Chapter 270 — The Invoice and the Knee

CHAPTER 270

The Invoice and the Knee

“He has no ring,” Zhu Liu whispered. “Senior Brother Shi, he has no ring on him. Rule three says losers leave their rings.”

“I know what rule three says,” Shi Feng said.

“And rule four says rule three is legal,” Zhu Liu said.

“I know that too,” Shi Feng said.

They stood at the edge of the sand, with the benches roaring behind them. Across the ground, Yuan Kuang waited with his arms hanging at his sides. His crimson robe was tied tight, and nothing hung from his belt. Elder Qu Jiang, Martial Palace's senior, sat in the stand with a small storage ring on a cord around his own neck.

“He left it with his elder,” Lin Langtian said, leaning over the rope with a bean in his cheek. “Clever boy. A man with nothing to take can't be taken from.”

“Can he?” Shi Feng said.

“Anyone can,” Lin Langtian said. “You just have to find something else. The monk can run, but the temple can't.”

Shi Feng stepped onto the sand.

Yuan Kuang had reached half-step Golden Core since the tournament. His qi pressed heavily over the sand. The spectators knew the reports and expected him to prove the gap between that realm and late Foundation Establishment.

“Late Foundation Establishment,” Yuan Kuang said. His voice came out low and rough. “Last I heard.”

“Last you heard,” Shi Feng agreed.

“Hm,” Yuan Kuang said.

“Begin,” He Zhen said.

Yuan Kuang walked forward and punched.

It wasn't a clever punch. It was a straight fist, thrown from the hip with all the weight of his body behind it, and the air folded in front of it with a flat boom. Shi Feng lifted his arm and took it on the forearm.

The sand shattered under his boots. He slid six paces backward, and a crack of pain ran up his arm to the shoulder.

“He's alive!” someone shouted.

“It's Martial Palace's Pillar-Splitting Fist!”

“That should have broken his arm!”

“…”

[Devoured: Yuan Kuang's fist | Gain: small | Note: heavy]

Shi Feng drew his plain knife.

Iron River came easily. He stepped inside the next punch, turned the knife, and the first of the three cuts opened Yuan Kuang's sleeve from elbow to wrist. A thin line of red followed. Yuan Kuang looked down at it, grunted and ignored it.

Yuan Kuang kept his elbows in, knees together, and guard low. He didn’t lunge after Shi Feng’s retreat. Each time the champion reached toward his sleeve, Yuan Kuang’s eyes tracked the movement. He’d prepared for the Slag Weight and the dirty trick.

He's read the reports, Shi Feng thought. The Slag Weight. And the other thing.

The nine inspectors in the back row leaned forward, because they had read the reports too.

For ten breaths they traded blows. Yuan Kuang took the knife on his arms and gave back fists that cracked the ground. Each time Shi Feng found a gap, the guard closed it. Each time he reached for his sleeve, the guard dropped lower. Martial Palace's stand grew louder.

“Look at him! He can't touch him!”

“He doesn't dare use the weight!”

“Where's the dirty trick? Where is it?”

On the Artificer Hall bench, Gongsun Ce had a hand over his mouth. A small black notebook lay open on his knee.

Shi Feng stepped back. He let the knife drop an inch. He took the Slag Weight from his sleeve and, in plain view of two hundred people, threw it high.

Yuan Kuang's eyes went up.

Yuan Kuang glanced up at the spinning ingot. Shi Feng moved at once, keeping his knife low. His left hand darted in before his knee drove upward. The gap in Yuan Kuang’s attention was brief, but long enough.

Later, nobody in the stands agreed on exactly what it was. Everyone agreed on the sound.

Yuan Kuang opened his mouth without making a sound. His hands went slack and his knees folded. He sank carefully onto the sand. Beside him, the Slag Weight landed and rolled against his boot. Nobody cheered.

The ground went completely silent.

“Winner,” He Zhen said, very faintly, “Artificer Hall.”

“…”

“…”

“I told you,” a Martial Palace disciple whispered. “I told you he'd guard the front.”

“It wasn't the front!”

“Then where was it?”

“Don't ask!”

Shi Feng picked up the Slag Weight, put it back into his sleeve and took a folded sheet from his belt. He had written it that morning in his own hand. He walked to the Martial Palace stand and held it out to Elder Qu Jiang, who took it with two fingers.

“Lesson fee, sixty stones,” Shi Feng said. “Ground wear, five. Medicine for the guided, fifteen. Total eighty.”

“Eighty?” Qu Jiang said.

“Spars are friendly,” Shi Feng said. “Injuries are billed. Rule two.”

Qu Jiang's long grey beard twitched. He looked at the sheet, then at the benches full of smiling Valley disciples, and then at the ring hanging around his own neck. As the saying goes, a mute eating bitter herbs cannot speak of the taste.

“…Pay it,” Qu Jiang said, through his teeth.

Shi Feng thought, He left his ring with the elder, but his sect still has to answer for him. Lin Langtian had been right: there was something else to take.

Zhu Liu wrote: Received, eighty, from Martial Palace. Witness: the whole ground.

“Trash!” Hou Ping roared.

He vaulted over the rope in Martial Palace crimson. He had come down from the back benches, pale and furious, with a sword in his hand.

“Yuan Kuang was careless!” Hou Ping shouted. “But this Hou Ping has Brother Yuan Kuang behind him! Give me back my stones, trash!”

Every head turned to Yuan Kuang, who was still sitting on the sand. He raised one finger, slowly, in tired agreement.

“Which stones?” Shi Feng asked.

“The ones from Duanyang!” Hou Ping said. “Forty stones!”

“I remember,” Shi Feng said. “You kicked the table over. You still owe five.”

Hou Ping charged. Shi Feng stepped inside the cut and repeated himself exactly. The second one took less time than the first. Afterward Hou Ping sat on the sand beside Yuan Kuang, and the two of them gazed at the same patch of sky.

“Same bill, Hou Ping,” Shi Feng said. “With a group rate.”

Gongsun Ce was already writing in his notebook, very small. He came down the stand steps and held out a puppet core wrapped in cloth, without looking up.

“I bet on Yuan Kuang,” Gongsun Ce said. “For the ledger.”

“I know,” Shi Feng said.

“He read the reports,” Gongsun Ce said. “He was supposed to win this one!”

“He read the wrong reports,” Shi Feng said, and took the core.