The next day, the sun rose as it always did. When the disciples of Big Bamboo Peak arrived at the square, they found that four of the original eight fighting stages had been taken down, and the remaining four were now arranged at the cardinal points — east, south, west, and north.
Tian Buyi and Su Ru walked at the front. The wounds on Zhang Fan's body seemed to have healed overnight; walking among the group, he had the look of someone utterly overwhelmed by unaccustomed attention. He glanced back, then leaned toward Du Bi beside him and said in a low voice: "Sixth Senior Brother, is First Senior Brother's injury very serious? How did it get to the point where he can't even walk?"
Du Bi said: "Master examined Senior Brother this morning. It seems that yesterday's match between him and Senior Brother Chang Jian of Changmen was far too fierce — one focused on offense while the other on defense, and they fought back and forth until both came away wounded. His Meridians were injured, and I fear the setback to his Cultivation may be no small matter."
Zhang Fan was greatly startled. "Even the eldest Senior Brother couldn't beat him — if I spar against Senior Brother Chang Jian today, won't I... won't I be utterly routed?"
Du Bi: "That would naturally be so by common reasoning — yet it was by that very same common reasoning that when you competed two days ago, most of your senior brothers bet on you to lose!"
Zhang Fan was left speechless and had no choice but to shut his mouth.
Below the largest arena in the northern grounds, the crowd stretched as far as the eye could see. It went without saying that Xueqi was competing there today. Tian Buyi cast a single glance in that direction and let out a cold snort — he had no goodwill whatsoever toward the person who had defeated his daughter — then led his disciples westward toward the other arena.
Zhang Fan had barely taken a few steps when his whole body gave a start. Ahead, a group of people came filing in from an angle—at their head walked an elderly man of weathered features, and striding shoulder-to-shoulder beside him was none other than Zeng Shushu. Behind the two of them trailed a full hundred or so Wind Return Peak disciples. Zhang Fan picked out Senior Brother Gao's crowd among them, but of Peng Chang there was no trace.
As if noticing Zhang Fan's searching gaze, just as the two groups were brushing past each other, someone spoke up: "Senior Brother didn't come — he's at his quarters recovering from his injuries!"
Zhang Fan managed a smile, only to find Zeng Shushu's expression grave, the gaze she turned on him unexpectedly cold.
The wizened elder leading the group was, of course, none other than Zeng Shuchang, the presiding elder of Fenghui Peak. He cast a single glance at Zhang Fan, and Zhang Fan felt that though the old man's gaze carried no sharpness, it was unfathomably deep—as if in that one look, it had pierced straight through to the very core of his soul.
He couldn't help but flinch—just at that moment, he heard Tian Buyi say, "Ah, Senior Brother Zeng."
Zeng Shuchang returned the courtesy and said: "Greetings, Senior Brother Tian. I've heard that your sect has produced a remarkable talent by the name of Zhang Fan, whose Dao techniques are most peculiar. Just yesterday, he crossed hands with my worthless disciple Peng Chang in a sparring match and left him grievously wounded, on the verge of death."
Zhang Fan's expression shifted. He cried out in disbelief, "What? Senior Brother Peng is injured that badly?"
The moment those words fell, the disciples of Wind-Return Peak erupted in an uproar, all feeling that this person was truly vicious — having wounded someone, they still put on a show of surprise, whether to feign innocence or to mock Peng Chang.
A flash of anger crossed Zeng Shuchang's eyes, yet faced with a mere junior, there was nothing he could do. He settled for a cold laugh and turned to Tian Buyi: "Senior Brother Tian, what a fine disciple you've raised!"
Tian Buyi had been frowning deeply, thinking that little brat Zhang Fan really did not know how to conduct himself—but hearing Zeng Shuchang put it that way, there seemed to be a note of mockery in the words. Tian Buyi was by nature proud and quick to shield his own; he immediately smiled at Zeng Shuchang and said, "Not at all, not at all—you flatter him, Senior Brother Zeng. Fan, come over here and pay your respects to your Martial Uncle Zeng."
Zhang Fan froze. Zeng Shuchang's expression shifted abruptly; with a sweep of his sleeve he said coldly, "No need." Then he turned and strode away.
Zeng Shu: "I never saw through you — never realized you were hiding such depth. To think I even went to beg Senior Brother Peng to go easy on you, only to find out I'd actually done him harm instead."
Zhang Fan's heart seized with anxiety — there was no
He had barely finished half his words when Zeng Shushu had already turned and walked away. The disciples of Fenghui Peak followed after her, the looks they cast back cold and distant. Zhang Fan felt a pang of hurt — yet just at that moment, he suddenly caught sight of Senior Brother Gao passing before him through the crowd, who gave him the briefest, almost imperceptible wink.
Zhang Fan stood there in a daze, but Senior Brother Gao had already walked away.
Tian Buyi cast a cold glance at the disciples of Fenghui Peak, gave a chill smile, and with a wave of his hand led the group toward the western competition stage for the day's matches. Drawing closer, everyone saw that this spot too had drawn some two hundred onlookers, heads bobbing in the crowd. By all appearances, aside from the stage where Lu Xueqi was competing, this was the liveliest place on Cloud Sea Plaza.
Zhang Fan drew a sharp breath and quietly murmured to the senior brother beside him, "So many people — Senior Brother Chang Jian must be incredibly formidable, right?"
Everyone laughed. He Dazhi said with a perfectly straight face, "Senior Brother Chang's cultivation speaks for itself, of course—but I'd wager most of these people are here for you, Junior Brother!"
Zhang Fan was greatly startled and exclaimed in surprise, "How could that be?"
He Dazhi let out a low chuckle. "As of today, only eight competitors remain in the Seven Meridians Martial Competition—and the biggest dark horse is none other than you. Who wouldn't want to come see just how many mouths or hands you're hiding?"
Zhang Fan was left speechless.
Tian Buyi led the group down from the platform. All along the way, as people saw they were from the Big Bamboo Peak lineage, the crowd parted on both sides, clearing a path for them. Tian Buyi glanced around and noticed a considerable number of Chang Men disciples among the onlookers — understandably so, since Chang Jian of Chang Men was among today's competitors, drawing more of his fellow disciples to watch. However, there were few Chang Men elders to be seen, and True Person Daoxuan, the head of Qingyun Sect, was likewise absent.
Tian Buyi furrowed his brow and whispered to Su Ru beside him: "Why hasn't Senior Brother the Sect Master come? Are there other disciples from Changmen competing as well?"
Su Ru shook her head. For some reason, this year's Changmen disciples had all been of rather poor aptitude—now only Chang Jian remained."
Tian Buyi paused in thought, then walked to the center of the area below the stage, where five or six chairs had been arranged—though only a white-bearded old man sat among them. Seeing Tian Buyi and his companions arrive, the elder rose to his feet.
Zhang Fan was momentarily taken aback, recognizing this white-bearded old man as the very one who had been seated in the audience during his earlier contest against Chu Yuhong.
The white-bearded old man clearly remembered Zhang Fan as well. His gaze drifted briefly in Zhang Fan's direction, then he turned to Tian Buyi and said: "Senior Brother Tian, who would have thought that your sect would produce a talent this year."
Tian Buyi seemed to be on quite good terms with the old man. He let out a warm chuckle. "Senior Brother flatters me. Please, sit, sit."
At that moment, the tolling of bells and cauldrons rang out from behind the stage. Tian Bu Yi turned back to Zhang Fan and said, "Old Seven, go on up."
Hundreds of gazes from across the arena swept over all at once, landing squarely on Zhang Fan. Never in his life had Zhang Fan been stared at by so many people. His face burned hot. He murmured a reply, turned his head, and without daring to look back, walked toward the stage.
He had barely taken a few steps when Su Ru grabbed him. Zhang Fan was a little surprised. "Mom, what's wrong?"
Su Ru smiled faintly, though her expression was touched with concern. "Does the wound on your body still hurt?"
Zhang Fan shook his head. "Master treated me himself — I'm mostly healed now."
Su Ru shook her head as well. "Surface wounds heal easily enough, but the inside won't recover nearly as fast. Fan, the Chang Jian you're facing today is no ordinary opponent — even your senior martial brother, with all his cultivation, was defeated by him. I heard from your senior martial brother that even a victory wouldn't have come without a heavy price. With your half-baked cultivation, I'm afraid you won't fare much better. Don't try to be a hero out there — if you can't hold on, just admit defeat. Whatever you do, don't take any more reckless risks and get yourself hurt again. Understood?"
Zhang Fan felt a warmth stir in his heart, yet he did not nod. He only murmured, "Master will be angry."
Su Ru smiled and shook her head. "Child, go on without worry. Your master can barely keep up with how much he dotes on you."
A thunderous boom rang through Zhang Fan's mind. He spun around to look at Tian Buyi, only to find Tian Buyi laughing and chatting merrily with that white-bearded old man surnamed Fan, without so much as a glance in this direction.
Su Ru gently patted him on the head."
Zhang Fan slowly stepped onto the fighting platform. He stood there alone, yet his mind still echoed with Su Ru's words: "Your master dotes on you so much he can barely stand it!"
His mind was in complete chaos. From childhood, ever since he had joined Qingyun, Tian Buyi had been nothing short of a divine being in his eyes. Though Tian Buyi had never treated him well, earning his master's approval had always been the greatest wish of young Zhang Fan's heart.
But at this very moment, hearing his master's wife suddenly utter those words, he could not bring himself to believe it.
He stood on the platform lost in thought for a long while, yet below the stage the crowd was already buzzing with murmurs. After quite some time had passed, even Zhang Fan himself finally sensed that something was wrong: his opponent had still not appeared.
Below the stage, the Changmen disciples looked especially anxious, most of them turning their heads to look around. Just then, a Changmen disciple came sprinting over from a distance, face tight with urgency. Heedless of the curious stares from those around him, he rushed to the side of the white-bearded old man and murmured a few rapid words in his ear.
The white-bearded old man's expression changed drastically. As if unable to believe it, he pressed further: "Is that true?"
The disciple shot a resentful glance toward the stage, then finally gave a heavy nod. The white-bearded old man's face turned ashen in an instant; his expression crumpled with dismay as he slumped back into his chair. Tian Buyi watched it all and felt deeply puzzled. "Senior Brother, what has happened?"
The white-bearded elder cast him a listless glance, heaved a long sigh, then rallied himself and rose to his feet once more, announcing in a clear voice: "The Changmen disciple Chang Jian, having suffered grave injuries in yesterday's contest, is unable to rise and hereby withdraws from today's competition."
On stage and off, silence reigned.
A moment later, a wave of uproar swept through the crowd. Though most Qingyun Sect disciples were cultivators who had long walked the path of Cultivation, quite a few of them still burst out with crude curses. As for those of the Big Bamboo Peak lineage, their initial reaction was not one of joy or surprise — instead, every last one of them wore a peculiar expression, exchanging bewildered glances with one another. It was only after a long while that they began, one by one, to shake their heads with rueful, bittersweet smiles, their hearts flooded with a welter of emotions.
As the crowd behind them erupted into a clamor of shifting expressions and boisterous voices, Tian Buyi and Su Ru slowly rose to their feet. Gazing at their disciple still standing dumbstruck on the stage, Su Ru smiled faintly and murmured to Tian Buyi: "I told you long ago — this disciple of yours truly has luck that is anything but ordinary!"
Tian Buyi was left speechless by this, smiling with helpless resignation.
That day, Zhang Fan spent every hour under the curious stares of those around him. Nearly every Qingyun disciple who passed by could not help but look at him a second time — as though he were some rare and exotic creature on display. Meanwhile, by day's end, the results of the tournament had also been announced: Zhang Fan had the "honor" of standing alongside Qi Hao, Lu Xueqi, and Zeng Shushu as one of the final four.
Qi Hao had always been the overwhelming favorite to claim the championship, and Xueqi had been riding a surge of popularity in recent days—but the advancement of Zeng Shushu and Zhang Fan into the top four had come as a surprise to the vast majority of Qingyun Sect's elders. Prior to this, Zeng Shushu had been known chiefly as the only son of Zeng Shuchang; though he was widely acknowledged as a talented young disciple within the Fenghui Peak lineage, he had not made much of a name for himself throughout the Sect at large. His performance this time—cutting down opponent after opponent with exquisite mastery of the Dao arts—had left everyone viewing him in an entirely new light. Zhang Fan, by contrast, standing there among the four finalists, looked thoroughly out of place.
On the arena, four people stood side by side, with Sect Master True Person Daoxuan and Dragon Peak Elder Daoist Cangsong at the front. True Person Daoxuan's face still wore a smile, betraying not the slightest hint of displeasure at the unexpected and total defeat of the Changmen disciples in this Grand Trial.
Below the stage, nearly a thousand disciples of the Qingyu Sect had gathered together, with the seated elders of each lineage occupying the front rows. Su Ru gazed up at the stage and murmured to Tian Buyi: "Fan looks a little nervous!"
Tian Buyi let out a snort, saying nothing. With so many eyes watching, whatever his wife could see, how could he not? Of the four people on stage, Qi Hao was poised and at ease, Lu Xueqi cool as frost, Zeng Shushu stood smiling as well — only Zhang Fan remained rooted in place, his gaze fixed straight down at the ground before him, his hands seemingly at a loss for where to rest, looking thoroughly awkward.
True Person Daoxuan on the platform swept his gaze across the four individuals, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He turned to face the crowd below and declared: "Everyone, as of today, the Seven Vein Martial Assembly has determined its top four disciples. They are exceptionally talented, their mastery of the Dao arts exquisite—all elite members of our Qingyun Sect, shouldering the responsibility of bringing future glory to our lineage." His words had barely reached the halfway point when, from somewhere unknown in the crowd below, a sudden "pfft" of stifled laughter rang out—and moments later, a wave of open laughter erupted through the gathered Qingyun disciples.
True Person Daoxuan furrowed his brow and instinctively cast a sidelong glance at Zhang Fan — the youngest of the four disciples standing behind him — giving a faint shake of his head. By now, laughter rippled ceaselessly through the crowd below, and what had been a solemn occasion had taken on a distinctly farcical air. Daoist Cangsong, who stood to one side, let his expression go cold. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the audience like the edge of a blade.
The laughter in the crowd died down at once; wherever Daoist Cangsong's gaze fell, the laughter was snuffed out, and in no time the scene had returned to calm. Cangsong had presided over Qingyun Sect's punishments for many years, and his authority among the disciples weighed even heavier than that of the sect master, True Person Daoxuan.
Only when the commotion had fully quieted did Daoist Cangsong step back, turning to True Person Daoxuan: "Senior Brother Sect Master, please."
True Person Daoxuan smiled and said, "I have nothing more to give. Junior Brother Cangsong, your turn."
Cangsong Daoist nodded and turned to face the audience below, announcing in a clear voice: "Tomorrow's matches shall be: Qi Hao of Dragon Peak against Zeng Shushu of Wind-Return Peak, and Xue Qi of Bamboo Peak against Zhang Fan of Grand Bamboo Peak."
Cang Song continued on, and the gazes of those below the stage all converged upon him. Only then did Zhang Fan finally let out a breath of relief — just moments ago, beneath the scrutiny of countless eyes from the audience, he had nearly been unable to breathe.
"Why are you sweating so much?" Suddenly, Zeng.
Zhang Fan was taken aback. Ever since he had unexpectedly defeated Peng Chang the previous day, Zeng Shushu had been cold and distant toward him in public — he never expected Zeng Shushu to be the one to initiate a conversation. Though they had known each other for only three days, Zhang Fan had already come to regard him as one of his closest friends.
He stole a glance at Zeng Shushu, only to find her standing primly beside him, eyes fixed straight ahead, a smile on her face as she looked out at the audience below — as though no words had passed between them at all.
"Idiot, don't turn around." Zeng Shushu's expression remained completely unchanged, her lips barely moving. "Getting me scolded half to death by my father wasn't enough for you?!"
Zhang Fan's heart sank with remorse. He hastily looked away and lowered his voice: "I'm sorry — back then, I… I… ugh. Is Senior Brother Peng alright?"
"Senior Brother Peng's injuries, though severe, are not life-threatening — a few days of rest and he will make a full recovery. Otherwise, do you think I would have let this matter drop so easily? Still, I never expected you to be hiding such depths."
At the time I didn't know what was going on either — most likely Senior Brother Peng was deferring to me, and I, in a moment of hot-headedness, just—
"I spoke with Senior Brother Peng — though he lost, he had nothing but praise for you. He said he had fought at his full strength at the time, holding nothing back, so there is no need for you to take it to heart."
Zhang Fan was startled again, then said, "Then what about you being scolded by your father?"
"If it weren't for that bunch of blabbermouths around Senior Brother Gao spilling everything about how I once pleaded with Senior Brother Peng on your behalf — and even though Senior Brother Peng did speak up for me, Father still gave me a thorough scolding for it — I would never have put on that kind of act toward you in front of everyone."
"Shushu, I'm truly sorry."
"A trifling matter, not worth mentioning — besides, I've long since grown accustomed to his tongue-lashings. It's your luck that's truly something else, kid. Though I'd say you'd better watch yourself: next round you're up against that ice-and-frost beauty from Bamboo Peak — one careless moment and you'll find yourself cut down by a single stroke of *Xie*!"
Zhang Fan pulled a long face and muttered under his breath, "I know, it would've been so much better if I could just spar with you—" He stopped himself mid-sentence. Both he and Zeng Shushu felt a sudden chill at the same moment and couldn't help glancing to the side, only to find that Lu Xueqi, who had been standing nearby, had fixed both of them with a pair of ice-cold eyes at some point without their noticing.
Zhang Fan instantly fell silent as a cicada in winter, and Zeng Shushu likewise drew a sharp breath. Neither of the two dared continue; both assumed an air of earnest attention, listening to Daoist Cangsong's admonishments from the platform.
When Daoist Cangsong finally finished speaking, the crowd dispersed to prepare for the grand tournament that would begin the following day. Zhang Fan and Zeng Shushu stepped down from the stage, yet the chill still lingered along their spines. They couldn't help but marvel inwardly — who knew whether Qi had come from the Far Northern Ice Plains or not, but a single glance from her was enough to send cold straight to the heart.
He was just about to take his leave of Zeng Shushu when he turned to glance at her — only to find her face had gone cold, her eyes brimming with contempt as she looked at him. With a loud, dismissive scoff, she raised her chin and strode away in proud disdain. Not far off, surrounded by a crowd of Fenghui Peak disciples, his father stood watching them.
Zhang Fan let out a wry smile and turned to walk back toward the Big Bamboo Peak disciples. Tian Buyi glanced at him and said, "Go on then." He then turned his gaze to Tian Ling'er. "Ling'er, come with me for a moment. Your mother and I have something to say to you."
Tian Ling'er murmured her assent, and as she turned to leave, she flashed Zhang Fan a smile.
Everyone returned to their quarters. The moment they stepped inside, the disciples of Big Bamboo Peak burst into an uproar. Wu Dayi and the others rushed to relay the good news to Song Daren, who lay in bed, while Lü Daxin scooped Zhang Fan up in his arms, laughing with hearty delight. Only Du Bi kept grumbling: "It's not right, it's just not right!"