M49S Vol 1 Chapter 27. Sudden Shift

At the center of Lion Tower stood a dedicated dueling platform. The round stage resembled a massive war drum, its surface painted with countless blooming red plum blossoms, reminiscent of the vibrant vermilion tree inside Chanhua Tower.

Luo Yiyi was one of the most ordinary sword cultivators on the Divine Continent. He came from a small village at the foot of Mount Wuming, and by sheer chance had stepped onto the path of cultivation. But unlike the stories in picture books, there had been no mysterious old sweeper nor any secret manual found at the bottom of a cliff. There had been disappointment, helplessness, and in the end, excitement and hope as he arrived in Jinling, determined to gain something at the Knock upon the Immortal Gate.

Young men like Luo Yiyi had never seen the brilliance of Zhou Ziheng’s one hundred and eight strikes, but the grandeur of Chen Boyan’s Ten Thousand Swords Return to One within the secret realm had left a lasting impression on him.

Challenging Chen Boyan was, by all measure, an act of overestimating himself, but not a single person laughed at him.

Chen Boyan drew his sword.

Luo Yiyi drew his.

The edges of the dueling platform were embedded with spiritual crystals. As they lit up, a faint glow rose to form an invisible barrier, separating the fighters from the crowd. What was about to unfold before their eyes was not just a qi sword duel. It was an unspoken sparring match, one that only disciples of the Gushan Sword could carry out.

As the match began, Luo Yiyi swallowed hard, pushing down his nerves. His expression turned solemn. Chen Boyan did not move. He was offering him the opening move. Without that gesture, he might not have had the chance to act at all.

Luo Yiyi tightened his grip on his sword, and attacked.

Yin Wuhua raised his sea bowl and drank heartily. His hawk-like eyes followed the exchange casually as he asked Meng Qiqi, “What realm is your senior nephew in now?”

Meng Qiqi replied calmly, “Why should I tell you?”

“Isn’t your Gushan Sword always known for its generosity?” Yin Wuhua reached for Meng Qiqi’s wine.

Meng Qiqi flicked his chopsticks, knocking his hand aside. “I’m not generous.”

Yin Wuhua pulled back, but his craving lingered. A moment later, he tried again. This time, he reached barehanded while Meng Qiqi defended with a pair of chopsticks. They exchanged a few swift moves, but Yin Wuhua still couldn’t manage to steal even a drop of wine. He sighed inwardly. Something was off.

He had seen Zhou Ziheng when he was young. For all his wildness and disregard for rules, Zhou Ziheng had always been openhanded and never cared about petty details like this.

But Meng Qiqi wasn’t like that.

On the stage, Luo Yiyi saw an opening and thrust forward. Chen Boyan could have easily dodged, but instead stood his ground and blocked it with the simplest cross-slash, allowing Luo Yiyi to complete the follow-up.

Luo Yiyi’s eyes lit up. His next three strikes linked together with surprising fluency.

“This one’s got potential,” Yin Wuhua remarked. “Your Gushan Sword should just take him in. With proper training, he might really amount to something.”

Meng Qiqi had seen enough to form a judgment. This Yin Wuhua truly had a few screws loose. No wonder he had managed to lose a bet and gamble away his own hair. He replied, “If you want him, take him. If not, stop talking.”

Yin Wuhua said nothing. Once more, he sighed to himself. This wasn’t right. Not at all.

The Gushan Sword had always been the orthodox lineage of sword cultivation. Guided by the principle of openness, it strove to spread the art of the sword far and wide. Across the Nine Provinces, countless sword cultivators had once benefited from the sect’s teachings. Apart from the core Gushan Sword Manual, which was forbidden to pass down, disciples of the sect had never been stingy about exchanging techniques. They learned from others, and others learned from them.

In its golden age, the sect was said to have thousands of outer disciples. Most had never trained at Gushan itself, but had once received instruction from a sect elder and considered it a lifelong honor.

That was why today’s match stood out. Chen Boyan was willing to offer guidance. Few others would.

In a cultivation world overflowing with talent, most guarded their treasured artifacts and techniques as if they would rot the moment they were shared. To find true fortune in such an environment was no easy feat.

Only Gushan Sword still held to what it had always been. With a disciple like Chen Boyan, its future hardly seemed in doubt.

Yin Wuhua sighed to himself. It was a shame. Chen Boyan belonged to the Chen clan, and no matter how well-suited he was, he would never be able to stay with Gushan for long.

By now, the match had ended.

Luo Yiyi stood on the stage, leaning on his sword and catching his breath. He had lost, yet his eyes still shone with conviction. Across from him, Chen Boyan’s expression remained composed. The two stepped back in unison and saluted one another.

“Thank you, Senior Brother Chen!” Luo Yiyi’s voice rang out with sincerity. The admiration in his gaze made Meng Qiqi narrow his eyes slightly.

When Chen Boyan returned to Meng Qiqi’s side, he immediately sensed that familiar hint of displeasure. Once again, he had no idea what he had done to provoke it. With so many eyes on them, he could only stay quiet.

“Tired?” Meng Qiqi asked.

“Not at all,” Chen Boyan replied, shaking his head.

Meng Qiqi tapped the table lightly. “Pour the wine.”

So Chen Boyan poured for him.

Off to the side, Yin Wuhua clicked his tongue in amusement. These uncle and nephew were strange.

But Meng Qiqi’s thoughts had already drifted elsewhere. Why had Wang Ziling still not appeared?

He had no allies left and should have come straight here. Meng Qiqi’s presence at Lion Tower would not have gone unnoticed, yet Wang Ziling hadn’t shown up. Could something have delayed him, just like Shen Qingya?

But Wang Ziling was no Shen Qingya. He was a spoiled fool. Had something gone wrong?

Meng Qiqi narrowed his eyes. His hand, resting casually at his side, brushed over the token given by the Holy Sovereign. A new plan began to take shape. Still, with so many eyes on him, he needed a way to slip away unnoticed.

“Where is Jiang Xie of Beidou?” Meng Qiqi suddenly called out.

The crowd stirred, eyes instinctively turning to the second floor. Many had seen Jiang Xie enter earlier, yet now that Meng Qiqi had mentioned him, they realized he had been unusually quiet.

“Where is Jiang Xie?” Meng Qiqi repeated, this time amplifying his voice with qi. It carried clearly to the upper level.

Beyond the reach of most eyes, Jiang Xie sat scowling in silence. He slammed his cup onto the table and stood abruptly, heading for the exit. But just before reaching the door, he stopped.

He drew a deep breath, pushing down the shadow in his eyes, then stepped forward to the railing and bowed toward the floor below. “Greetings, Martial Uncle Meng. May I ask what brings you to seek me?”

Meng Qiqi looked up with a light smile.
“I thought you weren’t here.”

A few in the crowd wore knowing expressions. Jiang Xie hadn’t answered the first call, and only responded after being called twice. He was clearly afraid.

Jiang Xie’s fists tightened at his sides, though his face remained composed.

Behind the gauze veil, Meng Qiqi’s expression turned cold. With a palm on the table, he leapt and landed at the second-floor railing. Looking down on Jiang Xie from above, he said, “I just wanted to ask where your elder, Yexin, is.”

Jiang Xie froze. He hadn’t expected Meng Qiqi to bring up Yexin first.

Inside the tower, others were quickly reminded of that night at Chanhua Tower, when Jiang Xie had stormed in with his junior brothers, demanding Meng Qiqi appear and fulfill a years-old duel pact.

Now the tide had turned.

Seeing Jiang Xie stunned into silence, Meng Qiqi’s voice turned colder.

“Years ago, your Elder Yexin challenged my Little Martial Uncle while knowing he was still recovering. How impressive. How bold. My Little Martial Uncle, being who he was, never refused a duel. But in the end, it was Yexin who claimed he had matters to attend to and backed out. Now, after all these years, he sends his disciples to press for a fight again. Do you take me, Meng Xiu, for someone who fears him?”

Every word landed hard and sharp, unflinching in tone. The crowd exchanged glances. No one had expected such a tangled history behind all this.

Jiang Xie stood frozen in disbelief. He had known about the unfulfilled duel between Elder Yexin and Zhou Ziheng, and had used it as leverage, but he had never heard the full story.

No. He couldn’t let Meng Qiqi seize control of the moment.

“Senior, I—” Jiang Xie started to explain, but Meng Qiqi cut him off without mercy.

“Where is Yexin? Tell him to crawl out and face me!”

Meng Qiqi’s sudden challenge caught Jiang Xie off guard and threw the entire Lion Tower into disarray. Within the span of a single incense stick, word had already spread throughout Jinling.

Coincidentally, Elder Yexin happened to be one of the Beidou elders accompanying the sect on this trip. At that very moment, he was inside the Wang manor, blocked at the gates by disciples from Wuhou Manor.

Hiding in the shadows, Xiao Yu’er kept one sharp eye trained on Wang Ziqian. He was young, but clear-headed and quick-witted, the most favored of his master’s disciples. Yao Guan would not be able to hold out much longer. If he wanted to act, he had to move now.

But Xiao Yu’er had only been training under his master for a year. He thought hard, racking his brain, yet still couldn’t come up with a reliable plan. Watching Yao Guan begin to falter, Xiao Yu’er’s small face tensed with urgency.

“If you insist that my second brother is not here, then fine. We have no proof and nothing left to say. But the matter of Wu Yan is far from over. Clan Leader Wang, I trust that as head of your family, you will judge fairly. I hope you’ll give us a proper answer when the time comes.”

Yao Guan knew when to retreat. He left those words behind and turned to leave with his men.

The Wang clan would not let them go so easily. “Cause a scene and expect to walk away? You think it’s that simple?”

In an instant, killing intent surged.

Yao Guan clenched his jaw. If it came down to another fight, so be it. Broad daylight or not, if the Wang clan dared to lay hands on them now, Wuhou Manor would see to it that their name was dragged through the mud tomorrow.

“Enough!” Wang Changlin’s voice rang out, snapping the tension in the air. The scene teetered on the edge of violence but was pulled back just in time.

The Wang clan was forced to give way. Yao Guan managed to withdraw with his men. Just then, a spark of inspiration lit up in Xiao Yu’er’s mind. He darted forward and tugged at Wang Ziqian’s sleeve.

“Brother Ziqian.”

Wang Ziqian turned around. Seeing that it was Meng Qiqi’s disciple, he stared in disbelief.

“You…”

Xiao Yu’er blinked his large, innocent eyes.
“Brother Ziqian, I need to find my martial uncle. I think he’s still inside your residence. Can you take me in to look for him?”

At that moment, Meng Qiqi had already used the chaos of his confrontation to slip upstairs with Chen Boyan into one of the private rooms. Jiang Xing’s face was dark as he sent a junior to fetch Elder Yexin.

Meng Qiqi was wasting no time.

He went to the window, checked that no one was nearby, then pulled out a small jade whistle and placed it between his lips. Though the whistle sounded, no noise could be heard.

After a brief wait, a figure climbed in through the window.

“Master.” The newcomer was Xiao Xiao, Meng Qiqi’s eldest disciple by age, though youngest in rank.

Meng Qiqi handed him the Holy Sovereign’s token. “Take this to the Xianfeng Teahouse and find the shopkeeper. And bring Wang Ziling to me, quickly.”