man to the one-eyed young cultivator.

“Martial Palace has excellent teachers,” Wei Chengyuan said.

“Good!” Gu Zhan replied. “Do the disciples fight them?”

“Under proper instruction,” Wei Chengyuan said.

“How often?” Gu Zhan asked.

The delegate began explaining a training schedule. Gu Zhan's attention drifted toward his own spear before the second sentence ended.

Nie Wufeng covered another laugh with the cup.

“Tell him after tomorrow,” Nie Wufeng said. “Right now, Yuan Kuang is the only lesson he'll listen to.”

Gu Zhan nodded enthusiastically and returned to the thrust.

Wei Chengyuan stood aside before the spearhead passed his sleeve. The courtyard servant picked the invitation up and placed it safely beneath the water jug.

For once, a Great Sect's offer was mostly useful for keeping paper from blowing away.