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Xue Thirteen was very famous, famous throughout the world. Anyone who knew anything about the younger generation of the martial world would know this strange yet extraordinarily memorable name first. Old Master Liu was also well known for his appetite for fame throughout Wangxian County. He had enough money to spend, had tasted all a woman had to offer, and had even changed his name to Liu Wuqiu, "Liu Without Seeking"—yet he simply could not let go of the word "fame."
To a man who loved fame, seeing such an outstanding young martial artist was no different from a lecherous man receiving a handwritten letter from the courtesan Xue Tao of Lou Wai Lou.
Within seven days, another pavilion had risen beside Old Master Liu's residence. It was only because Xue Thirteen came from Jiangnan Circuit. Though this place had already entered the north, where the architecture was rough and rugged, he had forcibly imitated the delicate beauty of Jiangnan Circuit. Pavilions and courtyards stood amid flowers transplanted overnight in full bloom, their grace and beauty captivating.
Xue Thirteen led Wang Anfeng into the pavilion that made the young man stare wide-eyed. He first sent him into a side room, then brought over a set of clothes and said with a smile, "I haven't worn these clothes yet. Change into them first; I'll wait outside. Just leave your old clothes here for now. We can come back for them when we leave."
Wang Anfeng took them. They were a complete set of martial attire, with a waist sash, leg bindings, and wrist guards, not one thing missing. Their texture was dense and firm to the touch; a punch would probably lose some of its force against them. There was also an outer robe, its front left open. Worn over the rest, it added two measures of refined elegance to the heroic spirit of a wandering knight.
The inner martial attire was a pale blue, like the distant sky, while the outer robe was ink-blue. Both were colors Wang Anfeng liked. He had no idea how Xue Thirteen had guessed that, but several people were waiting for him, so he changed into the martial attire swiftly and neatly. He folded the blue short jacket, wrapped everything together, placed it on the table, and hurried out.
Before he could leave, he heard an aged voice sighing:
"My old master wasn't like this in his younger days. I still remember that when he was young, he was even honored in the martial world as the Tiger of Wangxian..."
"If not for—if not for Miss Su..."
Just as Wang Anfeng pushed open the door, the voice abruptly cut off, turning into a sigh. Outside, Xue Thirteen was chatting with a gray-clad old man. At the sound, both turned their heads together, happening to see Wang Anfeng stepping out. Xue Thirteen's eyes brightened slightly. He lightly tapped his folding fan against his palm and said with a smile:
"Jade hidden in piled stone, pines standing in rows like emeralds; the bearing of a dragon and the posture of a phoenix, born with natural grace."
"Anfeng, you finally have a little of a Young Hero's bearing now."
The old man's eyes brightened as well. After looking Wang Anfeng up and down, he bared a row of large yellow teeth, raised a thumb, and chuckled.
"What a handsome young gentleman. This old fellow is blessed three times over. First came the Xue Family's young master, and now another Young Hero. Just seeing you young people of the new generation has made these old eyes so much brighter."
Wang Anfeng's face burned. He mumbled, at a loss for words. The old man had lived for decades, and his skill at reading people had long since reached perfection. He chuckled again and said:
"You two Young Heroes, it's nearly time. Why not go take a look at the martial arena? This Phoenix Banquet only comes around once every five years. There's no need to waste your time talking to an old fellow like me who's almost in his coffin."
Xue Thirteen smiled faintly and clasped his fists.
"Then the two of us will take our leave, Old Sir."
"Go on, go on."
Wang Anfeng also clasped his fists toward the old man, then went with Xue Thirteen to find Xiahou and Huangfu. Naturally, those two were full of astonishment at Wang Anfeng's appearance now. In terms of looks and bearing alone, Xue Thirteen was mild, Xiahou Xuan refined, and Huangfu Xiong unrestrained—each possessed grace of the highest order in the human world. As Xiahou Xuan put it, they were the kind of charming seeds who could make the old madams in brothels flutter with spring fever and even melt the hearts of iron-hearted women.
Wang Anfeng naturally could not compare with them, but he possessed a clean, scholarly air that none of the three had. His features were quiet and pure. Before, his ordinary clothes and complete lack of adornment had naturally suppressed that air. Now that he had changed his outfit, he truly resembled a breath of fresh wind, making anyone who looked at him feel wonderfully at ease.
Since the appointed hour had arrived, the four youths set off at full speed, heading straight for the martial arena at the heart of the manor—the place now watched by all.
It seemed Old Master Liu had decided to vent the frustration he had swallowed in his younger days after growing old. The martial arena was enormous, almost large enough for ten people to fight at once. Young martial heroes and noble daughters of aristocratic clans stood all around it, their eyes shining as they watched the two combatants within. One was a youth with his hair tied up, dressed in a long robe, clear-eyed and extraordinary in bearing, holding a wooden sword.
His opponent was a tall peer of his age, with bold features and fierce punches. He completely ignored wherever the sword pointed, apart from his eyes and nose—vital spots among vital spots—letting the other attack as he pleased. When the wooden sword struck him, it merely seemed to scratch an itch. Instead, the swordsman's vital points were seized, and a punch came crashing down. In only a short while, the sword-wielding youth's condition worsened. At last, his opening was caught. The tall youth rushed forward, roared, and, like a black bear crashing into a tree, slammed him away with his shoulder.
"Good! Good fist techniques! Good External martial arts!"
"Impressive!"
A wave of praise suddenly erupted beneath the arena, interspersed with several delicate sighs. Xiahou Xuan glanced over and sneered softly.
"His fist techniques are nothing special. He's merely thick-skinned and tough."
Huangfu Xiong, however, seemed rather appreciative of the man.
"He uses his strengths against his opponent's weaknesses and fights openly and honorably. That alone makes him no ordinary man."
Wang Anfeng watched the tall, broad youth gloating on the arena, his eyes brightening slightly. Seeing this, Xue Thirteen chuckled and said, "If you're interested, why not go up and display your fists? If you win one match on this arena, you should be able to obtain an Eighth-grade weapon. If you're bold enough, taking a Cultivation technique would be perfectly normal too."
"This..."
Wang Anfeng was somewhat tempted, but then he looked at the three youths around him.
"You're not going up?"
Huangfu Xiong froze for a moment, then burst into loud laughter. He pointed at Xiahou Xuan, then at Xue Thirteen, teasing them repeatedly.
"Who would have thought? Who would have thought? Xue Thirteen, Xiahou, who would have thought the three of us would become the ones being worried about? How interesting, how interesting..."
Wang Anfeng paused, then hurriedly explained:
"No... That's not what I meant..."
Huangfu Xiong waved his hand broadly and laughed. "Of course I know. It's just that with profit before your eyes, thousands watching, and delicate young ladies gazing from the sidelines, you're still thinking others should yield to one another? You're far too honest, hahaha! Truly, truly, this is something I've never seen in my life, so I found it amusing. Anfeng, don't take it to heart, don't take it to heart, hahaha..."
He said not to take it to heart while laughing uproariously. Xiahou Xuan lightly tapped his fan against his forehead. With so many young ladies watching them, his bearing and appearance were refined to the extreme as he explained gently:
"The meaning of 'young phoenix' is that it has yet to soar into the sky and dance. This arena is prepared for newcomers who have yet to make a name for themselves in the martial world. First, none of us are people of Wangxian; second, it would not be in accordance with the rules."
Wang Anfeng was slightly stunned. Only then did he understand. A blazing battle intent rose in his eyes as he looked at the tall youth on the arena and lightly struck his fists together.
"Then leave this man to me."
But just then, the Buddhist beads beneath his sleeve suddenly sent a surge of heat through him, making his expression freeze. Something then fell straight down—a tiny brocade pouch. Wang Anfeng was still puzzled when Huangfu Xiong spread his five fingers. A surging current of force pulled the object from the ground directly into his hand. He examined it twice and asked in surprise:
"What is this thing, Anfeng?"
Wang Anfeng touched the Buddhist beads around his wrist.
"It seems... It seems to belong to my master?" There was some uncertainty in his voice. Hearing this, Huangfu Xiong immediately pressed down his curiosity and held it out.
"Since it belongs to your sect, you should keep it safe."
But the moment it touched Wang Anfeng's palm, the brocade pouch silently crumbled into dust. The three young men from aristocratic clans froze slightly, while a sheet of paper remained completely unharmed and drifted lightly into Wang Anfeng's palm. The fragrance of sandalwood on it brought peace and stillness to the heart, but the line of ink written across it was fiercely domineering. Xiahou Xuan's eyes shifted slightly, and he read it aloud.
"Fight consecutive matches on the arena until no one dares to challenge you. Otherwise, your Dantian's Internal force will be sealed, and you will break one hundred Eighth-grade wooden weapons barehanded and carry ten thousand jin of water."
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