Improvement: Courtly Tournament (Part One)

Xia Lun turned toward the voice and saw a middle-aged man standing ramrod straight.

The man wore a plain black coat without a single ornament. His graying stubble stood short and stiff, lending him a sharp, capable air. His coat was spotless and uncreased, though it looked out of place amid the crowd's colorful finery.

Xia Lun's eyes narrowed. A scene flashed through his mind almost by reflex: his conversation with the Brigadier General when he had acquired "Nonhuman Toughness."

In that memory, the Brigadier General had been an abstract human figure made of black ink. Now that straight-backed silhouette gradually overlapped with the man before him. Their bearing, build, and manner were exactly the same!

This middle-aged man was Geliide's mortal enemy, the Brigadier General!

In an instant, the agony he had suffered in that memory surged back like bitter acid rising from his stomach. A flicker of killing intent crossed Xia Lun's mind.

"Even if you're only competing in the exhibition match before the tournament proper, stay sharp," the Brigadier General said in a deep voice, as cold and indifferent as Xia Lun remembered. "I don't want my apprentice to lose—least of all to one of Bird's people."

As he spoke, he looked up at the gilded viewing gallery above the crowd in the distance.

Xia Lun took a deep breath and pushed aside his stray thoughts and ill-timed urge to kill. He followed the Brigadier General's gaze.

There were fewer people in the gallery, but their clothes were far more elaborate. They all seemed to be nobles. At their center stood a slightly overweight, bald old man. He wore a smile and nodded now and then at the flattery of those around him.

For some reason, Xia Lun found him strikingly familiar. After a moment's thought, he frowned.

The old man looked remarkably like Director Bird of Jade Pharmaceuticals in the real world.

Wait. The Brigadier General just mentioned his name. This man is called Bird too?!

Is it just a coincidence?

Xia Lun frowned as he kept watching.

At the edge of the group in the gallery stood a beautiful young woman with red hair. She wore a fitted gown. Her neck was long and pale, her nose high-bridged, and her chestnut eyes clear as amber. She was toying with a plump green apple but showed no sign of eating it.

It was not her beauty that caught Xia Lun's attention. She looked far too much like the woman who had visited him in the real world six days earlier.

"Is she Bird's daughter?" he asked after a moment's thought.

The Brigadier General raised an eyebrow. "Focus on the match. Stop looking at her. Someone of her birth is beyond your reach. And yes, she's Bird's only daughter, Geliide."

Geliide?!

Xia Lun froze. The next moment, shock crashed through him.

Now he knew why the red-haired woman who had visited him a few days ago had looked so familiar. She was a younger Geliide, without the scar on her face!

Why did someone in the Scenario look exactly like someone in the real world?

Why had he met Geliide in the Scenario and then met her in reality?

Shock, unease, and doubt surged over him like a tide, then faded into a distant ringing in his ears.

He had always known Investigator was not merely a game. Even so, he felt as though some hidden, fragile boundary of safety had silently snapped...

Even Xia Lun, with all his composure, felt a little lost.

Reality's bleeding into the game now...

He forced out that feeble joke in his head, easing the chilling shock a little.

"Stop acting like a coward and get a grip," the Brigadier General said coldly. "The match is about to start. I'm heading back. Remember, watch the referee. He's been trying to curry favor with Bird to advance his own position. He may rule against you, so don't give him the chance."

Xia Lun exhaled slowly, drew his attention back to the present, and nodded.

"Let us praise the protector of the Borland Kingdom, the one blessed by the Undying Sacred Flame, the Conqueror of the southern barbarians, our great King..."

As lilting music played, a referee in a sea-blue fencing vest walked slowly to the center of the arena. He held a speech in his right hand and a rod in his left, with something resembling a loudspeaker attached to its end.

As he walked, the referee delivered a long opening speech full of flattery, praise, and gratitude.

He praised the King first, then the council, then every notable person present, one by one. After that, he praised the "martial spirit of the people" in attendance. Finally, he arrived at the rules of the tournament itself.

"The Courtly Tournament is our great and glorious tradition, and I'm sure you all know its rules," the referee said, raising a hand. "But indulge me. Tradition requires that I explain them all the same."

"Before the main event, we will hold an apprentice exhibition match to encourage young people with an interest in Swordsmanship. The rules are the same as in the tournament proper: the first to score eight points wins."

"Competitors will use fully sharpened iron swords, fitted only with rubber safety tips to provide basic protection. A hit to a vital area earns three points; a hit elsewhere earns one. Afterblows are also permitted."

An afterblow allowed a fighter who had been struck to counterattack within a brief window. The counterattack still counted as a valid hit. The rule reflected the fact that, in a real fight, a wounded combatant could still attack for a short time.

"Now, allow me to turn the stage over to our apprentices." The referee's voice rose dramatically, as if to stir the crowd. At his words, the gentle music swelled.

The beat of the drums quickened, striking straight at the heart.

"Our first competitor is a young man of noble birth. At just eighteen, he has already distinguished himself on the battlefield. When a trade dispute arose between us and the Moen People, he bravely stepped forward and defeated countless formidable foes..."

At the referee's words, the crowd, which had been nearly dozing off, erupted. Cheers rose like a tidal wave, drowning out his voice and the music. The sound filled the entire hall, dense enough to feel solid.

For a moment, the hall itself seemed to tremble.

Xia Lun looked toward the arena and saw a lean, powerful man wearing a black satin cloak patterned with stars. Like a star athlete, the man waved his muscular arm in greeting to the crowd.

Then he strode to the edge of the arena, snatched a Short Sword from an Attendant's hand, and bounded into the ring. He shot Xia Lun a provocative sideways glance.

After a while, the cheers began to fade. The referee continued in an exaggerated tone, urging the crowd on. "Our other competitor may not have fought in our great and glorious war, but he is undoubtedly skilled with a sword as well. His name is Xia Lun."

At the sound of his name, Xia Lun narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly.

Why had the referee announced his real name? Wasn't he supposed to be playing a black First Mate right now?