Chapter 32 - Match Day

Far from the entrance, Lao Xie stepped into the noise.

Though his pace was unhurried, his white robes stood out sharply amidst the crowd. The morning sun caught faintly on his robes, but few paid him any respect at first.

Then a voice rang out from the left-side seating, loud enough to pierce through the conversations.

"By the way, I heard the next match is Lao Xie versus Feng Zhan."

That name sparked several reactions at once.

"Huh? That Lao Xie?" one disciple scoffed. "The so-called 'Little Mortal'?"

"You're kidding, right? I thought he vanished after being humiliated the other day."

"No, I saw the match list myself. Match Seventeen, Lao Xie. It's him."

A round of laughter followed from one corner.

"Heh, must be trying to die on purpose. Feng Zhan's a monster with the spear. That guy's going to be skewered."

"Heh, What kind of joke is this?"

But not everyone was laughing.

"I heard something different," one disciple said, lowering his voice as if what he was about to say was dangerous. "Apparently, he went out and hunted wild beasts a few days ago… alone."

"What?"

"No way."

"I'm serious. Some people said they were at the Resource Pavilion where he sold a whole demonic beast corpses and one of them being the famous demonic wolf."

Some nearby disciples looked at each other uncertainly.

"Impossible, That's a demonic wolf you're talking about. Even inner disciple find it hard to hunt it alone and you are suggesting he did it all by himself."

"Maybe the beast was already dying?"

"Probably just another baseless rumour."

"Tch, doesn't matter. Feng Zhan will easily crush that idiot."

The noise swelled again. Most still dismissed him as a nobody with a strange stroke of luck, but not all could shake the unease stirring behind the whispers.

"Match Seventeen, Lao Xie versus Feng Zhan," Elder Mu's voice rang out, amplified by the formation that hovered above the dueling platform. His tone was steady, but a trace of impatience ran beneath it. "Feng Zhan, step forward."

From the Crimson Gale section, Feng Zhan leapt onto the stage with a sharp burst of qi, landing with a practiced flourish. His red spear spun once before slamming against the ground beside him, the shaft humming with force.

Cheers broke out immediately.

"Go, Brother Feng!"

"Crush him in one move!"

But as the elder's gaze turned toward the other end of the arena, his brow furrowed slightly.

No one else stepped forward.

A few breaths passed. The anticipation began to twist.

"Where is he?" someone called out mockingly.

Another disciple from the side chimed in. "Don't tell me he ran away already?"

"Tch, knew it. He chickened out."

"Hahaha! So much for those rumors!"

"He was probably all talk. Maybe he thought the tournament would let him skip outer court duties."

Even Feng Zhan's smirk curled higher. "Doesn't matter. One less insect to waste my time."

But just as Elder Mu raised his hand, about to issue a warning call-

A soft murmur rolled across the crowd.

"…Wait."

From the far edge of the Martial Hall's archway, a figure stepped forward at last.

The sun struck his form fully now, white robes slightly fluttering, posture straight, unhurried. Though his pace carried no arrogance, he didn't appear rushed either. His presence didn't shake the earth or release killing intent, but something about it cut cleanly through the noise.

Those watching fell into a brief silence, not out of respect, but confusion.

"…He really came?"

"That's him?"

"No fear at all… walking in like he owns the place."

"He's walking to his own death. Look, even Feng Zhan's already waiting. He's late and still that calm?"

"This guy's digging his own grave…"

"…Tired of living, maybe."

Lao Xie didn't spare them a glance.

He walked forward through the rising murmur, stepped up onto the platform without so much as a ripple of qi, and stood facing the elder with hands clasped.

"Apologies," he said simply, voice clear. "I was a little delayed."

Elder Mu gave him a sharp look but didn't speak. After a breath, he gave a short nod and gestured for him to take his position across from Feng Zhan.

Feng Zhan tilted his head slightly. "So you really came," he said with a sneer. "I thought I'd have to win by default."

Lao Xie said nothing. He merely turned, walked to his mark, and stood still like a candle in the wind that refused to flicker.

Meanwhile, in the southern section of the spectator stands, a slender figure dressed in silver and pale blue robes sat quietly among the crowd. Though her attire marked her as an inner disciple, she remained unobtrusive, her presence largely unnoticed until the gentle shift of her veil caught the breeze.

She had heard the whispers too, the mocking voices, the disbelief, the rumors. She didn't respond to any of it. Her hands rested calmly on her lap, fingers unmoving. But her eyes…

Her eyes were quietly watching him.

"So you really did participate."

"I suppose you weren't lying after all."

The memory of their last conversation stirred faintly.

"Come watch the tournament," he had said.

She hadn't planned to, not at first. There was no benefit to attending. However something in his words made her changer her mind.

And now here he stood, alone on the stage, facing a well-known spear cultivator whose strength surpassed his on paper.

She said nothing, but her gaze never wavered.

"Mhmm." she hummed slightly.

Just then, a light tap landed on her shoulder.

Ling Ruxin blinked, a faint furrow forming beneath her veil. She turned halfway, then froze.

"Eh… Elder Yao?" Her voice dropped low in surprise.

The woman beside her offered a small, crooked smile. Dressed plainly, her figure didn't draw attention but her presence still carried weight. Though slightly older in appearance, her beauty remained refined, calm, and untouched by time.

"You're surprised?" Elder Yao asked, arching a brow. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that? What's an inner disciple like you doing all the way out here in the outer court seats?"

Ling Ruxin blinked once, then twice. "I could ask you the same. You're an elder. This section isn't exactly…"

"Meant for people like us?" Elder Yao finished with a chuckle. "You're not wrong. I was just passing by. Didn't expect to spot you here, of all places."

She turned her gaze back to the stage below, watching as Feng Zhan stood waiting with his spear lowered lazily in one hand.

"You used to dislike this kind of noise," Elder Yao added.

Ling Ruxin's gaze followed hers. "…I came to see someone."

Elder Yao's eyes glinted. "Someone worth watching? Zhang Weiren?"

Ling Ruxin didn't reply immediately.

Elder Yao studied her for a second longer. Then, as if remembering something, her voice softened.

"You haven't changed much," she said. "Still so serious when something catches your attention."

Ling Ruxin turned her face slightly away.

It had been nearly a year since they'd spoken properly. Elder Yao had once been her mentor, one of the few who taught her the principles of music cultivation in her early days on Flowing Note Peak. Their bond had been more than just formality. Elder Yao had guided her through many of her first steps along the Dao of Music.

Then the reassignment happened. Suddenly, the elder was moved to the Resource Pavilion, her status shifted. It had come without warning, and Ling Ruxin never found out the real reason why.

And now, here they were sitting among outer disciples, watching the start of a match that shouldn't have mattered to both of them in the first place.

Ling Ruxin tilted her head slightly, "It wasn't Zhang Weiren." she said.

She later glanced sideways at her, "It's Lao Xie."