Chapter 96 : Trading Injuries
Yun Qingyue took the little white tiger's words to heart. Having already had little interaction with Chu Yang, she became increasingly distant from him in the following days. However, with the competition still ongoing and formidable opponents ahead, she originally had little extra energy to pay attention to him.
Another day arrived, and the quarterfinal matches began.
Yun Qingyue's luck in drawing lots wasn't good this time—she ended up facing a fellow sect member. Fortunately, it wasn't Su Hao but Bei Luo from Mount Luoxing. Though the latter's combat prowess was formidable, his cultivation was shallower than Su Hao's. With Yun Qingyue's current cultivation, though her chances of victory against him weren't high, she at least had the ability to put up a fight.
But this was just her own assessment; others didn't share this view. When Zhong Heng saw the drawing results, his face fell: "This is terrible! Senior Sister, how could you be so unlucky to draw Senior Brother Bei Luo?!"
These words diminished her prestige while elevating others'. Before Yun Qingyue could respond, the little white tiger in her arms was already displeased. She swished her tail and struck Zhong Heng's hand firmly, baring her teeth at him: "What nonsense are you talking? What's bad about it? Senior Sister is so powerful—even if her opponent is Bei Luo, how can you assume she'll lose before they've even fought?!"
The little white tiger's tail-swipe was forceful, but Zhong Heng's skin was thick, and it only left a red mark on his hand. Nevertheless, the little white tiger's bared teeth and dissatisfied expression looked adorably fierce.
Seeing this, a hint of amusement flickered in Yun Qingyue's eyes. She soothingly stroked the little white tiger's fur, then looked up and asked Zhong Heng: "Everyone still on the platform is formidable. If drawing Senior Brother Bei Luo is unlucky, then who does Junior Brother think would be fortunate to draw?"
This was true, but Zhong Heng answered without hesitation: "Chu Yang, of course."
At this stage of the competition, seven of the eight remaining contestants were at Nascent Soul, with only Chu Yang still at Golden Core. Even if his cultivation had improved since the sect competition, reaching peak Golden Core, how would that help? The gap between major realms wasn't easily overcome—a cultivator at early Nascent Soul could defeat three peak Golden Core cultivators with ease.
Zhong Heng made this judgment based on common sense in the cultivation world, which wasn't incorrect. But he had forgotten that during the competition for the eighth spot, a Nascent Soul True Lord from Tiandao Sect had been eliminated. Though Chu Yang hadn't directly faced that person, his ultimate triumph wasn't due to luck—by extrapolation, that Nascent Soul True Lord was inferior to him.
Yun Qingyue remained clear-headed. In response to Zhong Heng's matter-of-fact answer, she simply uttered two words: "Not necessarily."
Zhong Heng frowned, unconvinced, but there was no need to argue further—they would see in Chu Yang's next platform match. As he thought this, he instinctively looked at the platform arrangement and discovered that Chu Yang's opponent was none other than You Yi.
Wasn't this coincidental? You Yi was also lucky—it seemed he would secure a spot in the final four.
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Once the drawing results were announced, speculation inevitably followed. The thoughts of those participating in the martial arts competition remained unknown, but many spectating disciples were excited, with countless people participating in private betting on the outcomes.
Even Zhong Heng, who had verbally declared that Senior Sister facing Bei Luo was unfortunate, had secretly placed a bet on her victory.
As it happened, the first quarterfinal match was between Yun Qingyue and Bei Luo. After entrusting the little white tiger to Zhong Heng, Senior Sister stepped onto the platform with one stride, her aura cold and sharp, like an unsheathed sword.
Bei Luo's movements were equally swift—before anyone could clearly see his action, he had already appeared on the platform. In a match between sect members, there was less hostility. Bei Luo clasped his hands toward Yun Qingyue with a smile: "It's been a while since Junior Sisters and I have sparred. Since Junior Sisters recently advanced to Nascent Soul, shall we have a good match today?"
Yun Qingyue returned the courtesy, her wrist turning to draw her sword: "Please guide me, Senior Brother."
Almost the instant those words fell, she made the first move, and it was without any reservation. Condensed sword intent wrapped in wind and snow, carrying an unstoppable momentum, slashed directly toward Bei Luo.
Bei Luo's expression became solemn, though he remained unruffled. As he clenched his fists, a golden light enveloped his hands, followed by a pair of ferocious gauntlets covering them. Then, instead of dodging, he directly raised his hands to catch Yun Qingyue's sword—with a thunderous "BOOM" that sounded like metal striking metal, spectators below saw that Bei Luo had indeed caught the sword.
Instantly, cheers erupted from below the platform, especially from Mount Luoxing disciples who were jubilant.
However, only Bei Luo on the platform knew that this catch hadn't been easy. Not only had his feet slightly released force and cracked the platform, but the sword intent contained in Yun Qingyue's strike had even invaded his meridians. Though the effect was minimal, it still caused a chill in his channels.
His Junior Sisters didn't seem like someone who had just advanced to Nascent Soul, which explained why You Yi had been defeated by her.
Bei Luo silently assessed Yun Qingyue's combat power, but his attacks didn't slow in the slightest. He traced and guided with his palm, and golden light condensed into a taiji-shaped disc in mid-air. Then with a push of his hand, the taiji disc flew toward Yun Qingyue, not only catching her next sword strike but also deflecting the sword energy and counterattacking.
Facing her own sword intent, Yun Qingyue naturally resolved it with ease, but what surprised her was that Bei Luo, known for his forceful attacks, was now using taiji. So she shifted her sword momentum and employed soft power, swinging and guiding her long sword to push away the taiji disc.
The two exchanged blows on the platform, constantly changing techniques, truly captivating the audience below.
Imperceptibly, the cheers gradually diminished as more people became immersed in the techniques and artistic conceptions displayed by the two. Even the little white tiger couldn't resist, crouching on Zhong Heng's shoulder and waving her paws to mimic several moves, until she accidentally hit Zhong Heng's head and sheepishly withdrew. Nevertheless, her tiger eyes remained unblinking, fixed intently on the platform's developments.
Bei Luo and You Yi's cultivation levels were roughly comparable. Though Bei Luo had advanced to Nascent Soul more recently than You Yi, his innate talent was superior, and his understanding of martial arts concepts exceeded You Yi's. But unlike You Yi's previous battle with Yun Qingyue, his fighting style, like the man himself, was never hesitant—once he struck, it was with the force of thunder, with no intention of dragging things out to compete in spiritual energy.
Coincidentally, Yun Qingyue excelled at adapting to situations, and naturally adopted the same approach. In just a moment, she had delivered seventy or eighty sword strikes, moving so quickly they were almost invisible, and these seventy or eighty strikes perfectly countered the seventy or eighty punches thrown by Bei Luo.
The sound of collisions frequently arose from the platform. After the taiji disc, their duel accelerated, then suddenly slowed after reaching a certain level. Throughout, spiritual energy surged and techniques were unpredictable, leaving the spectators thoroughly enthralled.
However, a competition was still a competition—it was impossible to emerge unscathed. As they fought, both began to sustain injuries.
When the first bloodstain appeared on Yun Qingyue, the little white tiger tensed and dug her claws in, causing the unprepared Zhong Heng to hiss lightly. But with the platform battle at its most exciting, he had no time to care about much else and didn't turn around. As a result of his silence, as the duel on the platform grew more intense and Senior Sister's wounds multiplied, the little white tiger's claws dug deeper.
Finally, even the thick-skinned Zhong Heng's defenses were breached. The little white tiger's claws—seemingly delicate yet actually sharp—dug into his flesh, and traces of blood soaked through his white robe, staining his shoulder.
He could no longer remain unmoved and turned his head with a pained expression: "Jianbing, your claws..."
The little white tiger was so focused on the match that she didn't hear him. Only when Zhong Heng grabbed her paws did she instinctively swat him, finally withdrawing her gaze to glare at him with dissatisfaction: "Don't touch my paws!"
Zhong Heng was speechless and pointed to his shoulder: "It's bleeding."
Hearing this, the little white tiger looked down and discovered that her claws had dug into Zhong Heng's shoulder. She quickly retracted them, her fierce demeanor changing to reveal traces of guilt: "I'm, I'm sorry."
Zhong Heng didn't take this minor injury to heart, treating it as just a cat scratch. After a brief reminder, he turned back to the platform. However, just in the time spent exchanging these few words, the situation on the platform had changed—the two had somehow closed the distance between them. When Zhong Heng looked up, he saw Bei Luo's fist land squarely on Yun Qingyue's shoulder, the sound of breaking bones clearly audible even through the platform barrier.
He immediately sucked in a cold breath, thinking the match was decided, but unexpectedly, Yun Qingyue hadn't been unable to dodge—she had chosen to take this blow while trading injuries, slashing Bei Luo's chest with a sword imbued with sword intent.
The sword intent infused with frost frantically invaded his meridians, and despite Bei Luo's profound cultivation, his movements involuntarily paused.
Meanwhile, though Yun Qingyue's shoulder had been shattered, her movements weren't slowed at all. Switching her sword from left to right hand, her actions and speed remained unaffected as she lunged toward Bei Luo with another strike.
Bei Luo frowned and raised his fist to block, successfully countering this move, but in doing so, the blockade on his chest meridians weakened. After several exchanges, he felt his internal organs beginning to freeze, inevitably affecting his subsequent techniques. In contrast, though Yun Qingyue was also severely injured, her expression remained as calm as ever, as if the injured person wasn't herself at all.
The Junior Sisters's fortitude exceeded Bei Luo's imagination, igniting his fighting spirit. His eyes grew brighter, and his attacks became more ferocious. Just like Yun Qingyue's earlier choice, he also began employing a strategy of trading injuries. By the time they came to their senses, both were covered in wounds.
Below the platform, the cheering had long since ceased, replaced by an almost frightening silence.
Bei Luo looked at his blood-soaked Junior Sisters across from him and suddenly realized—this was a competition, and his opponent was his fellow sect sister. Their combat abilities were originally evenly matched; continuing like this would only result in mutual destruction. Though he didn't think he would lose, given his current injuries, he feared he would be unable to fight the next match.
And what about Junior Sisters Yun?
Bei Luo pondered, his attack almost imperceptibly slowing by half a beat. As a result, he failed to counter Yun Qingyue's next move. The sharp sword energy struck his body—he only had time to summon spiritual energy for minimal protection before his body was uncontrollably sent flying.