A Different World - Chapter 18: Martial Arts Competition

Eight dueling platforms were scattered along the mountain cliffs. After the participants crossed the chains and reached the main platform on the opposite peak, a Xuntian Sect disciple dressed in a purple robe stepped forward with a tray and said, “Please draw lots, heroes.”

“Draw lots?” Ye Cichuan asked.

The disciple nodded and explained, “Yes. Based on the order in which you arrived, each of you will draw lots and be divided into one of the eight groups—Qian, Kun, Xun, Zhen, Kan, Li, Gen, and Dui—for the competition. The last person standing on each platform will be the winner and advance to the next round.”

This martial arts assembly had eighty-one sects participating. If they fought one-on-one, it would take ten days or more to complete. Thus, Xuntian Sect devised this method to significantly shorten the duration. Moreover, it would reduce the number of opponents Xuntian Sect needed to face by more than half.

Ye Cichuan drew a lot but hadn’t yet opened it when a loud shout erupted from behind him.

“I think your Xuntian Sect is doing this on purpose!” The speaker, a gaunt, ragged man dressed like a beggar, had sunken eyes and a frail frame that seemed vulnerable to the mountain’s fierce winds. Climbing over the chains, he hadn’t even wiped off the rust stains from his hands before pointing at the Xuntian Sect disciple and cursing.

The Xuntian Sect members, accustomed to life on the cliffs, were familiar with the terrain and used specialized weapons like the “barbed long chain” designed to hook onto ledges if they fell. However, the other participants were unprepared for such perilous conditions, having only learned of the treacherous venue today.

The disciple neither admitted nor denied the accusation, squinting as he smiled. “Xuntian Sect is merely providing the venue. The opportunity lies in your own hands. How you win depends entirely on your abilities.”

“I don’t want to compete anymore!” The frail beggar declared and turned to leave, only to find the chains crowded with people heading toward the platform. There was no way back.

Resolving himself, he muttered under his breath and approached the chains, saying, “If I can’t leave, I might as well take out a few rivals!”

If he could become the martial alliance leader, his actions would all be justified, and his suffering brothers wouldn’t have to starve anymore.

Seeing the frail beggar’s ominous demeanor, those hanging on the chains called out anxiously:

“Chief Chen, what are you doing?”

“Stop this now!”

“Chen Laoliu, you’d better not let me get across, or else—”

“Then don’t come across!” Chen Laoliu’s gaze was fierce as he grabbed the chains and began shaking them violently, trying to throw everyone off.

The Xuntian Sect disciple calmly watched the commotion, counting aloud as people fell one after another: “Eighty, seventy-nine, seventy-eight…”

As more people fell, Chen Laoliu’s fear dissipated, replaced by a thrill from the carnage.

The gangs on the opposite peak, seeing their members plummeting, demanded an explanation from Chen Laoliu’s gang, plunging the scene into chaos.

Other sects quickly replaced their fallen members with substitutes, vowing to make Chen Laoliu pay with his blood.

Before the duels had even begun, several lives were already lost. Ye Cichuan furrowed his brow and stepped forward, pulling Chen Laoliu away.

Chen Laoliu, enraged at having his fun interrupted, lunged at Ye Cichuan. Gripping his staff tightly, he swung it toward his opponent’s side, then swiftly retreated like a slippery eel, making himself hard to catch.

Clutching his side, Ye Cichuan remained patient, carefully observing Chen Laoliu’s movements and steps.

Ye Cichuan’s martial skills had been taught in full by Jiang Yunxiu, with Ye Yin providing meticulous guidance. However, the number of Zheyuelou disciples stationed at Qiong Mountain was small, and he had been sparring with the same few individuals for years without much growth.

Perhaps Ye Yin had anticipated this. Whenever disciples returned from missions, Ye Yin would arrange for them to spar with Ye Cichuan. Though he rarely left the mountain, Ye Cichuan had seen many styles and was not limited to the confines of the mountain.

This was his first time engaging other sects directly—a rare opportunity. He began to understand why Ye Yin wanted him to participate in this martial arts assembly.

With this realization, Ye Cichuan took the matches more seriously, committing his opponent’s techniques to memory as quickly as possible.

When Chen Laoliu spotted an opening and aimed a strike at Ye Cichuan’s vital point, a sudden gust arose. Ye Cichuan spun backward, retreating eight steps, then used the cliff wall as leverage. With a sweep of his sword sheath, he forced Chen Laoliu back several steps.

Chen Laoliu, now clear-headed, stared in disbelief at the young man before him. “Did you copy my technique?”

The force of his opponent’s blow left his chest aching. He instinctively retreated two more steps, only to misstep and tumble off the edge.

Seeing this, Ye Cichuan leaped forward, grabbing Chen Laoliu mid-fall. “I’ll pull you back up.”

They were here for a martial arts competition, not to cause deaths, and he disdained using such methods to take someone’s life.

Chen Laoliu had just seen a glimmer of hope when he noticed another person climbing up from the iron chain, drawing their sword as they approached Ye Cichuan.

Looking down at the cliff, he suddenly came to his senses, recalling what he had just done. Memories of his life of displacement, torn apart by war, with his wife and family gone, flooded back to him. Shaking his head desolately, he broke free from Ye Cichuan’s grasp and shouted, “Watch out!” before slowly falling toward the bottom of the cliff.

Ye Cichuan immediately stood up and warily looked behind him, only to see a man in a brocade robe, with a greasy face, holding a sword at the spot where he had just been lying.

Seeing that the situation had changed, the man’s expression shifted instantly, and he said ingratiatingly, “I’m here to help you.”

Ye Cichuan replied coldly, “You’d better be.”

With that, he finally unfolded the slip of paper he had drawn earlier. After confirming the location, he walked toward the Qian position.

As he stood in place, he noticed that the man from earlier had followed him, his expression showing a hint of impatience. It seemed that this man had also drawn the Qian position.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, young man. I really just wanted to help earlier,” Wu De chuckled awkwardly, introducing himself. “I am Wu De from the Ruyi Villa. Seeing your skills, why don’t we team up?”

Ye Cichuan showed no courtesy, directly exposing him. “You want me to team up with you so I can defeat others on your behalf, only for you to stab me in the back later?”

Wu De’s eyes darkened. “I advise you not to be so ungrateful. Your Zheyue Tower has made countless enemies. Being targeted is only a matter of time.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Ye Cichuan cast him a glance, his tone indifferent.

At this moment, the peak of Pingding Mountain was filled with spectators eagerly anticipating the final outcome. Even Zuo Qingchuan, who had claimed he was too lazy to leave home, was among them.

Zuo Qingchuan noticed that the contestants on the Qian stage all seemed to be targeting Xiao Chang’an.

Anxiously, he glanced toward the association’s seats. He saw Jiang Yunxiu standing on a high platform, tightly gripping a teacup, as if ready to smash it as a signal to rescue her if anything went wrong.

But Zuo Qingchuan quickly realized something was off. Although he didn’t practice martial arts, he had seen Ye Chang’an practice swordsmanship before. With Chang’an’s skills, shouldn’t dealing with these few opponents be a piece of cake? Why was it taking so long?

Jiang Yunxiu had also noticed something unusual. Upon closer observation, it seemed that Chang’an had been deliberately concealing her strength, stalling her opponents, while seeking opportunities to test the moves she had just secretly learned.

“Although such behavior is a bit shameless, this child is learning far too quickly!” Jiang Yunxiu sighed with some regret. If not for the fact that Chang’an would eventually return to that place, she would undoubtedly become a renowned figure in the martial arts world.

Realizing that Ye Chang’an didn’t need his concern after all, Zuo Qingchuan turned his gaze toward the seats of the Xun Tian Sect. He noticed that the main seat was still vacant, his eyes darkening as his mind churned with thoughts.

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading!