M49S Vol 1 Chapter 26. Chaos Unleashed

Just as Shen Qingya’s junior brother hurriedly left Chanhua Tower, a plump middle-aged man with a kindly face and two thin mustaches happened to push open the door to Granny Zhu’s home. His rolls of fat jiggled with every step, yet his hand was surprisingly steady. The soup he carried in the food box didn’t spill a single drop.

As he neared the door to the inner room, he stopped to straighten his robe, exhaled, lifted his brows, gathered his courage, and pushed the door open. His cheerful voice carried a tone of eager flattery.

“Aunt, I came to see you!”

Inside Lion Tower, the tension had reached a boiling point.

A group had gathered at Meng Qiqi’s table. Though their expressions remained respectful, not one of them backed down in tone. One of them spoke up.

“Senior Meng just said that anyone who defeats a disciple of Gushan Sword may challenge you. Senior has truly kept your word by waiting for us here at Lion Tower. We are deeply grateful. May I ask how Martial Uncle intends for us to compete?”

Meng Qiqi knew by now that Shen Qingya likely wouldn’t make it in time, but he felt no panic. He was the Little Martial Uncle of Gushan. No matter how eager the cultivators were to challenge him, they wouldn’t have acted so rashly without someone stoking the flames from behind.

And who could have the power to orchestrate this?

It was none other than the Wang clan or Beidou, the very ones he had just offended. The two factions had clearly come to some underhanded agreement in secret and now acted as one.

The Wang clan, after all, was a deep-rooted aristocratic family. Gaining the upper hand on their turf wouldn’t be easy.

Meng Qiqi had yet to remove his gauze veil. Pouring himself another cup of wine, he let his gaze fall to the pale green liquid.

“So, have all of you defeated my senior nephew?”

The group froze for a moment. Then another person answered, “We haven’t. It’s just that Brother Chen had to leave early. He said it would be enough if we bested a few of his junior disciples.”

Clack.
Meng Qiqi’s wine cup landed on the table, emitting a crisp sound. His tone dipped slightly. “Senior nephew, is that true?”

Chen Boyan answered from behind him.
“Yes, Little Martial Uncle. It is.”

Meng Qiqi turned his head slightly.
“I left this matter in your hands, and you passed it on to your junior disciples. When did the Gushan Sword start teaching you to act like this?”

Chen Boyan stood just behind Meng Qiqi, far closer than one might expect. From that vantage point, he could easily catch a glimpse of the bright, teasing eyes behind the gauze veil. This Little Martial Uncle was playing some kind of game again. And just like that, the reprimand lost all its weight, turning sly and elusive.

Lowering his eyes, Chen Boyan concealed the flicker of amusement and answered respectfully, “It was my mistake.”

The challengers across from them, along with the growing crowd of onlookers, all exchanged puzzled glances.

One of them hurriedly stepped forward, trying to explain that this wasn’t really Chen Boyan’s fault, that it had been a collective decision. But before he could finish, Meng Qiqi swept him a cold glance that cut him off on the spot.

“This is Gushan Sword internal matter. I suggest you stay out of it.”

If the man was scolding his own disciple, outsiders really had no place to interfere, but what Chen Boyan said next left everyone dumbfounded.

“Please don’t be angry, Little Martial Uncle. I would like to make amends.”

As he spoke, Chen Boyan stepped out from behind Meng Qiqi, cupped his hands to the crowd, and said, “Everyone, it was my error to act on my own earlier. I now respectfully invite you to spar with me on behalf of my Little Martial Uncle.”

“Hold on a second!” one black-robed cultivator couldn’t take it anymore. His head was spinning. They had originally come to challenge Meng Qiqi. Then they were told to fight Chen Boyan. Then Chen Boyan passed them off to his junior disciples. After all that effort, they were finally done, only for Meng Qiqi to toss them right back to Chen Boyan again? What kind of nonsense was this?

Especially for him. He had been one of the first to lose to Chen Boyan. Then he barely scraped by in a match against Tu Youqiong. And now what? Go back and fight Chen Boyan again? And if he lost, would Chen Boyan pass him off to another junior brother?

Was he supposed to fight through every last disciple of Gushan Sword Sect just to get a crack at Meng Qiqi?

No way. Absolutely not!

The black-robed cultivator said urgently, “Meng Xiu, you said anyone who wins a match could spar with you. You can’t go back on your word now!”

The others immediately voiced their agreement. From the second floor came a mocking voice.

“That’s right, Meng Xiu. How could you toy with people like this? It’s just one match. Are you scared?”

Meng Qiqi looked up and saw a cultivator sprawled over the railing in an utterly indecent posture. He was bald, but clearly not a monk from Futu Temple. Most likely a rogue cultivator.

“And you are?” Meng Qiqi asked.

“Name’s Yin Wuhua,” the bald man replied.

Meng Qiqi recited silently to himself. The Twelve Guests of Nandao.

Nandao was home to many rogue cultivators. Among them, twelve stood out for their exceptional skill and, through a twist of fate, had sworn brotherhood. Cultivators in the immortal sects referred to them collectively as the Twelve Guests of Nandao. However, these twelve usually acted independently and did not form a sect.

But as far as Meng Qiqi could recall, not one of them was bald.

“Forgive my poor memory,” Meng Qiqi said, his gaze deliberately skimming over Yin Wuhua’s shiny scalp. Yin Wuhua caught the meaning, laughed heartily, and ran a hand over his gleaming head.

“Lost a bet last month. Had to shave it all off. Lucky for me, I’m a rough man, not like you younger folks, all concerned with appearance and grace…”

As he spoke, a sharp light flickered in his eyes, and without warning, he launched an attack.

His large, calloused hand bent into the shape of a claw and struck at Meng Qiqi’s face. The move came suddenly, but Meng Qiqi never let his guard down around strangers. He kicked hard at the table leg, sending the bench sliding backward. He remained seated and calmly reached out and snatched a bamboo chopstick from the table, flicking it like a sword toward Yin Wuhua.

The chopstick flew toward Yin Wuhua’s eyes just as the wind from his claw strike blew aside the gauze veil in front of Meng Qiqi’s face.

Gasps erupted from all sides. No one had expected Yin Wuhua to make a sudden move.

Yin Wuhua stared at the bamboo chopstick flying toward him. But instead of panic, the smile at the corners of his lips widened. He pulled back his right hand and threw a punch with his left. Rather than dodging, he struck directly, shattering the chopstick into splinters just before it could reach his eyes.

Such brute strength made many in the crowd feel like cheering for him.

Clap, clap.

Applause rang out. Meng Qiqi, smiling faintly, offered his “opponent” a look of appreciation.

“Impressive technique. That punch didn’t even land and still shattered the chopstick through sheer force. You only used about thirty percent of your strength, didn’t you?”

Yin Wuhua scanned Meng Qiqi from head to toe. Not a single strand of hair out of place, not a speck of dust on his clothes. Their gazes locked, and invisible pressure began to clash between them, causing the cups on the table to tremble.

Only now did the crowd realize what had just happened. When Meng Qiqi kicked the table leg, not only had he avoided Yin Wuhua’s strike completely, he had also kept the wine in his cup from spilling a single drop. As the saying goes, the truth is found in the details. Even that single glimpse of skill made it clear that this person was not to be underestimated.

The room fell silent. Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on the two. No one dared to interrupt. Not just because of the overwhelming aura that had erupted between them, but because they all wanted to see the outcome.

Would Meng Qiqi win? Or would he lose?

Everyone waited for a conclusion, but the pressure vanished just as quickly as it had arrived, receding like a tide in the blink of an eye.

Yin Wuhua laughed heartily, rubbing his gleaming bald head. “As expected of the Little Martial Uncle from Gushan. Refreshing!”

Meng Qiqi nodded. “Likewise.”

The cultivators were dumbfounded. Even the tavern staff who had come to watch looked unsatisfied. So who won? Was it Meng Qiqi? But Yin Wuhua didn’t look like someone who had lost.

Just as everyone was hoping for an answer, Meng Qiqi spoke up first.

“Our Gushan Sword does not go back on its word. Since my senior nephew said he would take the field on my behalf, then his results are mine as well. I have no intention of denying that.”

“Wait a minute!”

The black-robed cultivator instinctively tried to argue again, but the words caught in his throat. Was there anything wrong with what Meng Qiqi had done? Not really. But weren’t they supposed to be challenging him? How had it all come full circle, back to fighting Chen Boyan again?

Just then, several cultivators rushed into Lion Tower with shocking news.

“The Wang Manor is on fire!”

“Fire?!”

Many members of the Wang clan were present, and at the news, they immediately rushed out in a panic. Though many of the cultivators were unwilling to miss their chance at Meng Qiqi, a portion of them still followed the others out.

Meng Qiqi felt a little more at ease.
Good job, Xiao Yu’er. You’ve never let your master down.

At the same time, Shen Qingya’s junior brother arrived at Lion Tower. Unaware of the situation inside, he was just about to follow Shen Qingya’s instructions when his gaze met Meng Qiqi’s.

Meng Qiqi gave a subtle shake of his head. The situation had stabilized for now. Shen Qingya’s backup plan could wait. The man paused for a moment, understood immediately, and entered Lion Tower quietly, without drawing attention.

Meanwhile, Wang Ziqian, who had been in Chanhua Tower, received the message from home and rushed back at once. Worried about Meng Qiqi, Shen Qingya set out as soon as Wang Ziqian left.

But just as he stepped out of Chanhua Tower, a voice called out to him.

He turned and saw an old man in a rain cloak fishing by the lakeside. Who else could it be but their senior from Tianlao?

“Martial Uncle.” Shen Qingya stepped forward respectfully and bowed.

The rain-cloaked elder stroked his white beard, casting his line with ease.

“Qingya, come sit with this old man and fish for a while.”

Shen Qingya felt a faint weight settle in his heart.

Did Martial Uncle notice something, and that’s why he suddenly called me over?
But back on Tianlao Mountain, he had accompanied this old man while fishing at the cold pool many times before, so…

“Martial Uncle, I still have something to take care of in the city,” Shen Qingya said.

“Qingya, our Tianlao Sect never expected you youngsters to become true ascetics, free of all desire,” the elder said slowly. “But we also don’t want you caught too early in certain entanglements. That young friend of yours still has time to burn. But this old man is getting on in years. Won’t you stay and fish with me for a while?”

The old man in the rain cloak appeared no different from an ordinary fisherman. His speech was free of intimidation, and his voice, though aged, carried a natural rhythm. But how could Shen Qingya dare go against an elder’s wishes? He could only smile bitterly to himself and say,
“I understand.”

By now, Wang Ziqian had rushed back to the Wang Manor. He stood before a scorched section of the wall, watching as more and more onlookers gathered. His gaze turned increasingly cold.

It wasn’t the gawking crowd that truly unsettled him. It was Yao Guan and the large group from Wuhou Manor, two or three dozen strong, who had shown up in full force to block the gates.

“Young Master, what should we do?”
His subordinate looked anxiously at the situation. With the entrance blocked, there was no way to get inside.

Wang Ziqian shook his head. He had deliberately kept his distance and avoided going over. If he stepped out now, Yao Guan would seize the chance to make a scene. What puzzled him most was just yesterday, Jin Man had already fallen out with the Wang clan. So who had given Wuhou Manor the nerve to come banging on their gates today?

He quietly stepped back, choosing to observe from the shadows.

He had no idea that Xiao Yu’er, having finished setting the fire and confirming the damage, was hiding nearby. The moment he spotted Wang Ziqian, his one good eye lit up.

Not long after, the Wang clan patriarch, Wang Changlin, arrived with a group in tow. The members of the Wang clan all wore thunderous expressions. As soon as the two parties met, tensions flared.

Wuhou Manor accused the Wang clan outright, claiming that the disappearance of Jin Man was caused by Daoist Wuyan, the Wang clan’s third elder. They were here to demand answers. The Wang clan, on the other hand, suspected Wuhou Manor of being behind the arson and accused them of harboring malicious intent.

“Daoist Wuyan has committed heinous crimes. Your Wang clan harbors such a blight upon the cultivation world, even giving him a seat among your elders. If we don’t get an explanation today, what right do you have to host the Knock upon the Immortal Gate?”

“Our Wang clan has preserved a clean name for a thousand years. Do you think we’ll let you smear it with your baseless accusations?”

“So the grand Wuhou Manor stoops to arson and slander. Do you take us for fools who’ll just sit and be bullied?”

The scene descended into utter chaos.

Even Wang Changlin, usually known for his poise and refinement, was struggling to keep his composure. Yao Guan, brash and fearless, only grew bolder. Neither side could back down, not at this critical juncture.

And yet, back at Lion Tower, Meng Qiqi remained seated, sipping tea. From start to finish, he hadn’t moved from his spot. No one had been able to make him budge. At this moment, he was still leisurely skimming the tea foam with the lid of his cup. No one could see the expression behind the gauze veil. No one could guess at the calm, unshakable ease in the way the Little Martial Uncle of Gushan sat.

Not a single person could.

Chen Boyan stood before the table, sword in hand, waiting for challengers. Meanwhile, Yin Wuhua, as if having struck up a bond with Meng Qiqi through their earlier clash, sat down at his table and loudly ordered a jar of the finest Bamboo Leaf Green.

No one stepped forward. No one wanted to go through another artifact duel with Chen Boyan. And with the current situation at the Wang Manor, many were growing uneasy. If they offended Gushan Sword now, and something really did happen to the Wang clan, what then?

On the second floor, Jiang Xing threw back a mouthful of burning liquor. His eyes were dark. A plan had already formed in his mind. Send disciples from his sect, one after another, to challenge Chen Boyan. As the duels accumulated, even someone of Chen Boyan’s level would eventually wear down.

But in this generation, few could match Chen Boyan. If he kept winning all the way through…

Jiang Xing didn’t dare risk it. And if he tried to push other sects into testing the waters, would they fall for it?

As he hesitated, a young cultivator stepped out from the crowd. He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen. Face taut with nerves and excitement, he made his way to Chen Boyan and stood there stiffly. To steady himself, he raised his voice and cupped his hands.

“My name is Luo Yiyi. I’m just a minor rogue cultivator from Mount Wuming. I’m seventeen this year. My cultivation’s not that high, and I don’t dare ask for a match with Senior Meng, but I do hope Senior Brother Chen can offer me some guidance. I’ll do my best. Please, Senior Brother, teach me!”

Luo Yiyi gave Chen Boyan a deep, formal bow. The slightly trembling, eager tone of his voice still lingered in the air.

Meng Qiqi stared at him for a moment. The youth’s expression was pure, not an act. After a brief pause, he let out a quiet sigh.

“If my Little Martial Uncle were still around, I imagine he would have preferred sparring with this boy over crossing blades with certain others.”

The sigh was soft and solitary, yet the sentiment it carried made the surrounding cultivators suddenly remember one thing. This was the Knock upon the Immortal Gate. A grand gathering where the young and talented from across the realm came to seek the path to immortality.

And this place, Lion Tower, had witnessed no shortage of such worthy tales.

A decades past, the Little Martial Uncle of Gushan, Zhou Ziheng, astonished all with his sword. Countless young cultivators had gathered at Lion Tower, drinking three thousand cups in celebration. At the height of his revelry, Zhou Ziheng leapt to the rooftop with sword in hand. His unsteady steps and the blade pointed toward the sky all expressed the wild, unrestrained spirit of a true genius of the sword.

That evening, the setting sun bathed the sky in a wash of red, and even the clouds looked drunk. At the moment when Lotus Bloom burst into the sky, its hundred and eight sword strikes painted the heavens like falling stars, radiant as fire, brilliant as meteors.

That Lotus Bloom of one hundred and eight strikes had become a legend no one could ever surpass.

The pursuit of swordsmanship’s beauty had never faded from the cultivation world. It had always been shaped by the clash of countless blades, by wave after wave of cultivators striving forward in the path of Immortality.

That was the true meaning of a duel.

Chen Boyan stepped forward to show his respect, then unfastened Wuwang and held it in his hand.

“Please.”