M49S Vol 1 Chapter 22. Weapon Duel

Jinling was bustling, crowds thronged the streets, and the traffic never stopped flowing. For Qing Gu, who had grown up beyond the passes, this was a scene of liveliness she had never witnessed before. She chirped and chattered nonstop along the way, like a little lark bursting into song.

“Master, where exactly are we going?” Qing Gu asked, her speech slightly slurred from the candied hawthorn she was biting into.

Meng Qiqi looked at the sugar stuck to the corners of her mouth and shook his head helplessly. “Your master is looking for a fortune-teller.”

“You’re getting your fortune read?” Qing Gu blinked in surprise. “But didn’t you say fortune-tellers are all frauds? You even flipped over that Old Immortal Huang’s stall last time!”

“Qing Gu,” Meng Qiqi said, gravely, “when did I ever flip over anyone’s stall?”

“Qing Gu must’ve remembered wrong, Master,” the girl chirped sweetly, and then stuck her tongue out at Chen Boyan. Her master never admitted to doing anything bad. Shameful.

Chen Boyan smiled, but just then, the sound of a scuffle came from up ahead.

Impatient and always eager for excitement, Qing Gu shoved forward, candied hawthorn still in hand, to see what was going on. Two cultivators stood facing each other in the middle of the street, both forming sword seals with their fingers. Two miniature swords, no larger than daggers, spun and clashed midair, slicing through the air with trails of radiant light.

“Wow, Master, is that a Life-Bound Weapon Duel? Qing Gu’s eyes lit up.

“That’s right. One of the more refined forms of combat favored by the inner clans of the immortal world. Still a bit too much for you right now,” Meng Qiqi said. Through the white veil hanging from his hat, he looked at the two swords glowing faintly in the air, seemingly evenly matched, then at the slightly tense expressions on the two cultivators’ faces. Suddenly, a corner of his lips lifted. “When it comes to life-bound weapon match, I doubt anyone among the younger generation could beat your eldest senior brother. If you want to learn, you can ask him.”

Qing Gu immediately turned a worshipful gaze on Chen Boyan, her eyes sparkling.

Chen Boyan explained, “That’s only because my body has a rare constitution. I don’t deserve such high praise.”

Qing Gu thought about it for a moment and understood. Cultivators, in their path to immortality, followed three great stages. Cultivating external objects, cultivating the self, and cultivating liberation. Each major stage had countless finer divisions within.

The first stage was cultivating external objects.

After building their foundation, cultivators began to refine weapons. Whether in the inner realms or beyond the passes, most cultivators used swords. They constantly drew qi from heaven and earth to temper themselves, eventually condensing a life-bound sword in their dantian that was identical in form to the weapon they had chosen. This was the first step toward unity between sword and self.

Normally, the life-bound sword within the dantian would never be drawn out lightly. Any damage to it would directly affect the cultivator’s own cultivation.

But this was Jinling City. Unlike the rugged lands beyond the passes, this place was densely populated. If cultivators crossed swords with real attacks, the sheer force of their techniques could bring disaster to the common people. So, those who lived long in such refined surroundings came up with a more delicate method of competition. Weapon duels.

The two parties would mark out a dueling area, then summon their respective life-bound weapons from within the dantian. The cultivators themselves remained stationary, controlling the swords remotely as they clashed in the air, with rules limiting the number of moves.

The reason Meng Qiqi claimed that Chen Boyan had no equal among his generation was because Chen’s life-bound sword had been with him since birth. That sword, Wuwang, was forged from Tianshan coldstone at the moment his sword body awakened, shaped exactly like the miniature blade already formed within his dantian.

Because of this, although Wuwang was fated to become a famed sword, few had ever seen its true form. And how could swords painstakingly refined after the fact compare to one bestowed by the heavens?

As they spoke, people in the crowd began recognizing the three of them. Gushan Sword was the orthodox pillar of sword cultivation throughout the realm. Its name was known even among common folk. Add to that the sect’s flowing, celestial attire, and from afar, they truly looked like immortals.

But unlike the excited civilians calling out “Immortal Lord” left and right, the surrounding cultivators remained thoughtful. Most of them were older rogue cultivators, disqualified from entering the secret realm due to age, but that hadn’t stopped them from making the trip to witness the Knock at the Immortal Gate.

Even now, countless people were still arriving from all directions. The growing number of cultivators gathering in this city meant the pressure on Gushan Sword would only continue to mount. After all, back when Zhou Ziheng traveled across fourteen provinces with a single sword, the rogue cultivators who came to challenge him were too many to count.

“This must be Gushan’s Little Martial Uncle, Meng Xiu?” someone called out, stepping forward from the crowd and cupping his hands toward Meng Qiqi.

“I am,” Meng Qiqi replied. He placed one hand behind his back and gave a slight nod.

“I am He Yungui of Qingzhou. I wish to exchange a few moves with you,” the man said with a firm voice. Even his words carried the sharp edge of a sword. Though not hostile, the pressure was excessive.

Meng Qiqi’s expression didn’t change. “You and I have known each other for all of three breaths. No grievance, no friendship, no ties. Why should I fight you?”

“Friendship is not required for an exchange of sword skills. I merely wished to witness the grace of Gushan’s Little Martial Uncle. I hope you will oblige me,” He Yungui said again, cupping his hands.

Meng Qiqi flicked his sleeve. “If everyone were like you, blocking the road and challenging me at will, when would I ever have peace? Zhou Ziheng may have been my Martial Uncle, but he is himself, and I am me. Don’t try to apply his ways to Meng Xiu.”

Just then, the weapon duel beside them reached its decisive moment. With a metallic clash, the two flying swords collided. The wind stirred by the impact quietly lifted the veil of white gauze, revealing Meng Qiqi’s true face.

The veil fluttered, then quickly fell back down.

In that brief instant, the gauze lifted and fell. He Yungui only caught a glimpse of those phoenix eyes, carrying a cold edge like a blade. The rest, he saw nothing at all.

But one glance was enough.

“If Brother Meng feels offended, then you may name a later date for the duel,” He Yungui said quietly.

Meng Qiqi gave a soft laugh. “No need to be so hasty, Brother He. These few days, Jinling is filled with heroes from every direction. I imagine there will be no shortage of people who wish to spar with me. I may as well make my rules clear now, so everyone understands. If you want to challenge me, fine. Beat my senior nephew first.”

Senior nephew?

Everyone turned to look at Chen Boyan. He furrowed his brows slightly and glanced toward Meng Qiqi with a questioning look, but Meng Qiqi seemed to have noticed something else and turned to watch the match beside them.

The younger cultivator’s face had gone pale. He changed his hand seal again, sending his flying sword arcing in a fan shape before striking straight for the opponent’s sword hilt. But the other cultivator moved as if guided by the heavens, executing a move called Coiling Dragon’s Tail and knocked the younger man’s sword completely off course.

The young man staggered back two steps. The breath he had been holding escaped him. He had lost. Though unwilling to accept it, he still held his composure.

The two cultivators summoned their life-bound swords back to their sides and cupped their hands to each other. “Thank you for letting me win.”

Cheers erupted from the crowd around them.

“Senior nephew, do you always listen to your Little Martial Uncle?” Meng Qiqi turn back with a faint smile.

Chen Boyan caught the flash of mischief in his eyes and nodded helplessly. “This disciple is willing to take your place.” He then turned around, raised his hand, and faced the gathered cultivators. “Please.”

He Yungui had no intention of crossing swords with Chen Boyan, but just as he opened his mouth to refuse, the young girl behind Meng Qiqi suddenly poked her head out, blinking as she asked with a grin, “Are you scared of fighting my senior brother? If you don’t want to fight him, you can fight Qing Gu instead.”

He Yungui froze. What now?

So did everyone else nearby. Quite a few among them had been trying to test Meng Qiqi’s strength and see where he stood, but somehow, in the blink of an eye, it had turned into Meng Qiqi pushing them to fight Chen Boyan instead.

As for fighting a little girl, that was out of the question. It would be disgraceful.

But if they actually fought Chen Boyan… all these older cultivators lining up to challenge someone younger, how would that look once word got out?

Even if Chen Boyan truly was an outstanding talent and capable of putting on a remarkable match, being the one to step forward first was never a good thing.

On the other side, Meng Qiqi had already sent Chen Boyan a glance. Chen Boyan, understanding perfectly, gave a slight nod, removed Wuwang from his waist, and took a step forward, holding the sword in hand.

“Please,” he said again.

Backed into a corner, He Yungui said, “I am many years your senior. If we compare raw cultivation, I may have the advantage. Why not settle this with an artifact duel instead?”

Chen Boyan gave it a moment’s thought and replied, “Agreed.”

In terms of cultivation alone, He Yungui believed himself, as a senior, to hold the upper hand. But when it came to life-bound swords, Chen Boyan had clearly been born under far more fortunate stars. So a qi sword duel was the fairest approach.

Still, someone in the crowd couldn’t help muttering, “Old fox.”

He Yungui had secured himself a good reputation. If he lost, it wouldn’t be too shameful.

By now, the young cultivators who had followed Meng Qiqi out of Chanhua Tower had also noticed the commotion. Many drifted closer, their eyes shifting between Meng Qiqi and Chen Boyan, each harboring their own thoughts.

After a brief pause, Chen Boyan and He Yungui marked out an arena and stood face-to-face.

He Yungui announced in a level voice that the bout would end after ten moves and would stop at first contact.

Chen Boyan gave a nod and the duel began. He Yungui formed a sword seal, drew his palms outward, and swiftly summoned his life-bound sword. It was not ornate, yet its edge was keen beyond measure.

At that moment, everyone’s attention was on Chen Boyan. His sword was said to be a gift from the heavens, something that appeared only once in a hundred years. What kind of brilliance would it reveal?

The sword scar at the center of Chen Boyan’s brow seemed whiter than frost and faint light rose beneath the skin. Unlike most cultivators, he did not use both hands. He stood as straight as a green pine, one arm hanging naturally, the other reaching into empty air. There were no intricate gestures. He simply reached forward and closed his fingers around his sword.

For him, it was as easy as drinking water.

He Yungui’s gaze darkened. The last trace of carelessness vanished from his mind.

Spectators leaned in with such focus that even the figure of Meng Qiqi faded from their sight.

Meng Qiqi glanced at the junior disciples who had hurried over from Chanhua Tower, then exchanged a look with Qing Gu. The two of them slipped from the crowd without drawing notice. Once they were far enough away, Meng Qiqi raised his voice and called out to the crowd, telling them to enjoy their duels. If anyone wished to find him, Meng Xiu would be waiting at Lion Tower.

When the onlookers turned back, Meng Qiqi had already melted into the throng.

A short while later, four streets from the dueling ground, Meng Qiqi stopped before an old residence. The vermilion paint on the gate was faded and peeling. He told Qing Gu to knock.

They waited a long time before a voice sounded within, asking who was there.

Meng Qiqi replied that an old friend of Zhou Silang wished to meet with Granny Zhu.

His voice startled a magpie on the branch above. It chirped noisily and shook loose a few withered leaves from last year. Qing Gu looked up. She and the bird stared at each other, turning the long wait into a quiet standoff.

At last the weather-worn door opened a finger’s width. A shy young woman peeked out and gave Meng Qiqi a courtesy bow.

“Granny asks whether Zhiheng has come.”

“He is not here. The young man who wrote to Granny has come in his place,” Meng Qiqi answered with a gentle smile.

The girl glanced past him. Finding no one else, she sighed softly.

“Please come in. Granny is inside.”