When the blue-clad guard mentioned him, he addressed him as "Your Highness the Crown Prince." So, this person—
Hua Chongyang couldn't help but raise the corners of his eyes slightly.
Situ Qingliu is the only son of Prince Jing, Situ Yebai, and Princess Guoyue. He is a renowned prince throughout the land.
Although Prince Ningjing had held power for ten years, everyone knew that his title was merely that of a prince with a fiefdom; while the Crown Prince Situ Qingliu before them was the heir apparent to the throne of Princess Guoyue; in other words, the young man before them, dressed in a magnificent white robe with blue trim, wearing a jade crown on his head, and with a gentle smile on his lips, was none other than Situ Qingliu, the Crown Prince who was said to have been born with a title higher than his father's and would inherit the throne in the future.
So the one who pushed her and that rogue Huashan disciple onto the dueling stage yesterday was none other than this Prince Situ Qingliu right in front of us...
Hua Chongyang couldn't help but curl the corners of his lips, and then looked up at the scene again.
Their eyes met at first glance, and a pair of eyes with a slight smile curved gently at her. He nodded and then looked away, elegant and untainted. Hua Chongyang also looked away, suddenly feeling as if she were sitting not on a chair, but in a pit of fire.
His Highness personally ordered a seat to be offered to her—what a great honor that was! But what price would she have to pay for sitting in that chair in the future? In this world, what goes around comes around.
But the next day, Hua Chongyang became increasingly grateful to Situ Qingliu for finding her a seat. From dawn until noon and then into the afternoon, people on the stage were fought and defeated, and then replaced again and again. Among them were those who, after being defeated, immediately became hysterical, covered in blood, and wanted to fight to the death, only to be dragged off the stage by the Shaolin and Wudang disciples on both sides.
The later performers went on stage, the higher their martial arts rankings, but Hua Chongyang became increasingly reluctant to watch. Although it was the dead of winter, the weather was fine; the afternoon sun was high and there was no wind, making her drowsy. She could only keep her eyes glued to the stage while secretly pinching her arm. After pinching it a few times and feeling a little more awake, she turned to Rong Chenfei behind her and asked:
"Senior Brother Rong, when will it be Wudang's turn?"
"We'll have to wait a little longer," Rong Chenfei said with a smile, pointing to the young man standing behind him. "The ones competing now are all young disciples from various sects, ranked outside the top fifty. They finished yesterday. I was ranked tenth last year, which is relatively high, so my turn came later. After the disciples finish, the senior martial arts masters will come up to spar. That's when the real masters will be exchanging blows."
"Oh. Then--"
"Miss Chongyang," interrupted, Hua Chongyang turned her head and saw a blue-clad guard approaching with a teacup, respectfully handing it to her. "The young master has instructed that Miss Chongyang be invited to have some tea."
"……"
"Please, young lady."
"...Thank you." Hua Chongyang took the teacup, curiously looking up at the person opposite her. Seeing a pair of slightly curved, smiling eyes, she returned the smile, turned back, put down the teacup, and stopped the blue-clad guard who was about to turn away.
"What is your name?"
The guard paused for a moment, then carefully pulled his sleeve away from where it had been pulled:
"...I am Pinlan, a personal guard of Prince Jing."
"Oh, it's Guard Lan. Thank you for the tea, Your Highness—and this chair, please thank him for that too."
"……You're welcome."
Pinlan turned around, her lips twitching.
She just called him... Guard Lan? But his surname is clearly Pin, okay...
Then, just as Hua Chongyang took the teacup, Rong Chen flew onto the dueling platform.
Cheers erupted from the audience. Hua Chongyang couldn't help but put down his teacup and look up to watch the duel between Rong Chenfei and Minghui of Shaolin.
Six years later, Rong Chenfei's swordsmanship had clearly improved a lot. Although his Wudang swordsmanship could not be considered divine, he could fight to a draw with Minghui, the top disciple of Master Deyun of Shaolin Temple, within twenty moves. He was considered a master among the younger generation. After all, Minghui used a staff, which was longer than a sword, so he had an advantage in terms of weapon. Therefore, Rong Chenfei was slightly better.
After the round ended and the winner was decided, Minghui put away her stick, bowed, and left the stage, while Rong Chenfei stood calmly on the stage, a confident smile on his face, waiting for the person who ranked eighth last year to come up and challenge him.
But just as someone in the audience was about to step forward, Rong Chenfei, who was standing high on the stage, suddenly looked out of the crowd.
Hua Chongyang subconsciously turned his head to follow his gaze.
5. Lan Wuxie
Many people in the audience also turned to look at a small grove of trees outside the arena. The snow in the grove hadn't melted, and the sparse trees were covered in white, bathed in the warm orange sunlight. A sedan chair was parked in the grove, resting on the snow. Two young men dressed in blue robes, seemingly sedan chair bearers, were at the front, and a woman also dressed in blue silk was at the front. All five appeared to be attendants, and all seemed to possess extremely high martial arts skills.
More and more people looked out, and suddenly a clear shout came from inside the sedan chair:
"Wu Dang's Rong Chenfei, are you willing to accept our sect leader's challenge?"
The one speaking was a maid standing to one side of the sedan chair.
As soon as the words were spoken, the purple gauze sedan chair moved slightly, and a hand slowly reached out to lift the gauze curtain, revealing an exquisite three-inch-wide purple-gold bracelet on the wrist. The curtain of the purple gauze sedan chair was lifted, and a tall and slender man slowly stepped down from the sedan chair. He was wearing a long black mink coat that reached the ground, which was open to reveal a blue-purple brocade robe underneath.
But what was most eye-catching was the golden mask on the person's face.
Hua Chongyang didn't know what others noticed at that moment, but what she did notice was the gold phoenix feather ring inlaid with jade on the left index finger of the masked man as he lifted the sedan curtain, the gold ring on his wrist, the light blue pendant hanging from his left earlobe, and the half-gold mask on his face—along with the exquisite and gorgeous blue-purple satin robe with intricate embroidery and the purple jade belt tied around his waist... It felt like a peacock spreading its tail feathers, full of splendor and magnificence, which was completely different from the solemn and rugged martial arts gathering.
She subconsciously looked at the person next to her.
Ji Chong, Yue Feilong, Miao Yunshan, and Xie Hongling all looked at the sedan chair; Yue Feilong even stood up and exclaimed in surprise:
"...Lan Wuxie?"
Lan Wuxie?
Hua Chongyang was completely baffled.
She had heard quite a bit about the martial arts world and knew most of the names of its people, but she had never heard of "Lan Wuxie" before. However, judging from Yue Feilong's tone and the expressions of Ji Chong, Miao Yunshan, and Xie Hongling, it seemed they all knew about this person quite well.
Just as she was wondering, a shout came from the crowd in the distance:
"Orchid leaf and grass pattern! His mask has an orchid leaf and grass pattern!"
Orchid leaf and grass pattern...
A thunderous boom resounded in his mind, and the teacup in Hua Chongyang's hand clattered to the ground.
The world-renowned orchid leaf and grass pattern is the emblem of the Lan Ying Palace, which dominated the martial arts world twenty years ago; and Yan Zhao, the current leader of the Lan Ying Palace, is the most popular candidate among the rumored fathers of Hua Chongyang.
The scalding tea spilled over Hua Chongyang's body, but she remained oblivious, staring intently at the man standing in the distance beneath the snow-covered forest, almost holding her breath. The man stood outside the sedan chair, strands of hair falling loosely at his temples and fluttering in the wind; beneath a half-golden mask, a beautiful, pointed chin was visible, and his upturned eyes gazed slightly upwards at the stage, his tone utterly nonchalant:
"Rong Chenfei, do you dare to compete with me?"
The same tall, slender figure, the same nonchalant demeanor, and even though only half her face was visible, it was undeniably beautiful. Only the voice seemed different from her memory. But ten years had passed; who knew if the voice she remembered was right or wrong? Ten years had passed; even a drop of water could penetrate a stubborn rock, let alone a voice lingering in her memory.
The Lan Ying Palace, which once dominated the martial arts world thirty years ago and then suddenly disappeared, has suddenly reappeared in the martial arts world thirty years later.
No one moved; even Rong Chenfei remained stunned on the stage for a long time, unable to recover. Situ Qingliu, who had been quietly sitting opposite her, slowly rose, walked towards Hua Chongyang with one hand behind his back, bent down to pick up the teacup at her feet, then handed her a clean white handkerchief, looking down at her gently and saying:
"Miss Chongyang, please wipe the tea off your hands."
Hua Chongyang then realized that his hand was burned red and was in great pain.
Situ Qingliu handed over the handkerchief, still smiling, then turned and looked at the person beside the sedan chair from a distance, asking loudly:
"May I ask which sect or school you belong to?"
A gentle breeze rustled the snowflakes on the branches, and the same lazy, mellow sound, like a jade flute dispelling the cold wind, drifted from beside the sedan chair:
"Lan Wuxie, the Pavilion Master of Zhaoyang Pavilion in Lanying Palace, greets everyone."
They really are from Lanying Palace.
Hua Chongyang gripped the handkerchief tightly, while Rong Chenfei in the stands drew his sword and sneered:
"Pavilion Master Lan, make your move."
Lan Wuxie curled her lips into a smile, took a step back, and then struck out with her palm. Her blue-purple sleeves and robes billowed with her wide black mink coat, creating a gentle breeze that swept towards the audience below. A faint fragrance wafted in the air. Hua Chongyang was first surprised, then startled.
"poisonous!"
Lan Ying Palace was renowned for its "poisons." Rumors circulated that its former mistress, Lan Ji, was obsessed with concocting poisons, creating over a thousand different kinds in her lifetime, and even having innocent people tested their toxicity. While the veracity of these rumors is unknown, it is a fact that the vast majority of the poisons circulating in the martial arts world today originate from Lan Ying Palace. However, for many years, Lan Ying Palace has remained uninvolved in martial arts affairs, so outsiders have generally turned a blind eye to this.
So Hua Chongyang exclaimed in surprise, and the audience below were all startled by the rich fragrance in the air. Some covered their mouths and noses, while others circulated their internal energy and held their breath. On the stage, after only three moves, Lan Wuxie grabbed Rong Chenfei's wrist with one hand, the golden ring on her left wrist precisely blocking the blade of his sword.
"Rong Chenfei, you've lost. The Wudang swordsmanship is nothing special."
Before Rong Chenfei could answer, shouts of abuse erupted from the audience:
"Lan Wuxie, you're despicable! You actually used poison?"
The one who jumped out and shouted was Yue Feilong, who covered his mouth and nose with one hand while holding up his sleeve and pointed at Lan Wuxie standing on the stage with the other.
"Lan Ying Palace never uses poison recklessly, and there's no poison in that fragrance." Lan Wuxie stared intently at Rong Chenfei, her golden mask gleaming in the sunlight. "Rong Chenfei, do you admit defeat?"
Those seated nearby could clearly see Lan Wuxie slowly increasing the pressure on Rong Chenfei's wrist. Moments later, Rong Chenfei's face turned pale, large beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his sword clattered to the ground.
"I concede. I just don't understand why Pavilion Master Lan insists on picking a fight with Wudang?"
"Going against Wudang?" A soft, slow, cold laugh escaped Lan Wuxie's lips. He glanced at Ji Chong, a smirk playing on his lips. "No, I'm not going against Wudang. I just don't like you, Rong Chenfei."
"Then may I ask when Rong Chenfei offended Pavilion Master Lan?!"
"You haven't offended me," Lan Wuxie said with a snort, not even bothering to smile, "but I just can't stand the sight of you."
The audience was completely silent; their conversation was crystal clear. Lan Wuxie forcefully pushed Rong Chenfei away, took a step back, dusted off her sleeves, and casually glanced down at the audience with her chin slightly raised.
"Just being the number one in the world, what's so great about that? Lan Wuxie awaits your challenge."
Then, three more young disciples were defeated in succession. Even Xu Jingyang, the disciple of the Kongtong Sect Master with the highest martial arts skills, was only able to withstand six moves from Lan Wuxie before being thrown off the stage.
"Who else is coming?"
Lan Wuxie stood high on the platform, his blue-purple robe slightly disheveled, the hem tangled with his black sable fur. No one responded from below. After a long while, Yue Feilong, the leader of the Qingfeng Sect, stood up and shouted loudly to the platform:
"Lan Wuxie, the martial arts you just used, was it the legendary 'Yellow Springs Martial Arts Manual'?!"
Yellow Springs Martial Arts Technique...
All eyes in the audience were fixed on Lan Wuxie's face. Even Hua Chongyang himself couldn't help but hold his breath and wait quietly for the answer.
Lan Wuxie didn't even glance at the audience below. Instead, she extended her right hand, her slender fingers slowly and meticulously tidying the disheveled sleeve of her left arm. After a long while, she looked up and gave Yue Feilong a cold look:
"What's it to you?"
"Of course it's none of my business. With Pavilion Master Lan's skills, and having mastered the 'Yellow Spring Martial Arts Manual'," Yue Feilong sneered, taking a step forward. "But I've heard that since the Martial Arts Tournament, masters from all over the world have gathered in Hangzhou, and I wonder which sect or school has been secretly searching for the 'Azure Heaven Heart Sutra.' Aren't the ones searching for the manual from Lan Ying Palace? I've heard that without the Azure Heaven Heart Sutra, one can't reach the final stage of the Yellow Spring Martial Arts Manual. Why is Pavilion Master Lan being so arrogant!"
As he spoke, Yue Feilong leaped onto the dueling platform and drew his long sword from behind him:
"Since no one dares to step forward first, then let me, Yue, test my skills with Pavilion Master Lan's 'Yellow Springs Martial Arts Manual'!"
Yue Feilong, ranked sixth in the martial arts world, was renowned throughout the land for his long saber, capable of slaying anyone and anything. Lan Wuxie stood quietly on the stage, not even glancing at Yue Feilong, a cold laugh escaping her thin lips beneath her mask.
With a flourish of his longsword, he slashed down with tremendous force.
Lan Wuxie deftly dodged the first strike, then parried the second with her wrist ring, before leaping and landing behind Yue Feilong. Yue Feilong, unable to parry back, swiftly reached out with his left hand and grabbed Lan Wuxie's right sleeve, his right-hand sword already upon him.
Lan Wuxie stood still, neither dodging nor avoiding, extending his left hand to block the blade with his wrist ring, while simultaneously swinging his right arm sharply.
With a series of "crackling" sounds, Yue Feilong staggered back several steps, only managing to stop and regain his footing a full ten feet away. He braced himself against the ground with his sword, and when he looked up, his face was pale, and a trickle of blood had already seeped from the corner of his lips.
Silence fell over the audience. After a long while, Hua Chongyang heard Rong Chenfei, who was standing behind her, exclaim in a low voice:
"...Such powerful internal energy!"
She then realized what was happening.
Yue Feilong had been a renowned figure in the martial arts world for thirty years, ranking fifth or sixth among his seniors. His internal energy had accumulated over forty or fifty years, yet he was swept away by Lan Wuxie with a single flick of her sleeve… Immediately afterward, she heard Rong Zaisheng, Rong Chenfei's father, sitting on the other side of Ji Chong, whisper to Ji Chong:
"How can someone possess such profound internal energy... Sect Leader Ji, is it that the Yellow Springs Martial Arts are simply too powerful, or is Lan Wuxie... fundamentally...?"