Little Immortal?
Chen Xia heard it clearly from inside the cabin and could not help marveling. How had a youthful version of him appeared now, grandly dubbed the Little Immortal?
The discussion outside did not end. They continued.
"The Little Immortal is the one who shot to fame over the past two years. I heard he cultivates Divine Abilities and magical techniques. He defeated several veteran martial experts as soon as he emerged, and even went to the Old Dragon Temple alone to seek the Dao. Afterward, he came down the mountain unharmed."
These exploits had made the Little Immortal famous throughout the martial world in an extremely short time. Some even ranked him among the contenders for the title of strongest under heaven.
"Do any of you know where this Little Immortal came from?"
"I only heard that he comes from a secluded sect. He's emerged now to restore his sect's glory."
"I've heard two versions. One says this Little Immortal comes from an immortal sect and is the spokesman for that old immortal who's about to emerge."
"The other says this Little Immortal comes from overseas, cultivates all kinds of Divine Abilities and magical techniques, and embodies the finest accomplishments of overseas Qi refiners. Only now has he dared come to Great Song's martial world to show his brilliance."
Both accounts were fairly credible. After all, this Little Immortal did indeed wield Divine Abilities and magical techniques.
But the others still had doubts. One frowned and asked.
"Didn't the Imperial Preceptor declare that he would execute overseas Qi refiners? This Little Immortal still dares operate within Great Song? Does he really have a death wish?"
"Ah, that's where you're wrong." A companion beside him shook his head and replied.
"As we said earlier, there's been no news of the Imperial Preceptor for five years. No one knows where he's gone. This Little Immortal is no slouch, either, so of course he dares come out."
Ultimately, it was simply because Chen Xia was absent and there had been no news of him.
If Chen Xia were still in Great Song's imperial capital, this martial arts tournament probably could not even have been held.
The little boat moved very slowly.
So those aboard had even more to say.
"Do you think this could be a plot by Great Song's imperial family?"
"What makes you say that?"
"The claim that the Imperial Preceptor left Great Song's imperial capital is only the imperial family's side of the story. Who knows whether he actually left? Besides, the martial world's previous three greatest experts, Zuo Feiyang, Nine Thousand Years, and the old monk, all have good relations with Great Song's imperial family."
"And Great Song's imperial family previously didn't get along with the martial world as a whole. They even said that wandering heroes use martial force to defy the law."
"This time, Great Song's imperial family is taking the rare step of helping organize the martial arts tournament. They also intend to recruit outstanding martial artists into the imperial court. They seem very much intent on merging the court and the martial world."
At this point, they all began turning it over in their minds, probing deeper.
"By that reasoning, Great Song's imperial family wants the entire martial world to be its dog?"
"That should be it. Given the imperial family's military strength, even with Zuo Feiyang and Nine Thousand Years, they couldn't be certain of subduing the entire martial world. So I think the Imperial Preceptor might be hiding behind the scenes, ready to strike at the crucial moment and suppress the whole martial world."
In the course of their conversation, they had already constructed a conspiracy theory. The thought sent chills down their spines, and they dared not investigate further.
Someone hurriedly shook his head and said.
"Forget it, forget it. This isn't something we should be thinking about. Those great martial heroes aren't worried and dare come to the tournament. What do spectators like us have to fear?"
"True enough." Someone nodded in agreement.
The little boat was nearly there, so they stopped talking, tossed their fares aboard one after another, and called into the cabin.
"Boatman, we've paid. We're leaving the oar here. We're off."
They disembarked one after another and headed toward the venue.
The little boat remained motionless, still moored beside the bank.
Many people crossed the water, but fewer went back.
Chen Xia was happy to enjoy the leisure. He lay in the cabin staring into space. Only after a good while did he amble out, sit on the boat, gather the scattered coins, and casually count them.
No more and no less, exactly sixty-six copper coins-an auspicious number.
Chen Xia threaded the copper coins onto a cord and hung them at his waist. He did not spend them; he mainly wanted to hear them jingle.
Ferries continued passing all around him.
Chen Xia stepped off the ferry, clasped his hands behind his back, and slowly headed farther in, listening to the copper coins tremble and clink together.
After resting for so long, he ought to take a walk, shouldn't he?
He stretched and exhaled a breath of stale air, intending to take a look somewhere crowded and lively.
And the most crowded place was the center of the Water of the Heavenly Altar, where the martial arts tournament was about to begin.
The conversation those people had held earlier was quite interesting, too. It had kept revolving around the martial world.
What was the martial world?
If Chen Xia were to answer, he would have only one sentence.
The martial world was beneath his feet.
At the highest point of the Water of the Heavenly Altar.
A pavilion in the sky.
Song Wei stood before a window, facing the pool formed by the surrounding mountains. It truly was a heavenly altar.
"Have all the martial artists on the list arrived?" he asked.
Behind him, Nine Thousand Years, whose hair and beard were entirely white, nodded. Counting on his fingers, he smiled. "Ninety percent have arrived. The remaining ten percent are suspicious and wary by nature. Perhaps they're afraid of something. They haven't come yet."
Song Wei narrowed his eyes, gazing out the window as he spoke indifferently.
"Only ten percent. It makes no difference. Once I have the entire martial world in my grasp, those remaining wandering heroes should naturally understand what choice to make..."
He paused, then broke into a broad smile.
"If they still don't understand, we'll have to use Great Song's iron cavalry to teach them how to choose."
Nine Thousand Years smiled and shook his head. "Why make such a grand show with Great Song's iron cavalry? A personal visit from this old servant would be enough."
Song Wei shook his head. "Such trifling matters hardly warrant your involvement, Uncle Nine."
His words made it clear that Song Wei greatly respected Nine Thousand Years.
A rosy smile spread across Nine Thousand Years' face. He greatly enjoyed being respected by the emperor, though he still offered a humble reply.
"It is this old servant's honor to serve Your Majesty."
Song Wei smiled and nodded, then turned around. Looking warmly at Nine Thousand Years, he said with a smile.
"Then I'll have to ask you to put in some extra effort at this martial arts tournament, Uncle Nine."
"Of course." Nine Thousand Years lightly smiled in reply, his fingers pinched together. Then he suddenly asked, "What did Zuo Feiyang say? Did he agree?"
At the mention of Zuo Feiyang, Song Wei's expression darkened somewhat, and he shook his head slightly.
"Zuo Feiyang is difficult to persuade. Even though I've already spread the word, he still refuses to bow his head. He has his heart set on peaceful coexistence between the court and the martial world. He'll probably be your greatest opponent."
Hearing this, Nine Thousand Years frowned and sneered.
"That chivalrous heart runs deep in him. He truly is stubborn beyond reason, still dreaming of peaceful coexistence between the court and the martial world. Utterly laughable."
Song Wei rubbed the tip of his nose and replied helplessly.
"Zuo Feiyang is indeed far too stubborn. I specifically had my elder sister speak to him, but I never expected they still wouldn't reach an agreement. My sister couldn't do anything either. She only asked me to spare Zuo Feiyang's life afterward."
Song Wei hesitated, looked at Nine Thousand Years, and asked uncertainly.
"Are you confident you can defeat Zuo Feiyang?"
Nine Thousand Years tucked both hands into his sleeves. His expression shifted several times before finally settling on confidence. He extended one finger from his sleeve and held it across his face, his gaze sharp.
"Twenty years ago, Zuo Feiyang was first in the martial world, and I was second. We did fight, and I lost to him by half a move. But if we'd fought to the death, I was confident I could trade my life for his, rather than fall short by that half a move!"
"Now twenty years have passed, and I've gained new insights. I vaguely show signs of becoming a Celestial Person. I already have nearly two hundred years of life behind me. No one in the martial world can compare."
At this point, Nine Thousand Years looked immensely proud. He curled his extended finger into a fist and declared imperiously.
"I spent two hundred years cultivating the immortal Dao to rise above the martial world. If Zuo Feiyang fights me again now, I'll suppress him within a quarter of an hour!"
Hearing this, Song Wei grew excited as well. "If you've attained the immortal Dao, Uncle Nine, wouldn't that make this martial arts tournament a sure thing?"
Nine Thousand Years nodded with a smile, then asked, "Have you investigated that Little Immortal who recently appeared?"
Song Wei answered, "I sent a spy to investigate, but he never returned. According to the others' guesses, he's very likely an overseas Qi refiner."
Nine Thousand Years frowned. "To think the Imperial Preceptor has only been missing for five years, and overseas Qi refiners already dare show themselves so openly."
Song Wei was helpless as well. "We haven't found any news of the Imperial Preceptor over these years. The overseas Qi refiners probably haven't either. That's why they dare appear within Great Song."
Nine Thousand Years nodded and replied.
"Relying on their cultivation of Immortal Methods, these overseas Qi refiners have always refused to submit to the Imperial Preceptor. It's perfectly normal for them to come out and provoke him again now."
Song Wei pinched the tip of his nose, somewhat troubled, then quickly shook his head. "Let's leave these overseas Qi refiners alone for now. Once we've suppressed Great Song's entire martial world, we can deal with them at our leisure."
At this thought, Song Wei sighed again. "If only the Imperial Preceptor were still here. With his reputation, suppressing Great Song's entire martial world probably wouldn't take the effort of blowing away dust."
Nine Thousand Years replied noncommittally.
"Perhaps."
Was Chen Xia's presence in this world truly a good thing?
Nine Thousand Years did not think so.
He hoped both immortals within Great Song would perish.
That would be the most reasonable world.
Otherwise, every time he looked up, he would feel that there were two people...
High above him!
The third day.
The martial arts tournament officially began.
Nearly ninety percent of the martial world's renowned figures participated, including no shortage of legendary heroes.
Spectators were even more numerous, packing the entire Heavenly Altar so tightly that not even water could pass through. Crowds surged inside and out, their cheers unceasing.
"Look, it's Hero Changfeng! They say he announced his seclusion ten years ago. I never thought we'd see him today!"
"Who's that on the high platform? White hair and beard, a black python robe. Could it be... could it be the imperial family's supreme expert, Nine Thousand Years!"
"..."
Chen Xia mingled with the crowd, listening to the spectators' explanations and occasionally looking over with curiosity himself.
Sure enough.
He did not recognize a single one.
Still, these great martial heroes looked quite presentable, all righteous dignity, with even more splendid clothes and adornments. Above all, they were showing off.
Good, good, good.
Chen Xia nodded, feeling that he ought to learn a thing or two as well. After all, not everyone could show off so naturally.
He found an empty spot and sat down with the little stool he had filched, ready to watch the fights.
On the high platform, Nine Thousand Years faced the mountains, summoned his internal strength, and shouted.
"The martial arts tournament officially begins! First match, Xiyang Changfeng versus the Old Monster of Anshan!"
The spectators below cheered even more fervently.
The figures in front of Chen Xia kept jumping, preventing him from seeing the fight on the platform.
Thirty breaths later, it was over.
An old man had won.
"This Old Monster of Anshan is terrifying indeed! His internal strength is immense. To defeat Hero Changfeng in such a short time, it looks like he has a good chance of entering the top ten under heaven!"
"..."
People had already begun reviewing the fight, and Chen Xia still had not seen it.
But it did not matter. He was only there to join the bustle. He yawned and smacked his lips twice.
"Hey, buddy, you look sleepy. Why not give me your stool and go sleep in the back?"
A young man from an aristocratic clan patted Chen Xia's shoulder and suggested.
Chen Xia shook his head. "It's fine. I fall asleep quickly here. It's good at lulling me to sleep."
"I'll pay one tael of silver. I don't want your spot, just the stool," the young man said again.
Chen Xia glanced at him and still shook his head. "Without the stool, I'd be half as sleepy."
"Did you come here to sleep or watch the matches?" The young man frowned, somewhat speechless.
"Just joining the bustle." Chen Xia laughed.
As an immortal cultivator, what interest was there in watching these martial practitioners?
The young man was helpless too, and merely muttered under his breath, "Country bumpkin."
Chen Xia chuckled, but felt little stir within. He had always had a good temper, and his disposition was laid-back as well, so he rarely got angry unless someone's behavior was particularly excessive.
Besides, the young man's words were relatively mild. Had his mouth been any fouler, Chen Xia would have taught him what it meant for disaster to come from the mouth.
The martial matches continued.
Chen Xia had already tilted his head and begun letting his mind wander beyond the heavens.
Only when the matches were nearly over did Chen Xia wake up. It was now time for the headline bout.
Zuo Feiyang against Nine Thousand Years.
Both were heavyweights.
The spectators' cheers reached an unprecedented fervor, and their discussions grew heated as well.
"The strongest and second strongest under heaven are fighting! Who'll win?!"
"Zuo Feiyang lost a hand to a barbarian martial artist in that battle at the border eight years ago. Who knows how well he's recovered? If it's affected him too much, he probably won't be a match for Nine Thousand Years."
"Only half a move separated them twenty years ago. Twenty years later, Zuo Feiyang is impaired, while Nine Thousand Years has built up his strength for this moment. His chances of winning are high."
"..."
Among all these opinions, more people still supported Nine Thousand Years.
Only Chen Xia noticed another presence.
Behind the fighting platform stood many martial artists.
Among them was a young man in white, standing in front of everyone with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling as he calmly watched the fight before him.
There was a red dot between the young man's brows.
It did not look like a cinnabar mole.
It looked rather sinister.
Chen Xia frowned slightly. He kept feeling that he had seen someone with this sort of bearing somewhere before. After pondering briefly, he slowly raised his head and finally remembered.
An overseas Qi refiner.
The slaughter in the arena officially began.
Zuo Feiyang charged with his sword in one hand, his other hand tucked motionless inside his sleeve.
Nine Thousand Years stamped on the ground, his protective Qi springing up. His body flew low over the ground, both hands covered in protective Qi as he met Zuo Feiyang's blade head-on.
This was their first exchange.
With three fingers of one hand, Nine Thousand Years pinched the sword's edge, severing its Sword Qi and seizing its sword intent.
He gained the upper hand.
With his blade pinned, Zuo Feiyang swung his other hand out of his sleeve, stirring the air as his internal power erupted.
Nine Thousand Years still used just three fingers. His protective Qi exploded, driving Zuo Feiyang back thirty paces, his right hand gripping the blade.
He seized the naked blade barehanded.
Zuo Feiyang was left without his sword, his right arm trembling.
"That barbarian warrior really did leave you with an incurable injury eight years ago."
Nine Thousand Years spoke these words calmly.
Zuo Feiyang gave a bitter laugh. "You advanced while I retreated. There's no catching up anymore."
But he still extended both hands, drew a breath, and declared solemnly.
"Number one under heaven for twenty years. All I seek is a single defeat."
"Good!" Nine Thousand Years nodded, his shrill voice ringing out.
He charged in for the kill.
It took less than a quarter of an hour.
Zuo Feiyang's broken arm was too severely injured.
After just two hundred exchanges, Nine Thousand Years secured his victory.
Zuo Feiyang fell below the platform, his expression dim. He wiped at the minor wounds on his body and finally gave a bitter laugh.
Nine Thousand Years broke into an utterly delighted grin. He was finally about to claim the position of number one under heaven.
Then he heard footsteps.
A young man in white stepped onto the platform, the red dot between his brows vivid. He took out an exquisite pagoda and asked with a smile.
"I wonder if Nine Thousand Years has ever heard the story of the snipe and the clam fighting, only for the fisherman to reap the rewards?"
Nine Thousand Years raised an eyebrow.
This visitor had not come with good intentions.
He extended both hands, protective Qi flowing over them.
The young man in white continued with a smile. "My family said that, of everyone under heaven, Nine Thousand Years was the closest to an immortal, so I came to find you. Incidentally..."
The young man pointed at the red dot between his brows, brimming with Evil Qi, and continued.
"This red dot between my brows absorbed the flesh, blood, and internal power of over a dozen top martial artists of the jianghu. That's also why they couldn't attend this martial arts tournament."
Nine Thousand Years' eyes widened. The protective Qi in his hands actually vanished!
The exquisite pagoda spun in the white-robed young man's hand, emitting five-colored light that enveloped the entire fighting platform. He smiled cruelly.
"With Great Song's jianghu as my stepping stone, I'll ascend to the realm of immortals."
Nine Thousand Years' internal power drained uncontrollably from his body, flowing toward the exquisite pagoda.
Agonized howls escaped his mouth.
The young man in white grinned savagely.
The previously clear sky suddenly changed color and darkened. Within the black clouds, lightning serpents crowded together, baring their fangs and brandishing their claws.
Suddenly, thunder rumbled, extremely close.
The young man in white looked up.
A pillar of lightning blasted down!
The exquisite pagoda in his hand released Spiritual Qi, holding back the lightning and protecting him.
The draining of Nine Thousand Years' internal power stopped. He hurriedly dragged his weakened body back, not daring to linger.
"Who is it?!" the young man in white roared, his face darkening.
"Didn't I say it before?"
A languid voice rose between heaven and earth.
"Qi Refiners from overseas-I'll kill every last one I see."
The voice drew closer.
First came a pair of exceptionally brilliant blue-green eyes, then green robes.
Chen Xia was already standing on the platform. Calmly, he spoke words that sent a chill down the white-robed young man's spine.
"You're courting death."