Chapter 138: Might Lose

The height of summer vanished in an instant, and a prolonged drizzle fell upon Shengjing.

Ji You sat atop a teahouse in Chunhua Alley, watching the rain outside, droplets continuously dripping from the roof tiles.

He had spent the entire summer refining his body, yet even now he had only reached the Thirteenth Minor Illumination.

Cultivating to break through boundaries was simply too hard on himself.

At this point, there were few days left before the Autumn Duel.

Cao Jinsong came to his courtyard every day, giving him countless instructions, looking more anxious than Ji You himself.

After all, in his eyes, Ji You was the pride of Fengzhou.

And this thought wasn’t unique to him—the Governor of Fengzhou seemed to feel the same, so after the Great Heat, the governor personally came to Shengjing and met him through Kuangcheng’s introduction.

The Governor of Fengzhou was nearly fifty, speaking with a strong northern accent, yet surprisingly warm.

His purpose in meeting Ji You was identical to Pei Ruyi’s words: to discuss establishing a clan or immortal estate for Ji You in Fengzhou.

The Autumn Duel was a minor matter to most, but the comings and goings stirred up far more commotion than expected.

Even Changle, the daughter of Prince Chong, sent a formal invitation via Wei Rui, inviting Ji You to a banquet.

On the eve of Autumn’s arrival, everything was in chaos; Ji the Bandit only now found a moment’s leisure to attend to his main business.

So he went to the Trial Sword Grove, watched women like Lu Qingqiu dance with swords, drenched in sweat, then dragged away Bai Rulong, who had nearly made his nest there, and stole two taels of silver from him to buy tea.

“The Autumn Duel is divided into Inner and Outer Courts—not just one match, but many held simultaneously.”

“For instance, those Outer Court students about to leave will each have a final contest.”

“But these contests rarely draw attention, as everyone’s gaze is fixed on the most important one: the battle for entry into the Inner Court.”

“Also, the five halls of the Inner Court traditionally compete against each other at this time; those with established disciples often fight only to a draw, while those without disciples fight fiercely—really, they’re competing for the position of direct disciple.”

“Thus, before the Autumn Duel begins, Shengjing fills with cultivators come to watch the spectacle—some from immortal estates, others from clans.”

Ban Yangshu, holding his teacup, watched the rolling carriages and explained.

Watching people fight is etched into the human gene.

Ji You looked at the carriages below the city wall, each bearing family banners: “So fond of watching fights, huh?”

“It’s not just about watching fights—many clans and immortal estates invite soon-to-depart students to serve as household patrons.”

Pei Ruyi nodded: “I received several invitations from immortal estates back then, but I refused them, unwilling to leave the academy—I joined the Office of Affairs instead.”

Wen Zhengxin couldn’t help interjecting: “It wasn’t this crowded in past years—just scattered clan youths. But this year’s Autumn Duel is different; many have come to see Chu He, and incidentally, you, younger brother.”

“The Chu family is already famed across the land. Though they lack a true Dao lineage, they’re called the Eighth Immortal Sect. Many are eager to see the Chu brothers’ duel.”

“As for you, younger brother, after the ruins and the Sword Grove incidents, your appeal may surpass even the Chu family’s.”

Ji You turned to Bai Rulong: “Actually, Rulong Immortal Emperor could have broken through to the Profound Realm before the Autumn Duel—but he wastes all his time watching female cultivators dance with swords in the Sword Grove.”

Bai Rulong, holding his teacup, replied: “Even if I trained hard, it wouldn’t matter—I could never beat you.”

“If you’d trained hard in past years, you might have had a chance to enter the Inner Court. But this year, it’s truly too difficult.”

Ban Yangshu spoke with such soothing tone, comforting Bai Rulong, who had just been robbed of his two taels for tea.

Yet his words weren’t entirely comfort.

Without Ji You and Chu He, Bai Rulong’s talent would still rank among the top in the Outer Court—he might have had a real shot.

Thus, timing is profoundly important for cultivators.

Ji You gazed out the window at the falling rain and murmured: “To be honest, brothers and sisters, I think I might lose to Chu He this time.”

“?”

Hearing this, Wen Zhengxin, Ban Yangshu, and Pei Ruyi all froze.

Even Bai Rulong, who normally cared only for plump buttocks, turned his head, eyes filled with disbelief.

Though the Chu family was deeply rooted, it wasn’t certain Ji You would enter the Inner Court—but in their eyes, Ji You wouldn’t lose heart before the fight.

Especially as a swordsman—if his sword heart faltered, his sword qi would weaken.

Ban Yangshu leaned forward urgently: “Younger brother, don’t think like that! No matter how deep the Chu family’s roots, they can’t make Chu He leap straight into the Dao Integration Realm. How can you think you’ll lose? What happened?”

Ji You turned to them: “There are problems I’ve never resolved.”

“What problems? Say them—we’ll solve them together!” Pei Ruyi replied without hesitation.

“My sword broke on Spirit Sword Mountain. They only gave me a replacement, and it’s terrible. Can you brothers and sisters help me raise money to buy a new sword?”

Rulong Immortal Emperor seemed to see through everything—he thought, I knew it was something like this.

He stole two taels from me and didn’t even keep them—he invited everyone for tea? That’s not his style.

Of course—he’s using two taels to pry open a bigger purse.

But Ji You wasn’t lying—he truly had no money for a sword.

On Spirit Sword Mountain, Ding Yao mocked him for clinging to a wealthy woman, so he took the sword Shang Xiyao gave him—but that sword was said to be rare in the world, and too precious to draw openly.

How can you fight without a sword? You’d lose outright.

Under the drizzling rain, Ban Yangshu and the other three pooled their silver coins onto the table, then fell silent.

Other cultivators worried about their realm, techniques, and spells to enter the Inner Court.

But Ji You’s problem? He had no money for a sword—this was truly surreal; anyone hearing it would laugh themselves to death.

“This… this barely covers three swords.”

Pei Ruyi, hearing Wen Zhengxin speak, shook her head: “No, two.”

Wen Zhengxin glanced at her: “Three should be enough?”

“Chu He uses the best sword—certainly not a divine weapon, but at least a top-tier spirit sword. If you buy an ordinary one, it might snap on the spot. Two is barely enough—really, only one.”

Ji You stared at the silver, paused, then said: “It’s fine—I still have Teacher Cao.”

Pei Ruyi looked up at him: “Unlikely. He complained to me yesterday that he paid for your entire month of meals during your seclusion—he’s broke now.”

“You underestimate Teacher Cao. He’s been a teacher at the Heavenly Book Academy for years—he must have saved something.”

“Teacher Cao might not give you anything.”

“He might.”

Ji You spoke softly: “He bet Master Ma and Master Ding a hundred spirit stones—I lose, and both he and I are finished.”

At these words, the four around the teatable held their breath.

A father and son could barely afford seven swords—beggars don’t belong in the Inner Court.

The five finished their tea, then opened oiled paper umbrellas and stepped into the drizzle, heading toward the Heavenly Book Academy to witness Teacher Cao’s fate.

But they didn’t expect that when they returned to the Green Water Lake’s Elegant Garden, they found a disciple from the Office of Affairs waiting at the gate.

They recognized him—he usually delivered letters and packages within the academy.

In his arms he held seven long swords, each glowing with spiritual radiance, each of top-tier quality, all brand-new.

Seeing the swords, Ji You felt a strange familiarity—he had seen each one before.

Behind him, Ban Yangshu, Wen Zhengxin, and Pei Ruyi stared wide-eyed, wondering who understood Ji You’s poverty so well as to send this timely rain.

“Younger Brother Ji, your swords—sent from Nanhua City.”

As the words fell, the group exchanged glances, mouths agape in astonishment—what an incredibly powerful fiancée.

Younger Brother Ji has truly landed a wealthy woman.

Ji You reached out and took the swords, his expression startled.

The junior master of Spirit Sword Mountain had entered seclusion around mid-month, nearly half a month ago, claiming he was breaking through and telling Ji You not to disturb him—he found him too noisy.

But in truth, every time she saw Ji You, she wanted to hug him—she couldn’t focus on enlightenment at all.

Thus, beauty truly is a curse—no wonder Ji You called himself a red-haired calamity.

But Ji You hadn’t expected her to prepare these swords in advance and send them precisely on time.

Meanwhile, Cao Jinsong walked from the Teachers’ Courtyard, along Green Water Lake, toward Ji You’s courtyard, intending to discuss the Autumn Duel arrangements.

But before he could speak, he saw the five standing before the courtyard, staring at him with strange expressions.

“What’s wrong? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Teacher, congratulations—you’ve just saved your life…”

“?”

Meanwhile, before Ni Mountain’s Sacred Path, a lavish carriage adorned with jade and emeralds approached the mountain gate, drawing countless eyes from teahouses and taverns.

The carriage was opulent beyond measure—even its canopy was cast in gold, embroidered with a complete image of ascending to heaven in daylight.

Behind the curtain hanging from the canopy’s edge, Chu He sat cross-legged inside as the carriage entered the Heavenly Book Academy.

Disciples near the Heavenly Book Academy’s Ascension Jade Terrace turned to look, watching the carriage slowly halt as Chu He stepped out.

His expression was haughty, his aura profound and mysterious.

(End of Chapter)