Chapter 62 | A Blade That Wasn’t There

The noise changed beneath the staging arch.

Out by the rail, the crowd had been a broad wall of voices. Here, stone swallowed much of it. What remained came through the opening ahead in sharp pieces: a judge calling a name, sandals scraping the platform, somebody laughing too loudly from the eastern seats.

A clerk at the mouth of the lane looked down at his board, then at Xu. "Xu Tianlong?"

"Yes."

The clerk marked the line with a brush. "West platform. Wait for the judge." Xu walked on.

Sunlight cut across the end of the passage. He stepped out onto the stone lane and saw the platform where the previous guest had lost by crossing the boundary. The judge stood at the north edge. Beyond the low rail to the northwest, Lin and the others were still where he’d left them.

Qing’er leaned forward the moment he appeared. Feng noticed and smiled at something Xu couldn’t hear.

His opponent was already waiting on the east side of the platform.

The man wore a dark brown fighting robe with the sleeves tied back. A broad saber rested against his right shoulder. The weapon was wider than Xu’s sword, and the man’s wrist stayed almost perfectly still beneath its weight.

Xu saw no crest he recognized on the robe, and he didn’t know the face. That suited him.

Xu stepped over the west boundary and stopped. A murmur moved through the guest seats.

"That’s him?"

"The one Elder Ming let through?"

Someone farther back snorted. "Looks ordinary enough."

Xu ignored them.

The judge looked between the fighters. "Ready?"

The saber cultivator lowered his weapon from his shoulder. "Ready."

Xu’s hand settled on the hilt at his left hip. "Mm."

"Begin."

The saber came first. The man crossed the center of the platform in hard strides, his right arm driving the broad blade down toward Xu’s shoulder. Xu drew.

clang!

Steel met at an angle. Xu didn’t try to stop the heavier weapon head-on. He turned his wrist, let the saber slide along his blade, and stepped outside the line.

The saber struck stone.

kang!

A shallow white mark appeared across the platform as the man ripped the weapon free and came around with a horizontal cut.

The judge shifted along the north edge to keep the crossing line clear. Somewhere behind Xu, a spectator shouted for the saber cultivator to press him harder. A different voice answered with laughter.

Xu gave ground.

Wind from the saber pulled at his robe. He shifted just enough to let the edge pass, then touched the man’s wrist with the flat of his sword before moving away again.

The crowd made a disappointed sound. His opponent’s mouth tightened. "Going to keep running?"

"If you keep missing." A laugh broke from somewhere near the guest rail.

The man’s shoulders rose. He attacked again. This time qi ran through the saber before it moved. The blade gave a low hum, and the air around its edge pressed against Xu’s skin before the steel reached him.

Xu watched the man’s hands: right hand firm, left still free. The saber cut down, and Xu angled it away.

clang!

The next strike climbed from below. Xu turned his hip and let it pass in front of him. The following cut came faster and forced him closer to the west boundary.

The marked boundary entered the edge of his vision. ’He’s trying to make the platform smaller.’ Xu changed the angle of his sword and stopped giving ground.

The saber cultivator tested him with a short cut toward the ribs, then checked the motion before the edge reached full speed. Xu didn’t bite. He moved only enough to keep the blade outside his robe.

A sharper strike followed toward his collar. Xu caught the pressure near the base of his sword, slid it away, and felt the heavier weapon drag against his wrist before it passed. The man recovered quickly, but not lightly. Every committed turn asked his shoulders and hips to bring the broad saber back with them.

Xu had no reason to hurry the exchange for him.

The man’s next cut came high. Xu met it, shifted the force aside, and stepped back toward the center before the saber could circle again.

His opponent frowned. Then his left hand closed around the rear of the hilt, and his stance changed with it. Rear foot planted. Shoulders turned. Qi tightened around the saber until the broad blade vibrated in his locked grip.

Xu’s eyes narrowed. ’Now.’

Ordinary qi moved at his command, and Lunar Veil Clone formed exactly 1 pace to his left.

For a heartbeat, there were 2 Xu Tianlongs on the west side of the platform. The duplicate wore his face and robe, with an apparent sword drawn in its right hand. The false blade caught the light when it moved.

Xu shifted right while the clone went left.

The saber cultivator’s eyes snapped toward the moving qi signature. His committed cut followed.

boom!

The broad saber tore through the false sword line. There was no ring of steel.

The duplicate’s blade warped around the impact. Its shoulder folded with it, body breaking into rippling qi as the pressure punched straight through. The false Xu tore apart from the upper torso down and vanished before the saber finished its arc.

The crowd shouted. "What the hell was that?!"

"There were 2 of him!"

"Illusion?" someone yelled from the eastern seats. The shouts collided before any answer carried above the rest.

The real Xu was already moving. The saber had gone too far, its wielder’s left shoulder following the weight of the cut with the hilt low for a fraction too long. Xu stepped inside on the saber cultivator’s right.

He didn’t summon the clone again. He turned his sword, and the flat struck the man’s upper chest near the shoulder.

thud!

Xu drove through the contact with his body and ordinary qi.

The saber cultivator staggered sideways. His rear foot landed on the boundary line, heel scraping for purchase. Xu gave him no room to reset and drove through again. His boots slid beyond the mark.

"Stop!"

Xu stopped. His sword stayed against the man’s robe for a heartbeat, flat and motionless, then lowered.

The saber cultivator stared at him. Breath came hard through his nose.

The judge pointed west. "Bout. Xu Tianlong."

The guest side erupted before the words had fully left his mouth.

Xu stepped back. His opponent looked toward the place where the clone had broken, then down at the boundary beneath his boots.

"...Damn."

Xu gave him a small nod. "You committed."

The man’s mouth twisted. "I noticed."

He lowered the saber, turned, and walked toward the east return lane without another word.

Xu sheathed his sword. The last vibration from the saber strike had already faded from his wrist. His breathing stayed even, and nothing pulled wrong when he rolled his shoulder. Only then did he look toward the rail.

Qing’er gripped the wooden rail. Relief softened her face the moment she saw him looking. Lin stood beside her, calmer, but the small lift at the corner of her mouth was enough.

Feng drummed her fingers against the rail. Ruoxue didn’t look away from the platform; her silver eyes stayed on the empty space where the false Xu had disappeared.

Xu left through the west return lane. Behind him, the crowd was still arguing over whether the false body had been an illusion, a movement trick, or some strange qi art. Xu didn’t look back to correct them.

By the time he reached the guest side, the next fighters were already being called toward the platform.

Feng met him near the rail. "You made him swing at air," she said. "I approve."

"You approve of anything that embarrasses someone."

"Not anything." Her smile widened. "Most things."

Lin looked at Xu’s robe, then his hands. "Clean."

Qing’er opened her mouth, hesitated. "Young Master... you weren’t hit, right?"

"No." Her shoulders eased.

Ruoxue spoke last. "The false body broke as soon as his qi hit it directly."

Xu looked at her.

"But he was already committed," she continued.

"That was enough." Ruoxue gave a faint nod.

A tournament attendant approached from the west lane carrying a shallow wooden tray. Small clay jars sat on it beneath strips of cloth.

"Xu Tianlong?"

Xu turned. The attendant checked the name on a narrow slip, picked up a closed jar, and held it out. Thread had been wound around the stopper and tied beneath the lip.

"Recovery salve. For bruises, swelling, cuts. Keep it for the next round."

Xu accepted the jar in his left hand. "I didn’t use any."

"Then keep it." The attendant was already glancing toward the lane behind him. "Better to have it before you need it."

He moved on.

Xu rolled the jar lightly against his palm. The clay was cool from the shade. The thread seal hadn’t been broken.

Feng peered at it. "A prize for winning without getting hit."

Qing’er drew breath, but the reply never came. Her gaze had dropped to the jar.

The faint smile left her face. She leaned closer without touching Xu’s hand and drew in a quiet breath through her nose.

Then her eyes fixed on the sealed stopper.