Chapter 43: The Martial Arts Tournament

As the first rays of dawn emerged, the soft sunlight filtered through the thin mist like a sheer veil, dappling the martial arts tournament grounds.

Feng Ruchen stood at the entrance of the venue, her eyes fixed straight ahead. Her gaze held a touch of anticipation, yet also concealed a flickering spark of vigilance.

A gentle breeze swept past, making her simple black martial arts tunic sway slightly. The sword hanging at her waist chimed softly with her movements, crisp and rhythmic. She cut a dashing and heroic figure.

Inside the venue, the chaotic roar of voices was like a surging tide, rushing into her ears wave after wave.

Heroes and chivalrous figures from all directions gathered like birds returning to their nests, chatting and laughing freely among themselves. Their hearty laughter and excited conversations intertwined.

Feng Ruchen's gaze swept slowly across her surroundings. She saw everyone in the crowd animatedly discussing their own sects and martial arts. Her arrival, like a small pebble thrown into the vast sea, caused barely a ripple. This suited her intentions entirely; she let out a slight sigh of relief, the breath carrying an imperceptible warmth.

She stepped into the venue with steady strides, every footfall landing solidly on the earth, conveying firmness and confidence.

People all around, seeing her approach, unconsciously cleared a path. Although no one knew her, the aura she naturally exuded was like a current of cold air, making people hesitant to draw near and causing even their breathing to grow cautious.

Her hand rested lightly on the sword hilt, feeling its slightly rough texture. She pondered quietly to herself that the martial arts tournament would be the prime opportunity for her rise; she had to display her strength here and eliminate those enemies who had once harmed her younger sister.

Suddenly, a voice as crisp as a silver bell yet laced with a sharp edge shattered her thoughts.

"Well, well, isn't this the newly deposed empress who just walked out of the imperial palace? What's this, trying to make a living in the pugilistic world now?"

Lady Gongsun stepped out from the crowd, a sarcastic smile plastered across her face like shards of ice in the dead of winter. Her eyes flashed with jealousy, resembling a venomous snake hidden in the dark, flicking its tongue.

Feng Ruchen stopped in her tracks. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping over Lady Gongsun with the cold calm of a deep pool.

She did not respond immediately, asking only in a detached tone, "I have long since ceased to be empress. What qualification do you have to point fingers at me here?"

Though her voice was not loud, it sounded like a heavy evening drum, every single word imbued with an unquestionable majesty. That voice pierced straight into the ears, causing a sudden jolt in the heart.

Lady Gongsun's expression shifted, turning like a frost-bitten eggplant, clearly intimidated by Feng Ruchen's composure and aura.

Reluctantly, she retorted, "You are merely a defeated general; what right do you have to act so arrogant here?" The moment her words fell, the surrounding crowd broke into a flurry of murmurs, the buzzing sound resembling a swarm of disturbed bees.

Quite a few people expressed their dissatisfaction with Lady Gongsun's unreasonable bickering, their complaints mixed with a few soft sighs.

"It seems some people still do not understand respect."

A trace of mockery laced Feng Ruchen's words. She lowered her head and let out a soft, cold laugh, which sounded like a gust of chilly wind sweeping past. Then, raising her head, she fixed her gaze on Lady Gongsun like a sharp blade.

"However, I am not here to quarrel today. I came here to prove my strength."

Lady Gongsun was pressed hard by Feng Ruchen's presence, leaving her struggling slightly for breath. Her chest rose and fell like a trapped young beast, yet she bit her lower lip stubbornly, preparing to counterattack.

At that exact moment, a loud announcement rang out from afar, breaking through the noisy crowd like a great bronze bell: "The martial arts tournament is now officially underway. All heroes, please take your respective positions."

Feng Ruchen's gaze condensed slightly, freezing like icicles, before she turned and walked toward the competition arena.

Her footsteps carried a sense of resolute determination, the slight friction of her shoe soles against the ground audible with every step.

Lady Gongsun stood frozen in place, gazing at her back with a mind full of complex and tangled thoughts, like a mess of knotted hemp.

The surrounding martial artists also hurried toward their designated spots. For a moment, a tense and stirring atmosphere pervaded the venue.

Standing in the center of the competition zone with a gaze as firm as a monolith, Feng Ruchen wondered to herself: Who will my very first opponent be?

At that moment, a figure walked slowly out from the crowd, eyes gleaming with a cold light that resembled the edge of a frozen blade.

The gongs and drums sounded, their deafening clamor making ears ring. The martial arts tournament officially began.

Feng Ruchen's first opponent was built like a small mountain, with a gloomy expression like a ghost in the dark—he was a master bought off by Referee Song.

He cupped his fists in a salute, appearing respectful yet harboring murderous intent. His movements carried a deliberate sluggishness, like a venomous snake lurking in the grass, ready to strike at any moment.

As the duel commenced, the man feinted a move, and instantly a poison-laced silver needle flew from his sleeve, shooting straight toward Feng Ruchen's face like a bolt of silver lightning.

Breaking through the air, the needle emitted a faint, piercing whistle—the whisper of the grim reaper—tracing a chilling trajectory through the air.

Feng Ruchen's eyes did not flicker, as if she had anticipated it all along. She shifted her body slightly with the agility of a nimble swallow.

The silver needle whizzed past her cheek, and she could feel the chilling breeze it kicked up, as cold as a brush with death.

The onlookers gasped in sudden alarm, the sound exploding like firecrackers. The hidden weapon had been deployed with extreme speed and from a tricky angle; an ordinary person would have found it virtually impossible to dodge.

However, this was merely the beginning.

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of Feng Ruchen's lips, resembling a plum blossom blooming in the dead of winter. Before anyone could recover their senses, she flicked her wrist backward. The sweep of her arm generated a gust of wind, batting the silver needle right back at an even faster speed.

With a dull thud, the needle struck squarely into the opponent's wrist. The man let out a cry of pain like a wounded wild beast howling, dropped his long sword to the ground with a crisp metallic clatter, and stumbled backward while clutching his wrist.

"You... you cheated!" His face turned pale as death, and beads of sweat the size of peas oozed across his forehead, gleaming like crystals. The poison was clearly taking effect; his body began to tremble slightly like a falling leaf in the wind.

Feng Ruchen's eyes were icy, piercing like soul-penetrating ice arrows, and her tone carried a hint of mockery: "All's fair in war; these are the rules of the martial arts tournament. If your skills are inferior, don't blame others."

Referee Song's expression shifted slightly at the sight, turning as gloomy as a sky suddenly veiled by dark clouds, but he quickly regained his composure and declared Feng Ruchen the victor.

The watching crowd fell into an initial, stunned silence—as if hit by a mute button—before erupting into thunderous applause.

The applause rolled in like surging ocean waves. Feng Ruchen's calm demeanor and formidable strength had won everyone's admiration.

The second round of the match began swiftly.

This time, her opponent was a long-established pugilistic master who immediately unleashed his signature ultimate technique, sending fierce sword moves sweeping toward Feng Ruchen like a violent storm.

The rushing wind whipped up by the sword techniques howled like wailing ghosts, and the flashing shadows of the blade flickered blindingly in the sunlight.

Feng Ruchen moved with fluid agility, her body weaving effortlessly through the sword light like a willow branch in the wind. Every parry she executed was precisely timed, drawing gasps of wonder from the spectators.

The sword forms in her hands appeared simple yet contained infinite variations. Every wave of her blade seemed to write mysterious incantations in the air, neutralizing her opponent's onslaught one by one.

As time passed, the opponent's momentum gradually weakened, while Feng Ruchen grew bolder with every exchange.

Her eyes burned with fiery fighting spirit, resembling twin flames that would never be extinguished.

Spotting a flaw in her opponent's defense, her long sword thrust forward like lightning. With a crisp "clang" resembling ringing metal, the opponent's long sword snapped in half.

Victory and defeat were decided.

Just when everyone thought Feng Ruchen would press her advantage, she withdrew her long sword with a clean and decisive slide into its scabbard.

She said calmly, "I accept your concession."

The opponent's face was ashen, like a block of cold pig iron. After cupping his fists in a salute, he turned and left, his footsteps heavy and dejected.

Standing on the stage, Feng Ruchen swept her gaze across the crowd and finally let it rest on Referee Song.

Like a startled rabbit, Referee Song avoided her gaze and announced the start of the next match.

"The next match..." Referee Song's voice trembled slightly like a candle in the wind, as if he sensed something ominous.

A chilling voice echoed from the crowd: "Hold on!"

The cold voice came from a man clad in brocade robes standing beside Referee Song.

His face was grim, and his eyes stared at Feng Ruchen like those of a viper—he was none other than the notorious Poison King of the pugilistic world.

He radiated an unsettling aura, reminiscent of the foul stench rising from a decaying swamp.

The Poison King walked slowly onto the stage, his footsteps carrying the shadow of death, and smiled sinisterly: "Referee Song, my disciple concedes this match."

He glanced sideways at Feng Ruchen, his gaze laced with poisonous barbs, and his tone was full of threat: "However, for the next round, I hope to arrange the opponent myself."

Cold sweat beaded on Referee Song's forehead, rolling down drop by drop. Caught in a dilemma, he looked at Feng Ruchen, then at the Poison King, and stammered, "This... this is hardly in accordance with the rules..."

The Poison King let out a cold laugh that sounded like a chilling echo from the netherworld, twirling a jade thumb ring that flashed with a bizarre luster in the sunlight. He said leisurely:

"Rules? In the face of absolute strength, what are rules worth?"

Watching the scene unfold, Feng Ruchen chuckled inwardly. Her heart was as cold and resolute as an iceberg.

She had long anticipated that Referee Song would resort to dirty tricks, though she had not expected him to be so flagrant about it.

Showing not a shred of anger, she smiled faintly instead, the expression resembling warm sunlight in winter, and said, "Since the Poison King is in such high spirits, I cannot refuse.

"However, I hope the Poison King will respect the rules of the martial arts tournament and refrain from using any underhanded methods."

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Referee Song announced that the opponent for the next match would be—Leng Wuqing, the "Ghost Shadow Blade."

Leng Wuqing was a renowned assassin in the martial arts world, famous for his ruthless methods and leaving no survivors.

He had a lean build and a face as pale as a sheet of paper, while his eyes were as sharp as a falcon's. That piercing gaze could see straight through a person, causing one's blood to run cold.

Down in the audience, Young Hero Murong witnessed this and couldn't help breaking out in a cold sweat for Feng Ruchen.

Clenching his fists so tightly that they ached from the force, he muttered under his breath, "Miss Feng, be careful!" Sensing his gaze, Feng Ruchen turned and offered him a faint, reassuring smile like a passing spring breeze.

Leng Wuqing slowly drew the curved blade from his waist. The sound of the blade leaving its scabbard resembled a demon's whisper, and the metal flashed with a chilling gleam under the sun like a killing light from the nether realms.

Staring coldly at Feng Ruchen, he said in an icy tone, "Make your move, and let me see what you're capable of."

Feng Ruchen did not draw her sword; she merely stood quietly, her gaze as calm as still water.

She knew Leng Wuqing had been deliberately arranged by Referee Song and the Poison King, and she had to win this battle brilliantly.

"What, are you scared?" Seeing that Feng Ruchen made no move, Leng Wuqing's voice was dripping with mockery, like chilling raindrops lashing against skin.

A cold smirk played at the corners of Feng Ruchen's lips as she slowly replied, "I was merely pondering how to make you lose and admit it wholeheartedly."

Leng Wuqing slashed his curved blade through the air, producing a sharp whistle like the grim reaper's scythe slicing through a soul, aiming straight for Feng Ruchen's throat.

Feng Ruchen did not budge. The instant the blade was about to touch her, she suddenly extended two fingers, sturdy as forged steel, and clamped firmly onto the edge of the blade.

She could feel the bone-chilling cold and sharpness radiating from the blade, as if the frost could seep straight into her marrow, yet her fingers remained completely steady.

"Is that all you've got?" Feng Ruchen asked indifferently, as if the razor-sharp curved blade she held between her fingers were nothing more than a common tree branch.

Leng Wuqing's face altered drastically. He felt as though his blade had been clamped in an iron vise, refusing to budge an inch. He exerted all his strength, veins bulging on his arms like winding little snakes, only to find he could not shake Feng Ruchen in the slightest.

Terror gripped his heart, casting him into an endless, dark abyss. The audience below widened their eyes in disbelief, their jaws dropping as a gasp of astonishment swept through them like a whirlwind.

A cold smirk surfaced on Feng Ruchen's lips. Applying a bit of force with her two fingers, a sharp snap broke the silence like a dry branch breaking, and the curved blade shattered in half.

Down below, Young Hero Murong clenched his fists and cried out in excitement, "Well done!" His voice was slightly warped with thrill.

Referee Song's face turned ashen; he had not expected Feng Ruchen to be so formidable that even Leng Wuqing was no match for her.

He opened his mouth, intending to declare the match result, only to find he could utter no sound at all, his throat seemingly blocked by an invisible lump.

"Referee Song, have you forgotten something?"

Feng Ruchen's icy gaze shifted to Referee Song, her tone imbued with a crushing majesty.

Shivering all over, Referee Song finally recalled that he had yet to announce the match result.

He stammered, "Miss... Miss Feng wins..."

"Wait!" The Poison King suddenly broke in, interrupting him. "This match doesn't count!"

Turning her head, Feng Ruchen looked coldly at the Poison King. "Oh? What does the Poison King mean by this?"

A flash of viciousness crossed the Poison King's eyes. "I mean... Leng Wuqing was merely testing the waters just now; he hasn't even shown his true skills!"

He sneered sinisterly, his eyes flashing with cunning light like a sly fox. "Next, I shall take the field myself and have a proper sparring match with this Miss Feng!"

At these words, an uproar erupted through the entire arena.

For the Poison King to step into the ring personally—such a thing was unprecedented.

His strength was unfathomable, virtually unrivaled across the pugilistic world. Could it be that Feng Ruchen's journey ended here?

With a gaze as burning as a torch, Feng Ruchen stared straight at the Poison King. "In that case, please."

Her tone remained calm, devoid of any trace of fear; instead, it held an eager excitement, as if she were welcoming a thrilling challenge.

The Poison King paced slowly onto the stage, his steps carrying the rhythm of death. At some point, a black short sword had appeared in his hand, its blade glowing with an eerie, ghost-fire-like luster.

He sneered, "Miss Feng, my sword is coated with a lethal poison, so you had best be careful."

With a light chuckle, Feng Ruchen drew the long sword from her waist. The blade reflected the sunlight, emitting a biting, razor-sharp chill capable of cleaving anything in two.

"Poison King, you'd better worry about yourself first."

The battle was triggered instantly. The Poison King made the first move, his form shifting as swiftly as a phantom, his figure resembling a bolt of black lightning.

The short sword in his hand thrust straight for Feng Ruchen's vital points, kicking up a wailing wind like a shrieking demon.

Unflustered, Feng Ruchen dodged like the wind, her body as light as a floating feather.

The long sword in her hand traced exquisite arcs through the air like shooting stars streaking across the night sky, parrying the Poison King's attacks one by one.

The two exchanged blows at blinding speed. Amidst the crisscrossing figures, only flashing sword lights and overflowing gales could be caught by the eye.

The cutting wind felt like slicing blades against the skin. The onlookers below watched in a daze, not daring to draw a full breath, terrified of missing a single thrilling second.

The Poison King's offensive grew fiercer, and the poison on his short sword continually diffused into the air, filling it with a sickening, putrid stench reminiscent of rotting corpses that churned everyone's stomachs.

Frowning slightly, Feng Ruchen knew she could not drag the fight out and must end it swiftly.

Shifting her tactics abruptly, she ceased her passive defense and took the initiative, a surge of intense fighting spirit swelling in her chest. Her long sword lashed out like a dragon emerging from the sea, carrying an unstoppable momentum as it thrust straight for the Poison King's chest.

The sweeping motion of her blade produced a roaring whistle like an angry dragon.

The Poison King's expression changed drastically. He had not anticipated Feng Ruchen's swordsmanship to be so exquisite that she could pierce right through his flaws, sending turbulent waves crashing through his heart.

Hurriedly, he brandished his short sword to parry.

With a resounding clang, the two swords met, spraying sparks like fireworks blooming in the night sky.

The short sword in the Poison King's grip was actually blasted right out of his hand, flying off along a dark, arcing trajectory.

Silence fell instantly across the entire arena. Everyone widened their eyes in disbelief at what they were seeing—the Poison King's sword had been knocked flying!

A smug sense of triumph arose in Feng Ruchen's heart. *Hmph, the Poison King is nothing much after all. Today, I will let you know what a true martial arts master looks like.*

"How is this possible!" Roaring in anger, the Poison King quickly retrieved his short sword and lunged at Feng Ruchen once more.

His eyes burned with rage and lingering resentment.

A cold smirk crossed Feng Ruchen's lips. Moving with the speed of electricity, her figure turned into a bolt of white lightning.

Her long sword danced like the wind, dismantling all of the Poison King's attacks entirely.

Catching an opening, she thrust her long sword straight toward the Poison King's throat with a speed too dizzying for the eye to follow.

The blade cut through the air like a streak of white light.

With a soft thud, the sword pierced the air and stopped an inch away from the Poison King's throat. A biting chill froze him stiff, rendering him completely paralyzed and unable to move another muscle.

The frost seemed to radiate from a millennium-old ice cellar.

The entire arena plunged into silence once more. Moments later, it erupted into deafening cheers that threatened to tear the roof off the venue. Thunderous applause rolled on and on like surging tides, while the audience below cheered frantically, shaking the venue to its very foundations. Their applause rolled in wave after wave, seemingly destined never to stop.

Feng Ruchen's strength had thoroughly conquered every single person present.

Her victory caused those sects that had previously looked down upon her to begin treating her with respect. Her prestige within the martial arts tournament soared, pushing the atmosphere of the venue to an unprecedented small climax.

Yet, Feng Ruchen was not intoxicated by her immediate victory; she understood clearly that the true challenges were only just beginning.

While the crowd cheered for her triumph, she noticed Sect Leader Xiao in the audience. His expression was somewhat strange, as if he harbored unspeakable concerns.

Frowning slightly, a shred of doubt arose in her heart. As the leader of an upright and prominent sect, why did Sect Leader Xiao look so heavily burdened with worry?

What kind of secret lay hidden behind all of this?

At that very moment, Sect Leader Xiao abruptly stood up and hurried out of the venue, as if eager to avoid something.

Feng Ruchen's gaze tracked Sect Leader Xiao's retreating figure, deepening her doubts as she muttered under her breath, "It seems this martial arts tournament is far more complex than I imagined..."