Chapter 203: Let's Hold a Spar

Truthfully, Qing had only offered the apology as a way of letting Murong Juhui off easy.

Ever since Murong Juhui’s spectacular explosion during the drinking contest, Qing hadn't held much of a grudge.

Still, growling at each other every time they met was tiring, and considering Jun's face too, it seemed best to resolve things around now.

Moreover, even though Murong Juhui had been slinging insults left and right, everyone else just sighed and let it go, which made Qing even more inclined to settle it.

Even if the juniors constantly rubbing shoulders harbored poisonous hatred in their glares, that was the extent of it; their adorable revenge consisted merely of vowing, Just you wait, I'll give you utter humiliation.

However, Murong Juhui's automatic snark was a highly dangerous habit.

If she carelessly provoked even a witch from the Unorthodox Faction, she wouldn't have a word to say even if her head went flying.

So, well, if this incident helped fix her habit, it might save someone's life later on.

In any case, Qing had achieved her goal for attending the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly.

She had decided to stay put in the Mucheon Pavilion, alternating between training and rest to refine herself. Wasn't this final Dragon-Phoenix Assembly attended precisely to announce, Anyone who wants to join me, gather 'round?

It was time to shed the lazy Ximen Qing and return to the prepared talent, the martial artist Ximen Qing.

In the sparring match that ended in just a few exchanges, Namgung Shinjae spoke with a serious expression.

Because Namgung Shinjae was always serious.

"I felt this last time as well, but Sword Brother's technique has become even poorer," Namgung Shinjae said. "It seems you've relied too much on strength lately. Hmm. Martial arts were originally created for humans to transcend their limits."

"What do you mean by that?" Qing asked.

"Sword Brother, haven't you become incredibly strong?" Namgung Shinjae continued. "Because of that, it seems you merely swing with force, actually regressing in terms of technique. What do you think?"

Even with a hundred mouths, Qing had no excuse, as her fights had always relied on strength and strategy.

Creating openings with ignorant strength and even more immense internal energy, using Buddha's Palm, Divine Maiden Palm, poison if available, and occasionally slipping in Demonic Arts when the situation allowed.

For reference, the Divine Maiden Palm overlapped both Divine Arts and Demonic Arts, so as long as allies saw it, it looked like Divine Arts, allowing her to use it openly.

Consequently, the techniques she used tended to be simple, favoring large, powerful movements.

Namgung Shinjae showed his wooden saber, the handle having disappeared above his grip, revealing the sharp, splintered cross-section.

"In a duel to the death, I would have no way to defeat you, Sword Brother," he explained. "But sparring is different; the purpose is merely to compare techniques, taking care not to injure the opponent."

"Mm. As expected of my Sword Brother," Qing replied. "This is the kind of diagnosis I wanted to hear. What should I do?"

"There's no need to be too obsessed with winning or losing," Namgung Shinjae advised. "This isn't a duel to the death, is it? You should think not of settling the match, but of experiencing and reacting to unfamiliar techniques."

Qing obediently accepted the advice.

This is what having good friends was all about.

"Alright. Come at me, Sword Brother! My wooden sword is hungry!" Qing declared.

"Excellent! Here I come!" Namgung Shinjae responded.

And so, Qing versus Namgung Shinjae. One win, nine losses.

Qing despaired at the unbelievable result.

Even the single win could be invalidated, as it was achieved by overpowering him with strength.

"What is this?" Qing cried out. "Why does this body keep losing? Humans surely weren't designed to lose. Trickery, it's trickery! You fiend, Namgung Shinjae, what kind of sorcery did you use!"

"Well, sparring isn't exactly a fair contest to begin with," Namgung Shinjae calmly replied.

Sparring wasn't originally meant to determine victory or defeat.

But if one had to weigh advantages and disadvantages, martial arts aimed at subduing rather than killing were far more advantageous. Arts based on softness over hardness, and skill over simplicity, held a significant edge.

And Qing, possessing the Heavenly Slaughtering Star, preferred to strike down with strength surpassing humanity.

She was truly poison in sparring.

"Isn't this sparring ground completely tilted?" Qing complained. "This is like playing Janggi after losing your chariots, cannons, and horses! How can you call that a match?"

"But we can't exactly engage in a duel to the death," Namgung Shinjae pointed out. "Besides, the Hidden Dragon Tournament won't be much different, so think of it as practice, won't you?"

Just because Qing complained didn't mean the Hidden Dragon Tournament would suddenly change into 'Survival Match ~ Everyone's Battle for Life ~'.

"Well, if push comes to shove, I can just use strength..." Qing muttered.

As a special rule for their training spars, if either of their wooden swords broke, Qing lost. Hence the dismal one-to-nine record.

It was a special measure designed by Namgung Shinjae to reduce Qing's reliance on physical strength and hone her technique.

"Sword Brother, it's not good to leave yourself such loopholes," Namgung Shinjae cautioned. "You should focus on settling this with technique."

"The rule is you shouldn't even enter if there's no way out, you know?" Qing retorted.

"Haha, there's no beating you with words, Sword Brother," Namgung Shinjae laughed. "Now, here I come again!"

Thus, another five bouts: one win, four losses.

Having doubled her win rate, should it be called remarkable progress?

As Namgung Shinjae stepped back to catch his breath, Qing beckoned to Peng Daesan this time.

"Alright, next up is San," Qing said. "Come on, step in."

"You want to spar right now? Without resting?" Peng Daesan asked.

"I feel perfectly warmed up," Qing replied. "My body's getting into it now, shouldn't miss the timing."

"Hmm. Good stamina," Peng Daesan commented. "Don't plan on using it as an excuse after you lose."

"Ooh. Trying to provoke me?" Qing shot back. "You planning to flap your gums instead of using that fine Half-Sword?"

"That damn Half-Sword...!" Peng Daesan growled.

And then, after winning twice in a row, Qing lost eight consecutive times.

It was due to Peng Daesan's despicable tactics.

"Who only aims for the weapon!" Qing yelled. "You're completely determined to win!"

"Aren't rules rules?" Peng Daesan countered. "I said if the weapon breaks, you lose."

"Obsessing over winning and losing in a mere spar?" Qing scoffed.

"Says the one who ran her mouth after winning twice," Peng Daesan retorted.

Qing scowled.

Just because she'd said a few words after winning twice in a row, the guy got all pissed off and fought dirty.

Peng Daesan simply induced clashes with strong attacks, driving her back. If she met his powerful strikes head-on, her wooden sword snapped.

Besides, the wooden swords were ridiculously weak.

After Namgung Shinjae's ebony wooden sword broke during their last Dragon-Phoenix Assembly spar, he had diagnosed Qing's condition and specially ordered these cheap wooden swords made from softer wood.

It was Namgung Shinjae's warm consideration for his Sword Brother's growth.

Though, seeing one crate arrive with the carriage, and then two more crates arriving later when the consumption rate proved alarming, perhaps it was slightly heavy-handed consideration.

When did he think I'd use these, preparing so many? Qing wondered.

"Sword Brother, uh, should I pay for some of the wooden swords?" Qing asked Namgung Shinjae. "I'm the one breaking them all..."

"Even all of them together don't cost half of half the price of that ebony wooden sword you broke last time, Sword Brother," Namgung Shinjae assured her. "They were just roughly shaped from miscellaneous wood fit only for firewood. Isn't it interesting how the center of balance is different for each?"

"Hmm," Qing murmured.

"Besides," Namgung Shinjae added, "what is mere money in the presence of the sword-camaraderie shared with my Sword Brother?"

"Sword Brother! Moved! No, Sword-Moved! Moved-Sword!" Qing exclaimed.

"Moved-Sword sounds good! I am indeed Moved-Sword!" Namgung Shinjae declared warmly. "Now! Let's share our sword-camaraderie again!"

At this, Peng Daesan's eyes narrowed.

Look at these two lovebirds playing around.

"Sword Brother, take a short break," Qing said to Namgung Shinjae. "San! Come here!"

"He needs to catch his breath," She interjected. "Sword Brother! Switch!"

And then Qing started rotating them.

She focused intently on breaking one perfectly good wooden sword after another, causing broken swords to pile up steadily in the Mucheon Pavilion training ground.

Anyone watching would think she held some grudge against wooden swords.

By the time the pile of what were once wooden swords had grown into a substantial heap of firewood, the sun had set, and dusk began to settle around them.

"Haah, huk, next, San, huff, fuu..." Qing gasped, drenched in sweat, calling for the next opponent.

It was only natural, having swung her sword continuously for two and a half shichen (five hours) without a single break.

At this, Peng Daesan and Namgung Shinjae exchanged glances.

Brother Namgung, doesn't this seem a bit strange? Peng Daesan thought.

Indeed, Namgung Shinjae agreed silently. It's training, yes, but it looks more like she's desperate to abuse her body.

Having exchanged opinions, the two men subtly changed the subject.

"Sparring is good, but aren't you getting hungry?" Peng Daesan asked Qing.

"Yes, Sword Brother," Namgung Shinjae added. "Training is fine, but one must have sufficient meals."

The effect of the tailored topic change was tremendous!

Qing's eyes widened, and then, slurp, she immediately started licking her lips.

"Oing? Wow, I forgot about eating? I'm totally starving. Let's eat, eat."

In May, Guangzhou was already experiencing weather that could certainly be called hot.

At least it cooled down at night, so inns, restaurants, vegetable shops, tea houses, and the like all set up simple tables along the main streets to receive customers.

Beneath the gentle glow of lanterns strung on ropes between buildings, an old and young pair were having a meal.

They looked like a grandmother out with her sickly granddaughter. Perhaps sensing easy marks even with its animal eyes, a stray dog cautiously approached, watching them.

The old woman looked down at the dog.

"Hm? What's this mutt doing here?" she mused. "Goodness, could it be any uglier? Must be why its owner threw it out, eh?"

Even as she spoke, the old woman smiled, stroking the dog's head and scratching under its chin.

The younger woman smiled warmly and said, "Isn't it truly a foolish beast? How did it pick Xinpa out of all these people? Did it smell the blood, perhaps? How curious."

"Don't they say even dogs know who likes them?" said Xinpa of the White Hand Demonic Sect. "Must be animal instinct. Here, you look terribly skinny."

Xinpa tossed a whole, large croaker fish. Seeing food after a long time, the stray dog wagged its tail furiously and buried its head in the meal.

"Oh my, Xinpa," the younger woman cautioned. "You shouldn't give fish to dogs. The bones might get stuck in their throat."

"That's just its fate, isn't it?" Xinpa replied dismissively. "Besides, coastal dogs eat fish just fine. Only countryside dogs that have never tasted fish get bones stuck."

"Hmm. Even you are kind to dogs, Xinpa," the younger woman observed.

At that, Xinpa let out a chuckle.

"Of course," she said. "Dogs are much better than humans. Aren't they foolish beasts that wag their tails even at the master who boils them? They know gratitude and don't change, truly excellent creatures."

"People often say things like that, but I'm not so sure," Un Yeonyeong mused. "How can we know what a dog is thinking? Wouldn't it be unsurprising if it suddenly turned and bit someone one day? How can anyone but a dog know a dog's thoughts?"

Un Yeonyeong looked down at the stray dog frantically devouring the croaker.

Her gaze seemed distant, the expression of someone recalling a moment from the past.

The dog must have been very hungry.

In an instant, it devoured the large croaker, leaving not even a single piece of skin, chewing up the head and tail entirely.

Afterward, it wagged its tail wildly again, this time approaching Un Yeonyeong, panting happily.

Un Yeonyeong slowly reached out and gently stroked the stray dog's hard head.

"I used to be terrified of dogs when I was young," she reflected softly. "But now that they've become such trivial things... hmm, Xinpa is right. Dogs are better than people. At least dogs follow the hand that feeds them. They don't care what kind of person that is, do they?"

"Aren't most beasts the same?" Xinpa countered. "Come to think of it, humans are far worse than beasts. If only people were like beasts, how much better the world would be to live in."

"Mm. Yes," Un Yeonyeong agreed. "Xinpa, shall we stop this melancholic talk? It's about time you got to work, isn't it?"

Un Yeonyeong demurely clapped her hands, tak.

Instantly, from the roadside tables filling the street, people began to rise.

Then, Un Yeonyeong raised a long, white finger and pointed.

The line indicated by her finger crossed the street and led straight to the main gate of a massive estate.

It was the estate of Guangzhou's masters, the Guangdong Jin Clan.