Chapter 29 — The Final Four
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 6
At once several hundred gazes in the grounds swept over and settled on Zhang Qingyue. Never in his life had Zhang Qingyue been stared at by so many; his face flushed hot. He answered: "Yes." Then he turned his head, not daring to look behind him, and walked toward the platform.
He had gone only a few steps when Su Wan caught hold of him. Somewhat surprised, Zhang Qingyue said: "Master's wife, what is it?"
Su Wan smiled faintly, but concern showed on her face. "Does your body still pain you?"
Zhang Qingyue shook his head. "Master treated me with his own hands. They're just about healed."
Su Wan shook her head too. "Outward wounds heal easily; the inward ones are not so quick. Xiaofan, today's Chang Jian is no small matter—even your eldest senior brother, with his cultivation, fell at his hands. Though I hear from your eldest senior brother that even in victory Chang Jian did not fare well, with your half-baked cultivation I fear you still cannot match him. Don't try to be brave later. If you can't hold out, just concede—whatever you do, don't take reckless risks and get hurt again. Do you understand?"
Warmth filled Zhang Qingyue's heart, but he did not nod. He only mumbled: "Master will be angry."
Su Wan smiled and shook her head. "Silly child, go with an easy heart. Your master can't dote on you enough."
A great clap sounded in Zhang Qingyue's head; he turned at once to look at Tian Buhui, only to see him chatting and laughing merrily with the white-bearded old man surnamed Fan, not glancing this way at all.
Su Wan patted his head lightly. "Go on."
Zhang Qingyue slowly mounted the platform and stood there alone, but Su Wan's words still echoed in his mind: "Your master can't dote on you enough!"
His thoughts were in a muddle. From childhood, from the day he entered Qingyun, Tian Buhui had been no less than a god to him. Though Tian Buhui had always treated him poorly, winning his master's praise had remained young Zhang Qingyue's greatest wish.
And now, suddenly hearing his master's wife say this, he could not bring himself to believe it.
He stood on the platform thinking for a long while, while below the crowd buzzed with talk. After quite some time, even Zhang Qingyue began to sense something amiss: his opponent had still not come.
Below the platform, the Changmen disciples looked especially anxious; most were turning to look about. Just then a Changmen disciple came running quickly from afar, face frantic, heedless of the strange looks around him. He rushed to the white-bearded old man's side and said a few hurried words in his ear.
The white-bearded old man's face changed drastically, as though he could not believe it. He pressed: "Truly?"
The disciple cast a bitter glance at the platform, then at last gave a heavy nod. In an instant the white-bearded old man went ashen, utterly dejected, and dropped back into his chair. Tian Buhui, watching, was greatly puzzled and said: "Senior Brother Fan, what has happened?"
The white-bearded old man gave him a feeble glance, heaved a long sigh, gathered himself, and stood up again. In a clear voice he announced: "The Changmen disciple Chang Jian, too gravely wounded in yesterday's bout to rise from his bed, withdraws from today's contest."
Above and below the platform, all was silent.
A moment later, an uproar burst from the crowd! Though most of the Canglan Gate disciples were cultivators, still no few let out coarse curses. As for the Dazhu Peak line, their first reaction was not delight but odd, unsettled looks exchanged among them; only after a long while did they shake their heads one by one with rueful, complicated smiles.