Mad Monkey Tests the Ring
The wind stirred beneath the willows, and the heat of the moment rose another degree.
Qin Yaozong's line — "Even compared with that young marquis from Changbai in the north, he would not necessarily come off worse" — fell like a spark into dry spring grass.
The fire did not blaze at once. But the warmth of something on the verge of catching spread all the same, inch by inch, along the flowered causeway, the waterside pavilion, the covered corridors, and the shade beneath the willows.
Until then, the crowd beside the pavilion had merely been watching for sport. Now, however, their eyes kept drifting, almost without meaning to, toward the western corridor.
The people of Flying Snow Manor had not spoken. Bai Yuchuan had not shown himself.
And that, more than anything, made it clear the matter was far from over.
By the flower gate, Qin Xin had already pressed a thin mark into the willow switch in her hand. She said nothing, yet her eyes kept turning west.
Behind a tree, Xi Qian tightened her grip on her sleeve without realizing it.
Fang Yingjie still stood staring into the ring, delighted for Xuanyuan Xi and yet dimly aware that everyone present seemed to be holding their breath for someone else to appear.
Only Feng Feiyun leaned against the tree with folded arms, his eyes bright as sparks.
He looked once at Xuanyuan Xi in the ring, then toward the half-closed flower gate at the far end of the western corridor, and slowly smiled.
"Almost," he murmured.
"This fire only needs one more armful of wood."
Xi Qian's heart tightened. She was just about to ask what trick he meant to play now when Feng Feiyun spat out the grass stem from his mouth, tapped lightly off the ground, and dropped into the ring with the easy, weightless grace of an ape springing down from the mountains.
"Young Master Qin may be speaking a little too soon."
The line came so abruptly that every head in the place turned at once.
A youth in blue now stood in the middle of the ring. His clothes were half worn, his long hair hung loose, his brows were alive with mischief, and there was a wild, half-mocking smile at the corner of his mouth. He had none of the polish or restraint of a disciple from a great house. Rather, he looked like someone who had simply burst straight in out of the woods, the wind, and the waterside.
Qin Yaozong stared for a beat, then laughed.
"So it's you. Last night outside Changmen I heard there was a sharp-tongued brat in blue who stepped in for someone else and showed a bit of nerve. What now? You mean to come down and join the fun too?"
Feng Feiyun grinned without the least trace of timidity.
"Once the show has started, you can't let only you noble young masters take the stage. Others should be allowed to prove that a wild road may still be worth watching."
Qin Yaozong laughed aloud and extended a hand.
"Good! Then give us your name."
Feng Feiyun rolled his eyes once and replied with a broad smile, "Yun Feifeng."
For a moment the crowd only blinked. Then laughter broke out from several sides.
The name sounded deliberately twisted, as if he had turned a proper name upside down for no reason except to tease whoever was listening.
Under the corridor, Qin Xin had still been standing lost in thought with the willow switch in hand. But when she heard him solemnly announce the name Yun Feifeng, she nearly laughed aloud. Some of the tight urgency in her face eased at once.
"A fine name indeed," said Qin Yaozong, clearly entertained. "Since you dare step into the ring, then you've earned the right to speak there. Young Master Xuanyuan — will you take this bout or not?"
Xuanyuan Xi slowly lifted his eyes toward the blue-clad youth. His expression remained as calm as ever.
With the slightest salute, he said, "Please."
But Feng Feiyun waved a hand.
"One thing first. No weapons. Let's test fists and feet only. Otherwise, if tempers really flare, the Qin family's festive stakes may turn into funeral trappings."
The line was coarse, but it made people laugh.
Qin Yaozong slapped the railing.
"Good! No weapons!"
The two faced one another.
One in blue like a mountain spring.
One in green-blue like a wild wind in the forest.
One still, one alive.
One composed, one untamed.
Standing there, they truly did seem evenly matched.
Feng Feiyun moved first.
There was not the least trace of formal elegance in his opening. His shoulder gave a twitch, and in the same instant he had already cut in from the side, one leg whipping toward the back of Xuanyuan Xi's knee. The kick was low, fast, and utterly indecorous, like a monkey snatching fruit.
Xuanyuan Xi shifted his footing and used Mount Hua's Step-Cloud Stair. He lifted lightly, neither quite rising nor quite retreating, nor let the kick pass half a foot short. Then his right palm turned out, clear and nimble, the Jade Maiden Peak line of Five Peaks Palm, built around finesse.
Feng Feiyun let out a small sound of surprise. His body folded and twisted, slipping away from the palm-shadow as though boneless, and he countered at once with a blow aimed beneath Xuanyuan Xi's ribs.
Yet the strike was strange. It was not quite a punch, not quite an elbow. It was more like a body turning over in midair and crashing in with shoulder, back, and arm all at once.
At first, many in the crowd had taken him for a mere troublemaker. But seeing him twist and flip now, so lively and so bizarre that no one could quite tell what he would do next, they could not help looking more closely.
Xuanyuan Xi still did not rush. Five Peaks Palm and Blazing Force Fist alternated in smooth succession.
Cloud Terrace Peak was steady.
Facing Sun Peak was upright.
Landing Wild Geese Peak was swift.
Jade Maiden Peak was subtle.
Lotus Flower Peak circled back.
Blazing Force Fist, by contrast, was heavy with pure yang force, broad and direct.
The stranger Feng Feiyun became, the straighter Xuanyuan Xi fought. The more chaotic Feng Feiyun grew, the calmer Xuanyuan Xi seemed. In the blink of an eye, they had already traded more than ten moves.
Feng Feiyun's legwork was especially odd. One instant high, the next low; one moment left, the next right. At times he seemed to be kicking for the shoulder, only to cut halfway down and sweep for the ankle instead. At times his toe barely touched the ground before he borrowed off a stone railing, a willow trunk, or a flower trellis to send another kick from some impossible angle. It really did carry the feeling of an ape swinging branch to branch, turning the ground itself into part of his movement.
Qin Yaozong's eyes lit.
"This boy's style is truly peculiar."
Not far away, Zheng Chong's expression shifted slightly.
He still did not dare name the youth's lineage outright, but those sudden changes of direction, those turns and reversals that borrowed from the terrain itself, gave off the faintest trace of the Hidden Bamboo Sect's way of hiding one's form by borrowing force. The trace was only intermittent, however, and the other youth was clearly careful not to reveal any one line of martial skill too fully. Zheng Chong could not very well expose the thought in public.
Qin Xin was watching from beneath the corridor as well.
At first she had taken this blue-clad youth for nothing more than a frivolous troublemaker. But now that he had begun to fight, he no longer seemed to be joking at all. He had none of the polished air of a great-house disciple, yet somehow the eye could not leave him. He was like a crooked gust of wind — crooked, but not unpleasant. If anything, it gave him a strange kind of vitality.
Behind the tree, Xi Qian too had begun watching with reluctant absorption.
Until now she had only thought of him as a teasing, infuriating little savage with no proper shape to him at all. Who would have guessed that when he truly entered a fight, he would be far more dangerous than he seemed? Yet no matter how dangerous, her own heart still leaned in only one direction. Every time Xuanyuan Xi avoided a strike, every time one of his palms went out, her heart would tighten a little with it.
Fang Yingjie, meanwhile, stared with wide eyes.
He had known Feng Feiyun could guide the road, read people, and explain how to survive below the mountain. But he had never truly seen him fight. Now, watching him come and go like monkey-shadow in the wind or a wild bird by the water, he felt a faint stir of envy rise in him.
So there were styles like this in the martial world.
A way of fighting that cared nothing for elegance or proper form, only for leaving the other man helpless to guard against it.
More than twenty moves passed. Feng Feiyun suddenly pressed in close, low sweep below, elbow high above, every strike crooked, and every strike fast.
Xuanyuan Xi changed his footing again, unfolding Crane Shadow Turn and Wandering Immortal Path in succession. He shifted left and right and, within the smallest of spaces, let every one of those wild attacks slip harmlessly past. When Feng Feiyun borrowed from a pillar and came down with a driving kick, Xuanyuan Xi at last threw out a punch.
Blazing Force Fist.
The force of the blow was fierce enough that Feng Feiyun had no choice but to turn a somersault in midair. When he landed, he still slid back half a step, his sleeves snapping in the wind.
"Excellent fist!" Feng Feiyun laughed. "No wonder those two little ones light up the moment your name comes up."
Behind the tree, Xi Qian's face flamed at once. She dearly wanted to pick up a stone and throw it at him.
And yet, though her ears were hot, her eyes remained fixed on the ring. However much nonsense Feng Feiyun was talking, Xuanyuan Xi's punch truly had been too upright, too steady, too clean. One could not help feeling brighter merely looking at it.
Fang Yingjie too flushed at the line those two little ones. Yet together with the embarrassment there came a strange warmth. He had grown up looking up at Brother Xi. In his heart, Xuanyuan Xi is remarkable had always seemed the most natural truth in the world. Only in the past that greatness had belonged to Mount Hua, to the Chess Pavilion, to scriptures and elders' praise. Now, by Taihu Lake, seeing so many people still unable to shake him, Fang Yingjie felt a hot pride rise straight out of the bottom of his heart.
Xuanyuan Xi, however, only said lightly, "Brother Feng has looked after Yingjie and Junior Sister Xi all along the road. Xuanyuan will remember it."
Even while speaking, the two exchanged three more moves.
Feng Feiyun had still been smiling. But at those words, something in his gaze sharpened very slightly. Taking advantage of a close exchange, he dropped his voice and asked:
"You knew?"
Xuanyuan Xi's palms did not stop moving. His own reply was equally quiet.
"I knew from the moment we left Mount Hua. Brother Zheng already had a pigeon-message in hand. Since you meant them no harm, Mount Hua naturally would not interfere."
Only then did all the loose threads finally come together in Xuanyuan Xi's mind.
Since coming down the mountain, though he had said nothing aloud, he had long known that Fang Yingjie and Xi Qian had followed in secret. He had chosen not to stop them openly, only to keep watch in the background. Later, when he saw this blue-clad youth traveling and lodging with the two of them — teasing them without cease, yet looking after them in all the ways that mattered — he had already formed his own judgment. Then came the pigeon-message from Mount Hua, already in Zheng Chong's hand, saying that Fang and Xi had disappeared. From that point on, there had been even less reason for him to move rashly.
As for this Yun Feifeng, Xuanyuan Xi had first taken him for no more than a strange young wanderer with a nimble body and an unorthodox style. Only after truly crossing hands with him did he recognize how steady the other's lower body was, how clever he was at borrowing force, how alive his turns and reversals were. This was not the sort of skill a man stumbled into on his own. Add to that the scrambled three-character trick of the false name, and Xuanyuan Xi had already guessed seven or eight parts of the truth: this boy almost certainly had ties to Feng Wuying's line.
Xuanyuan Xi added in a low voice, "We can speak after this. If that note truly has anything to do with your master's line, then Martial Uncle Fang's old case should be pursued further."
Whether the strange note truly had anything to do with Feng Wuying's line was, for the moment, still only Xuanyuan Xi's inference. He had no proof. But sometimes, once enough fragments had gathered, one no longer needed full proof to know which road lay ahead.
The words struck Feng Feiyun like a jolt.
He had entered the ring today with three parts of one purpose and seven of another. Three parts were to test Mount Hua's depth on behalf of his master. The other seven were to raise the heat further still, so as to force the hand of that young marquis in the west who stubbornly refused to show himself. Yet Xuanyuan Xi had already seen through most of the lines in play.
This man was heavier than he had thought. Deeper too.
Feng Feiyun's mind turned once, and he knew there was no need to continue the bout in earnest. So he grinned. His body suddenly rocked backward as though driven off by a strike of Five Peaks Palm. In truth, his footing unloaded the force almost instantly, and with two quick backward turns he dissolved the strength cleanly. Then, in the next instant, he dropped to one knee and clasped his hands in an extravagantly exaggerated salute.
"Mount Hua is magnificent!"
He laughed aloud. "These scrappy back-road tricks of mine have shown enough. I won't fight over the prize any further!"
It was a beautifully timed concession.
Those with shallower eyes took it for a clean loss by half a move. Those with sharper ones could see that the bout had never truly been forced to a finish. One man had chosen to yield; the other had had no intention of pressing to the bitter end. So they had ridden the current together and stopped at the most pleasing point.
Qin Yaozong was exhilarated rather than annoyed. He slapped the railing and laughed.
"Good! You may have yielded the name, but you won the spirit of the thing!"
Even Qin Xin could not help the small curve at the corner of her lips.
At first she had found this blue-clad youth noisy and troublesome. Now, seeing how neatly he withdrew, she felt an odd stir of favor toward him.
But that flicker of amusement vanished almost at once.
Because she knew the one who truly ought to step into the ring still had not come out.
A Few Words Force Flying Snow's Hand
Feng Feiyun flipped back out of the ring, but the heat in the air did not fade. If anything, it rose another degree.
Qin Yaozong stood at the railing, every spark of boldness and admiration in him having been stirred higher and higher. By now, he no longer wished to veil his meaning. He raised his voice further.
"With the stakes raised to this point, Young Master Xuanyuan has already beaten back one talent after another. Even this Brother Yun did not truly shake him. If no one else is willing to come out and test him, then I really must say one fair word on behalf of the Qin family—"
Here he paused deliberately, his eyes sweeping in a seemingly casual arc toward the Flying Snow side, the smile at his lips deepening.
"In character, in looks, in martial skill, in cultivation, in family standing — Mount Hua's Young Master Xuanyuan may truly be better suited to a daughter of the Qin family than that young marquis of Flying Snow Manor!"
This landed even harder than the line before.
At once the waterside pavilion fell still.
On the Flying Snow side, Shangguan Lü's snow-white sleeve shifted faintly as he finally set down his teacup.
Zhuge Hui turned the painting brush in his hand and gave a soft sigh, though the smile remained on his lips.
"The young master speaks with admirable directness," Zhuge Hui said lazily. "But once words reach this point, if our young marquis still remains silent, then people may truly begin to think Flying Snow Manor has no one left to answer."
Qin Yaozong, hearing exactly what he hoped for, smiled.
"Master Zhuge speaks reasonably. If the Bai family truly means what it suggests, then surely it cannot ask two elders alone to uphold its face."
Only then did Shangguan Lü speak.
His voice was not loud, but it was steady — steady in the way a plucked zither string sends its note straight into a man's heart.
"Gang Leader Qin. Young Master Qin. Friends of the martial world.
"On the Bai family's side, there were indeed difficulties not easily spoken aloud. The Marquis passed away only recently. The young marquis remains in full mourning. He did not wish to show himself openly among the crowd, much less contend for victory and defeat before so many eyes. For that reason, he accompanied us in secret along the way and chose only to watch from the shadows, unwilling to steal the stage."
The words fell like an invisible hand pressing down upon the whole isle. Even breathing seemed to stop for an instant.
"What?"
"Marquis Bai... has died?"
"Bai Liancheng of Changbai truly...?"
"No wonder Bai Yuchuan never showed himself!"
All the muttering from before — the Bai family is putting on airs, the young marquis is showing off — turned at once into startled disbelief.
Bai Liancheng was no ordinary figure.
He was the lord of Flying Snow Manor, the Marquis of Changbai, and one of the few men in the martial world whose presence could truly hold a field down.
For such a man to have only recently died was no light excuse. It was a matter great enough to stir the northern winds themselves.
Even Qin Gang was caught off guard. His thick brows sank faintly.
Qin Yaozong's provocative edge faded by half, replaced by a more serious expression.
Even the willow switch in Qin Xin's hand bent softly under her tightening fingers.
Zhuge Hui looked around at the changed reactions and sighed again.
"For that very reason, the young marquis was unwilling to show himself lightly all along the road. It is not that the Bai family meant disrespect. It is that great matters in the house remain unsettled, and heavy mourning lies upon him. It would not have been proper to contend for name, marriage, or victory in public."
With that, the pressure that had been mounting against the Bai family took on a different weight entirely.
Qin Gang was silent for a moment before at last saying, "If that is truly so, then my earlier words were spoken too heavily."
Shangguan Lü inclined his head slightly.
"There is no need for the Gang Leader to say so. Great matters are one thing; courtesy is another. Today is your fiftieth birthday. The Bai family could not fail to come. It is only that the manner of our coming could not be the same as in ordinary times."
The force that had been pushing Flying Snow Manor into the open did not vanish with those words. Rather, it changed in flavor.
But Qin Yaozong had no intention of letting the matter end there.
He was a man of powerful nerve. Now that the words had already reached this point, there was no reason to draw back halfway. So he clasped his hands and smiled.
"If the young marquis truly cannot show himself because of mourning, then naturally I cannot keep pressing. Only—"
He paused deliberately, his gaze passing over Shangguan Lü and Zhuge Hui before settling on the still-silent depths of the western corridor.
"Even so, today's matter is no longer only the face of the young marquis. It is the face of Flying Snow Manor as well. Master Shangguan, Master Zhuge — if I were in your place, I fear I would not be willing to let the Bai family of Changbai truly lose to Mount Hua on the shore of Taihu Lake."
Zhuge Hui laughed.
"The young master's tongue lays on color better than my brush."
But Shangguan Lü said nothing more. He merely raised his eyes and looked into the depths of the western corridor.
That single look was heavier than all of Qin Yaozong's words.
Because everyone there saw it.
Even Xi Qian, behind her tree, found herself holding her breath.
By the flower gate, Qin Xin had already pressed tiny cracks into the willow switch between her fingers. Until now she had still barely managed to keep her expression steady. But at this moment, the fire of urgency and vexation inside her rose at last beyond restraint.
She looked toward the western corridor, and bright, urgent light sprang into her eyes. When she spoke, her voice came out half a measure higher than before.
"Cousin—"
Every eye in the place turned in the direction of that cry.
Qin Xin's chest rose and fell slightly. Her fingertips had gone pale. At last, however, she forced out the line she had been holding in.
"Cousin, are you truly going to stand by and watch me be married off to Young Master Xuanyuan?"
The moment the words fell, there was first a dead stillness by the pavilion — and then the entire place erupted like a stone cast into a lake.
Some whirled around. Some gasped aloud. Some had already begun following the direction of her gaze toward the western flowered corridor.
And in that instant, even those who until now had taken all of this for nothing more than a playful contest among the younger generation finally understood—
This was not merely marriage talk carried in whispers by others.
It was the Qin family's young lady herself forcing her heart out into the open before everyone present.
High above, Qin Gang's expression darkened by a shade.
It was not entirely anger. More of it was surprise.
Clearly, even he had not expected his most troublesome daughter to speak so openly before the gathered guests of the whole isle.
Qin Yaozong, too, was taken aback. The light of spectacle in his eyes dimmed by half at once.
He knew perfectly well where his sister's heart leaned. Even so, he had not imagined she would cry it out so directly.
Xi Qian's own heart clenched sharply, and for reasons she herself could not quite explain, she looked instinctively toward Xuanyuan Xi.
Xuanyuan Xi, however, merely stood there in stillness. His gaze shifted ever so slightly, but his expression did not change.
It was as though the line had not taken him wholly by surprise — as though he had only at last reached the moment he had expected.
Feng Feiyun, arms folded behind the tree, let out a low laugh.
"That did it."
The White-Robed Heir Appears
The moment her cry died away, the half-closed flower gate at the far end of the western corridor slowly swung open with a soft creak.
The first to emerge were two attendants in white, one to either side.
Then, from within, a white figure came out slowly into the light.
White robe. White outer cloak. White jade crown.
Even the sheath of the longsword at his waist seemed veiled in a chill, snowy sheen.
His steps were very steady, and very quiet — quiet like the deepest line of still water in Taihu Lake. Yet the instant he emerged, the last of the chatter and laughter around the pavilion died away almost without anyone noticing when it happened.
Because the moment this man appeared, everyone understood what the young master of Flying Snow Manor truly meant.
His features were as fine as carved jade, his skin pale as snow, his lips the faintest of colors, like a cold spring that never thawed in the mountains of Changbai. White clothing often made other men seem light. On him, it only made him seem cold. Not the arrogant coldness of a man keeping the world at a distance, but a deep chill and restraint that came from the bone. Before he was even near, one already felt a thread of coolness.
Qin Yaozong, seeing him, could not help the brief flash of admiration in his eyes.
So this was Bai Yuchuan.
All the shadows and names that had floated about before — Young Master Bai, Bai Yuchuan — only now seemed to have found an owner worthy of belief.
Watching from afar, Fang Yingjie felt his heart jolt.
He had seen Qin Xin in disguise the night before and thought her striking. But now, seeing this man emerge, he finally understood what the three words Bai Yuchuan ought to look like when they belonged to a man.
Xi Qian too was momentarily stunned.
Qin Xin, meanwhile, stared at him without blinking. The breath she had been holding inside her chest suddenly loosened by half.
Step by step, Bai Yuchuan came to the edge of the ring and first looked at Qin Xin.
There seemed to be the faintest trace of reproach in his gaze — and also helplessness. In the end, the reproach dissolved into one gentle line.
"Cousin Xin, don't be foolish."
His voice, too, was cool. Yet hidden inside that coolness was a softness that almost no one else present could have heard.
Qin Xin had been full of urgent fire a moment before. But hearing him say Cousin Xin, she felt her eyes sting faintly. Still, she bit her lip and answered, "Foolish? If you had been willing to come out on your own, why would I have had to say it like that?"
Bai Yuchuan fell silent briefly, then turned to Qin Gang and bowed with clasped hands.
"Uncle Qin. Yuchuan has behaved discourteously."
Standing at the railing above, Qin Gang looked at the Bai family's young marquis, who had at last shown himself. The heaviness in his face slowly eased, though his voice remained stern.
"If you truly know it was discourteous, then why hide yourself and refuse to show your face in the first place?"
Bai Yuchuan answered quietly, "My father has only recently died. I ought to remain in mourning for three years. I ought not to come to a place of lively spectacle such as this, much less contend before the crowd for name, marriage, or youthful pride. But today is Uncle Qin's fiftieth birthday. If the Bai family had not come at all, the discourtesy would have been greater. And now that Cousin Xin has already spoken before everyone, I can no longer avoid stepping out."
Those words gave real weight to the earlier line — the Marquis has only recently passed away.
It was not that he would not come.
It was that he could not come openly.
It was not that he would not contend.
It was that, burdened by mourning, he should not have been contending in public for reputation, marriage, or youthful pride.
With that, most of the muttering that the Bai family had been putting on airs or acting slightingly melted away.
Qin Gang studied him in silence for a moment, then said, "To keep mourning is a great duty. The fact that you have shown yourself today already counts as sufficient face given to me as your elder."
At this, the bright urgency in Qin Xin's eyes nearly spilled over.
Qin Yaozong, too, smiled faintly. He had certainly been stirring the fire, but he had never actually disliked this young marquis. Now that the man had finally come out, his own taste for spectacle and rivalry only rose higher.
He clasped his hands and laughed aloud.
"Now that the young marquis has shown himself, then today's stakes ought finally to be brought to a proper end. Mount Hua has Young Master Xuanyuan here. If Flying Snow Manor answers with the young marquis in person, then that will truly be house against house, face against face!"
The crowd answered at once, voices rising from every side.
Only then did Bai Yuchuan turn and look toward Xuanyuan Xi.
For the first time, the two youths truly stood facing one another.
One in white, like the cold snows of Changbai.
One in blue, like the spring mists of Mount Hua.
One hid coldness; the other hid an edge.
One was chill and clear; the other quiet and deep.
Every gaze in the place fell wholly upon them.
Xuanyuan Xi gave the slightest salute, his voice as level as ever.
"I have long heard the young marquis's name. It is an honor to meet you today."
Bai Yuchuan returned the salute. In the cool line of his voice there was now a rare gravity.
"The name of Young Master Xuanyuan of Mount Hua is one I too have long wished to test for myself."
There was no need for further words.
At the edge of the ring, Zheng Chong felt his own heart tighten slightly.
He had long known that Junior Brother Xi wished to cross hands with Bai Yuchuan. But now that the man had finally walked out before everyone present, even Zheng Chong could feel that this was not like the bouts before.
This was no longer merely a trial between two young descendants.
It was the first true collision, by Taihu Lake, between the finest of the younger generation from Mount Hua and Flying Snow Manor — Western Yue and Changbai.
Palm Against Palm
Bai Yuchuan did not draw his sword first.
His foot settled. Though the bout stood at a spring pavilion above open water, the movement he used still carried the silent lightness of Treading Snow Without Trace. He had not yet arrived, but his palm was already rising — the Ice-Sealing Palm of Flying Snow Manor.
The palm did not look fierce. Indeed, it seemed almost too light.
But before the strike had even fully arrived, several of the younger onlookers standing nearest already felt a faint chill brush their faces, as though cold had seeped soundlessly into the spring wind.
Xuanyuan Xi's eyes sharpened. His right palm went out level and true — the Facing Sun Peak line of Five Peaks Palm. The movement was upright, guarding the center, like dawn shining over a mountain summit, broad and clear within its own proper strength.
The two palms did not fully collide. They only brushed and twisted in midair, but the currents of force met first.
One was long and cold, meant to seal meridians and freeze the flow of inner force.
The other was clean and upright, coming in like the weight of a mountain.
A low hum sounded. Their sleeves trembled together. Yet neither gave back a step.
Feng Feiyun, watching from behind the tree, let out a low click of the tongue.
"Now this looks right."
Bai Yuchuan's second palm came on immediately. It was still Ice-Sealing Palm, but faster than before, and within it was a thread of penetrating force — the flavor of Shattered Jade on Cold Mountain.
Xuanyuan Xi changed at once, meeting it with Soft Cloud Palm. One soft turn, one trailing line, and he led a third of that freezing force away. Then his left fist shot straight out through the palm-shadows.
Blazing Force Fist.
The blow came upright and fierce as thunder.
But Bai Yuchuan's feet glided, and with a light turn of Treading Snow Without Trace he slipped off line and away. In the next instant he countered with two fingers together, darting toward Xuanyuan Xi's wrist meridian — Ice Soul Meridian-Sealing Finger.
One cold, one upright.
One soft, one hard.
Palm, fist, finger, and step flashed through more than ten exchanges in an instant.
Bai Yuchuan's style was economical and precise. The longer he fought, the colder he seemed to grow, like snow pressing down on old pines. On the surface he did not overwhelm by obvious force, and yet inch by inch his chill worked inward toward the meridians.
Xuanyuan Xi was the opposite. Five Peaks Palm, Soft Cloud Palm, and Blazing Force Fist unfolded in turn. Outwardly his style remained grand and proper, but each art concealed a further line within it, like mountain paths hiding more mountain paths beyond.
Among the onlookers, those with sharper eyes had already begun to change expression.
"These two…"
"This is nothing like the bouts from before."
Even Jiang Hui'er, who until now had only leaned at the rail to enjoy the excitement, slowly straightened.
"If I were up there," she muttered, smacking her lips, "I don't think I could even take one palm from either of them."
Behind her, Hu Xiaosheng smiled. "That is a rare moment of self-knowledge from you."
At a little over twenty exchanges, a tiny flash of cold light suddenly flickered from Bai Yuchuan's sleeve.
Flying Snow Divine Pellet.
The pellet was not truly meant to wound. Rather, in the middle of close entanglement it was flicked out precisely to break the other man's rhythm and scatter his inner force.
Xuanyuan Xi's eyes moved. Under him, Yin-Yang Wandering Step suddenly opened out. His body turned within the narrowest margin, letting the darting cold light pass with only a hair's breadth to spare. In the same instant, his right palm sank — and the nature of his force changed at last.
This time it was no longer Five Peaks Palm.
No longer Soft Cloud Palm.
No longer Blazing Force Fist.
It was Yin-Yang Primordial Palm.
The moment the palm rose, the current between them changed entirely.
The clear and upright inner force Xuanyuan Xi had kept hidden until now seemed, all at once, to open into another river beneath the spring — yin and yang flowing together, hardness and softness interwoven.
Bai Yuchuan felt, for the first time, that the cold force he had laid down with Ice-Sealing Palm and Ice Soul Meridian-Sealing Finger had been pulled into something deeper than itself, like snow vanishing into a whirlpool.
His gaze shifted slightly.
Xuanyuan Xi stepped further in. The two palms of Yin-Yang Primordial Palm, one yin and one yang, one soft then one hard, almost met before his chest — and then split apart.
Zheng Chong, watching from the side, could not help blurting out, "Primordial Cosmos Strike!"
That was the final transformation of Yin-Yang Primordial Palm.
If Bai Yuchuan received it head-on, he would have to meet two utterly different palm forces at once, each drawing on the other. If he yielded, then all the chill he had spent the last half of the bout laying down would be ceded in one instant.
His white robe flared. His Treading Snow Without Trace turned three times in a row, his retreat seeming an advance, and with breathtaking danger he slid through the point where the two currents of palm force joined. Two fingers shot up again, Ice Soul Meridian-Sealing Finger driving for Xuanyuan Xi's shoulder.
Xuanyuan Xi withdrew his palms and swept one arm back in return. Their sleeves brushed through one another in midair.
And neither truly gained the better of the exchange.
But by the end of that single passage, everyone at the edge of the pavilion understood:
All those earlier young fighters had done nothing more than test the outer measure of Mount Hua's arts.
Only now that Bai Yuchuan had entered the ring had Xuanyuan Xi finally begun to reveal the true core of Mount Hua's line.
The Twin Edges of Black and White
In the next instant, they both drew back half a step.
And almost simultaneously, both swords came out.
Bai Yuchuan's white blade left the scabbard first.
When the Snowfrost Sword emerged, it seemed quieter than ordinary weapons. The blade was white to the edge of colorlessness, catching lake-light and flower-shadow like a line drawn out of snow. Around its edge clung the faintest breath of chill, as though it were not forged of mortal steel at all, but condensed from a block of black ice in the depths of Changbai.
In the same moment, Xuanyuan Xi raised the Heaven-Radiance Sword.
The entire blade was black and heavy in tone. It was slender, yet carried no lightness. Rather, there was an old, dark gravity to it. Once, in the days of Mount Hua's twenty-fourth Sect Leader Zhou Muping, the famed Sword Master, the Heaven-Radiance Sword had formed one half of the Twin Swords of Heaven and Earth. It was the yang sword, black and deep. Its counterpart, the white yin sword — the Earth-Spirit Sword — had long ago been lost in Mount Hua's western expedition against the Crimson Flame Palace. And because that white sword was gone, Xuanyuan Xi had, over the years, been forced to walk another road entirely. The yin-soft half of the Yin-Yang Primordial Sword Art, which ought to have been wielded through the missing white blade, he had gradually worked instead into the edge of his left palm.
Black sword against white sword.
One like night. One like frost.
The murmuring at the edge of the ring faded away. Even the elders of Shaolin, Wudang, and Emei standing farther off found their eyes drawn in.
Bai Yuchuan moved first.
Flying Snow Manor's mountain sword art began with perfect simplicity. One level thrust — apparently slow, in truth fast. Halfway there, the sword-intent suddenly scattered and changed into the path of the Snow-Shadow Sword Art: light at first, heavy beneath, the chill arriving before the blade itself.
Xuanyuan Xi met it with the most orthodox line of Mount Hua Sword Art, his path simple and exact, every sword falling where it most properly should.
Their first crossing was still only a test.
Ten swords later, the fight turned fast.
Bai Yuchuan's white blade grew lighter and lighter, the sword-shadows falling like endless snow — the true essence of Snow-Shadow Sword Art.
Xuanyuan Xi at first answered with the formal lines of Mount Hua, steady in defense. But once Bai Yuchuan's sword momentum had spread to its fullest, Xuanyuan Xi's path suddenly changed. It flowed into Flowing Cloud Sword Art. The black blade turned from hardness to suppleness, from upright structure to airy freedom, and the sword in his hand seemed to come alive.
"Good!" Even Zhuge Hui could not help speaking under his breath.
But before that word had even fully fallen, Bai Yuchuan's sword-intent changed again.
One of Flying Snow Manor's three secret forms —
Cold Moon Shining on Shadows.
The moment the move emerged, those on the Flying Snow side who truly knew the family art could not help holding their breath. It did not win by speed. It did not win by complexity. It won by stillness. Stillness like moonlight on a frozen lake. Though only one sword came, one could no longer tell where the true sword actually lay.
Xuanyuan Xi's eyes darkened. The black blade slanted, not retreating but advancing half a step, while his Yin-Yang Wandering Step unfolded beneath the sword.
And here, for the first time, he did not answer with sword alone.
Black sword in the left hand — and then, in the right, the edge of the palm rose, and along that palm-edge flowed unmistakable sword-intent.
Zheng Chong's heart jolted.
"Using the palm in place of the missing sword…"
Others might only have found the exchange dazzling. But those from Mount Hua knew exactly what it meant.
Xuanyuan Xi was no longer merely wielding a sword.
He had worked the Yin-Yang Primordial Sword Art into his palm-intent itself — a true sword in one hand, a sword made of palm-edge in the other, hardness and softness in mutual support, yin and yang moving together. The black sword moved as yang; the palm-edge flowed as yin. One real, one half-hidden; one hard, one transforming. By force of will and understanding alone, he had taken the path of a single sword and made it fight like twin swords.
Bai Yuchuan, whose white blade had already spread illusion and reality across the whole ring, saw the change and at last his expression shifted in earnest.
Black blade and white blade struck in midair. Palm-edge and sword-shadow crossed at once.
The ring seemed suddenly to hold twice as many lines of attack and change as before. The onlookers could scarcely keep up. All they could see were black and white figures splitting and rejoining, near and far, until even the wind above the lake seemed to scatter under the pressure of their sword-force.
By the corridor, Qin Xin had long since crushed her willow switch almost flat in her hand.
Behind the tree, Xi Qian too was breathing so lightly it was as though she feared even that might disturb the moment.
Feng Feiyun still stood with folded arms, but the laughter had gone from his eyes. What remained was simple attention.
"These two," he murmured, "are truly a little frightening."
Their Names Spoken Together
At the height of the fight, Bai Yuchuan's white sword suddenly sank.
The change was not weakness.
It was a deeper cold.
The second transformation of Flying Snow Manor's three secret sword-forms was already beginning to show itself. The white blade seemed to sink to the bottom of dark water. Before it had even fully risen again, the flower-shadows and willow-light all around seemed faintly pressed down by the chill.
In the same instant, Xuanyuan Xi's own force deepened once more.
The Heaven-Radiance Sword let out a dim black sheen. His left palm-edge rose on the slant, and in the force of sword and palm together there began to appear the intention of heaven and earth joining as one.
At the edge of the ring, Zheng Chong's heart rose sharply into his throat.
He knew that if they took one step further, then this would cease to be birthday sport. Someone would truly be hurt.
And at that moment, Qin Gang finally spoke.
"That is enough."
Almost at the same time, Shangguan Lü added in his calm voice, "Young Marquis."
But even as the words sounded, the two in the ring had already recognized something else in one another — that beneath the killing force, a final measure of restraint still remained.
Black sword, white sword, palm-edge, and sword-light met in the very center — and in the last half inch, both drew back at once.
A long ringing cry burst out, like jade and metal singing together — or ice suddenly cracking.
Half the rail of the waterside pavilion split off beneath the after-force and fell into the lake in a spray of broken wood and silver water.
The two youths each retreated three paces.
Bai Yuchuan's white robes were slightly disordered, but his breathing remained even.
A pale thread of chill lay over the cuff of Xuanyuan Xi's blue sleeve, but the black sword still hung level and steady beside his wrist.
For an instant, the only sound beside the pavilion was the wind.
Then someone finally let out a breath.
And in the next moment, voices, gasps, muttered exclamations, and low wonder spread through the place like water rushing over an open bank.
"A draw?"
"It was a draw!"
"Xuanyuan Xi of Mount Hua... Bai Yuchuan of Flying Snow Manor..."
"These two…"
At the side of the ring, the look in Qin Yaozong's eyes had wholly changed. Until now he had only been adding fuel to the fire and enjoying the spectacle. He had not imagined the clash would be splendid to this degree.
Shangguan Lü slowly set down his teacup, his expression still level.
Zhuge Hui, however, finally let out a long breath and smiled as he shook his head. "Well, this is troublesome. Neither can suppress the other now."
Qin Xin, stunned at first, felt the anxious tension in her heart scatter at last. In its place rose a brightness she herself could hardly explain. She looked once at Bai Yuchuan, once at Xuanyuan Xi, and knew that from this day on, no one would dare say any longer that lines like In the east, Bai Yuchuan; in the west, Xuanyuan Xi were merely pretty empty praise.
Behind her tree, Xi Qian's heart was still pounding. Only when she saw clearly that Xuanyuan Xi stood unhurt did she finally breathe again. Yet even then she could not help admitting to herself that the young master of Flying Snow Manor, all in white with white blade in hand, truly did not fall half a measure short of Brother Xi.
Feng Feiyun watched the two of them in the ring and smiled faintly.
"From today on, their names will truly be spoken together."
And already, at the edges of the crowd, the younger guests had begun to whisper:
"In the east there is Bai Yuchuan, and Flying Snow seals the sky;
in the west there is Xuanyuan Xi, and Mount Hua cleaves the peaks…"
"After today, those lines may truly become real."
The first whisper spread like rings in water.
Two or three nearby repeated it softly. Then those beside them repeated it too. Soon, even those standing farther away who had missed part of the subtlety heard the lines from someone else's lips:
In the east there is Bai Yuchuan, and Flying Snow seals the sky;
in the west there is Xuanyuan Xi, and Mount Hua cleaves the peaks.
This time, they were no longer merely handsome lines used in the martial world to flatter gifted youths.
They had weight now — weight struck out hard and clear by a real clash of skill before so many sects, gangs, magnates, and honored guests on Juyi Isle in Taihu Lake.
On the Shaolin side, an old monk quietly intoned the Buddha's name.
Several Wudang lay disciples exchanged glances, their expressions complicated.
The people of Kunlun, Emei, and Kongtong no longer had the ease to dismiss either youth with a casual nothing special.
At this point, Qin Gang slowly rose.
His gaze fell first on Xuanyuan Xi, then on Bai Yuchuan. At last, he gave the slightest nod.
"Both are excellent."
Those three words carried far greater weight than the earlier line he had spoken in the rear hall — the boy is not bad.
Xuanyuan Xi sheathed the Heaven-Radiance Sword and bowed first to Qin Gang, then to Shangguan Lü. His expression was as calm as ever, as if the battle that had just shaken every young pair of eyes on the isle had stirred little in him at all.
Then he turned to Bai Yuchuan and said lightly, "Your swordsmanship is formidable, Young Marquis. Xuanyuan Xi has been instructed."
Bai Yuchuan returned the Snowfrost Sword to its sheath. The faint gravity in his cool features had not yet faded.
"And Flying Snow Manor's arts," he said quietly, "have now seen for themselves that Mount Hua's reputation is no empty thing."
The line was light.
But no one there mistook it for courtesy.
It was acknowledgment.
Qin Xin's heart tightened again, uncertain what would follow next. But Xuanyuan Xi had already turned and bowed once more to Qin Gang.
"This junior came here only to deliver Mount Hua's congratulations and respects. Now that the young marquis has shown himself, and Miss Qin's feelings are clear, what remains is a matter for the elders of the two houses to discuss. As for Mount Hua, our part in this matter goes no further."
With that one sentence, the marriage contest that had still been hanging half in the air was gently set back down.
Qin Gang looked at him, and the admiration in his eyes deepened another shade.
This youth was steady when he did not contend, stood firm when he did, and withdrew cleanly when it was time to step back.
No wonder Mount Hua, however badly wounded in these past years, still could not be lightly regarded.
Hearing the words, Bai Yuchuan too let his gaze rest for the briefest instant on Xuanyuan Xi's face, as though only now truly seeing the man before him.
At the side, Qin Yaozong laughed loudly and threw life back into the scene.
"Good! Today's stakes have already brought face enough to both houses. Since that is so, let this be the end of it. Tomorrow is my father's true birthday feast. Since you have all enjoyed enough excitement today, then tomorrow you must all drink well!"
Only then did the tightly drawn breath around the pavilion begin to ease. The crowd broke up in twos and threes, some laughing, some exclaiming, some still speaking of nothing but the fight they had just witnessed.
And amid those voices, Bai Yuchuan finally turned toward Qin Xin and said again, in that same quiet tone:
"Cousin Xin."
Qin Xin had a whole heart full of grievance — grievance that he had refused to show himself, grievance that he had forced her into such urgency before the crowd. Yet hearing that soft call, she found herself unable to release any of it. She could only turn her face slightly aside and snort under her breath.
"So you still remembered to come out after all."
Bai Yuchuan looked at her. His expression remained nearly unreadable, but he said only:
"Three years."
Qin Xin froze. Then at once she understood.
He had shown himself today. He had restored all the face the Bai family needed restored. Yet his father had only just died. He could not speak openly of marriage at once.
These three years were both mourning — and a promise.
Watching the two of them, Qin Gang felt the last of his earlier displeasure over Bai Yuchuan not personally coming to discuss the marriage fade away.
He was a man who cared above all whether another man came in person. Now Bai Yuchuan had shown himself, had truly stood in mourning, and had proved his weight in the ring as well. Qin Gang's irritation had long since turned to satisfaction.
Flying Snow Manor had not behaved discourteously.
Bai Yuchuan had not slighted the Qin family.
He was simply a cold youth, and a hard one, who would not step out until he had truly been forced to it.
Thinking of that, Qin Gang could not help shaking his head with a smile.
This marriage would clearly not be a simple one to settle.
Behind his tree, Feng Feiyun had watched every step of it all. And for reasons he himself could not quite explain, he suddenly felt a faint heaviness in his chest. Until now he had only thought the whole spectacle thoroughly entertaining. But seeing Qin Xin look at Bai Yuchuan in that way — half angry, half relieved, yet utterly unable to let him go — he realized with a start that some forms of discomfort appear before a man has even truly drawn close.
The thought made him laugh at himself first.
"What a useless thing to brood over."
Beside him, Fang Yingjie was still staring blankly at the white-robed and blue-robed figures by the pavilion. After a long while, he finally said in a small voice,
"So there truly are people like this in the world."
Xi Qian heard the words and felt her own heart tighten. She was just about to answer when she saw that Fang Yingjie's eyes were still wide and dazed — plainly not yet recovered either from the brilliance of the fight or from the sight of a girl in full bloom.
At once something in her chest clogged again by half an inch. She could only give a soft huff and turn away from him.
The wind off Taihu Lake passed through.
Flower-shadows swayed lightly beside the pavilion.
The birthday feast on Juyi Isle had not yet formally begun, and yet after this battle, the names of two young men had already gone ahead of it, carried out over the lake on the wind.
Poetic Coda
At last the white robe came where the willows leaned,
and black blade answered frost above the jade-lit stage.
Within their palms yin and yang split and joined,
and wind and snow raised twin talents from the lake.
One cry of "Cousin!" startled the spring-fed waves;
through all the seats, bright winecups trembled faintly.
From that day Changbai and Mount Hua were spoken of as one—
the foremost young names beneath the sky.
(End of Chapter Nine)