Chapter Seventeen: The Contest

Chapter Seventeen: The Contest

Chapter Four: The Green Blade Shakes the Cold Moon; Haoze Encounters a Demonic Bird (Part One)

The Elder of the Twin Bridges had rarely ventured into the world, and so there were but a handful who could claim to know him. It was a lamentable fate for such a prodigiously gifted soul to remain obscured and uncelebrated throughout his life.

Ye Hua, reading the teachings in "The Essentials of Daoist Practice," found them astoundingly profound. Yet, upon hearing the others speak of the arduous path of cultivation and the difficulty of refining artifacts, doubts began to creep into his heart. He was left with no leads, unable to make sense of it all.

“Haha, my fellow disciples, the day is drawing to a close. Let us return for now and leave our friendly sparring for tomorrow, shall we?” Senior Brother Xiao said with a laugh.

“That would be splendid! We all look forward to witnessing Senior Brother Xiao’s divine abilities and learning from them,” Qingkai chimed in, offering a compliment.

“Qingkai, you flatter me! Everyone knows the North Terrace is brimming with talent. Each of you has already made great strides in cultivation and is renowned far and wide!” Senior Brother Xiao replied with a smile.

Their conversation faded into the distance as they walked away. Ye Hua rose quietly. Though the events of the day had dealt him a heavy blow, he did not succumb to discouragement; instead, a rebellious spirit was kindled within him. He slowly made his way back to the temple and retired to his room for sleep.

Yet sleep would not come. Ye Hua tossed and turned upon his bed, troubled in spirit, until at last he sat up, composed himself, and began to meditate, cultivating the Sixfold Celestial Essence at Will. He had been training in this method for nearly two years; the first stage was already mastered to perfection. Moreover, he had absorbed the Daoist essence of Firelord Shenshu and consumed various elixirs. His inner Daoist energy was now abundant, his cultivation at the pinnacle of the Seven Treasures’ Third Realm. This method reversed the flow of the meridians, allowing the Daoist energy to disperse throughout the body—invisible to others unless they deliberately probed.

Time flew by, and dawn broke. Ye Hua exhaled a breath of golden energy, which split into two fine threads, re-entered his body through his nostrils, circulated within, and was then exhaled once more. This cycle repeated nine times before he finally ceased, opening his eyes with a satisfied smile, his cultivation session complete.

“My Daoist energy is now pure golden essence. In a little while, I must attempt to condense it into a Golden Core. If I succeed, I will break through three levels and reach the fourth realm. Then I will be able to ride objects through the sky, soar above and below the heavens! The thought alone is exhilarating!”

As Ye Hua pondered this in detail, a call rang out: “Junior Brother Ye, little brother, come out quickly…” Ye Hua started—he recognized the voice as Senior Brother Qingxia.

He hurriedly got out of bed and stepped outside, where Qingxia and Qingyu approached with mischievous grins. Qingyu teased, “Little brother, we didn’t see you after you left Master yesterday. Where did you go to hide?”

“I… I was just sitting idly in the woods for a while…” Ye Hua replied.

“Little brother, don’t be disheartened. We heard from our junior sister—there’s no need to feel sad. The Daoist path is not one that yields progress in a single day!” The two sighed sympathetically, but then couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

Clearly, they had already heard that Ye Hua had failed to pass the first layer of the Four Noble Truths method after nearly two years—and that their master had not bestowed him any magical treasures. They had come especially to offer comfort.

“Thank you, senior brothers. I… I’ve come to terms with it now…” Ye Hua understood their intentions and was deeply grateful, though their laughter, which had initially made him feel ashamed, soon gave way to a strange discomfort, his face blanching from embarrassment to pallor.

“Haha, that’s the spirit! Let’s hurry to the summit. The eldest brother and Senior Brother Xiao from the Central Terrace are probably already sparring up there!” Qingyu said eagerly.

Ye Hua, his embarrassment fading, asked in surprise, “Sparring? What sparring?” Then, recalling the conversation he’d overheard the previous night about a match to be held the next day, he realized he’d forgotten all about it.

“You’ll see when we get there! Come, let’s go!” Qingxia took Ye Hua by the hand, and with Qingyu, they hurried out the mountain gate toward the summit.

The three moved quickly and reached the peak within half an hour. There, two figures were locked in combat, surrounded by onlookers—it was the eldest brother, Senior Brother Xiao, and their companions.

Ye Hua looked closely at the duelists. One was his third senior brother, Qingshi, wielding the Cold Moon Hook, its frosty gleam flashing. His opponent was one of the three young men who had followed Senior Brother Xiao days before, holding a green sword.

The blue light of the sword shimmered as the youth thrust it toward Qingshi’s left shoulder. Qingshi, not waiting for the sword’s glow to reach him, slanted his Cold Moon Hook, the tip arcing toward his opponent’s right neck. The youth raised his sword to block—there was a ringing clang as the two weapons met, singing with energy. The clash was fierce—they traded three blows in the blink of an eye.

The youth then struck down hard with his sword at Qingshi’s crown. Qingshi dodged to the right and, with his left hand, hooked outward, jabbing swiftly at the young man’s thigh.

Ling Yun’er, standing nearby, was visibly anxious. “Ah—third brother, you must turn your Cold Moon Hook into the Phantom Moon’s Shadow, or you’ll lose!” she cried.

Senior Brother Xiao watched cheerfully. “Brothers, let’s remember—this is only a friendly contest. It’s enough to determine a winner; let’s avoid injuries!”

Around them, Baishi, Song Qingkai, the sixth and seventh brothers, and two other disciples from the Central Terrace were watching the bout with rapt attention, seemingly unaware that Ye Hua and the others had arrived.

The duel had already reached over a hundred exchanges, the swordplay growing ever tighter, yet still no victor emerged. Suddenly, the youth slashed forcefully, sending a thick beam of sword energy straight at Qingshi. With a slight shift, his figure vanished.

Ling Yun’er shouted, “Third brother, watch your back!”

Even before she finished, Qingshi whirled around, his left palm striking behind him. With his right, he swept the hook in a circular motion, conjuring a thin, round curtain of light that blocked the incoming sword energy. In the air behind him, a form shimmered into view—the youth, who quickly struck out with his own palm. The two palms met, and both men staggered slightly.

Qingshi suddenly spun the hook in his hand and shouted, “Go!” Instantly, the silver hook shot into the sky.

The youth sensed a chilling light above his head—the hook had become a ghostly crescent moon, radiating brilliant light. Sensing the deadly power of this move, he thrust his sword into the ground and vanished. In a blink, the earth cracked open, and a dragon of soil burst forth, lunging at the spectral moon.

A crackling burst of energy exploded as the two forces collided, dazzling everyone’s eyes. For a brief moment, the scene before them was a blur. When they looked again, both the earthen dragon and the cold moon had vanished, leaving the world clear and bright.

Qingshi stood at a distance, his hook returned to its sheath. He smiled and said, “Brother An, thank you for yielding. Are you unhurt?”

The youth’s face was pale as he bit his lip. “Thank you, Brother Qingshi, for showing mercy with your Cold Moon Hook.” For in that final exchange, it was clear Qingshi’s weapon had prevailed.