Chapter 145: Extraordinary Bearing, Expression Calm

“This boy is extraordinary…”

Beneath the white jade platform, Cao Jinsong, gazing at Ji You atop the stage, couldn’t help murmuring.

At first, Cao the instructor hadn’t dared to watch the early matches, only turning his head to listen to the murmurs around him.

Only when Ji You successfully struck his first sword blow, piercing Chu He’s robe, did he turn back with trembling fear.

Chu He’s [Heavenly Chaos Art] was too powerful—he had already confirmed this upon seeing Chu He slash Du Zhu with his sword.

So he had long prepared a white flag to throw into the arena as a surrender, but didn’t tell Ji You, only urging him not to bear too much burden and to strike freely.

In his view, inner court, noble families—all meant nothing compared to life.

Because once life is gone, everything is gone.

Is the peasant cultivator merely fighting Chu He? No—he is fighting the Chu family of Youzhou, whose lineage runs a thousand years deep.

So is throwing the white flag shameful? No, not at all.

Yet even he, the instructor, never imagined that the “extraordinary boy” he brought from Yuyang County had grown to this level in just one year.

Cao Jinsong snapped back to awareness and turned his gaze toward where Chu He had been thrown.

The Chu family’s second son had withstood seven sword strikes using the [Heavenly Chaos Art]’s aura, then been flung away by seven more—now drenched in blood, he still stubbornly rose to his feet, standing motionless.

Meanwhile, the Chu family had already left their seats; especially the old servant trailing behind Chu He, who hurried forward with furrowed brows, guiding his young master back to the Chu family’s seating area.

Seeing this, the crowd exchanged glances.

They had witnessed the ferocity of the [Sevenfold Mountains] firsthand—yet Chu He, though drenched in blood, appeared as if untouched.

Ji You, meanwhile, stood sword in hand in the arena, slowly closing his eyes to regain his composure, inhaling and exhaling spiritual energy as it dispersed through his limbs and marrow.

“Two more matches left—how will Chu He fight?”

“How could we presume to guess the depth of the Chu family’s heritage? Chu He must still have hidden cards—he wouldn’t reveal everything in his first match.”

“Already this intense after just the first match—if he still has more, are we even cultivating the same Dao?”

“Of course not—what techniques of theirs can you even use?”

“So strong—it could kill someone…”

Amid the murmurs, those who had regained their composure grew even more eager for the next two matches.

Yet Wen Zhengxin and others felt a flicker of unease, genuinely fearing Chu He might unveil even more unbelievable arts.

For they knew Ji You had learned only three sword arts on Spirit Sword Mountain: [Little Sevenfold Mountains], [New Willow Hue], and [Return Home].

In the first match, he had exhausted all three to defeat Chu He—if Chu He still had other trump cards, Ji You would be thrown into a disadvantage.

Yet no one expected that after a long while, Ji You suddenly opened his eyes, the golden light within fading, then rose and walked down from the stage to stand before the three overseers.

“Seven feet tall, standing tall upon the high platform, descending slowly, gazing around with eyes like a tiger, expression calm…”

“From afar, his bearing is extraordinary; he strides with dragon-like vigor and tiger-like grace, halting before the three overseers…”

“Observing his back, his sinews and bones are robust, his blood and qi like a rainbow, concealing immense power…”

Disciples of Spirit Sword Mountain scribbled furiously, filling page after page.

To their right, another disciple held a charcoal stick, swiftly sketching, capturing seven or eight tenths of the main figures’ essence.

Then both handed their manuscripts and drawings to a female disciple behind them, whose hands already held a thick stack.

At the front of this disciple stood Princess Changle of the Chong Wangfu , staring long at the manuscripts and drawings: “Excuse me, miss, what is your name?”

“Inner Court disciple of Spirit Sword Peak, Zhuo Wanqiu.”

“Miss Zhuo, I too was trained by Spirit Sword Mountain, but as imperial kin, I could only cultivate in Shengjing—come to think of it, we share the same lineage.”

Zhuo Wanqiu glanced at her stack of drawings and manuscripts: “I know you’re Princess Changle. Please speak plainly.”

Princess Changle offered a faint smile, lowering her gaze: “Could I ask you to let me bring an artist to make a copy of these drawings and manuscripts?”

Hearing this, women from imperial clans and disciples from other sects turned to look.

They had not understood earlier why Spirit Sword Mountain’s disciples were writing and drawing—now, seeing the lavish text and the nude swordswoman on paper, they felt regret.

That scene truly deserved to be preserved forever—so they immediately rallied behind Princess Changle.

Zhuo Wanqiu shook her head at the sound, bluntly refusing: “No.”

Princess Changle frowned slightly but still spoke patiently: “Money is no issue—spirit stones are acceptable. Just leave me a copy.”

“These are Spirit Sword Mountain’s secrets. Not even one copy may be made, let alone a single extra glance.”

“Ji You is a disciple of the Heavenly Book Academy. Today’s match is the Heavenly Book Academy’s autumn contest—how is this a Spirit Sword Mountain secret?”

“You need not know.”

Zhuo Wanqiu thought: This isn’t even Spirit Sword Mountain’s secret—it’s my young master’s secret.

Before coming, my young master specifically ordered me to bring the drawings back immediately and not let anyone see them.

You’ve already seen my future husband’s body—that’s more than enough fortune for a lifetime. You want to keep copies? Do you truly not fear Spirit Sword Mountain’s swords?

At that moment, a rustling of footsteps came from the mountain path.

Zhuo Wanqiu looked up and saw He Lingxiu walking toward her with a solemn expression.

The Heavenly Book Academy’s recent inquiry at Spirit Sword Mountain was still fresh; the two sects’ tensions had not truly eased.

For instance, during this visit to observe the Heavenly Book Academy’s contest, the overseers had assigned Spirit Sword Mountain an unfavorable position.

And He Lingxiu had failed in his inquiry at Spirit Sword Mountain—he must still harbor resentment, making Zhuo Wanqiu wary.

Yet to her surprise, this direct disciple of the Heavenly Book Academy’s Zizai Hall showed no hostility—his gaze fixed instead on the drawings in her hands.

“I’ve ordered disciples to fetch an artist. I’ll need a copy made.”

“?”

“This autumn contest has surpassed all expectations. I must preserve records for our academy—it’s our affair, and Ji You is my junior brother. I won’t take the original, but I need a copy. Otherwise, you won’t be allowed to take them away.”

Hearing He Lingxiu’s righteous words, Zhuo Wanqiu glanced at the manuscripts and drawings in her hands.

She didn’t believe a word about “records”—if such documentation were truly needed, it would be the overseers’ duty, not a direct disciple of an Inner Court hall demanding it.

Ultimately, it was simply that her young master’s belongings were too tempting.

Young master, young master—don’t blame me. Blame my future husband—he’s a beauty who brings calamity…

Meanwhile, chaos erupted atop the white jade platform.

Countless cultivators were discussing the previous match, awaiting the second.

Yet suddenly, everyone noticed that after speaking with the three overseers, Ji You sheathed his sword and departed gracefully, sword aura swirling as he walked with dragon-like vigor and tiger-like grace, his backlit silhouette glowing in brilliant sunlight.

Simultaneously, Cao Jinsong, standing beneath the white jade platform, felt his chest swell as if inflated.

Seeing this, the disciples still waiting for the second match all stared blankly; Ban Yangshu, Wen Zhengxin, Pei Ruyi, and others exchanged glances, then followed after him.

Ji You was heading toward his residence—Bishui Lake’s Elegant Garden…

On the seventh day after the autumn equinox, another light rain fell, bringing a chill to Shengjing as summer’s heat faded.

Disciples from the overseers’ office arrived atop the white jade platform, bringing craftsmen from Shengjing and a cartload of sand to relay the bricks.

Many disciples passed by and paused to watch, their expressions unreadable.

For yesterday, right here, they had witnessed seven awe-inspiring sword strikes.

But the anticipated second and third matches never began—they ended abruptly, and everyone dispersed.

Ji You returned to Bishui Lake’s Elegant Garden. The Chu family departed by carriage that same day. No one knew whether the autumn contest had truly ended—or why such a momentous event had halted so suddenly.

“Is the overseers’ office letting Chu He rest and heal, then resume the match later?”

“Can they do that?”

“The overseers are already biased—if they truly make such a disgraceful move, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Along the corridor beside Bishui Lake, disciples debated the sudden end of yesterday’s match, and the most plausible theory was that the autumn contest had been paused so Chu He could return home to recover.

This speculation was based on the overseers’ past conduct.

Otherwise, why not declare a winner immediately after the match ended?

After all, Chu He rose immediately after being thrown from the platform—he was clearly still able to fight. Why halt it suddenly?

On the mountain path, Lu Qingqiu walked under an oiled paper umbrella, heading toward the instructor’s quarters.

After the autumn contest comes the autumn recruitment—the intake of new disciples.

She had a younger sister who had already decided to enter the Heavenly Book Academy this year; she had come to speak with Ma Zhiyuan, the instructor responsible for recruiting from Yunzhou.

Pushing open the door to the instructor’s building, she saw Ma Zhiyuan at his desk, holding a green onion in his left hand and half a fried pancake in his right.

“Why are you eating such things, Instructor Ma?”

Ma Zhiyuan looked up at her: “Nothing much—these past few days, I’ve lost some silver.”

Lu Qingqiu nodded, then explained her sister’s situation, inviting him to visit the Lu family in Yunzhou.

In truth, the Lu family had already informed Ma Zhiyuan, and her sister’s cultivation base was indeed strong enough to qualify for admission.

After finalizing the recruitment details, Lu Qingqiu rose to leave, but paused and turned back: “Instructor, what happened with the autumn contest? Will it continue?”

Ma Zhiyuan looked up at her: “No more matches. Ji You has already won—he’ll likely enter the Inner Court before autumn recruitment.”

Lu Qingqiu’s red lips parted slightly, surprise in her eyes: “But why wasn’t the second match held?”

“Because it can’t be held.”

The autumn contest’s Leitai format was best-of-three, but exceptions existed.

For example, Du Zhu, who was knocked off the platform by Chu He’s sword, voluntarily ended his challenge, so no second match occurred.

Ma Zhiyuan bit into his pancake: “The academy says Ji You’s physique is hereditary—though no one knows if it’s true, his demonstrated power speaks for itself. Qingqiu, you should consider this: don’t miss someone like him.”

“But… why exactly did he win?”

“Because both of Chu He’s hands are broken.”

(New Year’s approaching—wishing you all a happy new year in advance, and requesting moon tickets… or2)

(End of Chapter)