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Chapter 83: Strange Disposition
🕑 Added 2025-05-15 10:50:59 +0000 UTC~~~
“There was a time, an Age ago, when we were told thus: True cultivation demands patience, humility, and respect for the natural order. True immortality is not walked in haste, but with tiny steps thousands of years in the making.
“That Age is long past. We know now that those were lies told to us by the Gods. To keep us docile, tamed, and in fear of rightful progress.
“What patience? What humility? Do you think you will achieve wisdom by sitting in a cave, supplicant before higher powers for your entire life?
“Do you think the death at the end of such a life is one that you can be proud of?
“When the storm comes, do not wait for it to pass, huddled under shelter and shadows! Be bold. Be mad! Seek the pain of the howling rain and catch its lightning in your teeth! Roar against your fate, against your comfort, against your stagnancy!
“Live your life with pride! Not as a cultivator should, but as a human who dares to struggle against his fate!
“Seek Tribulation, Advance, and DIE PROUD!”
— Unknown source
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Present…
The arena was loud with cheers. The Young Master exhaled.
Following the Golden Disciple, Feng faced five more opponents and reaped five more victories.
The first two were barely worth mentioning. Mere second sons of distant Clans with over-inflated egos, boasting loud mouths and paltry martial skills. Their cultivation triumphed over his, but their defeats were certain the moment they stepped in the ring.
Feng disposed of them in an appropriately brutal fashion, staying his hand only a hairbreadth from their deaths, while reaping their flesh for his consumption.
The Young Master’s stamina — while considerable — was not infinite. The number of spurned suitors Lianshi had was uncountable. There were many already in the stadium, and more may come as time passed. These brutal near-deaths of his opponents were regrettable but necessary, for they deterred the majority from daring to face him.
They had thought him a weak cultivator blessed with the fortune of Lianshi’s affection. It was partly true, for compared to his wife-to-be, Feng’s strength was insignificant in the extreme.
But compared to these practitioners? His martial skills were superior. The depth of his Divine Arts was more potent. In nearly every single way that mattered in combat save for cultivation standing, Feng triumphed.
Part of it was due to his Sect’s martial-focused nature, for the constant bloody battles and lethal lack of restraint honed his instincts to a razor edge. Part of it was due to an excellent upbringing, supported with resources from his entire Sect and his father’s personal oversight over his cultivation education.
And yet another part was the calibre of opponents he had faced in his past. Lianshi, Dai, or the countless Spirit Beasts he had hunted. All boasted superior cultivation. He might not have won every fight, but he had learnt a thing or two against fighting opponents of higher standing.
Perhaps, more than anything else, it was that which made him all the more dangerous.
In any case, his gambit paid off. After the ruthless defeat of the first two, the number of willing challengers drastically decreased.
That meant, however, that the remaining few contenders who braved the ring to fight him were of… stranger dispositions.
His third opponent was a woman from the Wallowing Foxfire Sect. Apparently, her husband had pursued Lianshi’s hand a few months prior and was rejected so violently that it took him weeks of expensive treatment to recover fully. Seeing as Lianshi was too far outside her ability to defeat, the woman jumped into the arena and invoked a revenge duel against Feng to avenge her husband’s honour.
Feng didn’t really understand how that worked in her mind, but chose to indulge the woman nonetheless. His opponent’s illusionary tricks with her net of floating blue flames were not enough to overcome the mass swarms of headless exploding birds he summoned, so Feng won that with minimal effort.
The next was a giant ogre of a man from the Guttering Swine Sect. The man had previously propositioned Lianshi to bear his Clan a child in exchange for an absurdly generous offer from his Sect.
Curiously enough, that man was not to be the father in that case. Rather, he was simply the delegate sent to (reluctantly) negotiate for Lianshi's cooperation to return to his Clan for a year, per orders from his Sect’s arrogant Young Master.
With the offer rejected, he could not return to his home until honour was satisfied. Feng battled the giant for over twenty minutes, ending only when the Young Master broke off the vicious tusk from the man’s lip and slammed it into his beefy chest, inches from his heart.
“G’d fight,” the monstrously-sized cultivator grunted as he gave Feng a thumbs-up while lying down amidst a pool of his blood. The medical acolytes struggled to carry him upon their stretchers. “S’rry bout the trouble. Had to participate. Tribe won’t understand otherwise… With this wound, I can go home.”
Feng spat out a bloody tooth and massaged his tender ribs before giving a thumbs-up back. “I understand. For what it’s worth, you hit as hard as you look. I see the martial reputation of the Guttering Swine Sect was no exaggeration.”
“Visit the Mourning Mountains when you can,” the giant laughed. “I’ll pour you our largest mug of the best ale around. On the house.”
It ended jovially enough, and the Young Master had energy to spare after he ground down the bloody tusk under his jaws and swallowed the refined powder. His fifth fight, however…
“I demand you become my bride!”
“That’s… not how this works…” Feng protested as he dodged the sparkling spear thrust of his diminutive opponent. “Aren't you here for Lianshi?”
“Why would I care for the Young Miss of the Chen Clan?” the colourfully-cladded girl before him snorted before pivoting into another strike. “I am here for a bride!”
“You are here for a bride, but you don’t want Lianshi to be your bride? Then why are we even fighting?” Feng asked, utterly baffled. He deflected another thrust with his glaive, maintaining distance from her abominably pink and frilly weapon. The thing even had ribbons on it!
The Young Master had originally opted to use his fists for this fight, but the wraith had advised against it with surprising urgency.
“Keep your distance,” she had warned. “Whatever you do, do NOT let this creature touch you.”
“Silly boy! Obviously, I want you as my bride!” the girl giggled. “Girls can’t be brides, what would I want a Young Miss for?”
“I… what?” Feng asked dumbly.
His opponent’s outfit was outrageously flamboyant, showcasing all the colours of a rainbow with painful vibrancy. The girl’s truncated hat jiggled with silver bells and spikes, glinting cheerfully in the light.
Feng did not like her outfit. Not one bit.
“You will come back with me; we will have a birthday party! And after you eat the finger candles, I will finally get to be a husband again!” The girl beamed widely at him. Her eyes were bright pink, made all the more prominent by her white-powdered face. Her teeth were all bleached in horrifying shades of purple, red, and blue. “I will get you pregnant, and you will birth for me beautiful parents who will love and cherish us both! It will be so much FUN!”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”Feng spoke through gritted teeth as she kicked against his glaive with astounding force after somehow vaulting into the air with her gaudily decorated spear.
“It’s not nonsense or hyperboles; she’s speaking in literal terms.”
The wraith’s reply in his head did little to calm him.
The next five minutes were nerve-wracking as the girl shouted increasingly deranged proclamations involving his person. Her acrobatic skills were impressive, but she did not activate any Divine Arts that Feng could perceive, and so he defeated her with not a single scratch on him.
“Be grateful you are only fighting a disciple and not the actual Ribbon Wedding God themselves. We had to send the Fox to put down that tittering abomination during the Great War after it converted half of our forces into cake-obsessed maniacs. Daji never completely forgave us for that. The mental toil the Divine Deity took on her left lasting scars.”
“Please spare me your drivel. I've had enough of meaningless gibberish crammed into my head within the last five minutes to last a lifetime,” Feng panted aloud as he rested against his glaive. Physically, he was fine, but his mind felt strained after hearing string after string of absurd sentences that should never be said together.
The colourfully dressed girl — now reduced to a limbless, doll-like torso that somehow spewed pink ribbons from her ‘wounds’ instead of blood— turned to look at him. “You are talking to yourself. Do you hear the voices too?”
‘We are NOT the same; do not compare us,” Feng grunted. “My madness is purely rational and good for my moral health. Yours is the opposite.”
“Okay,” the girl nodded before smiling brilliantly. “The voice in my head said we should meet together again, All-Devouring Morning Star! I will come visit you one day!”
Feng froze. He did not speak another word, even as the medical acolytes picked the disciple of the Rainbow Gorge Sect onto a stretcher and carried her off.
“... That does not bode well. I had hoped the Fox had managed to put that clown god down permanently. We will probably have to go do something about it one day.”
There are scant tales about the cultivators hailing from the Rainbow Gorge Sect of the 107th Outer Province. Their proximity to the Abyssal Ridge and the fringes of the Northern Provinces meant that contact with them was sparse, at best. It did not help that they were a reclusive lot, secluded to near-total isolation from the rest of the world.
For the sake of his sanity, Feng hoped he would not meet any more of them again. He ignored the wraith’s haunting comment and focused on his breathing.
His qi reserves were still stable, even after five back-to-back fights with cultivators of equivalent or even greater standing than he. The surrounding audience had regained their cheer and now hollered their praises for him. The foreign traders and merchants who knew little of the Young Master now began taking steps to secure deals with the Hei Clan, and cultivators from far-off lands gave their grudging respect to his martial display.
It would not be enough to quell the rumours — not entirely. He had been inactive for too long, and a single day of combat would not reverse the harm he had allowed upon Lianshi as she weathered the storm of ill rumours alone.
But perhaps with this, some part of her reputation would be restored. He would still have to meet her later, and though he dreaded that conversation, he could recognise it was necessary.
His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a presence blistering beside him. The ember of Elder Jun’s [Fiery Comet Step] flickered out of existence as the man clasped a hand upon the Young Master’s shoulders urgently.
“It’s time to go,” Elder Jun commanded with a pressing look in his eyes. “We cannot stay here. More cultivators are coming.”
Feng frowned. “I can still fight.”
“Not against these cultivators,” Elder Jun insisted. “If your purpose was to quell the rumours surrounding your marriage, this much is enough. The spectators will spread the news of your righteous victories in Miss Chen’s honour. The merchants will be selling the captured memories of the battle. But all of that will be meaningless if you are to lose. Or worse.”
That meant humiliation by a superior opponent or, in the most extreme case, death. Elder Jun was not one to worry or interfere unnecessarily.
That meant, despite being well-acquainted with Feng’s martial strength, he was still advocating for a retreat. Someone strong was coming.
The Young Master would be a fool to disagree with his Elder’s assessment.
“Alright, I’ll reject any more duel requests. Let us not linger here,” Feng said. “Open the gates. I’ll grab my blade, and then we can—”
“Excuse me. I hear the Young Master is open to participation in duels now?”
Neither the Young Master nor the Elder had heard him appear.
One moment, there were only two of them in the arena; the next, a newcomer was standing right in the centre of the ring. The pair turned, their qi instinctively raised and stance readied for combat.
The man was dressed in finer robes than Feng had ever seen in his life. Not even his father had ever donned such marvellous silk and finery. The man wore no jewellery and carried no weapons, yet Feng could not help but feel instantly alert before him.
A surge of power flooded the ring. Feng paled.
Nascent Realm, Sixth Step.
“Greetings, Fiancé of Lady Lianshi,” the man spoke, voice fair and saintly. His long hair almost seemed to dance in the breeze. “I had looked forward to meeting you. This is a little sudden, but I have decided that today is the day you die.”
