Chapter 269 — The Maid and the Frost Sword

CHAPTER 269

The Maid and the Frost Sword

The practice ground beside the main court had been swept twice, and nobody could say who'd paid for the second sweeping.

Banners of three sects hung from the stands. The Valley's white petals stood on the left, Martial Palace's gold pillars on the right, and Artificer Hall's patched grey hammer in the middle, where the cloth had been mended so often it had more patches than cloth. About three hundred disciples crowded the benches. Hao Wen's nine inspectors sat in the back row, pretending to be elsewhere.

On the sand, Bai Chenxi drew her sword.

It was a long, narrow blade the colour of a frozen river, and the air around it turned white. She was a slender woman in a plain white robe with a cold, clear face, and her name was written on the Valley's honour board right under Ling Qingzhu's. The crowd quieted for her.

Across from her, Sima Lan drew a thin straight sword.

She wore the grey of the outer court, and her hair was bound back with a plain cord. She stood easily, with the blade low and her weight even on both feet.

“Great Liang's princess against the Valley's frost sword,” someone said. “Isn't she just a maid now? A fallen phoenix is worse than a chicken.”

“Outer court.”

“Bai Chenxi took fourth in the whole tournament!”

“Then why is the maid smiling?”

“She isn't smiling.”

“…”

“Begin,” He Zhen said from the dais, and lifted his brush.

Bai Chenxi moved first. She crossed the sand in four steps, and the sword came down in a clean white arc that left frost hanging in the air. Sima Lan did not block it. She stepped aside by the width of one hand, and the blade passed so close that the edge of her sleeve turned stiff and white.

The second cut came at once, low and fast. Sima Lan turned her wrist, touched the flat of it with her own blade and let it slide away.

Shi Feng sat in the Artificer Hall stand, beside Lin Langtian, who was eating a roasted bean per breath. He watched Sima Lan's feet.

Shi Feng thought, Four months ago she couldn’t have kept this pace. She knew the movements, but she lacked the strength to carry them through. Proper medicine had finally let her use what she’d learned.

“She's giving ground,” Gongsun Ce muttered from his other side.

“She's choosing it,” Shi Feng said.

Bai Chenxi attacked again, harder. Frost raced up the sand in lines. The first row of benches felt the cold and leaned back. Her blade flickered in six cuts, then nine, and each one drove Sima Lan a step toward the edge of the circle.

At the boundary line, Sima Lan stopped.

Her back foot was a finger's width from the rope. The frost reached her ankle and crawled up her boot. Bai Chenxi's sword hung over her shoulder, ready to fall.

“Yield,” Bai Chenxi said. “You've done well enough.”

“Have I?” Sima Lan said.

Then she moved.

Sima Lan cut a short circle through the frost instead of blocking the descending sword. The cold followed her blade and returned along Bai Chenxi’s steel. Bai Chenxi’s own qi struck back into her wrist, disrupting her next movement.

Bai Chenxi gasped. She tried to pull back, and Sima Lan stepped inside her guard, with the point of the thin sword resting exactly under her chin.

The ground went silent.

Bai Chenxi's sword had stopped, too. Its edge lay lightly against Sima Lan's collar, close enough to cut the cord on her robe. It had not cut it.

“Draw,” He Zhen said, and his brush shook. “A draw. Both blades at the throat.”

“A draw!”

“Sima Lan took Bai Chenxi to a draw?”

“The maid took Bai Chenxi to a draw!”

“She isn't a maid, she's a princess!”

“She's an outer-court disciple!”

“She's all three!”

“…”

Shi Feng picked a bean out of Lin Langtian's bag and ate it.

“A month of proper pills,” Lin Langtian said proudly, making sure the stand heard him. “Look what happens when someone finally feeds her properly! Those who laughed at her had eyes and failed to see Mount Tai!” He smiled as though every approving shout belonged to him.

“You haven't done anything,” Gongsun Ce said.

“I've done everything,” Lin Langtian said. “I introduced them.”

The women stepped apart. Bai Chenxi lowered her sword and tested her wrist. She was irritated by the draw, but she looked at Sima Lan with new respect. This outer-court disciple hadn’t survived by luck.

“Who taught you that?” Bai Chenxi said.

“Nobody,” Sima Lan said. “I spent four months stuck. I took notes.”

“Your pills are Artificer Hall's?” Bai Chenxi asked.

“They're sold at the gate,” Sima Lan said. “Ten percent fee. Thank you for asking.”

Sima Lan bowed as deeply as Bai Chenxi had and left the ground. She kept her head straight when she passed Shi Feng’s stand. She was pleased, though; she couldn’t quite suppress the small smile before walking on.

Across the ground, in the Valley stand, Ling Qingzhu had been sitting with her hands in her lap. Shi Feng did not look at her. He noticed that she was looking at Sima Lan, and that her thumb was pressing the bench.

Su Wanning was not looking at anyone. She was bouncing.

Then a deep voice came from the Martial Palace stand, and it cut across the noise.

“Next,” Yuan Kuang said.

He stood up, a broad man with a scar across the back of one hand. He wore a crimson Martial Palace robe with gold pillars down both sleeves and carried no ring, no bag and no jewellery of any kind. He did not look at the Valley's stand or at the draw-box. He looked at the Artificer Hall stand.

“Champion,” Yuan Kuang said.

“Yes?” Shi Feng said.

“Today,” Yuan Kuang said.