Chapter 72 | A Formation Allowed to Cheat

[Ding!]

Xu opened his eyes.

The room was dark except for a thin stripe of moonlight across the floor. Lin Yueyao slept beside him, her breathing slow and even, a hand resting near the blanket between them.

An ice-blue panel floated in his sight.

[Daily Output Received]

[Lin Yueyao — Frost Essence +3]

[Xu Qing’er — Life Sap +2]

[Feng Lianzhu — Shadow Venom +2]

[Xiao Ruoxue — Lunar Veil +2]

The panel faded.

Cold settled first, clean and sharp through his chest. Warmth followed it through his blood. A darker current sank quietly into the reserve behind it, and the last trace arrived thin and cool, almost weightless.

Lin didn’t stir.

Xu slid out from under the blanket without waking her. His sword rested against the north wall where he’d left it. He ignored it, crossed the few steps to the low table, and sat on the floor.

The guest courtyard was quiet at this hour. Beyond the paper window, Azure’s night air carried more qi than most places he’d cultivated before. He closed his eyes and began the Basic Breathing Method.

He inhaled.

Ambient qi seeped through skin and breath, entered his meridians, and moved toward his Qi Sea. The flow was real, faint but steady.

Then the silver chime sounded again.

[Ding!]

[Qi Absorption Detected]

[Amplification x2 Applied]

[Cultivation Progress Accelerated]

The trickle through his meridians thickened without becoming wild. Qi followed the familiar flow faster, refined more cleanly, then settled into his Qi Sea.

Xu kept the cycle short. There was no reason to step onto the platform with less qi than he could recover before dawn.

When his Qi Sea felt dense enough for the afternoon, he stopped.

’Enough.’

He returned to bed. Lin shifted when the mattress dipped, then settled against the pillow again without waking.

Xu closed his eyes.

By morning, the sword was back at his left hip.

The east tournament platform was louder than it had been the previous afternoon.

Xu stood on the western side of the stone stage, facing Zhou Qiren across the center line.

Zhou looked ordinary until the eye reached his left hand.

A dark bronze plate sat in his palm, angular channels carved across its face. His straight sword rested low in his right hand. He held neither like decoration.

Someone behind the rail clicked his tongue.

"Cheap trick."

The judge looked over without much interest. "Declared at inspection. Accepted."

That was all he gave them.

Feng made a quiet sound that might have been a laugh. Xu didn’t turn to check.

Zhou glanced toward the voice in the crowd, then back at Xu.

"You planning to complain too?"

"No."

A corner of Zhou’s mouth moved. "Good."

The judge raised his hand.

Xu loosened his right shoulder.

The hand dropped.

GONG!

Qi entered the bronze plate.

Muted amber light ran through its channels. Thin angled lines appeared across the stone between them, not bright enough to blind, just bright enough to make the floor look wrong.

Xu drew and moved.

He took the center directly.

His forward foot landed on a lit line.

The stone didn’t move.

His drive did.

Instead of carrying him east toward Zhou, his own push left the stone at the wrong angle and sent his line north.

’So that’s it.’

Xu cut his weight and turned before the shift could carry him farther.

Zhou was already there.

clang!

Steel struck steel near Xu’s shoulder. He caught the first cut, but the next edge whispered past his left arm.

rip!

His outer sleeve opened from elbow toward the forearm.

"Young Master!"

Qing’er’s voice broke cleanly through the crowd.

Xu’s skin was untouched.

He stepped away, sword up.

At the rail, Qing’er had already shifted a foot toward the aisle. Lin’s hand touched the rail beside hers, not stopping her, merely there. Qing’er saw Xu move normally and froze where she was.

Zhou didn’t chase blindly.

He kept the plate near his waist. The amber channels remained lit.

"Fast brake," Zhou said.

Xu looked at the grit near his boots.

"Useful floor."

Zhou snorted. "That’s the point."

Xu went in again.

This time he didn’t give the floor his full weight.

His sword flicked toward Zhou’s right shoulder. Zhou met it with a short parry and kept the plate steady.

Xu withdrew.

Loose grit crawled along the stone a heartbeat before the pressure under his foot changed.

He tried the western edge next.

Zhou turned his left wrist.

The amber channels shifted.

A sharper pulse of qi passed through the plate.

The lit line on the stone changed angle.

Xu planted lightly, felt the new pull, and came out before committing.

Zhou’s sword followed his retreat but stopped short of overreaching.

’He isn’t going to waste it on every twitch.’

Good.

Xu pressed again.

Steel rang across the platform.

clang! clang!

Zhou’s qi came through the sword with enough weight that Xu stopped waiting for a realm gap to solve the match for him. The man was close enough to his own level that a bad step would still matter.

Xu gave him a deeper commitment.

His shoulder turned north. His right foot drove forward. The line looked committed.

Zhou didn’t bite.

He left the existing angle where it was and cut low instead.

Xu pulled back.

"Disappointed?" Zhou asked.

"A little."

Zhou laughed once. "Try harder."

Xu did.

He kept moving.

The Tireless Genesis Engine left no burn in his thighs and no ragged edge in his breathing, even as he circled, entered, withdrew, and entered again. His qi was another matter. Every reinforcement still came from a finite reserve, so he used as little as he could get away with.

The bronze channels dimmed between sharper pulses. Each time Zhou redrew the angle, his left forearm tightened around the plate. His sword remained dangerous, but his breathing stopped sounding quite as easy.

Xu saw it.

He didn’t hurry.

A shallow thrust forced Zhou’s blade outward. Xu let his weight follow north farther than before.

Zhou’s eyes narrowed.

His left wrist turned.

Qi pulsed.

Amber lines redrew across the stone.

The redraw was the answer Xu wanted.

Xu cut his weight before the new traction caught the full drive and slipped out of the lit pattern.

The movement landed cleanly.

For the first time, he came out without the small hitch between his qi and his balance.

[Ding!]

[Combat Amplification Detected]

[Amplification x2 Applied]

[Cultivation Progress Accelerated]

On his next shift, even that hitch was gone. Qi reached his hips and legs with his weight instead of chasing it.

Xu’s mouth almost curved. His eyes stayed on Zhou.

They met again near the center.

clang!

Zhou cut toward Xu’s neck. Xu turned the blade aside, let the traction line kiss the edge of his stance, then moved before it could take more.

Zhou’s plate pulsed again.

Slower.

Not much.

Enough.

Xu drove north.

This time he made it look ugly.

His shoulder dipped. His sword came high. His forward foot threatened to land exactly where Zhou had punished him before.

Zhou committed.

The plate flared amber.

The line on the stone swung to catch the north entry.

Xu cut his weight before contact.

Then he went south.

Zhou’s left hand still held the plate.

His sword was in his right.

To close the southern line, his blade had to cross his own center.

Xu’s didn’t.

clang!

He caught Zhou’s sword and pressed it outward.

His next step entered inside the guard.

The point of Xu’s blade stopped against Zhou’s upper chest.

Silence held for a brief beat.

"Stop!" the judge barked.

Xu withdrew the point at once.

Zhou stared at the blade, then at the plate in his own hand.

"Damn it."

Xu stepped back 1 pace and lowered his sword.

Zhou exhaled through his nose. "You were waiting for the redraw."

"Yes."

Zhou stared at the plate, then laughed under his breath. "Bastard."

Xu sheathed his sword at his left hip. "You noticed late."

A laugh broke somewhere beyond the rail. Then another. The noise rolled outward until applause and shouting swallowed the platform again.

Zhou looked at him for a moment, then barked a short laugh of his own.

"Get off my stage."

"I won it."

"That makes it worse."

Xu left him with the plate intact in his hand.

Qing’er met him below the platform.

Her eyes went straight to the torn sleeve.

Xu raised the arm before she could reach for it. Clean skin showed through the cut cloth.

"Cloth," he said.

Her shoulders dropped.

"Young Master... you could’ve at least looked over."

"You saw me walking."

"That’s not the same thing."

Lin came down behind her.

"Another step," she said mildly, "and you would’ve climbed over the rail."

Qing’er turned pink. "I wasn’t going to climb over it."

Lin looked at the aisle Qing’er had nearly entered.

Qing’er followed her gaze.

"I was just... closer."

Feng coughed into her fist.

It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Qing’er glared at her instead of Lin, which only made Feng’s mouth twitch harder.

Xu started walking.

"Come on."

That ended it.

The crowd thinned as they moved west from the arena. Food smoke had begun to drift over the courtyards, and people who’d spent the afternoon shouting were suddenly more interested in bowls than brackets.

They reached the white Medicine Hall awning before the others turned toward supper.

It was still busy.

2 attendants were already working under the canvas. 3 more entrants waited along the side, all with the sort of injuries that hurt enough to sour a face but not enough to stop a man from walking there himself.

Qing’er slowed.

An older attendant looked up from wrapping a swollen wrist.

"You again."

Qing’er glanced at the waiting line. "Need help?"

He looked at her hands, then at the 3 people still waiting.

"If you’re offering, yes."

She was under the awning before he finished the sentence.

"Sit," she told the next man. "Sleeve up. No, higher than that."

He hissed when she pressed near the elbow.

"That hurts."

"I know. Hold still."

Feng watched briefly, then looked toward the guest quarter. "I’m choosing food before she recruits the rest of us."

"Wise," Ruoxue said.

Lin looked at Xu. "We’ll take them ahead."

Xu nodded. "Go."

Shun and Cheng followed with the others. Feng gave Qing’er a lazy wave she didn’t notice. Ruoxue left without a backward glance.

Lin was last to turn away.

Her gaze rested on Xu, then Qing’er, then back on Xu.

"Don’t let her forget the hour."

"I won’t."

Lin left.

The arena noise weakened with the light.

Xu stayed outside the awning, near the post where he wasn’t in anyone’s way.

Qing’er worked with the Hall’s cloth and water, speaking only when she needed a patient to move or stop moving. A disciple with swollen knuckles tried to flex them in front of her. She caught his wrist.

"Don’t."

"But I can move it."

"And if you keep proving that, you won’t tomorrow."

He stopped.

Xu almost smiled.

By the time another row of lamps went dark around the arena, the waiting line had shrunk to 1.

Qing’er glanced out at him while the last patient sat down.

"Young Master, you should eat."

"After you finish."

"It might take a while."

"Then I’ll wait a while."

Her fingers paused on the clean cloth. Her eyes softened.

"Tianlong..."

The patient looked between them.

Qing’er immediately turned back to him, cheeks warming.

"Arm. Here."

He obeyed.

She reached for fresh cloth and bent over the injury again.

Xu leaned against the awning post, the cut sleeve hanging loose from his left arm, and waited.