Chapter 773 — The Cage of Seals

CHAPTER 773

The Cage of Seals

Ji Yuanhe stood on the seconds’ step on Shi Feng’s side with a white towel in both hands.

“I said I’d have no second,” Shi Feng said.

“You did,” Ji Yuanhe agreed. “I won’t throw it. I’ll only hold it.”

Inspector Nie Liyan glanced down from the gallery, saw an old man with a towel, and turned another page. Apparently that satisfied the ring law.

Shi Feng went up the steps. The stone was still warm from Qu Ming’s fire, and the air above it shimmered.

Across the stage, Situ Jinghong drew the first of his brushes and bowed.

“Master Shi. Your arms,” Situ Jinghong said, with what sounded like real concern. “This Situ would understand if you’d prefer to yield.”

“You didn’t come here hoping I’d fight at full strength,” Shi Feng said, looking at the second brush. “Don’t pretend to worry about my arms.”

Situ Jinghong laughed softly. Ke Lianshu struck the gong.

Situ Jinghong didn’t attack. He lifted the brush and wrote in the air.

The stroke left a line of black ink hanging where it passed. Four strokes, five, and a whole character hung in front of him, as tall as a man and glowing faintly. It was the character for bar. Then the ink sank down and settled over the square of stage beneath it like a lid.

That was the Brush-and-Seal Art. Each seal locked the square it hung over, and whatever entered that square lost the use of its qi. Shi Feng had watched Situ Jinghong beat Qiao Wending with it, but Qiao Wending had stumbled at the start, and that bout had proved nothing.

Situ Jinghong wrote again, quickly this time, sweeping left and right. A long seal ran down the left edge of the stage. Another ran down the right. They were the same character, shore, and they sealed the stone right where it met the water.

Shi Feng understood at once. In the quarter-final, Riverless Step had taken him round Gu Yanxing’s spear along the stage edge, with the lake under his feet. Situ Jinghong had shut the water off before the first exchange.

“You watched my bout with Gu Yanxing,” Shi Feng said.

“Three times,” Situ Jinghong said. “Once from the gallery, and twice in my head.”

Shi Feng went straight in instead.

He crossed ten paces in one step and came in on Situ Jinghong’s right, where no seal hung yet. Situ Jinghong wrote one character in the air without looking: stop. It dropped in front of Shi Feng’s leading foot.

His foot came down inside the square. At once his leg went numb to the knee, and he could no longer move qi through it. He shifted his weight onto his other leg and dragged the trapped foot clear. Feeling returned slowly, prickling all the way up.

“Every square you step in is mine,” Situ Jinghong said. “Please be careful.”

Shi Feng drew the grey Sword and tried the seal itself.

Iron River Sword Art at Perfection moved force aside. It had turned Tang Mingyu’s beads, if not Gu Yanxing’s spear. But a seal had no force to turn. It didn’t push. It only held. The grey Sword went into the edge of the stop square and stuck there, as if the air had turned to glue. Shi Feng wrenched it free with both hands, and his blistered forearms split and began to bleed.

He used the Quiet Sleeve Art to hide his next step. It should have hidden where he meant to go. But the art lived in his sleeves, and there was hardly anything left of them. The torn cloth could no longer conceal the whole movement. Situ Jinghong saw his leading foot turn and dropped a seal where it would land. Shi Feng stopped short, annoyed with himself for relying on damaged sleeves.

Situ Jinghong began to write faster.

Seal after seal came down, one square at a time, closing in from the edges. Bar. Stop. Shore. Lock. The black characters hung over the stage in a neat grid, and the open stone between them grew smaller and smaller. Soon Shi Feng had four squares left to stand in. Then three.

“He’s writing a cage!”

“He’s a mouse in a bellows now!”

“The Prime Minister’s grandson writes like he’s drafting a memorial to the throne.”

“Peak Deity Transformation against a late Deity Transformation alchemist. What did anyone expect?”

“…”

On the seconds’ step, Ji Yuanhe was counting the seals. “Nineteen,” Ji Yuanhe said. “Twenty.”

Shi Feng kept his sword low in the last three open squares. Blood ran from his forearms onto the stone. He studied the gaps between the black seals rather than wasting another strike on their edges. Situ Jinghong had prepared for his usual techniques; forcing the same moves would only hurt his arms more.

“Yield, Master Shi,” Situ Jinghong said gently. “I’d hate to seal a 4 Mark’s hands. The capital needs them.”

“Yesterday you said you’d want nothing from me,” Shi Feng said.

“That was yesterday,” Situ Jinghong said.

He wrote one last character, very slowly, so the whole shore could read each stroke. Hold.

Then he flicked the brush, and the seal flew straight at Shi Feng’s chest.