Ch146 - Wen Dao Festival Competition 4. Drawing the Sword

Outside, Yuan Qian watched the adjudicator set up the formation on stage. He vaguely heard footsteps, looked back, and saw Su Hansheng come out with a haunted look.

“Eh? That was fast?”

Su Hansheng clutched his head, muttering gloomily, “Bad move—my father’s inside.”

Yuan Qian sucked in a breath. “Did the Immortal Lord…see…”

You and the World-Honored One getting handsy?

Before Su Hansheng could answer, an explosion shattered the calm from the nearby retreat—spiritual energy scattering everywhere, leaving only Su Xuanlin and Chongjue standing unscathed in the ruins, smiling at each other.

Yuan Qian: “?”

Guess he saw all right.

Too far, too low in cultivation to hear those two powerhouses talk, but the aura felt like two Asura kings facing off—bone-chilling, with no one daring to approach.

Yuan Qian quaked in fear. “Young Lord… shouldn’t you stop them?”

Su Hansheng didn’t even look at the hellish scene behind, leaning on Wu Baili’s shoulder and muttering, “I have a headache.”

Wu Baili shot him a sideways glance and said dryly, “You sure set the fire, but you’re not putting it out. Deserve the migraine.”

“I can’t win anyway,” Su Hansheng groaned. “I can’t even take the championship…”

Wu Baili, having endured this championship talk all night, was about to roast him again when jeers erupted nearby.

No doubt, Zhuang Lingxiu was back onstage.

This time, Zhuang Lingxiu didn’t even try to speak. Following the headmaster’s instructions, he only placed the match list on the stage—but still, no matter what he did, he got booed all the same.

Senior Brother Zhuang waved gracefully to the crowd, as if he’d received great praise, and leisurely left the stage.

Su Hansheng quickly rushed forward to check the match list.

Scanning all the way to the bottom, he discovered his first match was against Wu Baili.

Su Hansheng frantically grabbed Wu Baili’s arm, eyes watering. “Bro! My brother! You’ll go easy on me, right? You definitely won’t beat me up too badly, right?! Say something, bro!”

Wu Baili glanced at him with a half-smile. “Little brother already knows the answer in his heart—why ask?”

Su Hansheng: “…”

Wu Baili was a ruthless person who showed no mercy. Su Hansheng had witnessed his cruelty at last year’s Wendao Festival—if they faced off this time, he’d be chased around the stage howling.

If the Three Realms saw that, Yingxu Sect would lose all face!

Su Hansheng said, “Even if you won’t show mercy, at least let me keep some dignity.”

Wu Baili smiled without warmth. “Young Lord, with your current tear-streaked appearance, you’re already nowhere near the word ‘dignity.'”

Su Hansheng was so roasted he nearly burst into tears with a “wah.”

Yuan Qian couldn’t stand it and played peacemaker, trying to soothe him. “Well, Baili only has the title of divine archer. In secret realms like the Wendao Festival, he’s perfect with his shots, but today’s competition is on the martial stage—at such close range, wielding a bow isn’t advantageous.”

Su Hansheng still looked dejected.

Wu Baili glanced at Yuan Qian.

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Wu Baili: “…”

Wu Baili had one person hanging on each arm and wanted nothing more than to dig a pit and bury them both.

Su Hansheng looked forlorn—to his left, his father and Chongjue were at each other’s throats; to his right, Wu Baili was eyeing him like prey. His future looked bleak.

Might as well run away.

Su Xuanlin and Chongjue’s confrontation drew too much attention. Su Xuanlin, who’d started it, could only reluctantly withdraw his spiritual energy, saying coldly, “Utterly shameless.”

Chongjue: “…”

Chongjue had grown accustomed to Su Xuanlin pinning all “sins” on him. He methodically straightened his robes and turned to leave.

Su Xuanlin was still buzzing with anger from that earlier scene, glaring hatefully at Chongjue’s retreating back before storming off.

Seeing the two immortals finally separate, everyone present breathed a sigh of relief.

Su Hansheng didn’t learn his lesson. Seeing Su Xuanlin enter another spiritual retreat, he quickly scurried over to Chongjue, reverting to form by clutching his arm and pleading. “My first match is against Baili. I kept him up all night, so he’s definitely going to pummel me!”

Chongjue looked at him helplessly. “Though Wu Baili’s cultivation is higher than yours, he specializes in archery. On the competition stage, you have the advantage.”

Yuan Qian had said much the same, but Su Hansheng had been indifferent. Yet hearing it from Chongjue, his eyes lit up. “You really have confidence in me?”

Chongjue: “Mm.”

Su Hansheng immediately bounced happily. “Looks like dual cultivating with you has some benefits after all!”

Chongjue: “…”

If Su Xuanlin heard that, he’d probably faint from rage.

Reassured by Chongjue’s words, Su Hansheng kissed him once, then hummed a tune as he went to lord it over Wu Baili.

After several rounds of jeering below the stage, it was finally time for Su Hansheng and Wu Baili’s match.

Su Hansheng’s index finger was already covered in densely packed talismanic marks. He strutted up the steps arrogantly.

This Yingxu Sect Young Lord was known throughout the Three Realms for causing small troubles, but most people didn’t know his true abilities. With the Immortal Lord also present, everyone eagerly anticipated seeing how the Young Lord measured up.

Su Xuanlin opened one side of his spiritual retreat’s barrier, sitting cross-legged on a cushion, drinking wine while watching below.

Su Hansheng wore hunting attire, sleeves and waist cinched tight, his black hair tied in a high ponytail with a phoenix-embroidered ribbon dancing in the wind. At first glance, he had the bearing of the Immortal Lord’s son.

Wu Baili stood opposite him, coolly lifting his eyelids.

Su Hansheng wore a confident smile, raising his hand. “Please.”

Wu Baili raised his hand to draw his bow. With a light flick of his fingers, the bow made from Divine Tree vines transformed into a sharp spirit sword. With a surge of spiritual energy, it flashed with blinding cold light.

Su Hansheng: “?”

Su Hansheng was stunned. “You… you’re not using your bow?”

Wu Baili said coolly, “On such a small competition stage, I’d have to be crazy to use a bow.”

Su Hansheng: “…”

Good point.

Su Hansheng had been living too comfortably lately—his brain had rusted from all the coddling. He coughed, lightly rubbing two fingers of his left hand together. Two talismanic marks transformed into shrieking phoenixes circling around him.

Wu Baili raised an eyebrow. “Not drawing your sword?”

Su Hansheng hesitated. “Still… not yet.”

He hadn’t practiced swordsmanship for long and had never really fought anyone with it.

Even when sparring, Su Xuanlin would casually snap off a willow branch to use as a sword, playing around like amusing a child—a few light swings would send Su Hansheng howling.

Talismanic marks were more familiar.

Wu Baili wouldn’t show mercy. He directly wielded his sword in a fierce strike.

Su Hansheng’s reaction was half a beat too slow. One phoenix formed from talismanic marks shrieked before being shattered by the Nascent Soul stage sword intent. Only then did he react, retreating several steps.

The talismanic marks on his right hand were all extremely lethal like the Annihilation Formula—unusable in this kind of competition.

Su Hansheng’s left hand swept through the air with several sharp “sss” sounds of spiritual energy shattering. Five talismanic marks suddenly appeared, shooting toward Wu Baili’s face like sharp arrows.

The Ten Great Academies’ spectators initially thought this frail-looking young lord was all show. Though rumors said his talisman talent was exceptional, this was the first time they’d witnessed someone summon five talismanic marks without even drawing a single talisman—everyone was shocked.

Su Xuanlin’s brow twitched slightly.

The Qifu clan’s talisman talent was innate. Though Qifu Yin, as the Lanke Chronicles, was a sacred Heavenly Dao relic, his twin sister Qifu Ling’s talisman talent surpassed his—every time they sparred, she’d chase Qifu Yin all over the arena.

Su Hansheng usually joked around carelessly, making him seem extremely unreliable.

But now, standing on the competition stage with a posture like a pine tree and a natural three-part smile in his eyes, talismanic marks came alive one by one, dancing and circling around him.

…Just like Qifu Ling’s bearing back then.

Su Xuanlin gripped his wine cup, unable to recover for a long time.

Not until Su Hansheng’s five talismanic marks thundered down—shattered by Wu Baili’s long sword—did the inexperienced Su Hansheng react like a rabbit, immediately fleeing across the stage.

“Wait! Let me conjure a few more talismanic marks! Wait for me!”

Su Xuanlin: “…”

The nephew takes after the uncle—now he also had Qifu Yin’s “bearing” when getting beaten.

Nascent Soul and Golden Core were always a realm apart. Wu Baili, known for his cold face and ruthless heart, unleashed sword intent that shattered the floating talismanic marks, spiritual energy exploding with crackling pops like fireworks blooming.

Su Hansheng’s core and meridians had been blessed by the Heavenly Dao—in an instant, they filled with spiritual energy. His left hand’s talismanic marks split from one to five, then instantly to ten, scattering like a goddess scattering flowers at his command.

Bang—

Spiritual energy exploded mid-air, powder scattering everywhere.

Wu Baili gripped his spirit sword, about to thrust, when he saw Su Hansheng emerge like a phoenix bathed in fire, breaking through the smoke and dust with arrow-like speed, his left hand overflowing with talismanic marks as he struck with a thunderous palm.

Wu Baili frowned. His protective barrier flashed, taking the hit. As the talismanic marks shattered, he expressionlessly swung his sword down.

Su Hansheng hadn’t expected Wu Baili not to dodge at all. After freezing for a moment, he tried to evade.

But he was too close—even pulling back now wouldn’t help.

The sword wind was already heading for his face.

All the spectators gasped in alarm.

With Su Hansheng’s small frame, taking a Nascent Soul strike would probably make him cough up buckets of blood.

Yuan Qian was also frightened, instinctively looking toward the Immortal Lord’s and World-Honored One’s spiritual retreats.

Neither Su Xuanlin nor Chongjue showed any sign of intervening, just watching coldly—but a closer look revealed Su Xuanlin had nearly crushed his wine cup.

Chongjue fingered his prayer beads, lips pressed together in silence.

Just when everyone thought Su Hansheng would be the first seriously injured on the competition stage, they saw him—seemingly without conscious thought—instinctively raise his unused right hand through the dust from the exploded talismanic marks.

The fingertips of his right hand were all covered with lethal attack talismanic marks Qifu Yin had taught him.

Wu Baili’s sword was already within three inches of Su Hansheng.

Suddenly, a snow-white cold light flashed.

Su Hansheng unconsciously drew the spirit sword at his waist, his pupils clear and cold, his slender waist barely grazing past Wu Baili’s sword as he bent backward, his long hair and robes flying, narrowly dodging Wu Baili’s fierce strike.

But after dodging, instead of retreating, he rode the lingering sword intent with a strange sword technique.

Wu Baili seemed shocked, quickly raising his hand to swing his long sword.

Clang clang—two sounds of blade and sword colliding. In flashing steel, several exchanges happened in mere instants before both pulled back and retreated.

Sword intent cut off a lock of Su Hansheng’s black hair, elegantly falling to the ground.

Wu Baili looked at Su Hansheng, who’d drawn his sword for the first time, his eyes full of fighting spirit.

Just as he was about to grip his sword for another strike, he suddenly heard a faint sound of fabric tearing.

Wu Baili glanced down, suddenly frozen in place.

The front of his robe at his chest had been sliced open by sword light—if it had gone even an inch deeper, it would have split his heart.

Dead silence surrounded them. No one seemed to expect Su Hansheng would not only dodge that killing move but draw his sword to counterattack—that sword technique was too fierce, without any wasted motion, very much in Su Xuanlin’s style.

Wu Baili froze, looking up.

Su Hansheng stood tall and upright, cleanly sheathing his sword. The coldness and fierceness from his sword strike still lingered between his brows, giving off an imposing pressure that made people catch their breath.

The wind lifted the phoenix ribbon in the youth’s black hair. Standing in the wind, he also seemed dazed for a moment before tilting his head slightly and suddenly smiling.

…Like a true phoenix reborn from flames.

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