28 Viper Willow Twig

“Steward Wang, where did your thoughts wander? How could Little Third not know the rules here?” The disciple called Little Third seemed quite familiar with the steward. He stepped forward, offered a respectful bow, and whispered something into the steward’s ear.

In just a moment, Steward Wang’s eyes brightened, and a smile flickered across his face as he looked at the two leading youths, unable to contain his astonishment. “Youngsters these days are truly remarkable—gaining entry to the Sword Pavilion is nothing more than a wager to them.”

When Qin Chuan and Lei Ya saw the steward’s gaze, they dared not be careless. Each brushed the dust from their robes and bowed with respect. “Steward Wang.”

“No need for ceremony. The sect has me oversee the Dueling Platform to keep you from causing trouble. As long as you abide by the rules, you may do as you wish.”

Steward Wang had frequented the Dueling Platform himself when he was young and understood well the impetuousness of youth. With a final word, he turned aside. “Register your names in the ledger. Once the current match ends, you may enter the arena.”

The Sword Pavilion, though famed, was hardly worth his attention. Even the sect did not treat it as a great treasure—its reputation grew mostly in the telling among the lower-ranked disciples.

Following the procedure, the two registered and settled down to wait.

There were still two or three matches ahead of them. Based on experience, such duels were rarely to the death; unless a vast gap in ability existed, the outcome was determined by whose spiritual energy was exhausted first and who admitted defeat.

So, these remaining matches would take about half an hour.

Qin Chuan and Lei Ya each sat cross-legged, closed their eyes, and conserved their strength.

Wang Hao did not know Lei Ya personally, but he had heard of him—a ruthless character. Sitting on his meditation cushion, worry flickered in his eyes. Yet, afraid to disturb Lei Ya’s concentration, he could only sigh away his concern.

The battles progressed much faster than expected. The participants in the previous two matches, upon hearing that an exciting duel was about to take place, quickly vacated the arena.

“Hurry up! I’ll count to three, and no more bets will be accepted!”

“Three!”

A dueling arena always attracted wagers—the gambling and the fighting were inseparable. As soon as the participants took their places on the stage, the audience below was already in an uproar.

“Brother Zheng, trust me—bet on Qin Chuan and you won’t lose! Look at the calluses on his elbows and palms—he must have trained extensively before joining the sect!”

“Nonsense! Then why did you secretly put your wager on Lei Ya? I’ve already checked—it’s only been three days since Qin Chuan broke through to the first level of Qi Refinement. He’s probably not stable yet!”

Whether by accident or design, the man surnamed Zheng dropped a bombshell. The noisy crowd was stunned, then exploded into an uproar.

“I just got my spirit stones a few days ago, and now I’ll bet them all on Lei Ya!”

“I’m out of spirit stones, but I have this pill embryo I came upon by chance—it should be worth half a spirit stone!”

Those who had hesitated before now feared being left behind. They all produced their most precious items and placed them on the table marked for Lei Ya’s victory.

Not far away, Steward Wang smiled faintly and shook his head. With a glance, he saw the banker and Zheng exchange meaningful looks.

He ought to have intervened to correct the atmosphere, but then, thinking of the two in the arena, he decided instead to play along.

“Two!” he called.

Let’s talk about the division of the pot. When the results came in, there would be three groups: the winners, the losers, and the banker.

First, the losers—naturally, they lost all their wagers. The banker would take a small cut from the losers’ pot.

In small games like this, the banker’s share was usually only ten percent, but it was always a profitable business. If the share were higher, everyone would clamor to be the banker.

However, the banker was forbidden from interfering in the outcome. If Steward Wang were to expose the collusion between the banker and Zheng, both would be punished severely.

That left the winners, who would divide ninety-nine percent of the losers’ pot in proportion to their wagers.

All told, as long as one side’s bets grew, the other side’s would too, and the banker’s profit would rise accordingly. That was why Zheng deliberately leaked a decisive piece of information.

The crowd, thinking the outcome was set, bet recklessly. The undecided followed suit, triggering a chain reaction. The odds grew so lopsided that even the underdog, Qin Chuan, attracted some bets.

The banker seemed deliberately to draw out the count, holding the “two” for an eternity. Only when the crowd had emptied their storage pouches did he prepare to say “one.”

“Wait!” Suddenly, a flash of silver streaked by, spiritual energy stirring the air.

The crowd gasped in amazement. When they saw the object that landed on the table marked for Qin Chuan’s win, the noise swelled even further. Even the banker hesitated, unable to announce the final “one.”

“It’s a spirit crystal!” The onlookers buzzed with excitement, drawing deep breaths as if a single whiff could extend their lives by centuries.

The spirit crystal was dazzling, far more brilliant than the ordinary spirit stones. Some knowledgeable disciples explained its origin, and the crowd was awestruck.

“I, too, shall bet a spirit crystal,” said Steward Wang—the one to place the wager.

By the time the others reacted, it was too late.

“One! No more bets!”

A few hands, suspended in the air, withdrew in frustration.

The banker dared not let them place more bets. He still had to make a living, and could not afford to offend Steward Wang. It was clear that the steward had timed his bet precisely to prevent the other disciples from following suit and ruining his favorable odds.

Had Steward Wang known what the banker was thinking, he might have said, “Boy, you’re overthinking it!”

He was indeed worried about the disciples following his lead, but not because he cared about his own winnings; rather, he feared breaking the rules. If he truly wanted to take all, he could have simply bet more spirit crystals.

He was gambling against his own judgment. Something about Qin Chuan intrigued him, though he could not say what.

“Let’s wait and see.”

It had been a long time since he’d found a disciple so interesting. At last, Steward Wang’s interest was piqued. He glided lightly to the steps and took a seat.

The others followed, crowding the steps, wondering what kind of person Qin Chuan was to have drawn the steward’s attention.

From this vantage, every detail in the arena was clear.

“You may begin…” Steward Wang’s lazy voice carried clearly across the ten-zhang-wide arena.

“Steward, please wait a moment. Should we set any rules about weapons?”

“How thorough,” he remarked.

Normally, the Dueling Platform had no such restrictions; each could use their best state, and even pills and talismans were not forbidden. But who would be so extravagant as to use elixirs in friendly competition?

“In that case, weapons are allowed at your discretion, but no pills, talismans, or external aids!”

“You have ten breaths to prepare!”

“Steward, Lei Ya will use this Viperblade Sword!” Lei Ya patted his storage pouch and drew forth a fearsome-looking longsword.

The sword was deep purple, as if infused with venom. Under the torchlight, it reflected a cold glimmer that made one’s eyes itch, as if the very light carried poison.

Qin Chuan, seeing this, showed neither anger nor fear—he simply rolled up his sleeves, preparing to fight barehanded.

A collective gasp swept through the audience. Many secretly congratulated themselves for not betting on what they now saw as Qin Chuan’s foolishness. Even Steward Wang looked on in surprise.

At this, Wang Hao could not sit still. “Brother Qin! You mustn’t! If you lack a suitable weapon, at least take my spare sword!”

No one objected—better to wield a sword awkwardly than face that venomous blade barehanded. The Viperblade Sword was notorious among the lesser disciples of the Azure Mountain Sect; those it wounded often suffered injuries to their meridians, sometimes losing their cultivation forever. It was a weapon that could destroy both body and future.

“Steward, you said just now that no external aids are permitted!”

“Well…” Steward Wang had not expected Lei Ya to seize on his words so literally. But seeing Qin Chuan calmly roll up his sleeves, Steward Wang could only smile. “So be it. I did say as much.”

Lei Ya, pleased with his maneuver, sneered. “Qin Chuan, are you afraid? Time is running out—either fetch yourself a branch, or let’s begin!”

“Heh! I’ll be right back!”

With a light touch of his toes, Qin Chuan leaped up three tiers of steps, his movements crisp and decisive—nothing like an unsteady novice.

Most of the crowd saw nothing unusual, but Steward Wang, seasoned as he was, nodded slightly. There was something interesting here—though not quite enough.

In no time, Qin Chuan returned with a willow branch about an arm’s length long. He landed lightly in the arena and took his place.

A derisive snicker sounded, followed by laughter throughout the crowd.

“Ridiculous!”

“After one night in the Sword Pavilion, he thinks himself a sword immortal?”

Steward Wang only shook his head gently. Unlike the others, he merely said, “Begin.”

Still, he could not help but feel dismissive—just a bunch of hotheaded youths. That he’d been curious at all was almost embarrassing. With that, he closed his eyes and said no more.

In the arena, the two saluted each other and took up their stances.

Some in the audience who knew swordplay saw Lei Ya sink his shoulders and steady his gaze and could not help but praise him. Qin Chuan, holding a willow branch—neither firm nor limp—stood with his arms at his sides, his posture more akin to a martial arts stance than swordsmanship, and drew a sigh from the crowd.

“Beware—blades and swords do not see eye to eye!”

Lei Ya found it odd. Before fetching the willow branch, Qin Chuan’s eyes had been lively; now, with the branch in hand, he seemed almost dull.

What Lei Ya could not know was that Qin Chuan himself felt lost—empty, something was amiss.

Did he know how to use a sword? Or not? He had never learned, yet the motions felt so familiar, though he could not recall a single technique.