Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Duel

The two suitors invited to marry the daughter were about to engage in a swordsmanship contest, news of which quickly spread throughout Chang’an City. Before noon, on the official road stretching a mere thirty or forty miles from Chang’an to Dayu Town, countless knights clad in fine clothes and riding spirited horses galloped by in a blur.

At the archery range, the crowd had packed so tightly that not even a drop of water could seep through. Those who arrived late found it nearly impossible to push their way to the front.

“Hehe! When it comes to choosing a son-in-law, a contest to decide the victor is what truly brings grandeur and spirit,” Cheng Changmu said brightly, seated in the front row, unaware that the matchmaking event had already ended.

The onlookers around him chuckled in agreement.

“But the King family’s final match to select a son-in-law, without even erecting a proper stage—it’s too shabby. How does that fit the image of Chang’an’s wealthiest family?” murmured a middle-aged man dressed like a wandering knight, shaking his head.

Glancing suspiciously at Jun Ruocheng, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground in the center of the field, Cheng Changmu was equally puzzled. “Yeah! This is such an important duel, yet I haven’t seen a single King family guard to maintain order. What’s going on here?”

At that moment, Lu Liao, clutching a thick bundle and sweating profusely, squeezed through the crowd, glancing around with disappointment before turning elsewhere.

“Brother Liao! The appointed time for the duel is almost here. What are you still searching for?” Cheng Changmu’s sharp eyes caught him, and he called out eagerly.

Lu Liao approached anxiously. “Chubby Cheng, the betting odds. Where are the odds set by the King family? Don’t tell me you haven’t placed a bet.”

“Odds? What odds? I arrived early and didn’t see any,” Cheng Changmu answered blankly, clearly telling the truth.

“That can’t be! Think about it—a sword duel is much more thrilling than a game of chess. How could there be no betting? There must be, I’ll look around again.”

Lu Liao cast a glance at the calmly seated Jun Ruocheng and patted the bulging package on his chest, clearly unwilling to give up.

“Come! I’ll help you look.” Cheng Changmu was not about to miss the opportunity and enthusiastically joined Lu Liao.

“Hey! Hey, hey,” Wei Yingwu saw Lu Liao and Cheng Changmu wandering among the front-row circle and tried to call out to him but couldn’t recall his name. Seeing Lu Liao about to walk away, he grew anxious.

“Mi Gongtian, disciple of the Poetry Immortal Mi Gongtian! Over here, over here!”

Lu Liao, furious at first, recognized the prominent scion Wei Yingwu who was not to be trifled with. He swallowed his anger and approached.

“That Qin family brat has been waiting for you in the center for quite some time. Why aren’t you dueling yet? What are you doing wandering the sidelines?” Wei Yingwu asked bluntly.

“You little brat from the Wei family! Have you seen any betting odds?” Cheng Changmu wiped the sweat off his round face, completely ignoring Wei Yingwu.

“Chubby Cheng! If you call me a brat one more time, we won’t be done with this. Betting odds? What betting odds? We were about to set up some bets, but then word came that the guy beside you—what’s his name?”

Wei Yingwu scratched his head and looked apologetically at Lu Liao.

“Lu Liao!” Lu Liao’s anger grew stronger.

“Oh right, that’s him—Lu Liao, the one who beheaded that notorious bandit chief, Binghu Hualin, who terrorized the Guannei Road for decades, with a single sword stroke. The difference is so vast, why bother with any bets?”

Wei Yingwu said indignantly, then turned to appraise Lu Liao, finding it hard to believe.

“Where did that news come from?” Lu Liao looked utterly innocent, as if the rumors were clearly slander.

“I didn’t believe it at first either, but the news came directly from the King family. The source was adamant, claiming to have witnessed it with their own eyes, so I had no choice but to believe it.” Wei Yingwu’s gaze searched Lu Liao as if determined to uncover the truth.

“Brother Liao, that’s so unfair. With such a great chance to make money, you didn’t even tell me, Chubby Cheng,” Cheng Changmu glanced at the bulging package on Lu Liao’s chest, clearly displeased.

“Last time when I dueled Jun Ruocheng, the betting odds were eleven to one, and you, Chubby Cheng, made a fortune. Not a single one of you told me a word,” Lu Liao glared at Cheng Changmu, wishing he could tear a chunk from his fat belly.

“Sigh!” Cheng Changmu sighed softly, looking up to the sky as if Lu Liao’s words were directed at someone else.

Suddenly, the crowd was forcibly parted to create an opening. Over a dozen King family guards rushed into the field, and a middle-aged man with the air of a leader stepped forward.

“Everyone! The King family’s matchmaking contest has concluded. The final victor is Lu Liao, Young Master Lu. The sword duel between Jun Ruocheng of the Qin Marquis Mansion and Young Master Lu is purely a private matter between the two. Whatever transpires, it has nothing whatsoever to do with the King family.”

The noisy crowd abruptly fell silent, nearly everyone unwilling to accept this outcome, including Cheng Changmu and Wei Yingwu beside Lu Liao.

One was the son and heir of the famous Duke of Yi State, destined to inherit the Qin family title. The other was merely the grandson of an obscure old physician from the Imperial Medical Institute, holding nothing more than a trivial rural tribute status. To anyone with eyes and a sound mind, the choice of son-in-law was obvious.

“The duel hasn’t even started, yet the son-in-law is already chosen. Is there some trickery behind this?” a voice slithered from the crowd with sarcasm.

“Ruocheng, defeat him! We stand with you!” another voice rang out fiercely, as if Lu Liao were the enemy of their lives.

“Beat that toad dreaming of swan meat!”

“Kill him, kill that lowly scoundrel!”

For a moment, the masses were inflamed, and Lu Liao felt like a rat scurrying through the streets, everyone shouting to kill.

Hearing the deafening cries and seeing the uneasy glances of Cheng Changmu and Wei Yingwu, Lu Liao was bewildered. What had he done to provoke such hatred?

Feeling a chill within, he silently returned to his friends, handing the bundle of jewels and jade to Gu Xihua. Encouraged by her supportive gaze, he calmly strode to the center of the field. His fingers gripping the sword Autumn Water whitened slightly.

Jun Ruocheng removed the long sword resting across his knees, slowly stood, and faced Lu Liao.

“Brother Lu, I never expected that my sincere challenge to you would turn out like this,” Jun Ruocheng glanced around apologetically.

“It’s nothing. I just treat the shouting as a pack of wild dogs barking,” Lu Liao said, pale-faced, no longer looking at the crowd.

“Heh!” Jun Ruocheng forced a laugh. “Brother Lu, your tongue is sharp indeed.”

“We’re here to duel, not to entertain these barking wild dogs. Let’s skip the unnecessary words,” Lu Liao’s mood was at its lowest.

Jun Ruocheng swiftly drew his long sword, lowered the hilt, and bowed slightly.

“Bathed in incense, calmly meditating, all for a duel with Brother Lu. Please!”

Clad in snow-white robes, ethereal and graceful, Jun Ruocheng’s flowing garments earned him a chorus of cheers.

A mocking smile flickered at the corner of Lu Liao’s lips. He slowly drew Autumn Water and, with a hint of disdain, casually slashed at Jun Ruocheng. The brilliant sword light shone like a lonely, aloof cold moon.

In Jun Ruocheng’s deep gaze, a flicker of cold light flashed. His sword moved like lightning, unstoppable, as if to cleave the lofty cold moon from the sky and cast it into the mortal world.

The dazzling sword stroke blinded the eyes.

The once radiant cold moon dimmed, transforming into a sly venomous serpent that twisted and lunged toward Jun Ruocheng’s waist.

In the nick of time, Jun Ruocheng twisted his body lightly, more agile than a water fairy, evading the serpent’s bite. Drawing a deep breath to gather strength for a fierce counterattack, he suddenly noticed a jade pendant hanging from Lu Liao’s sword, who was looking at him with a faint, enigmatic smile.

Silently shedding his cumbersome robe, Jun Ruocheng revealed a form-fitting white warrior’s outfit. He turned to Lu Liao calmly.

“I understand—you look down on me and all those cheering for me. Your sword mocks me, and mocks them. But soon you will learn that you, Lu Liao, are not the only one standing proudly in this world.”

After speaking, Jun Ruocheng’s expression remained calm, his gaze icy, his presence imposing, as if he had transformed into a different person.

Lu Liao tightened his grip on the sword hilt, face still bearing an indifferent expression.

“You fools who only know pleasure and debauchery look down on me because of my humble origins? Now, right before your eyes, I will defeat your favored Jun Ruocheng and humiliate him badly. Let’s see if you still bark like wild dogs.”

Should he draw blood? Lu Liao’s eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned Jun Ruocheng, his rising malice impossible to suppress.

No superfluous words, no flashy moves. Jun Ruocheng’s figure flickered with indescribable speed. The cold sword light was like a shooting star, stabbing straight at Lu Liao’s chest.

A spray of blood spattered. With a sharp “ding,” Autumn Water deflected Jun Ruocheng’s sword, but a cut appeared on Lu Liao’s chest.

The fury within surged uncontrollably. Lu Liao’s gaze turned cold, and Autumn Water swept out a chilling gleam, striking Jun Ruocheng’s arm.

Jun Ruocheng closed his eyes—there was no way to dodge such a fierce, icy sword.

With a sudden “whoosh,” a figure flashed in at impossible speed, blocking the savage strike before Jun Ruocheng. The newcomer’s long sword held firm against Lu Liao’s deadly blow.

“Haha, ha!” Lu Liao ignored his wound, slashing swiftly again, Autumn Water casting a vast light show, attacking the one who had blocked him.

Despite his full-strength attack, not a single thread of the opponent’s clothing was touched. Lu Liao drew a deep breath, preparing to unleash the elusive “Longevity Sword” technique he had yet to master. Now, even if it cost the last of his vitality, he wanted to defeat this formidable enemy.

Before he could move, a flash of cold light streaked by. The icy blade silently stopped at Lu Liao’s neck, draining his momentum instantly, chilling his heart with icy dread.