28: Chapter 28, 3 moves

"Qian Yutang is about to make a move!"

"Late Stage against Xiantian Peak? If this woman really has that cultivation base, we're in for a good show!"

"I bet she's bluffing, ten taels!"

"I'm in too! Twenty taels!"

You looked at Qian Yutang without answering immediately.

You were considering one thing: if you won, he would owe you a favor. The Qian Family was a prominent clan in Yunyang City; if anything unexpected happened during the Martial Arts Tournament, you might actually be able to use this favor to gain access to a Grandmaster Cultivation Technique.

"Fine," you said.

A flash of delight crossed Qian Yutang's eyes. He turned to the side and gestured with an inviting motion: "The center of the square, please."

The crowd automatically parted, forming a large circle.

You left Xiao Wang where it was and patted its tiger head: "Don't move, just watch."

Xiao Wang yawned and lay down, resting its tiger head on its front paws with a "do whatever you want" expression.

The crowd erupted with a roar.

"It's starting, it's starting!"

"Qian Yutang against that woman who claims to be at Xiantian Peak!"

"Go, go look!"

A crowd surged toward the open space of the martial arts square. Zhou Ruoxuan fanned herself with a round fan, a gloating smile on her lips: "Let's go see how this vixen gets slapped in the face."

Qian Yuzhu followed behind, pouting angrily, muttering: "Beat her to death, beat her to death..."

On the open ground of the martial arts square, you and Qian Yutang stood facing each other, three zhang apart.

The area was already surrounded by layer upon layer of people.

Qian Yutang drew the long blade from his waist, its edge flashing with cold light. He sank into a horse stance, and his Aura changed abruptly. The gentle and refined young man from a moment ago vanished, replaced by a Martial Artist with a sharp gaze.

"Miss, pardon me."

Your right hand rested on the sword hilt, but you did not draw the sword.

"You strike first."

Qian Yutang frowned slightly. Such words were either arrogant or... backed by real confidence.

He did not hesitate further. Pushing off the ground, he shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. His long blade slashed diagonally, the wind of the blade whistling, carrying the thick True Qi of a Late Stage, aiming straight for your left shoulder.

Fast.

But in your eyes, it was slow.

You turned to the side, the blade's edge grazing your clothing. Your right hand gripped the sword hilt and you drew the sword.

A flash of cold light erupted.

Frost Moon Sword Technique, First Form — Moon Rise.

The sword light was like the moon rising over the eastern mountain, neither hurried nor slow, yet omnipresent. Qian Yutang's pupils constricted—by the time he saw that sword light, the tip of the blade was already at his throat.

Instinctively, he blocked with his blade held horizontally.

Clang!

As the blade and sword met, a powerful force traveled along the blade. Qian Yutang's hand went numb, and he was forced to retreat two steps.

Before he could steady himself, the second sword strike arrived.

Frost Moon Sword Technique, Third Form — Frost Fall.

You skipped the second form entirely, because it wasn't needed.

The sword light suddenly accelerated, like frost descending upon the earth, silent yet covering everything. Qian Yutang felt as if his vision was filled with sword shadows; his blade technique couldn't even unfold, and he could only block passively.

One sword, two swords, three swords.

As the third sword fell, the long blade in Qian Yutang's hand flew from his grip, landing on the ground three zhang away with a clang, bouncing twice before rolling into the crowd.

Your sword tip stopped an inch from his throat.

The entire scene fell dead silent.

Three moves.

From drawing the sword to the end, a total of three moves.

Qian Yutang froze in place, his Adam's apple bobbing. He looked down at his empty right hand, then looked up at the cold glint at the tip of your sword. The expression on his face shifted from shock to a wry smile.

"...I lost."

You sheathed your sword and took a step back.

"I accept your concession."

The silence around them lasted for another two breaths, then, like a floodgate opening—

"Holy crap!"

"Three moves?! He beat Qian Yutang in three moves?!"

"She really is Xiantian Peak! No, that's not just a matter of being Xiantian Peak, that sword technique—"

"Qian Yutang is a Late Stage! A favorite to win this Martial Arts Tournament! He couldn't even take three moves?!"

"What is this woman's background?!"

The crowd erupted.

Zhou Ruoxuan's round fan had fallen to the ground at some point. Her face turned white then red, red then white, and finally, she chose to quietly shrink to the back of the crowd.

Qian Yuzhu was completely petrified, the words "beat her to death" stuck in her throat, unable to go up or down.

Qian Yutang flexed his numb right hand, took a deep breath, and bowed formally to you with cupped fists.

"Miss Lin's sword technique is divine; I am thoroughly convinced." He straightened up, his tone devoid of anger, instead carrying a trace of sincere admiration. "Regarding the condition we agreed upon, feel free to state it, Miss."

You looked at him.

"I'll keep that condition in mind for now," you said. "I'll come find you when I've decided."

Qian Yutang was stunned, then smiled: "Very well, I shall await your word at any time."

You turned and walked back to the registration desk.

The person behind the table had changed; it was now a middle-aged man in his forties who looked like a manager. He had clearly seen the sparring match just now, and his gaze toward you now held clear gravity.

"Senior Sister Lin Shuang, twenty-five years old, Xiantian Peak," he said as he picked up his brush, writing neatly stroke by stroke. "No School Legacy."

After finishing, he looked up at you: "Miss, the prefecture selection tournament begins in three days. Use this token to enter at that time."

He handed over a copper token with the words "Cheng Prefecture Martial Arts Tournament · Participant" engraved on it.

You took the copper token and turned to leave.

Xiao Wang climbed up from the ground, trotted to catch up with you, and rubbed its tiger head against the back of your hand.

Behind you, the crowd was still in an uproar.

"Her name is Senior Sister Lin Shuang! Remember that name!"

"Defeating Qian Yutang in three moves... This Martial Arts Tournament is going to be interesting."

"You say she really has no School Legacy? How could such a Genius be a Loose Cultivator?"

You did not look back.

As you walked out of the martial arts square, your gaze inadvertently swept across a teahouse on the other side of the street.

The second-floor window of the teahouse was half-open, and a person was looking down while holding a teacup.

The man was wearing a dark gold brocade robe. He was about thirty years old with a handsome face, but there was a sinister air between his brows. Behind him stood two men in gray, their Auras restrained—clearly experts at a glance.

Your footsteps did not falter, and your gaze only swept past.

But your heart skipped a beat.

That face.