Tournament (4)

The fierce battle on the arena stage continued.

Tan Yin's offensive was razor-sharp. Wang Rong failed to dodge in time, and the sword's edge grazed the side of his neck, shearing off a lock of hair along with half of his faded hair ribbon.

The stone bead at the end of the ribbon collided with the blade. Stained by the blood on its edge, it bounced and rolled to the ground. Tan Yin's sword momentum suddenly stalled—the bead, polished from a leftover corner of bluestone, was one he had personally strung onto the ribbon as a child.

It was also a token he had given a lost boy long ago.

Memories surged in like a tide. The image of a child clutching a shattered jade pendant and crying until he hiccupped, his eyes full of helplessness and terror, gradually overlapped with the face before him, twisted into something savage by fury and madness.

Yet the man before him was clearly the enemy who had sabotaged his marriage prospects time and again, leaving him to be mocked by others.

"You... could it be..." Tan Yin's lips trembled slightly. The words reached his mouth, only to seem caught there by some invisible force.

At that moment, Tan Yin recognized the hair ribbon, and countless emotions churned within him.

He was shocked by the change in the person before him, and still retained the faintest attachment to their past bond. Yet reason told him that this person was no longer the child he had once known. He had to give it everything he had.

But the emotion vanished in a flash. The hand gripping his sword, which had slackened slightly in shock, hesitated for only an instant before tightening once more.

Wang Rong did not miss the shift in his expression. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The madness in his eyes had not faded, but a few more traces of obsessive stubbornness had appeared. "Ha. So I was just worrying over nothing."

A bitter, self-mocking smile touched his lips. Over the years, he had secretly hoped countless times that the other man would remember him. Yet whenever night deepened and all fell quiet, he would be filled with unease again. If Tan Yin truly remembered, what sort of gaze would he turn on the man Wang Rong had become?

Only now did he suddenly realize that it had all been his own wishful thinking, his own misplaced affection.

Yes, Tan Yin had remembered. But to Tan Yin, it had merely been a child he had helped out of a momentary kindness in his youth. How much sentiment could that possibly have left in his heart?

Besides, that innocent, adorable child had long since become an arrogant, rude man who targeted him at every turn.

In truth, Wang Rong understood that this was not Tan Yin's fault.

It was only that whenever he thought of the past and looked again at the present situation, he found the former self who had clutched that brief chance encounter to his chest like a rare treasure, unwilling to let it go, laughable beyond measure.

Things had reached this point. He no longer wanted to think about all those tangled thoughts. His heart hardened, and he made up his mind: no matter what, he would make Tan Yin leave this match.

"Keep going." Wang Rong shook seven or eight rune stones from his sleeve, sending them floating around him. Each gave off a dangerous gleam. "Is this all the chief disciple of the Heavenly Sword Sect can do?"

On the arena stage, thick with the scent of gunpowder, the battle between the two grew ever fiercer. Everyone below was infected by the tense atmosphere. They barely dared breathe, staring fixedly at the pair onstage as though afraid of missing a single thrilling moment.

Shen Yuxi had originally watched the match on the arena with an indifferent expression, his features as cold as frost, as though nothing in the world could enter his eyes. Even with the battle raging fiercely onstage, not even the corner of his eye had stirred.

However, Wang Rong's increasingly strange state on the arena was like a key that abruptly pried open the gates of his memory. "Wang Rong, Wang Rong... Wang Rong and Tan Yin? Damn! It's actually them!"

The people of the Profound Heaven Sect stared intently at the two combatants locked in an inseparable fight, while secretly glancing at Shen Yuxi from the corners of their eyes. They all thought the same thing. You know again?

"Damn, this pair's popularity had once surpassed several ships involving the senior brothers while the series was still being serialized. They shot straight into the top three of the rankings! They were minor supporting characters from the early arcs, with barely any plot, so I almost forgot there was even this whole thing with them!"

Shen Yuxi clicked his tongue inwardly. His thoughts were wholly occupied by the sudden recollection as he struggled to piece together every detail concerning the two of them, all while lamenting to himself.

"Ugh, this memory of mine. I almost completely forgot such an incredible CP. If the fans found out, they'd beat me to death."

Everyone was utterly bewildered. We don't understand many of those words, but in short, it means they're amazing?

"Speaking of their love-hate saga, it really had more twists and turns than nine bends and eighteen curves.

When they were children, they had met once. Back then, Wang Rong had still been a little chubby bun who got lost in the mountains. Out in that desolate wilderness, night fell, then heavy rain began to pour, frightening him into wailing at the top of his lungs.

Fortunately, by some stroke of fate, he met Tan Yin. Seeing the little fellow looking so pitiful, Tan Yin felt a flicker of compassion. He led him to the main road, then waited quietly beside him there. Only after a long while did Wang Rong's family finally arrive to rescue him.

Little Wang Rong fell in love at first sight with that dependable older brother. His heart and eyes were filled to the brim with Tan Yin's kindness."

As Shen Yuxi narrated inwardly, he could not help sighing. "Tsk, tsk. As the saying goes, you can't just pick up men from the roadside. Who would have thought a single encounter in childhood could lead to so much afterward?"

"When they met again, several years had already passed.

Only then did Wang Rong learn that Tan Yin had become a disciple of the Heavenly Sword Sect. But the Azure Rock Sect and the Heavenly Sword Sect had been hereditary enemies for generations, their relationship as incompatible as fire and water.

And Tan Yin looked as though he did not remember him at all. That infuriated Wang Rong. Feeling that his pride had been grievously wounded, he flew into shame and anger. From then on, he embarked on a road of causing trouble for Tan Yin with no return."

Shen Yuxi could not resist commenting inwardly. "Ah, what a wonderfully self-torturing elementary-school-boy method of pursuing someone. Childish enough. Wang Rong was stubborn as an ox too, like a rebellious child who thought this was how he could catch Tan Yin's attention.

Wang Rong's cultivation was weaker than Tan Yin's, so he relied on having many magical treasures and always came up with all sorts of roundabout methods to humiliate Tan Yin.

Later, Tan Yin became engaged to the eldest daughter of another sect. That really provoked Wang Rong. He intensified his efforts, scheming in every possible way to sabotage them, and in the end, he truly ruined the match.

From then on, Tan Yin could be said to have come to hate Wang Rong. Whenever he made a move, he showed not the slightest mercy.

Later, the Azure Rock Sect acted far too flamboyantly, making enemies everywhere and offending people on all sides. As a result, all factions began targeting them, and their power gradually declined.

Faced with such a difficult situation, with every side turned against him, Wang Rong was utterly isolated and helpless. Though Tan Yin stepped in and saved him, he still held a grudge over Wang Rong's past actions and had no desire whatsoever to grow close to him.

That was until the two were swept into the chaos of the Heart-Questioning Realm by a strange turn of events.

Relying on his profound cultivation and steadfast state of mind, Tan Yin broke free from the illusion's shackles early on. When he discovered Wang Rong was still trapped within it, he ultimately could not set his worries aside and entered the illusion again.

Only after going in did he understand that all those years of apparent tit-for-tat hostility between them had merely been someone's clumsy, stubborn way of begging for attention."

"After that, it got way too explicit. It was completely a straight man training a puppy. Amitabha. Healthy love was certainly lovely, but twisted emotions were truly spectacular." Shen Yuxi wore an icy expression, while inwardly he was already imagining himself as a monk or nun with palms pressed together, head bowed in prayer.

After hearing him out, some people suddenly understood, while others remained only half-comprehending. Yet all their gazes unconsciously turned toward the two men still fighting fiercely on the arena.

After sorting through the pair's storyline, Shen Yuxi did not forget to offer a chapter summary. "This story teaches us that having a mouth, and opening it, is more important than anything."

After sighing over it, he pondered further. The doubts in his heart bubbled forth like a spring, gurgling endlessly. "Come to think of it, Wang Rong attacked so heavily... could it be because he was jealous?

After all, this match was basically a groom-selection event. What sect with even a little foundation would be willing to send its carefully raised, presentable disciple to marry into the Medicine King Valley?

But the Heavenly Sword Sect was different. Their own circumstances were there for all to see, while the Medicine King Valley happened to have abundant family wealth and immense financial power. Comparing the two, they could be considered well matched in status and wealth...

—If Wang Rong thought the same way, then Tan Yin had truly suffered this undeserved disaster for no reason at all."

Lin Huaixu silently picked up where Shen Yuxi left off, staring at Wang Rong on the arena. Oh, so from this perspective, sword cultivators really did provoke you. But matters between little couples are best settled with the door shut and the lights out. The rest of us sword cultivators do not want to take the blame for this.

"Well, there's still plenty to work through." Shen Yuxi summed it up in one sentence, though the storm in his mind did not stop. It was simply too chaotic and disordered to form words, so no one could hear what he was thinking.

At times like this, Shen Yuxi was grateful for this face of his, paralyzed from acquired facial nerve damage. Even if his thoughts sped down the highway at full throttle, no one could tell.

No matter how many entanglements lay between the two men on the arena, this match still had to produce a winner.

The two exchanged blow after blow on the stage, every move and stance exerted with all their strength. Spiritual power churned the surrounding air until it hummed. The spectators below held their breath, their gazes locked tightly onto the pair, scarcely daring to exhale.

In the end, Tan Yin narrowly won by the finest margin. Yet this match, which should have been a friendly exchange of techniques, exacted no small price from both sides. The two were covered in wounds and seriously injured.

Tan Yin's steps were unsteady and staggering, as though a faint breeze could knock him down.

As for Wang Rong, his complexion was whiter than paper. He resembled a withered leaf drifting in a violent gale, swaying on the verge of collapse.

Fatigue and unwillingness showed in his eyes, but whenever he looked at Tan Yin, there was also a touch of self-mocking derision.

He stood there recovering for quite some time. At last, he cast a glance at the fallen stone bead, then quickly turned away and dragged his feet down from the stage, step by step, slow and heavy.

Tan Yin turned to watch him. The startled cries below and the referee's announcement all became blurred background noise in that instant. He suddenly felt—

This person seemed to be crying.

Tan Yin shook his head, casting aside that unrealistic thought. Leaning on the heavy sword in his hand to support his body, he managed to walk off the arena without collapsing to the ground. The sword sank deeply into the earth with a dull sound, as though it too were sighing over the fierce battle.

Below the stage, Lin Huaixu narrowed his eyes as he finished the last bite of spiritual fruit and smiled. "Well now, the pressure's on the healers."

The moment Tan Yin stepped down, his fellow disciples from the Heavenly Sword Sect surged toward him like a tide, urgently surrounding him at remarkable speed and shielding him tightly in their midst. One took his sword, another immediately supported him. Every pair of eyes was filled with concern for their senior brother's injuries.

"Senior Brother, how are you?"

"Quick, check whether any vital areas were injured!"

Anxious questions rose and fell like raindrops, every voice brimming with worry and tension.

Tan Yin was covered in blood. His once neat robes had been torn in many places, leaving him in a truly wretched state.

Even in such weakness, he still endured the pain and forced out a faint smile, wanting to reassure his concerned fellow disciples. "I'm fine. Don't worry, everyone."

Yet his bloodless, pallid face and body that could not muster the slightest strength ruthlessly exposed his words, making that reassurance seem utterly feeble.

On Wang Rong's side, the Azure Rock Sect disciples had witnessed their senior brother's nearly crazed state on the arena and were badly frightened, with more than a little fear growing in their hearts.

Now that their senior brother seemed to have returned to his usual self, they exchanged looks. After hesitating for a long time, one disciple who was normally rather close to Wang Rong finally took a deep breath, summoned his courage, and stepped forward.

He approached Wang Rong in tiny, cautious steps. Reverence and concern mingled in his eyes; he feared disturbing Wang Rong, yet could not keep himself from asking after him.

Then he spoke softly, his voice carrying a faint, barely noticeable tremble. "Senior Brother, are you all right?"

Wang Rong waved his hand slightly. His voice was hoarse as sandpaper scraping, steeped in deep exhaustion. "It's nothing. Just a minor injury." Yet the blood at the corner of his mouth had not even dried, and the trembling of his body was difficult to quell.

The second match was equally spectacular. Both contestants were people of exceptional strength, and the moment they stepped onstage, they launched into a fierce confrontation.

The clash of sword and fist lacked the dazzling brilliance of flashy spells, but possessed a more solid, tangible sense of force. The spectators watched with great relish, exclaiming in amazement from time to time.

However, after witnessing the first match between Tan Yin and Wang Rong, with its real blades and true weapons, its desperate life-or-death ferocity, this bout somehow felt less heart-clenching. Compared to the previous match, it was inevitably a little inferior.

In the end, the junior disciple of the Heavenly Sword Sect won by a slight edge.

In the earlier matches, the varying strengths of his opponents had prevented some of his qualities from being fully displayed. Now that the two sides were evenly matched, his battle instincts and techniques came through in vivid detail.

So long as he caught even the slightest opening, his opponent easily fell into a passive position. Once drawn into the rhythm he created, it became extremely difficult to organize an effective counterattack, and they could only retreat step by step beneath his tide-like assaults.

According to the schedule, the original final should have been a contest between Tan Yin and this junior disciple. However, Tan Yin had been injured far too severely in his battle against Wang Rong. He was now so weak that even standing was difficult. In such a condition, he simply could not participate in the final.

Besides, Tan Yin had entered the competition in the first place to settle the enmity between himself and the Azure Rock Sect. Now that his purpose had been achieved, there was no reason for him to force himself to continue.

Thus, after discussion, everyone unanimously decided to let the junior disciple directly claim victory in the final.

And with that, the entire tournament came to an end.

As the hosts, the Medicine King Valley displayed great generosity and thoroughness. For the guests injured in the competition, the Medicine King Valley swiftly arranged for attentive treatment.

Tan Yin and Wang Rong, who had suffered the most severe injuries, were personally treated by Gu Yinchen, the Valley Master of the Medicine King Valley.

As the Valley Master of the Medicine King Valley, Gu Yinchen possessed superb medical skill and hands capable of bringing back spring. His name had long resounded throughout the cultivation world.

At that moment, his expression was focused as he continuously poured his spiritual power into Tan Yin and Wang Rong. Like a pair of invisible hands, the spiritual power carefully sorted through their disordered meridians, while their damaged internal organs slowly healed under its guidance.

The two men who had just fought each other to the death were forced to sit extremely close together. Both found it terribly awkward and turned their heads away rather than look at each other. Instead, the disciples who had followed out of concern for their senior brothers glared fiercely at one another.

Gu Yueyao was responsible for treating the other two semifinalists. The junior disciple and the body cultivator had only suffered superficial wounds. Though they looked serious, they were far easier to treat than the first pair, who had fought as though determined to kill each other.

Besides, both had somewhat thick-skinned and sturdy constitutions. After treatment and some medicine, they would likely be lively as dragons and spirited as tigers again tomorrow.

Under the concerted care of everyone in the Medicine King Valley, the injured contestants gradually stabilized. This splendid tournament slowly drew its curtain amid an atmosphere of busy activity touched with harmony.

Bonus Scene:

Some people watching the tournament: That was such an amazing fight. Sure enough, watching people with real grudges beat each other up is the most exciting.

Some people watching the tournament: It was just a little couple pulling each other's hair. Their relationship simply hasn't reached that point yet. If I were their fellow disciple, I'd pull out a Recording Stone and record it. Put one in the main hall and one in the courtyard during their wedding, then play it on a loop.