Chapter 25 — The Unexpected

At once several disciples of Dragon Head Peak rushed up onto the platform and helped Fang to his feet; staring at the immortal sword lying snapped in two on the ground, every face was black with fury, and they glared at Lu Xueqi as though they would gladly have devoured that beautiful woman whole.

Below the platform, Daoist Cangyan clenched his fists and said coldly: "Junior Sister Shuiyue, that disciple of yours has a cruel heart indeed. Winning was plainly not enough for her—she must needs use her magic treasure to break another's immortal sword outright. What sort of conduct is that?"

Master Shuijing, his face utterly indifferent, said coldly: "Xueqi's cultivation is shallow and her mastery of the Dao not deep; she cannot control a divine thing like the Tianxuan. It is nothing worth making a fuss over."

Cangyan's anger surged and he was about to flare up, when suddenly a hand came to rest on his shoulder—Zhenren Daoyan, who had appeared at his side at some unknown moment, patted him on the shoulder. Cangyan looked at him, and at last forced his wrath down; with a heavy snort through his nose he strode away.

Zhenren Daoyan gazed at Cangyan's tall, broad back, shook his head, and gave a bitter laugh. He turned to speak—and saw that Master Shuijing had walked off as well. By then Lu Xueqi had come down from the platform and stood before Shuiyue; Shuiyue looked at her, a faint smile rising to her face, and nodded. Lu Xueqi said nothing, made a slight bow, and took her place behind Shuiyue, following her away.

Zhang Qingyue, standing to one side, had only now recovered himself from that hair-raising duel. Watching master and disciple, Shuiyue and Lu Xueqi, recede into the distance, he suddenly realized how alike the two were, cold as frost and snow both, as though struck from a single mold.

He was still staring, lost in thought, when Zeng's voice sounded at his ear: "I never thought a divine thing like the Tianxuan would appear in the world as well!"

Zhang Qingyue, baffled: "What is the Tianxuan?"

By now the Qingyun disciples who had gathered to watch were drifting apart. Zeng Shuyan called a greeting to a fellow disciple of Fenghui Peak, then walked off with Zhang Qingyue, saying as he went: "The Tianxuan is that immortal sword you just saw Lu Xueqi use. I once read a record of it in the Ten Chapters on Rare Treasures. The Tianxuan first appeared a thousand years ago in the hands of a wandering immortal called Kuxin. Legend has it that this treasure was a piece of strange iron from the nine heavens that fell to earth; Kuxin came upon it by chance on the Arctic ice plains and refined it through long practice. In the great battle between the righteous and the demonic paths, on our side the Patriarch Qingye of the Canglan Sect was of course foremost, but this Kuxin was greatly renowned as well—above all for wielding the divine sword Tianxuan in a battle against the demon sect's ferocious villain, Blackheart, that lasted three days and three nights, at the end of which he gravely wounded Blackheart and rid our righteous path of a mortal enemy. It is said that at the time only this divine sword Tianxuan could subdue the Blood-devouring Pearl, that most vicious of the demon sect's artifacts. From then on the name of the Tianxuan rang through the world, and it became the treasured artifact every cultivator dreams of. But I heard that after Kuxin passed from this world in meditation, the Tianxuan vanished without a trace. I never imagined it would end up in the hands of Xiaozhu Peak."

At this, Zeng said: "Brother Xiaofan, with a treasure like that in Lu Xueqi's hands, I'm afraid we have no hope at all in this grand tournament."

Zhang Qingyue, however, felt no disappointment; he had never imagined he could accomplish anything in any case. He only found it strange to see Zeng Shuyan looking so downcast, and asked: "Hey, Brother Zeng, didn't you tell me you weren't much interested in this tournament? Why do you look so disappointed?"

Zeng: "Still, if a man really could stand on the platform and hold out to the very end, that would be a fine and glorious thing. Don't you think so?"

Zhang Qingyue laughed, bemused.

Zeng Shuyan saw the odd look on his face and felt rather embarrassed; he punched him on the arm and laughed: "What are you laughing at?"—and before the words were out of his mouth, he was laughing himself.

The two of them walked off laughing toward another platform, to watch another match.

That day, apart from Zhang Qingyue, seven disciples of Dazhu Peak went out to fight: four won and three lost. Song Dayi, Tian Lingsu, He Dachuan and Du Biyan all advanced to the next round, and with Zhang Qingyue's stroke of luck, five of the eight Dazhu Peak disciples had made it through—a result rarely seen in several hundred years, which left Tian Buhui grinning so wide he could not close his mouth.

The next day.

The morning sun spilled lazily over the sea of clouds. As on the day before, the disciples of the Canglan Sect came to the great square to go on watching this Seven Peaks Tournament, held once in sixty years.

The Dazhu Peak group stood beneath yesterday's red notice board. Half the names on it had been struck out, and beside Zhang Qingyue's name was now written that of his opponent for the day: Chu Yuhong.

Ever since rising that morning, Zhang Qingyue had, for no reason he could name, begun to feel nervous. He knew perfectly well that he had mostly come to look on and learn, yet his heart would not obey him: it raced, his mouth went dry, and he ate only two mouthfuls of breakfast before his appetite failed him.

Just now he was asking in a low voice of his eldest senior brother, Song Dayi, who stood beside him: "Eldest Senior Brother, who is this Chu Yuhong? Is he formidable?"

Song Dayi knitted his brows and shook his head: "I don't know either. I never heard of him before. The board says he's a disciple of Chaoyang Peak, but how deep his cultivation goes I couldn't say." Here he glanced at Zhang Qingyue, saw how nervous he looked, and smiled: "Little Junior Brother, don't be nervous. It doesn't matter. My first time in the tournament I was scared half to death, but once you're up on the platform it's all right."

Zhang Qingyue mumbled: "Yes."

Then Du Biyan, who stood nearby, came over and said with a grin that boded no good: "Hey, brothers, why don't we make a wager on how our little junior brother will fare this time?"

"Good, good—I bet Little Junior Brother loses!"

"So do I!"

"Me too—and mind you, I'm putting down double!"

"Count me in."

Song Dayi flew into a rage and pointed at them: "What do you think you're doing? Our little junior brother's match is upon us, and you're here to dishearten him?"

Zhang Qingyue was deeply touched. "Eldest Senior Brother—" he cried.

Song Dayi: "Old Six."

Du Biyan stuck out his tongue: "Eldest Senior Brother, I was only joking just now—whatever you do, don't tell the master."

Song Dayi: "No—since you've already disheartened him anyway, I'll take five shares of that bet you just opened."

Du Biyan and Zhang Qingyue: "..."

At this point Tian Buhui and Su Wan came over, and all the Dazhu Peak disciples went to meet them. Tian Buhui looked them over and said: "You did well yesterday, but today you enter the second round, and those left are for the most part the elite disciples of every peak. You must be careful."

All together: "Yes."

Su Wan glanced at Zhang Qingyue, walked over, and said: "Xiaofan, today is your first match. Be careful in all things—do you understand?"

Warmth passed through Zhang Qingyue's heart. He said in a low voice: "Yes, Master's Wife."