Chapter 25 — The Unexpected

On the stage, the brilliant golden light vied with the newly risen sun on the horizon, blazing gloriously. Chu Yuhong felt a surge of triumph; at this moment even he believed his cultivation had reached a pinnacle he had never attained before. And now, having defeated this opponent—unprepossessing to the eye and even less impressive in a fight—he would surely go on from strength to strength, and who could say if he might not take the laurel in the end? After all, past today, he needed only four more victories.

At the thought, a smile he could not suppress crept to the corner of his mouth. The Shaoyang Immortal Sword blazed brighter still, and he watched the youth ahead screw up his face in pain within the searing light—watched him bite through his own lip.

Then, suddenly, at that very moment, his heart gave a violent leap, as though someone had smashed a heavy hammer into his body. At a time when no one else could see Zhang Qingyue clearly, Chu Yuhong—the man standing face to face with him—saw plainly through the dazzling radiance of his own Shaoyang Immortal Sword that the boy had raised his head and opened his eyes.

Those blood-red eyes, brimming with savage bloodlust!

A formless, unknowable chill spread swiftly outward. Chu Yuhong watched as the black iron staff seemed to come alive in that instant, wreathed in surging black qi, while the round bead at its tip blazed with green light that fell upon Zhang Qingyue, as though he had become an entirely different person. All of this unfolded within the glow of the Shaoyang Immortal Sword, and no one but Chu Yuhong saw it.

Chu Yuhong was stricken with terror, but before he could react, that icy breath had already hidden itself within the Shaoyang Immortal Sword's radiance and coiled around him. Almost at once the world spun; his whole body convulsed with nausea. A moment later, the faint green light from the bead atop the iron staff shone upon him.

Below the stage, Zeng Shuyan watched anxiously as Zhang Qingyue was wrapped in that mass of light. At the thought that Zhang Qingyue was now like a monkey being roasted alive—by all reason he ought to have pictured a pig being roasted, yet somehow the image of a monkey had sprung into Zeng Shuyan's mind—he could scarcely bear to look any longer. The Chaoyang Peak disciples, by contrast, clapped and cheered, beside themselves with glee.

Just then, all at once, the crowd heard a great roar from Chu Yuhong on the stage. The Shaoyang Immortal Sword shot skyward, its radiance scattering at once to reveal Zhang Qingyue's figure. And Chu Yuhong himself seemed gravely wounded, staggering backward again and again—until, moments later, beneath the astonished gaze of the onlookers, blood came pouring from all seven orifices of his face at once. With a trembling hand he pointed his right finger at Zhang Qingyue, as though he wished to say something, yet try as he might no words would come.

After a moment, his body swayed a few times, and with a thud he crashed to the ground, unconscious and insensible.

On the stage and below it, all was silence. The crowd stared at one another, too shocked to speak.