Chapter Nineteen: First Place on Both Lists

Above the Daming Palace, the starlit sky cast a gentle glow, echoed by the brilliant lights that illuminated the entire palace. In front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, two young men stood calmly atop the arena, each gazing steadily at the other.

Li Siyie’s unfamiliar blade trembled ceaselessly in his hand—a mysterious excitement surged through him, like drought-stricken earth quenched by rain. His eyes burned with a fervor bordering on madness.

“A disciple of the Grand Tutor... I’d like to see just how great the gap between us truly is.” Li Siyie bowed slightly to Li Fu, his gaze intense and unafraid.

Li Fu nodded.

Li Siyie knew he could not defeat Li Fu, but he longed to test just how wide the chasm between them really was.

“Please.”

Li Fu drew his sword, his expression growing solemn. The man before him might not possess his level of cultivation, but his fighting spirit far exceeded his own.

A chill swept over Li Fu, only to be scattered by the cold night wind. It was the sensation of Li Siyie’s unfamiliar blade slashing past him. Of course, the blade could not truly touch Li Fu; the cold was halted three feet away, left to dissipate in the night breeze, lingering for only a moment.

Just a moment.

Li Siyie flashed forward like a bolt of thunder, instantly arriving before Li Fu, his blade descending.

Li Fu showed no panic; his sword moved swiftly, calmly warding off Li Siyie’s attack.

He did not rush to counter, for Li Siyie’s blade was too fast—this first strike was only the beginning.

On the arena, blade met sword, yet Li Siyie did not use the length of his unfamiliar blade to widen the distance between them. Instead, he unfastened the longer handle at the back, opting for close combat.

Li Siyie knew that a long blade would not grant him any advantage. Like the previous opponent Wang Wei, whose eight-foot spear had still fallen to Li Fu’s hand.

So he chose the most direct and simple method.

He closed the gap between himself and Li Fu, then used the blade’s advantage in close quarters to suppress Li Fu’s subsequent moves before they could unfold.

Everything seemed to progress just as Li Siyie had predicted—Li Fu’s swordplay faltered in close combat, unable to fully express its strength.

Li Siyie’s blade doggedly pursued the spot where Li Fu’s sword fell, pressing the attack relentlessly, not giving Li Fu a single moment to strike back.

Faced with such a desperate style, even Li Fu’s sword moves began to show signs of disorder.

Now, Li Siyie needed only to seize upon Li Fu’s rhythm of mistakes to defeat him.

Li Siyie’s left hand gripped the handle tightly; in just a brief instant, he could rotate the blade at his waist and slash horizontally at Li Fu.

But as Li Siyie shifted the blade, the corner of his eye caught Li Fu’s faintly upturned lips.

“Damn! He’s deliberately exposing a flaw to lure me in.”

Li Siyie’s heart jolted. He instantly realized that since the moment he had closed the distance, Li Fu had not attempted to widen the space, instead letting him control the range of their duel—he had been waiting for just this move.

Li Siyie’s pupils contracted sharply.

Thinking of this, his left hand forcibly twisted the blade’s handle; in a fleeting moment, he could change the blade’s direction.

But no matter how brief, it still required a heartbeat.

Li Fu did not give him that time.

Just as Li Siyie’s left hand landed on the handle, Li Fu’s sword was already before him.

The “Washing Blue” sword sliced through the air, trailing a faint emerald glow, shimmering with the bloom of a lotus flower.

Li Siyie knew he was out of time; his face paled. If struck by that blue lotus, his fate would be little better than Wang Wei’s.

His true energy erupted violently, and he raised his blade horizontally before him, legs suddenly bent, body arching backward.

In a flash, Li Siyie sprang from the arena, flying backward, barely avoiding Li Fu’s sword.

Landing lightly below the arena, sweat beaded his forehead despite the winter chill.

“What a move, the Blue Lotus Sword Technique! Be it combat experience or cultivation, the Grand Tutor’s reputation holds true.”

Below the arena, the Grand Chancellor praised.

“Returning his own tactics to him, Li Fu not only foiled Li Siyie’s strategy, but seized upon his vulnerability, catching him off guard,” Yang Ning remarked.

“Isn’t this guy being a bit arrogant? He could have suppressed Li Siyie’s style, so why did he play into his rhythm? Watching him get pressured so much he couldn’t even swing his sword gave me a real fright,” Yang Zixu asked, rubbing his chin in confusion.

“Because his next opponent is me. He doesn’t want to waste too much true energy before facing me. Since Li Siyie wanted a close-quarters duel, his only chance was to exploit the blade’s advantage. If Li Fu caught that opportunity before the blade was swung, he could disrupt the attack and find his chance,” Yang Ning explained.

“How could he know Li Siyie would definitely try to slash him horizontally with the blade?” Yang Zixu was still puzzled.

“Who do you think is more skilled—the Grand Tutor or the Lord of Loyal Might? The unfamiliar blade has its strengths, but also its flaws. That’s why both the Heavenly Strategy and Divine Strategy Guards abandoned its use,” Yang Ning countered, then frowned slightly, looking at Yang Zixu.

“What?” Yang Zixu’s heart quivered at Yang Ning’s gaze—it was a look he knew well. Whenever Yang Ning wore that expression, trouble was sure to follow.

“You didn’t just bet on Li Fu making the top three, did you?” Yang Ning’s lips curled into a sly smile.

“No, I only bet on him reaching the top three—what other spare money would I have for more bets...” Yang Zixu’s eyes darted, his right index finger unconsciously touching his nose, then realizing the gesture, quickly withdrew it.

“Nonsense. I know you too well. Whether Li Fu wins or loses, you won’t lose money. So why were you so nervous just now?” Yang Ning didn’t believe Yang Zixu’s words; he knew him too well.

“In that case, I won’t go easy on you in the next round.”

Yang Ning noticed Yang Zixu’s evasive gaze and spoke coolly.

“Don’t! Fine, I admit I bet everything on him taking the top spot...” Yang Zixu seemed resigned.

“Are you crazy? How could you dare place such a bet?” Yang Ning’s expression changed—he had only been guessing, but now found Yang Zixu had truly bet heavily, and all on Li Fu, whom he had only known for a few days. Where did he find such confidence?

“Is there something you haven’t told me?” Yang Ning fell silent for a long time, carefully recalling the events before and after the Lantern Festival tournament, then asked calmly.

“I can’t really explain. You’d better ask Li Fu yourself...” Yang Zixu decided not to mention the matter of the Imperial Ancestral Temple, for it involved the long-lost “National Policy” and the old wine master of the temple.

Yet, even Yang Zixu had little certainty about his wager, but Li Fu’s demeanor that night at the inn convinced him that the top prize of the Lantern Festival tournament belonged to him alone.

...

“The final match is mine. Who do you think will ultimately take the top spot?” Yang Ning looked seriously at Yang Zixu.

“How about this: I’ll give you three shares of my winnings. Why not just concede, since you’re only here for the Lantern Festival tournament as a formality anyway?” Yang Zixu replied without hesitation.

Yang Ning’s face darkened; he glared coldly at Yang Zixu.

“Don’t give me that look. Don’t think I don’t know you’re short on cash. If you make me lose, I’ll tell the Lord of Martial Might about your frequent visits to Qin Xianfang!” Yang Zixu suddenly grew bold.

At the mention of Qin Xianfang, Yang Ning’s expression sharpened. He extended his fingers.

“Sixty percent!”

“Why don’t you just rob me? Fifty at most!” Yang Zixu was annoyed, taking a long time to realize Yang Ning was serious, not joking, which made him even angrier.

“Seventy,” Yang Ning replied coolly, as if to say: Now you’re the one asking.

Yang Zixu sneered, “Can you be any more shameless?”

“Fine, fifty it is. But don’t give me the money yet. Just tell me the exact amount; I’ll take it from you when I need it.” Yang Ning spread his hands, agreeing.

“Brother Yang Ning, I never realized you could be so shameless!” Yang Zixu surveyed Yang Ning intently, as if meeting him for the first time. His chest heaved—Yang Ning had infuriated him.

A man he had always regarded as a gentleman would now throw a match for money! Such behavior, in Yang Zixu’s view, was the height of disgrace. Of course, he selectively ignored his own actions, claiming it was simply a matter of choosing between fish and bear’s paw. As for thick skin, it would be hard to find anyone in the Eastern Capital thicker than him.

...

Li Fu remained on the arena; the final match awaited him, his opponent Yang Ning. Yet, Li Fu was not entirely confident he could defeat Yang Ning.

Yang Ning was not only the adopted son of the Lord of Martial Might, but also a leading figure among the younger generation of the Heavenly Strategy House. In time, his accomplishments might not be inferior to the Lord of Martial Might himself.

“The final battle for the top spot: Li Fu versus Yang Ning.” The Grand Chancellor watched as Yang Ning whispered with Yang Zixu, his heart filled with suspicion.

“What are those two rascals up to now?”

The Grand Chancellor was not unaware of Yang Zixu’s intention to withdraw—both youths had grown up under his guidance. Yang Ning was better behaved, always staying close to the Lord of Martial Might and never causing trouble. But Yang Zixu had never given anyone a moment’s peace, and now, seeing them whispering for so long, he was certain nothing good would come of it.

“Well... Grand Chancellor... I’m feeling a bit unwell... may I withdraw?”

Finally, the two finished divvying up their spoils. Yang Ning, imitating Yang Zixu, feigned pain.

The Grand Chancellor’s mouth twitched, his expression altered slightly, then he shook his head.

Yang Ning withdrew from the competition, surprising many, even Li Fu on the stage. But seeing Yang Zixu’s radiant expression, Li Fu seemed to guess what these two were up to.

“Damn Yang Zixu, I’ll deal with you later!”

Those two had turned him into their cash cow!

At this moment, the Grand Chancellor appeared on the arena, announcing, “The top martial scholar of the Lantern Festival tournament—Liangzhou, Li Fu.”

Then, he unfurled the Imperial List he had been holding, declaring, “The top literary scholar of the Lantern Festival tournament—Liangzhou, Li Fu.”

Now, before the Hall of Supreme Harmony, silence reigned. No cheers, not even murmurs.

First place in both lists! Since the Grand Tutor claimed this honor two hundred years ago, no one had achieved it at the Lantern Festival tournament until today, when the Grand Tutor’s disciple broke the record. Though two opponents withdrew from the martial contest, casting some doubt, it did not affect Li Fu’s final result.

Even more shocking was that one of the Three Dukes, the Grand Chancellor, tacitly accepted it, saying nothing more.

Could it be? Was this the signal of the Grand Tutor’s return to the capital?