Lin Sui’an stood on the raised platform, Qian Jing resting across her shoulder, and swept her gaze around the arena.
Wu Chun of the Five Mound Alliance used a narrow-bladed saber. Xi Men Yang of Ascending Immortal Sect used a spiraling silk sword. Feng Qiao of Duck Traders’ Gate fought with his kicking legs. She had faced all three before — none would be difficult to handle. Crane Immortal Sect’s Che Song held a double-handed sword, and Yellow Nine House’s Huang Tian had come empty-handed, with no weapon whatsoever. She guessed he must also rely on fist-and-foot techniques — but wait.
Those who trained in punching and kicking disciplines had thick, powerful muscles in their arms and legs — Feng Qiao was a prime example — yet Huang Tian was slight and lean. He looked more like someone who specialized in lightness arts. Could he have something hidden in reserve?
Lin Sui’an was rather pleased: Interesting.
Lin Sui’an was relaxed. The five sect masters were all coiled tension, particularly the three who had traded blows with her before — the fear of Qian Jing had not left them, and at this moment every one of them had leg cramps from dread, unable to make the first move.
Che Song and Huang Tian shared a look, their expressions full of contempt. The two of them pushed off from the ground — Che Song’s double-handed sword spun in an impenetrable pattern like two meat-grinders, while Huang Tian’s fist-winds emitted a strange, whistling drone, and together they attacked.
Sword radiance and fist-wind — one behind the other — came at her from two directions at devastating speed with no gap to dodge through. The women watching from below let out a chorus of cries, and in that very instant, something strange occurred: the Lin Sui’an in the center of the arena suddenly doubled. Two of her advanced simultaneously against Che Song and Huang Tian at the same time. The two of them were stunned — what sorcery was this? — their hands faltered for just a split second, and in that blink the two Lin Sui’ans crashed into them, dispersed in a flash — they had been afterimages, generated by movement at extreme speed. Wu Chun’s face changed drastically and he bellowed, “Sect Master Che, above you!”
Che Song wrenched his gaze upward, and saw two streams of force — one black, one green — plunging straight down from above. He swung his double-handed sword in a panic to block, but the green sword-light and the black scabbard together unleashed six moves — three from the left hand, three from the right, each using a completely different technique — coming down in a smothering avalanche. Che Song managed to deflect two, and the remaining four swept across his brow in rapid succession, leaving his eyes blazing with stars. He stumbled and crumpled to the ground, his face drained of color.
He recognized this technique. Years ago, ten of Crane Immortal Sect’s greatest masters had all been defeated by this very move — it was the secret dual technique of Jiang Chen, leader of the Jiang Family’s Golden-Feather Guard of Gan Province: Twin Dragons Emerging from the Sea. And it happened to be the perfect counter to Crane Immortal Sect’s double-handed sword.
Why did Lin Sui’an know this technique?!
“House Master Huang, behind you!” Xi Men Yang shouted.
Huang Tian had struck at empty air. Before he could collect himself, he turned around — just in time to see Che Song bundled over by a black whirlwind. Xi Men Yang’s shout only confused him further. He reflexively spun to look back, and a black scabbard was already before his eyes. The ferocious force drove him three large steps backward. With a heavy thud, he too landed on the ground — his backside smarting sharply.
Lin Sui’an spun to a standstill. Qian Jing returned to its sheath. Her robes settled gently around her. Her long, fine brows and phoenix eyes gleamed in the golden light of dusk.
The hall fell utterly silent. Everyone in Duan’s establishment stared blankly. Lin Sui’an’s last few moves had been blindingly fast — no one had followed them. It truly lived up to the saying: in the blink of an eye, enemies are reduced to ash.
Wu Chun, Xi Men Yang, and Feng Qiao went ashen, drenched in cold sweat, wailing inwardly: Help us — this young woman has actually gotten even more powerful. Even if they managed to win the bet by their clever scheme, so what? The martial world is the world of the strong preying on the weak — what if Lin Sui’an turned on them afterward and swept them all away? Who could escape?
Lin Sui’an was striking a heroic pose on the surface, but inwardly she was on the verge of tears.
Terrible — a moment’s lapse, and she had instinctively knocked out two people. That was not ideal at all.
She had to do something to fix this.
“Ahem!” Lin Sui’an cleared her throat. “Sect Master Che and House Master Huang, please do not be hasty — the contest has not yet begun. There is no need to rush.”
The entire hall went even blanker at that.
Wu Chun, Xi Men Yang, Feng Qiao: What do you mean? That didn’t count?
Che Song, Huang Tian: So that beating we just took was for nothing?
Everyone at Duan’s establishment: Since time began, we have only seen people who refused to concede defeat. We have never seen anyone shamelessly refuse to accept victory.
Lin Sui’an smiled awkwardly. “Martial world people place righteousness first. When testing one another’s skills, one should stop at the point of demonstration. Especially since all the masters here carry old wounds — if I were to win by taking advantage of their injuries, victory like that would be dishonorable. It is my view that we should choose a fairer method of competition.”
Wu Chun blinked, quickly glanced over at the yellow-faced young man. The young man kept his head bowed, with no reaction at all — like a puppet with no life in it.
Wu Chun stifled a quiet sigh and exchanged looks with the other four. “Then by Lin Niangzi’s suggestion, how shall we compete?”
“Well—” Lin Sui’an chewed on the inside of her cheek and looked over at Hua Yitang.
Do something — think of a plan!
Hua Yitang rose to his feet, snapped open his fan, and smiled brilliantly. “Tonight, six great masters are gathered at Duan’s establishment to meet through the art of combat — it is a refined and elegant occasion, and a refined and elegant method of resolution is called for. How about we have a—hmm, how to put it—” his eyes darted around, “— a match where fragrant powder is the arbiter, and the blue hills change not while the rivers of the martial world flow on!”
Everyone in the hall stared.
What kind of incomprehensible nonsense was that?!
Lin Sui’an suppressed the urge to punch him and gave a strained laugh. “What do you mean?”
You’d better come up with something constructive, or I’ll make sure you regret it when we get home!
Hua Yitang’s small fan swayed more cheerfully than ever. “First, I ask Duan Niangzi to prepare several items for the six combatants on the arena.”
Duan Hongning was puzzled. “What items?”
“First: six colors of honey powder, and six powder puffs the size of a copper coin. Fill each puff with a different color of powder — I assume Duan’s establishment has no shortage of those?”
Duan Hongning: “We do have them — but—”
“Second: prepare wooden rods the same length as each person’s weapon, then tie the powder puffs to the ends of the rods. Be sure to tie them firmly.”
Duan Hongning did not understand, but she gave the order nonetheless. By the time the preparations were complete it had taken another half-hour, and the sky had gone dark. The performers lit the candles inside the main hall. The open-air platform outside was also ringed with high-hung lanterns, but the visibility was noticeably lower than in full daylight.
Lin Sui’an’s two-chi rod was fitted with a black powder puff. Wu Chun’s five-chi rod was red. Che Song’s pair of rods was white. Xi Men Yang’s three-chi rod was blue. Feng Qiao’s green puff was bound to the tips of his feet. Huang Tian’s yellow puff was fitted over his fists.
“With these, all parties may fight to the fullest extent. When the bout ends, count the powder impressions on each person’s body — and the winner and loser will be evident at once. In this way, we spar without real injury, and part without lasting grudges.” Hua Yitang smiled. “Shall we say the time of one incense stick?”
The five sect masters stared at the powder puffs on their hands and began running their own calculations.
Hua Yitang was clever — and yet he had outsmarted himself. Yes, Lin Sui’an possessed martial ability beyond compare, but when all was said and done, her decisive advantages were only two: immense power, and extraordinary speed. Under normal circumstances she could have pressed each opponent in turn with overwhelming force and won quickly. But now she would have to hold back that power and fight with powder puffs instead — effectively cutting off one arm. On top of that, the time limit eliminated Lin Sui’an’s terrifying stamina and endurance as a factor.
As for speed — no matter how fast Lin Sui’an moved, she could not match five against one. When they all surged in together, a few would hold the defensive line while others pressed the attack. Beating Lin Sui’an outright was impossible, but landing a few powder impressions on her was more than feasible.
Not only these five, but everyone in the hall had spotted it — this method of combat placed Lin Sui’an at a significant disadvantage. They looked over at Hua Yitang with barely disguised contempt. What a terrible idea.
Liu Qingxi was the most worried. “Do we have any chance of winning?”
Hua Yitang smiled pleasantly. “What matters is not whether Lin Sui’an wins or loses — what matters is whether we win the bet.”
Wu Chun and his group heard this, and understood even more clearly.
Hua Yitang must have predicted Lin Sui’an would “lose” — which was why he had gone out of his way to dig a pit for his own side, deliberately engineering the conditions for Lin Sui’an to lose to them.
Duan Hongning’s expression cooled. “Martial world people prize their reputation above all else. If Lin Niangzi loses this bout, and word spreads through the martial world — how will she hold her head up afterward? To gamble Lin Niangzi’s name for the sake of your bet — is it worth it?”
Hua Yitang looked a little surprised. “What makes you say so, Duan Niangzi? Did you not see what I wrote?”
Duan Hongning gritted her teeth. “I only feel that Hua Fourth’s conduct here is too selfish.”
Hua Yitang’s gaze rested on Duan Hongning’s face for a moment. He narrowed his eyes. “Duan Niangzi, I think you may have mistaken me for someone else.”
Duan Hongning looked away.
Hua Yitang’s eyes moved back to Lin Sui’an. On the platform in the center of the courtyard, the young woman patted the powder puff on her rod, sending a puff of black smoke into the air, and mouthed an enthusiastic oh ho — she was visibly itching to start.
The corner of Hua Yitang’s mouth curved ever so slightly. His gaze became more resolute. He raised his voice: “Ah — Duan Jiu Niang does make a fair point. Martial world people prize reputation above all — and should anyone in this bout manage to win so much as a single move against the master of Qian Jing, champion of a hundred opponents, their name would ring through the martial world in glory, a great and shining honor indeed!”
This remark was delivered in a tone that was five parts lament, five parts theatrical affectation — yet as it reached the ears of Wu Chun and the other four, it transformed into something entirely different.
That’s right! This might be their only chance in their lives to defeat the legendary master of Qian Jing, who had once faced a hundred opponents!
Win, and they’d be famous across the martial world, acclaimed without limit!
Even if they lost the bet today, with such a reputation, who could stop them from rising again?!
At this moment every single person in their hearts had room for only one thought: I am going to beat Lin Sui’an!
The incense stick was lit. The bronze gong rang out. The battle began.
Just as everyone had predicted — the instant the gong sounded, all five sect masters charged toward Lin Sui’an at once with a speed and ferocity three parts greater than before. Lin Sui’an’s footwork employed the breezy, showoff movement technique “Swift Wind, Trembling Autumn Leaves,” pushing her speed to its absolute limit and barely spinning out two and a half afterimages. She struck once and changed position, the powder puff slapping and puffing black dust into the air in bursts. The five masters were equally relentless, drawing on every skill they possessed as they pursued, surrounded, and pressed in from all sides.
Wu Chun’s five-chi rod had the widest range, sweeping through the air with thunderous whooshing. It spun in a red wheel — whoosh left, whoosh right, whoosh whoosh whoosh — churning into a red vortex. Lin Sui’an saw the situation turning unfavorable, dropped low, and rolled out of the attack zone in a thoroughly ungainly dive. Wu Chun gave chase with abandon, pressing hard — and just then a blue streamer locked onto his weapon: Xi Men Yang’s spiraling silk sword. In an instant, two parts of Wu Chun’s power were absorbed and redirected. Lin Sui’an slipped away.
Xi Men Yang’s right hand had its tendons severed by Lin Sui’an and he could only fight with his left, leaving his spiraling silk sword at barely three parts of its former power — he was already at a disadvantage, and the urgency of it only made him worse. He pressed close to Lin Sui’an’s form to fight at short range, but in doing so strayed too far into Wu Chun’s attack zone and collected a barrage of red impressions. Furious, he snapped a silk-sword technique across Wu Chun’s rod.
Feng Qiao was the craftiest of the lot, targeting the gaps in Wu Chun’s attacks to dart in with his chain-kicking technique, which was renowned for being high and fast. He launched seven kicks in a row, landing three on Lin Sui’an’s back. The fourth kick missed — Lin Sui’an had blurred into an afterimage and vanished — but unluckily, Che Song had fixed his eye on the same afterimage, and veering in at a crossing angle, he took Feng Qiao’s remaining three kicks full in the face.
Che Song was the slowest of all five, had not landed a single mark on Lin Sui’an, and was still simmering with resentment — then Feng Qiao kicked him three times. His temper snapped and he swung back with his rod. Feng Qiao ducked, slithered away, and the rod smashed squarely into Xi Men Yang, who was coming up right behind him — adding a white impression across his neck.
Lin Sui’an darted out of the chaos, looked back, and found that these people had started fighting each other quite enthusiastically — whether obscured vision from the powder clouds was causing the friendly fire, or whether they’d simply never liked each other to begin with. She was overjoyed — charged back in, intent on fishing in troubled waters. But in that very moment a fierce wind parted the air, murder aimed straight at the back of her head. Lin Sui’an was alarmed and dropped her waist, bending low. She swept her rod in a defensive arc overhead — a clang rang out — a black sleeve-dart embedded itself in the rod, the impact making the powder puff burst into a cloud of black smoke.
A hidden weapon! She shot a sideways look — it was Huang Tian. So this fellow’s real weapon was hidden darts.
The next moment, more than a dozen sleeve-darts came raining down like a sudden storm. Lin Sui’an stamped her feet furiously and dashed into the center of the other four, mimicking a few moves she had seen from Yun Zhong Yue’s footwork — though she was only a poor imitation and nowhere near his uncanny, ghost-like steps, she could not escape the dart rain entirely. Instead she yanked the other four sect masters around her as living shields — pulling Xi Men Yang with her left hand, kicking Feng Qiao forward as a buffer, dragging Che Song behind her for a few running steps, skimming past Wu Chun low to the ground and tripping him as she went, all the while slapping black impressions onto them in passing.
Huang Tian appeared to have gone into a frenzy, firing his darts indiscriminately with what seemed like a “success or die trying” mentality — a completely indiscriminate assault. The other four were caught in the crossfire: covered head to face in powder, unable to see who was hitting whom, and with the darkened sky making visibility worse than ever, suspicion between them grew rampant.
“Wu Chun, was that you?!”
“Xi Men Yang, you’ve gone too far!”
“Feng Qiao, I can smell your stinking feet!”
“Che Song, are your eyes going bad — what are you aiming at?!”
“Huang Tian, you despicable rat, I know it was you!”
“I’m the only one who gets to beat Lin Sui’an!”
“Out of my way — get out of my way!”
“Move, move — let me through!”
In an instant the entire platform rang with shouts, powder billowed in great clouds, and ten thousand colors bloomed in utter confusion across the arena.
The onlookers below were slack-jawed with disbelief. None of them had imagined that these self-important sect masters would comport themselves with such complete and utter lack of dignity.
Hua Yitang shielded his face with his fan and laughed out loud.
Clang — the bronze gong sounded. One incense stick’s worth of time had elapsed.
Lin Sui’an leapt skyward and burst through the powder smoke, landing lightly on the far edge of the platform.
The figures in the haze slowly came into clarity. All five were painted head to body in every color, faces contorted, gasping for breath, furiously glaring at each other.
Hua Yitang stood up. “Right then — let’s count the impressions.”
Five women came up onto the platform with lanterns, took one look at the five sect masters’ thoroughly disheveled states, and had absolutely no idea where to begin. The impressions on their bodies were red, green, white, blue, yellow — all smeared together in an indistinguishable mess.
“They were fighting against Lin Niangzi — we only need to count the black powder puff impressions on their bodies,” Liu Qingxi pointed out helpfully.
The women breathed in relief and set about counting carefully.
“House Master Feng — black powder puff impressions total three: one on the left shoulder, one on the right shoulder, one on the center of the back.”
“Alliance Chief Wu — black powder puff impressions total three: one on the left shoulder, one on the right shoulder, one on the center of the back.”
“House Master Huang — black powder puff impressions total three: one on the left shoulder, one on the right shoulder, one on the center of the back.”
“Sect Master Che — black powder puff impressions total three: one on the left shoulder, one on the right shoulder, one on the center of the back.”
“Sect Master Xi Men — black powder puff impressions total three: one on the left shoulder, one on the right shoulder, one on the center of the back.”
One by one the counts were called out, then fell silent.
The entire hall of dozens went so quiet a pin could have been heard dropping.
Every single one of the five sect masters bore the same number of black powder puff impressions in the identical locations.
Five pairs of eyes, filled with disbelief, turned in unison to look at Lin Sui’an.
Lin Sui’an herself was covered in every color of the rainbow — every color except on her face, which was perfectly clean. Duan Hongning counted for Lin Sui’an personally — three times over, making certain before announcing, her own expression not entirely concealing her astonishment:
“Lin Niangzi’s powder puff impressions: three red, three white, three green, three yellow, three blue.”
The five sect masters’ expressions crumpled. Those numbers and positions told a single, inescapable story: Lin Sui’an had been able to control her score at will. In all that chaos, she had been able to land precisely the right impressions in precisely the right places. Was this creature even human?!
Duan Hongning looked at Lin Sui’an steadily. “This bout is — a draw.”
Two servants came forward, broke the sealed strips from the bet’s dice cups, and each retrieved the sealed blind guess written beforehand.
On Wu Chun’s side, the slip of paper read: “Lin wins.”
On Hua Yitang’s slip of paper, there was a single word: “Draw.”
Side story:
Hua Yitang: [spoken aloud in the arena]: “Ah — Duan Jiu Niang does make a fair point. Martial world people prize reputation above all — and should anyone in this bout manage to win a single move against the master of Qian Jing, champion of a hundred opponents, their name would ring through the martial world in glory, a great and shining honor indeed!”
Lin Sui’an [to herself]: Tsk tsk tsk — Hua Yitang’s little scheme to stir up division and provoke all sides at once is truly underhanded.