Guo Xuanfeng

In another secluded corner on the second floor, a portly young man sat absorbed in his own world, oblivious to the ongoing contest. Zhen Bao toyed with a petite wooden box, tracing the intricate carvings etched into its surface.

He nudged open the box just enough to glimpse the pill nestled within — as small as a bead, grey and shot through with streaks of luminescent red.

"Bao, refrain from playing with it," came a warning from across the table.

At the reprimand, Zhen Bao quickly snapped the box shut, directing his gaze towards the older man sitting opposite him. This man, Zhen Ling, wore a perpetually cheerful expression and queried, "So, have you decided if you're keeping it?"

"I wish to keep it, Uncle Ling, but my talent in martial arts leaves much to be desired," Zhen Bao confessed, a note of despondency creeping into his voice as he placed the tiny box back on the table.

"We could sell it then," proposed Zhen Ling casually, taking a sip of his tea.

Zhen Bao studied his uncle. An older man who shared his own rotund physique, Zhen Ling was a shrewd merchant, always seeking avenues for profit.

Setting down his tea cup and reaching for a slice of mooncake, Zhen Ling offered, "I'll find you a buyer. All I ask for is a quarter of the profit." He bit into the mooncake, his eyes twinkling with cunning.

Zhen Bao exhaled a weary sigh and slid the box back into his robe, "Perhaps. Give me some time to mull it over, Uncle." With that, he redirected his attention to the unfolding competition. Several matches had transpired since Liu Jun's downfall, and another had just drawn to its conclusion.

...

"Numbers 15 and 7, make your way to the stage!" boomed the announcer's voice.

Down below, Xuanfeng glanced at his token inscribed with the number 15, then began his ascent towards the stage. His appearance immediately drew the crowd's attention, and rightfully so.

"Isn't that Guo Xuanfeng?" someone gasped in surprise. As others followed the pointer's finger, they too recognized the lean, statuesque figure of Xuanfeng.

Guo Xuanfeng, a well-known figure among the younger generation, was often perceived as the trusted subordinate of the esteemed Third Young Master, Yi Wang. But his reputation extended beyond that — he was famous for consistently placing highly in the Youth Martial Showdowns, even from his very first participation.

Many looked upon him with envy, aware that his close connection to Yi Wang allowed him frequent access to the main family's palace. The palace, held sacred within Yifeng City, was typically reserved for the heads of branch families alone.

Opposing Xuanfeng was a young man gripping a Lian Dao, its length approximately 32 inches, designed for two-handed use. Having discarded his martial hanfu's sleeves, the young man exuded an air of electrifying anticipation.

After appraising his adversary, Xuanfeng extracted a strip of cloth from his robe, methodically wrapping it around his hands as he ascended the stairs.

Once positioned, Xuanfeng respectfully clasped his hands, introducing himself, "I am Guo Xuanfeng."

In response, the young man readied his weapon, a broad grin etched onto his face, "Cao Shi. I look forward to learning from our duel."

The resonant clang of the gong signaled the commencement of the battle as the announcer thundered, "Begin!"

Imbued with an eager spirit, Cao Shi sprang into action, charging towards Xuanfeng with a broad, sweeping slash of his Lian Dao.

Exhibiting impeccable foresight, Xuanfeng countered the move with swift precision, redirecting the incoming blade and launching a roundhouse kick.

Harnessing the momentum of his hefty blade, Cao Shi maneuvered himself to narrowly evade the kick, then spiraled into a swift charge, delivering another powerful slash towards Xuanfeng.

Xuanfeng skillfully slid beneath the assault, destabilizing Cao Shi. Despite losing his footing, Cao Shi capitalized on the momentum of his blade, executing a mid-air pirouette to land upright.

Without missing a beat, Cao Shi transitioned into another rearward slash towards Xuanfeng. Demonstrating masterful control once again, Xuanfeng guided the blade past him while maintaining his hold on it. He followed the trajectory of the blade, seizing Cao Shi's arm in his grasp.

Cao Shi's eyes widened in surprise as he absorbed a forceful blow to his abdomen. The impact nearly made him relinquish his weapon and sent him sprawling backward. As he rolled on the ground, hacking out a cough, the audience erupted into a chorus of cheers, appreciating the remarkable spectacle of martial arts.

Xuanfeng cautiously advanced, allowing Cao Shi time to regain his footing. Once Cao Shi was poised for battle again, Xuanfeng launched into action.

Visibly pained, Cao Shi attempted to create some distance, but Xuanfeng's superior speed thwarted him. Anticipating Xuanfeng's onslaught, Cao Shi hoisted his blade aloft and initiated a vertical slash. Skillfully sidestepping the attack, Xuanfeng closed in on Cao Shi.

A solid punch landed on Cao Shi's face, and as if an unseen curtain fell, his world plunged into darkness. The spectators watched in rapt attention as Cao Shi was sent reeling backward, unconscious before he hit the ground. An explosive cheer erupted from the crowd.

"Victory to Guo Xuanfeng!" the announcer bellowed, the gong punctuating the declaration with a resonating clamor.

...

Ensconced in a private room on the third floor, Li Wei couldn't help but express his enthusiasm. "As much as it pains me to admit, Xuanfeng's skill is truly formidable."

Yi Tian, all but lost in his own thoughts, offered a noncommittal smile and a nod in response. As he glanced at Li Wei, engrossed in the spectacle unfolding below, Yi Tian pondered his own perceptions.

From his vantage point, the tournament so far was somewhat lackluster. Yet, he conceded that his heightened understanding of martial arts, a product of the transcendent states he'd been experiencing, was likely influencing his judgement. He resolved to explore these mystical experiences further.

Yet, his contemplation was divided. He was acutely aware of the ticking clock. The competition, despite its rapid pace, was eating into the time he'd allocated for studying the intricacies of blood qi, not to mention his impending morning rendezvous with Elder Feng.

However, after a period of watching the competition unfold, a certain contestant managed to capture Yi Tian's attention.

...

"Numbers 1 and 11, make your way to the arena!" The announcer's booming voice echoed through the hall.

Xue Yong, twirling his staff in anticipation, stepped forward with an eager sparkle in his eyes. From a tender age, he had harbored a deep love for martial arts, a passion that swelled in his heart despite the fervent hopes of his parents that he would pursue a career in the arts or aristocracy. His brother, Xue Tao, bathed in the family's adoration as the budding artist of the family.

Yet, Xue Yong bore no resentment towards his family's differing attentions. Their lineage lay rooted in the world of artistry, a prestigious clan overseeing a district neighboring the Yuzhen district. Their wealth and prestige were intertwined with the strokes of a brush, rather than the thrust of a sword.

His love for martial arts was stoked by his grandfather, Xue Honghui, who had bestowed upon him the technique known as Monkey's Mischief Mirage when he was only six. His grandfather, a recluse who chose to roam freely following his retirement as the family patriarch, may have been an elusive figure, but he always ensured to devote time to Xue Yong's martial education during his fleeting visits. Without his grandfather's guiding hand, Xue Yong's passion might have waned and his skills stagnated.

Now, as Xue Yong ascended the stage, his gaze locked onto his opponent - Wan Lijuan. He recognized her from the second match; her stern expression and rigid posture remained unchanging. Xue Yong gestured a salute of respect, hands clasped together. "I am Xue Yong," he announced, "I anticipate an enriching battle."

Wan Lijuan mirrored his salute, a silent nod accompanying her words, "Wan Lijuan. I share the sentiment."

As the formalities concluded, the announcer signaled the commencement of the match. With the striking of the gong, he declared, "Begin!"