Chapter Forty: Gao Ba’s Belated Arrival

The next day, dawn had barely broken and the sun was just rising. After washing up, Luo Changning and the others gathered in the first floor hall to eat breakfast. Steamed buns, beef, meat-filled buns, noodles—all hearty foods, with Ma Xue'e being no exception.

Having cultivated the Dog Beating Staff manual for several nights, Luo Changning had opened his ear acupoints. At present, his twelve meridians and the Ren and Du vessels were unobstructed, and his eyes and ears acupoints had been opened. His martial attainment was roughly on par with Ling Yancheng of the Sage Hand Martial Hall, though Luo Changning’s internal energy was more refined and profound—perhaps he could win the championship without Ma Qingyun’s help.

Martial halls from the counties under Autumn River Prefecture were also gathered in the hall for breakfast, with people constantly coming over to greet Xiang Ao. The meal was lively and finished quickly.

After breakfast, the group set out grandly toward the competition venue. Xiang Ao walked at the front alongside Li Kaigui, the head of the Double Fist Martial Hall from Fuxian County.

Autumn River Prefecture governed five counties: Blackwater, Fuxian, Qingyang, Qingyin, and Beishan. Of these, only Qingyang and Fuxian counties had bandits occupying the mountains, but Fuxian was wealthier and covered a larger area than Qingyang.

Li Kaigui had been a businessman in his early years; after a stroke of luck and learning some martial arts, he opened his martial hall. From then on, he straddled both the merchant’s and martial artist’s worlds. Shrewd and somewhat superstitious, he named his hall “Double Fist,” signifying “double blessings.”

“It's been years, Hall Master Xiang, and you haven’t changed at all—still so upright and imposing. Unlike me, Li, who’s grown a bigger belly and is getting fatter by the day,” Li Kaigui laughed cheerfully.

“Being able to eat is a blessing. Hall Master Li’s business is thriving, so naturally you have the blessed look,” Xiang Ao replied. Though he was a lay disciple and indulged in meat and wine, he was much more restrained than ordinary folk. Entering middle age, his physique remained robust and upright, exuding the charm of a mature man.

Li Kaigui’s eyes flickered, and he lowered his voice. “Hall Master Xiang, do you know that Gao Ba has been even more rampant this past year, even planning to monopolize Blackwater Dock?”

“Hmm, I’ve heard something about it,” Xiang Ao mused.

Gao Ba, relying on his status as an innate martial artist, was already arrogant. Recently, he’d set his sights on Blackwater Dock, aiming to control it and monopolize trade with the barbarian tribes, thus strengthening the Gao family further.

But no matter how formidable Gao Ba was, he didn’t have the power to challenge the entire Annan Province. He couldn’t even handle Autumn River Prefecture, let alone the province. So his plan remained just a plan, but vigilance was never wrong.

“Hmph! With no fierce tiger, the wild dogs dominate! It’s bad enough he oppresses us daily, but to monopolize Blackwater Dock—he dares dream!” Li Kaigui traded in resources and medicinal herbs from the wild forests, so he naturally resented Gao Ba.

“Though I'm not in business, I know what Gao Ba has been up to all these years. This martial hall ranking tournament is crucial. If we lose, his power grows. If we win, we can at least slow his rise.”

“Ah, that's true, but when has the championship not gone to the Sage Hand Martial Hall? Competing just boosts their arrogance and prestige.”

Li Kaigui shook his head. People like them were just there for Gao Ba’s amusement—the results were already determined, and nothing unexpected would happen.

The martial hall ranking tournament was organized by the authorities, and the venue was the martial stage at the prefectural office. The stage had been reinforced, so it could withstand the internal energy unleashed during matches.

Below the stage sat the young disciples from each martial hall, all assembled. Ma Xue'e sat in her seat, looking around. Uncle Xiang and another chubby middle-aged man sat side by side on the heights, requiring her to crane her neck to see.

“Huh, why is that whole area empty?” she asked.

Following Ma Xue'e’s gaze, Xiang Yinglong saw a vacant section with only a solitary rosewood chair.

He snorted, “Who else? That’s for the Sage Hand Martial Hall’s bunch of degenerates. Each thinks they're so important, always putting on airs!”

Four years ago, Xiang Yinglong was only ten and didn’t represent Luoyang Martial Hall in the competition, but as the young master, he had attended the tournaments more than once. Gao Ba and the Sage Hand disciples always arrived last, even later than the prefect.

“Oh, so it’s for that tall, skinny monkey and his lackeys. No wonder…” Ma Xue'e suddenly understood.

Not far away, Mo Feng looked at her in confusion. “Who’s the tall, skinny monkey?”

“That disgusting Gao Haitian, ugly as a monkey, terribly unpleasant!” Ma Qingyun watched his sister’s expression of distaste, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Xue'e was always pure and kind, never judging by appearance—so Gao Haitian must have done something to earn her dislike.

“Hahaha, junior sister Ma is right. He’s a skinny monkey—ugly and evil!” Chen Xiangru chimed in, though he had never met Gao Haitian, he’d heard of his misdeeds.

“Junior brother, remember to be careful outside and don’t bring trouble for our master!” Liang Zhenyun cautioned softly.

Wiping his nose, he responded reluctantly, “Got it, senior brother.”

Luo Changning thought to himself that he’d already offended that dog-eyed fellow long ago; a few curses were nothing.

Soon enough, the Prefect of Autumn River arrived at the martial stage.

Everyone stood, cupping their hands. “Greetings, Prefect!”

On Yaohua Continent, martial artists paid respects to officials with cupped hands rather than kneeling, even if the official were the General of the Realm. Only the Emperor required kneeling.

Prefect Li An yawned and took his seat, looking half-asleep. In truth, he had spent the previous night in a debauched revel with his two newly acquired concubines. Indulgence had left him exhausted; making it to the stage was an achievement in itself.

“Has Hall Master Xiang arrived?” Li An yawned, eyes watery.

“Not yet, sir.”

“Mm.” And with that, he closed his eyes to rest.

Yaohua Continent had thirteen provinces; everyone knew that any official post was desirable, even in Ningyuan bordering the Western Wastelands—just not in Annan Province. There were no lucrative opportunities, no path to merit, and no achievements to show, so one could only languish there for life.

Li An intended to spend his life in Autumn River Prefecture. He had obtained his position through family connections, but after his family’s decline, he was the only official left in the clan. Thus, the least promising member became the most capable.

At least he still received a salary, not much but not little, equal to other prefects in rank, though lacking the wealth of their posts. Life was comfortable enough, with concubines, good food, and drink.

As impatience grew among the crowd, the Sage Hand Martial Hall finally arrived, fashionably late.

Their disciples attending the tournament and as spectators numbered forty to fifty, instantly making the martial stage crowded and the air stuffy.

The Sage Hand Martial Hall was only a few streets away from the prefecture, so their arrival was convenient—they didn’t even need transport.

Xiang Ao took his seat at Li An’s left.

“Long time no see, Lord Li.”

“Ah, oh… Hall Master Xiang, you’re here!” Li An startled awake from his doze, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth and smiling at Xiang Ao.

Damn, he’d almost been caught red-handed!

Xiang Ao nodded, his thick brows shading a pair of sharp, snake-like eyes, and below them a broad nose betraying the owner’s desires.

“Ahem, quiet please! Since everyone is here, I hereby declare the martial hall ranking tournament officially open!” he announced.

Before the tournament, each martial hall had submitted their participant lists, with officials verifying the disciples’ birthdates to prevent overage entrants.

Though Luo Changning and Ma Qingyun weren’t technically disciples of Luoyang Martial Hall, they could represent it. Connections were a form of strength, after all.

The tournament had only two requirements: competitors must be under fifteen, and matches must stop short of fatal harm.

This meant martial artists could use pills to temporarily boost their abilities—the result was all that mattered; the judges cared nothing for the methods.

The tournament was elimination-based, with opponents decided by drawing lots. Winners advanced.

Ten martial halls, each fielding six disciples, totaling sixty.

On the first day, there were two rounds: the first eliminated thirty, the second fifteen.

On the second day, the fifteen advancing disciples competed in groups of three, eliminating two-thirds.

On the final day, the top five competed for ranking.

“Everyone, do your best—make it into the top five!” Ma Xue'e said before the drawing.

“Not just the top five—the championship,” Luo Changning declared.

The sixty disciples lined up to draw wooden sticks, each marked with a number. Number one faced sixty, two against fifty-nine, and so on.

Mo Feng drew number four, making him the first among their six to compete.

Next came Xiang Yinglong, Chen Xiangru, Mao Ruolin, Luo Changning, and Ma Qingyun.

“Senior brothers, junior brothers, and Xue'e, I’m heading up!” Mo Feng said, full of confidence.

“Go on, beat that big oaf to a pulp!” Ma Xue'e cheered him on.

“Of course!” Mo Feng winked at her, laughing as he tucked his two throwing knives into his chest and headed up to compete. The knives were keepsakes from his mother, never stained with blood. Since the rules demanded restraint and no fatal blows, he wouldn’t use them.

Mo Feng’s opponent was Chen Chao, a disciple of Double Fist Martial Hall.

Chen Chao was tall and burly, muscles bulging all over. Compared to him, Mo Feng looked like a child who had yet to grow up.

“Brother Mo Feng, forgive me,” Chen Chao said, cupping his fists.

“No need for courtesy, Brother Chen. I won’t hold back!” Mo Feng replied with a grin.

One used fists, the other palms.

One was forceful and fierce, the other agile and unpredictable.

Chen Chao used his fists, Mo Feng his palms.

After dozens of bouts, Chen Chao fell behind. Ultimately, Mo Feng struck him from behind, sending him to the edge of the stage with a palm, and Chen Chao spat blood—the outcome was decided.

The judge announced, “In this match, Mo Feng of Luoyang Martial Hall wins.”

“Thank you,” Mo Feng said, smiling as he leapt off the stage.