M49S Vol 1 Chapter 41. Victory and Defeat

Dai Xiaoshan’s concerns weren’t unfounded. But what no one expected was that, in the third round, the rogue cultivator Zheng Cheng ended up facing someone from the Wang clan, and not just anyone, but Wang Ziling’s full-blooded cousin.

He was beaten so badly he coughed up blood. He remained conscious as he stepped down from the platform, but it was unlikely he would be able to compete tomorrow.

For a time, Zheng Cheng’s name spread like wildfire. Everyone was speculating who his next opponent would be.

Dai Xiaoshan observed his every move closely. “After three rounds, most of us are carrying some injuries and starting to wear down. If anyone gets matched against this Zheng Cheng now, it’s going to be a real problem.”

Tu Youqiong looked puzzled. “But his cultivation level seems about the same as yours, Senior Brother. Is he really that strong?”

Dai Xiaoshan reached out and patted his head affectionately. “Junior Brother, in all your years at Gushan, have you ever even killed a chicken?”

Tu Youqiong shook his head. Then, remembering something, he said, “But I’ve killed a beast before!”

“That’s because beasts look vicious and monstrous. There’s no burden in killing one. But that man over there, he’s definitely killed humans before. Killing people is a whole different thing from killing chickens or beasts.” Dai Xiaoshan’s voice was calm, and he even wore a faint smile at the corners of his mouth.

Tu Youqiong glanced toward the corner where Zheng Cheng was resting. At that moment, Zheng Cheng opened his eyes and looked straight at him. Their eyes met, and Tu Youqiong suddenly stiffened.

That look was full of killing intent.

He grabbed Dai Xiaoshan’s arm. “Senior Brother, I just felt like he was looking at me like I was a chicken!”

“Come on, Youqiong, that’s not fair. If you were a chicken, I would’ve eaten you long ago. You think you’d still be alive today?” Dai Xiaoshan said with a grin, and his hand crept up to the back of Tu Youqiong’s neck, making him break out in goosebumps.

“Senior Brother, save me!” Tu Youqiong darted forward like an arrow, hiding behind Chen Boyan’s wide sleeve. Chen Boxi laughed so hard he ran out of breath. The two little braids at his temples swaying back and forth like whiskers.

Tu Youqiong stuck out his head and asked indignantly, “What are you laughing at?”

Chen Boxi crouched down beside his brother, still holding his belly from laughing. “I’m laughing at you,” he said.

Tu Youqiong was just about to argue back when Chen Boyan’s cold gaze swept across them. “Stand properly. Don’t slouch around like that.”

The two young cultivators immediately fell silent and stood obediently by Chen Boyan’s side, as quiet as golden boys in a temple.

With the third round complete, there were just over thirty cultivators remaining. Xiao Yu’er didn’t have strong enough cultivation and had barely scraped through the second round, but was defeated in the third. His opponent had figured out his patterns and came prepared, so his loss was expected. Qing Gu lost as well, though her expression didn’t change. Smiling as always, she gave nothing away, and her opponent couldn’t tell how strong she really was.

The disciple that Gushan Sword regretted losing the most was their senior sister Song Ru. In the third round, she had faced Master Yinian of Futu Temple. Though she lost, it was a respectable defeat.

By this point, only four from Gushan Sword remained: Chen Boyan, Mu Guinian, Xiao Xiao, and Tu Youqiong.

Even Tu Youqiong himself hadn’t expected to make it to the fourth round. His luck in the second and third rounds had been so good it was as if Guanyin herself had blessed him. But before he had time to feel proud, the steward’s next announcement hit him like a bucket of cold water.

“Next match: Tu Youqiong of Gushan Sword against Zheng Cheng.”

Tu Youqiong froze. The entire crowd froze with him.

Dai Xiaoshan narrowed his eyes. What he had worried about most had happened after all. Zheng Cheng had already eliminated someone from the Wang clan, which made today’s matchups look fair enough. Now that it was one of Gushan’s disciples facing him, no one could call it a setup.

But why wasn’t it Chen Boyan? Why not Xiao Xiao or Mu Guinian? Why did it have to be Tu Youqiong?

Tu Youqiong had scraped through all three rounds, each win barely secured. Even with the help of recovery pills, he had only regained half his strength at best. Facing Zheng Cheng now, his odds of victory were less than twenty percent, and he still risked serious injury.

But could Tu Youqiong back down?

He couldn’t.

Back then, the former sect leader had stood alone against Lang Xu at the border and forced him back beyond the pass, all to defend the honor of the Central Plains. He had died without regret. With a legacy like that, how could his successors retreat just because of a little danger? Gushan Sword’s disciples had no choice but to fight.

Tu Youqiong understood exactly what this battle meant. Gushan Sword was already in decline, and this competition was their best chance to regain some ground. If he showed even a flicker of fear or hesitation now, everything they had worked for would vanish like smoke.

That thought made him clench his fists. On his young, still-boyish face appeared a rare seriousness. “Senior Brother, I’m going.”

“Be careful. Don’t act on impulse.” Chen Boyan paused, then rested a hand on his shoulder. “You still have your senior brothers and sisters. Gushan Sword isn’t just you, understand?”

Tu Youqiong’s heart surged with excitement. Senior Brother was encouraging me. Tu Youqiong nodded and thumped his chest. “Got it!”

He strode out to the center of the platform, full of spirit and resolve, and came to a stop in front of Zheng Cheng. “Tu Youqiong of Gushan Sword. Please give me your guidance.”

The boy stood tall, voice bright and clear. His presence lit up the space around him. There was no shadow of fear in his eyes, not even with danger right in front of him.

Zheng Cheng looked at him for a moment, then raised his hand and replied, “Please.”

That alone drew some surprise. It was the first time Zheng Cheng had spoken before a match since the competition began.

Though some were surprised, no one truly believed Tu Youqiong could win. What they were watching for was how long he could last.

Tu Youqiong shouted, “Take this!” and immediately launched Ten Thousand Swords Return to One, the strongest technique he had learned so far. He knew he had no real chance of winning, but if he could seize the initiative and strike with full force from the start, he might be able to turn the tide.

But Zheng Cheng was no ordinary cultivator, and that difference became clear almost immediately.

Faced with the sky-filling barrage of flying swords, he didn’t defend. Instead, he drove his own sword straight into the oncoming wave.

One sword against hundreds, how could that possibly work?

Unlike Featherwoven Net, Ten Thousand Swords Return to One did not allow each blade to match the full strength of a life-bound sword. Each one carried only a fraction of that power. But what it lacked in force, it made up for in overwhelming numbers.

Even so, Zheng Cheng’s black short sword tore into the net of flying blades without pause, cutting forward with unstoppable momentum. Just when it looked as though it would be shredded by the sword web, something unexpected happened.

The black short sword twisted midair and, with a few sharp tail flicks, slipped through the gaps in the formation and shot directly toward Tu Youqiong.

His pupils contracted.

The rules of the Life-bound Weapon Duel forbade direct attacks on the cultivator, but that didn’t stop the fear rising from deep within. Tu Youqiong called his sword back to defend. In that moment, he even forgot the more frightening truth that Zheng Cheng had already broken through his sword formation.

A metallic clang rang out. In the blink of an eye, Tu Youqiong’s blue sword intercepted the short sword just in time. But the instant the blades met, panic flared in his chest.

He had taken the bait.

The black sword came at him with terrifying speed. Tu Youqiong should not have been able to call his sword back in time. But Zheng Cheng had never meant for the strike to land. He wasn’t breaking the rules. He was using them, turning the duel’s limits into bait.

Like a seasoned hunter, using everything around him to drive his prey into the trap.

As soon as the strike was blocked, the black sword drew back and locked onto Tu Youqiong’s blade. Every strike came with vicious force. The clash of metal rang out again and again, and no matter how he moved, Tu Youqiong couldn’t shake it off.

Even worse—

Meng Qiqi narrowed his eyes. Even through the white veil, he could see everything clearly. Zheng Cheng’s moves were simple, but every one of them was practical. A flick, a chop, a thrust, each action was short and fast, and every point of contact carried the weight of killing intent. That was his force. It wasn’t that he truly intended to harm Tu Youqiong, but the pressure was real.

Someone like Tu Youqiong, raised under the protection of his sect, had never faced an opponent like this. And Zheng Cheng’s speed masked a critical truth. His attacks were not scattered. Most of them landed on the same spot, over and over. If Tu Youqiong couldn’t break free from this kind of pressure soon, his life-bound sword would start to break down.

And that was only the beginning.

What made Zheng Cheng truly dangerous was his seasoned awareness. Tu Youqiong had realized by now how dire his situation was. In order to break free, he acted on instinct and decided to turn retreat into attack.

Tu Yaoqiong stepped back, and the blue sword followed with a sudden retreat of its own. At the same time, he formed a sword seal with his fingers. The blade traced a streak of light through the air and swept around to strike from behind Zheng Cheng’s short black sword. After one blow, it vanished, then reappeared in a completely different direction, as if it had teleported.

A voice rose from the crowd. “Treading Snow, Without a Trace!”

“He’s actually managed to merge movement techniques into a life-bound weapon duel…” The moment the words were spoken, the crowd burst into conversation. Tu Youqiong was overjoyed.

He had gotten lucky.

He had never managed to combine Treading Snow and Without a Trace before. Controlling a life-bound sword to mimic that kind of movement was extremely difficult. But just now, he followed a sudden impulse, and it actually worked.

Meng Qiqi smiled. That little martial nephew of his really was a stroke of luck.

If he was right, Zheng Cheng had entered the duel with two goals. Any cautious and experienced hunter would prepare a backup plan. First, he would try to break Tu Youqiong’s weapon. Second, if that failed, he would force him to retreat step by step, until there was nowhere left to run.

But Tu Youqiong’s sudden move had disrupted everything.

Zheng Cheng’s eyes darkened slightly. If Tu Youqiong could dodge, then he would make sure there was nowhere left to dodge to.

A chill passed through the air.

A faint and oppressive wave of killing intent began to spread through the arena. The surrounding cultivators sent out their spiritual sense to examine it. The moment they did, their expressions shifted sharply.

What they sensed was the outward release of spiritual sense, a phenomenon that only occurred after a cultivator had reached full mastery of the second realm. This was what people called spiritual pressure.

It was not the same as the suppression people often spoke of. That kind of pressure came from status or authority. Even mortal emperors and generals could impose it. But the release of spiritual sense came from cultivation itself. It was far more aggressive. If there was a large gap in strength, a single pulse from a higher-realm cultivator could force the weaker one to the ground.

Was Zheng Cheng already that powerful?

No. His realm was still only at minor perfection.

Which meant he had managed to release spiritual pressure before even completing the second realm. And everyone’s pressure was different. Zheng Cheng’s carried nothing but cold intent to kill. It was the most dangerous kind.

Tu Youqiong felt it most. That heavy force pressed closer and closer, weighing down his shoulders and creeping into his chest. His vital force had already begun to slow. Under the weight of that pressure, Zheng Cheng’s black short sword began to exude a faint black mist.

A trace of panic quietly spread through his heart. He had never encountered a situation like this. No matter which way he turned, whether he advanced or retreated, the outcome felt the same.

It was death.

Tu Youqiong clenched his teeth and held on. He didn’t want to give up so easily. But the fear inside him, once planted, had begun to grow like a seed taking root.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the swirling black mist.

“Tu Youqiong!”

“Senior Brother Youqiong, get out of the way!”

It was Third Senior Brother, and Xiao Yu’er.

Trusting his fellow disciples, Tu Youqiong immediately guided his sword to dodge. But he couldn’t see the black short sword through the mist. Was it coming from the left, or the right?

It didn’t matter.

He gritted his teeth. As soon as he finished Treading Snow, Without a Trace, he launched into Wild Streaks. This time it wasn’t just in name. Every strike flew in chaos, fast and erratic, with no regard for aim or defense.

His long sword, glowing with a faint blue light, lunged in every direction through the black mist. He had no idea where Zheng Cheng’s blade actually was, whether he was hitting anything, or even whether he could hold on. It was a madman’s way of fighting.

But it felt good.

The panic that had gripped him moments ago eased by half. His sword stirred up the mist, and then came the sharp ring of metal striking metal.

He had landed a hit.

Now that he had found his target, the chaotic strikes began to take shape. His wild style started to find real force behind it.

But Zheng Cheng was still stronger. His cultivation surpassed Tu Youqiong’s, and with spiritual pressure on his side, his combat experience put him on a level Tu Youqiong couldn’t reach. The gap between them remained. Even with a few flashes of brilliance, Tu Youqiong couldn’t escape being forced back again and again. Before long, he let out a muffled grunt, and his face turned pale.

Xiao Yu’er’s face had gone taut with worry. Dai Xiaoshan and Song Ru both wore the same grave expression. The outcome was already apparent. After the last exchange, no one would have blamed Tu Youqiong for admitting defeat. But he showed no sign of giving up.

Keep going. Just keep fighting.

Tu Youqiong threw out every move he knew, one after another. Whether they worked or not, he refused to stop.

Even though his usually stern senior brother had told him to put safety first, Tu Youqiong couldn’t forget the sight of their master sitting alone on the threshold of Shanyu Hall, watching the mist roll over Gushan, listening to the cranes call through the clouds.

That man had once said he was the most useless among this generation in Gushan Sword. He had watched helplessly as the sect went from its former glory to decline, from crowded halls to just a few scattered disciples, yet he could do nothing to stop it.

The honor of the past had vanished like wind. All that remained was the old ancestral plaque, polished to a shine by the hands of unworthy disciples like them. But what was the use of that?

If the people were powerless, what meaning did the plaque still hold?

That was why, even knowing he had no chance of victory, Tu Youqiong still fought with everything he had. He could lose—but Gushan Sword could not.

“Watch my sword!” he shouted, forcing his breath through his chest as he charged forward again.

Zheng Cheng didn’t understand why his opponent was still fighting so hard, but facing someone like this made him feel he should give his all as well.

The arena slowly quieted. On one side was the Gushan boy, exhausting every last bit of strength just to keep the fight going. On the other stood the ruthless dark horse, already showing his overwhelming edge. Everyone could see how the match would end, but they still couldn’t look away.

The more Song Ru watched, the tighter her brows drew together.

Then Zheng Cheng’s black short sword snapped sideways with a twist, knocking Tu Youqiong’s sword out of the way. A sharp crack rang out. A deep fracture had appeared along the blade of Tu Youqiong’s sword.

The fracture in the sword immediately affected Tu Youqiong’s body. His stance wavered, and he dropped to one knee.

“Tu Youqiong!” Song Ru moved at once, stepping out from the ranks to pull him back, but Chen Boyan raised a hand and stopped her. He shook his head. His expression remained composed and upright, as if his junior’s injury hadn’t affected him at all.

“Senior Brother…” Dai Xiaoshan also took a step forward.

But Chen Boyan continued to block them. Then he turned his gaze to Tu Youqiong and said, “Get up.”

Tu Youqiong was gasping for breath. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his face pale as paper. His vital force had been completely drained. His dantian was empty, and his entire body ached.

But he heard his senior brother’s voice and, trembling slightly, forced himself to rise. Chen Boyan was the one he feared most, and also the one he respected most. As long as it was something Senior Brother said, he would do it.

Still, to the others watching, this scene made Chen Boyan seem rather cold-hearted.

The only relief was that Zheng Cheng did not strike while he was down. His black short sword hovered in the air, ready to deliver the final blow, but he held back. It was as if he were waiting for Tu Youqiong to stand.

Tu Youqiong took a deep breath and slowly straightened up. Almost instinctively, he turned to look at Chen Boyan.

There was a faint warmth in Chen Boyan’s eyes. He still did not speak, but Tu Youqiong seemed to understand. He turned back to face Zheng Cheng, and the determination in his eyes returned.

“Watch closely,” Tu Youqiong said, sweeping his sleeves back as he formed a seal in front of his chest. His faltering life-bound sword steadied once more, drawing in the surrounding vital force for a final strike.

They were disciples of Gushan Sword. Defeat did not frighten them.

Tu Youqiong’s chest swelled with pride. “Then let me show you my final—eh?!”

The sword fell.

It hit the ground and shattered.

Tu Youqiong stared in disbelief.

“Tu Youqiong of Gushan Sword versus Zheng Cheng. Victory goes to Zheng Cheng!”