85 – The End of the Tournament

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

A loud, boisterous laugh erupted from the tower belonging to the Liehu sect (Fierce Tiger sect), one of the northern sects. True to its name, the laughter belonged to a burly man whose entire appearance screamed tiger. His hair carried the same striped pattern as a tiger’s coat, complete with actual tiger ears perched atop his head. A tigerskin cloak draped over his armor, and a full tiger’s head served as his right pauldron. He was surrounded by half a dozen cultivators of similarly wild appearance and a dozen massive tigers lounging nearby as pets.

I immediately rubbed my temple, already imagining the flak I would receive for Elder Yinyue’s sudden power play. Anyone who already held a grudge against me would undoubtedly find a way to make this my fault. Fuck this shit man. I needed a vacation.

From the corner of my eye I noticed Marshal Wuya rubbed his own temple in almost the same manner. Mostly out of second-hand embarrassment at his associate’s behavior. He recovered smoothly, however, brushing a nonexistent stray hair back behind his ear before rising from his seat. The rest of the sects and noble families were still too stunned by Elder Yinyue’s claim to react.

“Please excuse my friend’s antics,” Marshal Wuya said first in apology, then turned toward Elder Yinyue. “Elder Yinyue’s confidence is truly impressive. However, we would request that the elder reserve a portion of these potential disciples for our three northern sects.”

I listened carefully before balking at the end. What the fuck!? He didn’t object? 

A wave of uproar immediately erupted from the other towers. It was clear that most of the remaining representatives had expected Marshal Wuya to speak against the Tianhe Sect on their behalf. Instead he had merely asked to share the recruits.

“The Tianhe Sect goes too far!” an elder from the Wuqing Sect shouted, face flushed.

“Since when does one sect claim an entire ranking list?!” a Nangong family representative demanded.

“This is daylight robbery!” an Ouyang elder barked.

“The northerners are already compromising, will the rest of us simply watch our talents be stolen?” a voice from the Bìhǎi Sect tower cut in sharply.

“Of course,” Elder Yinyue replied with perfect calm, as though the uproar around her did not exist. “We will uphold the Three Northern Stars Treaty.”

Marshal Wuya simply bowed and returned to his seat, equally unbothered by the noise. From the title alone and the nature of the request, I could roughly guess the contents of the treaty. something along the lines of a border march arrangement, where manpower or tax support was provided in exchange for defense and such.

Xuehai landed lightly on the platform behind me and handed over a sealed letter. I broke the seal, read the contents, then read them a second and third time.

“What about Lingshan Temple?!” an elder of the Dugu clan shouted. “They would never stand for this injustice!”

Other voices rose in agreement. The Buddhist monks of Lingshan Temple had long held a reputation as pillars of righteousness and voices of reason. Conveniently ignoring how pleased many of these same noble families had been when the temple’s influence had diminished.

“What the fuck happened? Is this true?” I waved the letter to Xuehai in disbelief. “No forgery? Nothing suspicious?”

Xuéhǎi leaned in so I could hear him over the noise. I crouched slightly.

“We verified it multiple times. Communication talismans, then a messenger sent for direct confirmation. The Abbot himself has confirmed the contents.”

“What is the Master of Ceremonies conspiring about now?!” someone shouted, noticing the private exchange.

“Ehem.” I straightened and raised my voice. “I have received an official letter and confirmed its authenticity. For reasons left unspecified, Lingshan Temple will not be recruiting any disciples.”

The uproar redoubled at once. Accusations of foul play, demands to see Lingshan’s representatives, and similar outcries filled the air. While a few sects like the Tianjian and the Wanshou sect had already withdrawn from the argument entirely and were simply waiting for the chaos to end.

“This is nothing but treachery!” one particularly self-important elder bellowed. “I will report this matter and request that the Abbot himself come to preside over it!”

“That will not be necessary.” 

The voice that answered was soft, yet it carried with overwhelming clarity across the entire region.

Above the northern horizon the clouds parted. Sunlight intensified until it seemed almost liquid. Golden clouds gathered and layered upon one another like the steps of a celestial pavilion. Then, in a surge of pure radiance, a colossal figure took form.

The Abbot’s Dharma form sat in perfect meditative posture, so vast that it spanned from the distant northern mountains all the way into the heavens. His robes were woven from flowing light and scripture, each fold inscribed with countless glowing characters that shifted and rearranged themselves in endless recitation. Behind his scarred head a multi-layered halo of golden lotus petals slowly rotated, casting gentle yet irresistible pressure across the land. The mere presence of the manifestation made the air itself feel heavier with solemnity and compassion, as though the world had briefly remembered it stood beneath something far greater.

Every mortal in the venue, spectators, servants, merchants, and children alike, dropped to their knees as one. Foreheads pressed against the stone. Many began weeping openly.

“Namo Amitabha…!”

“The Living Buddha has appeared!”

“Blessings… blessings upon us!”

“We are not worthy…!”

Their voices rose in overlapping cries of awe and devotion, filling the sudden silence left by the stunned cultivators.

“Congratulations to the Abbot on attaining enlightenment.” Surprisingly, it was Scholar Liu, who had remained silent through the entire chaos, who first offered the formal words.

“We offer our congratulations to the Abbot on attaining enlightenment,” the rest of the cultivators intoned in near unison.

I, of course, completely missed the cue.

“Congratulations on the enlightenment,” I hastily added once everyone else had already finished. I still had no idea what enlightenment he had actually attained.

“Young Master Xuan is too kind.” The Abbot replied, addressing me alone.

Please stop putting the spotlight on me. I am going to get murdered.

“Ehem. For what reason do we owe the honor of this… auspicious visit?” I asked in my capacity as Master of Ceremonies.

“I knew that my written words and personal seal alone would not serve as sufficient proof.”

There was no need for accusation as all that hear are conscious enough. However, this kind of confirmation does not exactly need such a grand show of… power? Unless there’s more underlying reasons.

“I see. Is there anything else you wish to convey?”

“Hmmm. It is to show a certain someone the true enormity of the path he has chosen to walk. Something I am certain he will come to understand in time.”

The Abbot’s attention remained fixed solely on me. So this was for my benefit? Why? I shot him in the head. Only then did I notice the addition to the horizontal scar across his forehead. A dot where I shot my railgun that bounced off his head.

“I see that you noticed.” the Abbot said casually.

I hunched my shoulders slightly, caught. “I mean… you could have just not kept it.”

“Why shouldn’t I keep a gift that will remind me never to stray again?”

“Sure. If you want to put it that way.” I no longer had the energy to argue. I could feel every gaze in the venue locked onto me. Most of the cultivators were still holding their polite bows, waiting to be acknowledged before straightening.

“It seems I have occupied too much of your time,” the Abbot said, finally taking notice. “Should our paths cross again, please consider my earlier offer once more.”

But I needed to check one last thing.

I waved his letter, “Is this my fault?”

“It is not.”

With those final words, the colossal Dharma form slowly faded from the sky.

I let out a long, controlled exhale. “Well then. Let’s continue.”

—

In the end, with no remaining grounds for complaint or objection, the sects and noble families were forced to content themselves with dividing only the participants of noble background. Those of non-noble origin were swiftly split between the Tianhe Sect and the three Northern Sects. Tianhe claimed roughly sixty percent of them, including Qin Weiming and Ye Wanzhao, who had taken second and third place in the combat tournament. Bai Chengbei returned to his own sect along with the new northern recruits.

“Sooo… what exactly is the history between you and the Abbot of Lingshan Temple?” Huiran asked as we walked toward the City Lord’s office.

I projected another paper bag and began breathing into it. I was already bracing for the shitshow that would follow us the moment we left this goddamned city. Was there somewhere I could simply bury myself for a long while? Níngguāng was planning something similar, wasn’t she? Closed-door seclusion. Right. That was the plan. The moment I returned home, I will be going into this seclusion.

“I shot him in the head,” I answered the two who were clearly prepared to keep pestering me until they got an answer.

“And you are not dead?” Wendao asked, openly incredulous.

“Yeah. I still don’t know why. I’m pretty sure he was about to stomp me flat and then stopped at the last second.” I remember shooting the Abbot in the head. It was like what I did with Qingchen, forcing him to kill me himself if he so wanted without any excuses and pretenses to hide.

“Anyway, what are the actual chances we die the moment we leave this city?” I asked the more practical question.

“We shouldn’t,” Wendao replied.

“Not anytime soon,” Huiran added. “The fact that the Abbot addressed and answered only you is an unmistakable sign of favor. While the number of people jealous of you will certainly rise, those who still maintain any upright character will think twice before making an attempt on your life.”

“So fewer open confrontations and more snakes in the grass?”

“Most likely, yes.”

When we reached the office the door was already open. Xuehai gestured us inside. We offered the usual greetings as we entered. The City Lord stood near the window, gazing outward as though lost in thought. It did not last long.

“It was not perfect,” Baosheng said as he turned to face us, “but we still obtained the best possible outcome under the circumstances.” Clearly referring that they still needed to let Qianxue go.

He moved to his seat and prepared writing materials.

“Now then, as promised, I can grant each of you a special exception. Speak. What do you want?”

Huiran answered first, using Voice Transmission so that only the City Lord could hear. Baosheng raised one eyebrow but recorded the request without comment. Wendao spoke next.

“I would like Master Yinjin to forge a sword artifact for me.”

“Hmmm. You may need to prepare alternatives,” the City Lord said, drawing a look of mild shock from Wendao. “Someone has already requested that the master repair an existing artifact. I will still forward your request in case capacity remains, but be ready in the event it cannot be fulfilled.”

Wendao nodded thoughtfully and offered his thanks.

Then it was my turn.

“Do you have anything that helps with the Dao Heart, or something along those lines?”

“As a matter of fact, we do. We have the Scroll of Tàiwú (The Scroll of Great Self).” The City Lord answered without hesitation. The stunned expressions on Huiran’s and Wendao’s faces were enough to tell me the item was exceptionally precious.

“It was scheduled to be auctioned in three years, but I can bestow it now. However, I must warn you that it can be dangerous.”

“People are already trying to murder me left and right. What’s one more risk?”

“This is different. The Scroll can bestow a revelation of your True Soul or your innermost desire. It can just as easily confront you with every flaw, sin, and regret you carry. Enough to shatter a Dao Heart.” His tone was completely serious.

“I’ll take it,” I said with more confidence than I felt. It couldn’t be that bad.

“Suit yourself.”

Once he finished writing, the City Lord stood.

“Follow me. I will escort you to the vault.”

~ Valarion