Chapter Thirty-Six: There Are Those Who Do Not Wish for Your Death

Moonlight cascaded down, cold and desolate. On the Jade Platform, lights blazed brilliantly.

As the saying goes, outsiders watch the spectacle. Across Luoyang, at every live broadcast point, those with cultivation might not fully comprehend the match, but they ponder it quietly. Ordinary people, though unable to grasp the depths, found the streams of sword energy dazzlingly beautiful. Cheers erupted everywhere, most rooting for the Second Young Master Zhao. Wu Yue, whose fame was tainted, rarely found favor among the audience. Yet in a certain inn, a small innkeeper clenched his fists; perhaps the only one in Luoyang who, with no stake in the outcome, sincerely hoped for Wu Yue’s victory.

At the Jade Bowl Banquet, a gathering of tens of thousands, the atmosphere was hushed. Unlike the unified support for Zhao Yu Zhou in the city, here the attendees held more complex thoughts.

Princess Li Sui Zhu, a member of the royal family, wore a worried expression. Her maid reassured her, “Princess, don’t worry. Surely Second Young Master Zhao will win!” Li Sui Zhu unexpectedly replied, “Not necessarily.” The maid was startled; even Li Sui Zhu herself felt a strange uncertainty.

Beside her sat Lin Wu Tong, renowned throughout Luoyang, clad in a pale yellow robe. Bathed in lamplight, she leafed through a book. Li Sui Zhu glanced at Lin Wu Tong and whispered, “Sister Lin, who do you think will win?”

Lin Wu Tong, seemingly indifferent and not watching the match, lifted her head with a serene calm. Her delicate features and tranquil presence evoked an air of unrivaled beauty.

Instead of watching the combatants, Lin Wu Tong looked at Li Sui Zhu and said, “Most likely, Second Young Master Zhao holds the advantage.” Li Sui Zhu felt an inexplicable unease and turned her gaze toward her father, seated some distance away.

“Didn’t Aunt Hong say he was stronger than the four young masters of the Zhao family?” Li Sui Zhu hurriedly asked.

“Aunt Hong grew up in the palace and tends to underestimate the four young masters. Besides, three days apart is enough for a scholar to change. Zhao Yu Zhou’s last display of skill was three years ago, when he had just entered the Divine Transformation stage. Now, he is close to transcending the mortal realm. Moreover, Wu Yue, from the outset, harbored a mutual destruction mentality. Had he fought methodically, the match might not have been so fierce. Still, Wu Yue’s odds of winning were slightly higher.”

At this point, Lin Wu Tong appeared puzzled. She had expected that, even if Wu Yue lacked background, his superior spiritual sense would balance the odds. At worst, it would be an even match, with both able to withdraw or advance freely. Yet Wu Yue had used spiritual techniques from the beginning. Facing Zhao Yu Zhou’s unwavering heart and the extraordinary long sword, his advantage in divine abilities was largely negated.

The world had somewhat overestimated Wu Yue—or rather, it was Aunt Hong’s palace-born arrogance that couldn’t appreciate outsiders. Her first impression of Wu Yue was inevitably one-sided. This shows that without experience, one shouldn’t judge rashly, nor take others’ evaluations too seriously.

Wu Yue’s combat assessment once included the boon of his second consciousness. Now, he had lost that edge; moreover, after the recent battle with the monk, even though the second consciousness bore much of the strain, Wu Yue himself was affected.

“He’s still formidable, to fight Zhao Yu Zhou to this extent.” Though she didn’t fully understand, Li Sui Zhu commented. “Anyway, I dislike Zhao Yu Zhou, but Wu Yue, no matter how disagreeable, is still one of ours.”

Lin Wu Tong smiled lightly, “We haven’t asked you anything, have we?” Her words drew laughter from the nearby women.

Li Sui Zhu felt her cheeks flush, but replied earnestly, “I pleaded with Father for a long time before he invited Wu Yue to the Jade Bowl Banquet. Even if he loses now, he may yet defeat Zhao Yu Zhou in the future.”

Lin Wu Tong looked at Li Sui Zhu with a serious expression. Li Sui Zhu noticed the gaze and turned her head, pretending not to see. Lin Wu Tong said, “If he wins, there is a sliver of hope. If he loses, he will surely die.”

“Ah!” Li Sui Zhu exclaimed.

“He now clings to less than half a life,” Lin Wu Tong said softly.

Li Sui Zhu fell silent. Lin Wu Tong lowered her head and resumed reading, yet long did not turn the page.

At the heart of the Jade Platform.

Wu Yue, after only one move, sat on the ground, leaning forward, hands pressed to the earth to keep from collapsing. Blood traced lines across his face, staining the ground beneath him. His head drooped, eyes obscured by blood, uncertain whether open or closed. His consciousness was already dim. If not for a familiar power slowly nourishing his body, spiritual sense, and soul, Wu Yue would have perished utterly.

The divine sword that once scattered sword energy had fallen, riddled with cracks. Zhao Yu Zhou, his body soaked in blood, raised his head; his face, masked by blood, was unrecognizable.

“Is the fight not over yet?” someone shouted.

Chen Yan Kun replied coolly, “Neither contestant has declared the match ended. I dare not stop it on my own.”

Zhao Yu Zhou moved! The entire audience, indeed all of Luoyang, held their breath. Step by step, Zhao Yu Zhou advanced, staggering, blood dripping from him, leaving a crimson trail.

Wu Yue dimly perceived a shadow drawing closer, his consciousness fragmented. After a long struggle of thought, he realized this was at the Jade Bowl Banquet.

Zhao Yu Zhou moved ever closer, slowly but with unwavering resolve.

Darkness deepened, consciousness faded. Scenes flashed before Wu Yue’s mind like flowing water: the old man was Yue Jiu, the first familiar soul; boundless blue waves, shattered by great ships; a woman’s sharp gaze, “Do you mind my age?” A mountain village, a girl trudging with a water bucket, a boy gazing distantly at this strange world; the bleak Lishan, and the overwhelming siege of Luoyang. All the people, all the sights Wu Yue had seen, sped past. Finally, the cicada’s song—the life of a cicada, which he felt himself less than, never having sung beneath the blazing summer sun.

An indescribable aura suffused the Jade Platform.

His body grew light. Wu Yue’s final thought was: this life has not been happy enough.

Zhao Yu Zhou reached Wu Yue’s side, raising his right hand.

Chen Yan Kun, always impartial, suddenly declared, “The match should not continue too long.” With a wave of his hand, Zhao Yu Zhou drifted off the stage.

The crowd erupted. Chen Yan Kun seemed unmoved, sighing softly as he delivered a pill into Wu Yue’s mouth.

Far away, at Lishan, dark clouds gathered. Grass and trees withered, thunder roared overhead. Jiang Ruhai’s gaze brimmed with pain. Chen Shujuan stood motionless, and Xue Xiaoyu as well.