Martial Arts Tournament (3)

The two men looked at each other in silent agreement.

Real-life combat was entirely different from duels protected by barriers and the careful watch of prominent cultivators. Jiang Shiqin had sensed a sharp spirit honed by brutal, perhaps even life-threatening fights, in the youth called Yu Wentian. From the knowing look that Master Wu was displaying, he understood that there was more to this disciple, who had grabbed the benefits and priviliges with his own hands under the covetous eyes of so many others.

Of course, that wasn't to say that Yuan Jia would definitely lose under another set of circumstances. In any case, his purpose in watching the tournament wasn't to place bets or judge these youths anyways.

If Master Wu had heard these thoughts, the middle-aged man would have laughed in amusement. Here Jiang Shiqin sat, barely twenty years of age, calling other people in his generation "youths" like he was some old man weathered with life.

Very naturally, they switched topic again.

"Since you've already come to the Distant Lands, it would be a waste not to visit the famed attractions here. I'm planning to make a trip to the Cold River Snow Mountain Range two weeks from now. Will a young man like you be willing to part from a beauty," he winked in good humour, "and accompany this boring old man instead?"

Jiang Shiqin replied pleasantly. "Master Wu, of course I would be willing to. Miss Su is only temporarily interested because I am a new face here, and will probably find me boring in comparison to the various heroes and geniuses in this land. In that situation, I could only rely on Master Wu."

"Young man, that remains uncertain. I once met this fairy-like beauty..."

With savoury tea in their reach and beautiful scenery in their sight, the conversation flowed effortlessly like streams of water gushing out from an open spring.

-0-0-

"Yu Wentian. Inner disciple of Blazing Hawthorn Sect. Late Xiantian stage. Was once an outer disciple and fought his way to enter the inner ranks. Steady foundation and aggressive style. Shows real combat experience."

Lightly dipping his brush in dark ink, Jiang Shiqin frowned at the yellow parchment half-filled with neat lines of words. A faint sigh, barely discernible in the cracking sounds of lit candles and gentle breezes tapping onto the furniture, escaped from his throat as his brush descended.

"Similarities between his martial arts and the Heart Devil Sect's."

-0-0-

For the next few days, Jiang Shiqin spent all of his time holed up in the manor.

Every day, he would rise at dawn and practiced martial arts for four hours. His path of cultivation was one with the sword, and naturally the long, thin blade that gave off a cerulean glint when tilted was his constant companion when traveling the rocky path of immortals. Sometimes, he would spar with the guards as well, matches which Master Wu would spectate with great interest whenever his work was waned.

In the afternoon, he could be found reading relaxedly under the shades of mohur trees - the perfect image of a carefree young master. His choices of books, borrowed from Master Wu's collection, ranged from 'The History of the Distant Lands', 'A biography of immortal cultivator Wu Yongjie' to 'A collection of local prose and poetry by Lu Yimu'. Personally, he had always felt that it was a great blessing to simply enjoy the exquisite things in life, instead of having to dully sit and meditate for the sole purpose of drawing in some kind of invisible energy.

When night had fallen and flickering lamps lit up the manor, Jiang Shiqin would retreat into his courtyard. With a cup of yunnan silver tips tea in one hand and a fine lacquer brush in the other, he could be seen constantly jotting down something.

There had been an incident when a maid had accidentally knocked down his tea and ruined his writings, profusely kneeling and bowing while Master Wu personally made a trip to the courtyard to apologize for the stained parchment. Jiang Shiqin had simply smiled and said that it was no big deal. Since Master Wu was present, it had been inconvenient to burn or otherwise dispose of the parchment even if he had wanted to.

Later that night, when the maid dug out the a wrinkled piece of paper from the trash basket and smoothened it, she found a poem written with elegant strokes.

"For a moment, I thought it was a lantern.

Beautiful. Bright. A firefly flickering at night.

For a moment I was standing in a bustling street lit gold.

What is real and what is known?"

She did not understand the poem, and neither did Master Wu, but his worries were lessened by the fact that it wasn't some sort of conspiracies or secret orders as he had initially feared.

In this manner, four days passed in peace. On the morning of the fifth day and prior to the final match of the tournament, Jiang Shiqin was waiting before the entrance to the field when his tranquil state was finally disrupted by a haughty-looking youth with a contemptuous smile.

"Jiang... Shiqin, is it? I've heard that you've been monopolizing Sister Dai's attention for the past few days."