Chapter Seventeen: Dazai, My Stomach Hurts

Wang Wei struggled to his feet from the ground, the spear in his hand already broken in two. Using the remaining half as a staff, he braced himself to keep from collapsing.

His injuries were severe; his right side burned with pain, several ribs broken, and his once-elegant attire now tattered and torn. His entire right arm looked as though it had been scorched, exuding a pungent, acrid smell.

Beneath the colonnade, several high-ranking officials of the Divine Strategy Bureau wore grim expressions. Witnessing one of their most promising talents defeated was already ill news. More importantly, the opponent was likely a disciple of the Grand Preceptor, who had left the capital over a decade ago. During his tenure, the Grand Preceptor had often clashed with the Bureau, and now his disciple had used Wang Wei as a stepping stone to stride into the Eastern Capital. It was easy to foresee that by tomorrow, every major residence in the city would know of tonight’s contest.

Wang Wei was helped off to be treated; it would likely be ten days or more before he could even stand again. Li Fu’s Azure Lotus Sword Technique was truly formidable.

As the sun set behind the western hills, tradition dictated that the Lantern Festival’s examinations conclude before the hour of the Dog, at which time the top three scholars in both the civil and martial trials would be announced. The results of the civil examination were already in the hands of the Grand Chancellor, but eight contestants still remained in the martial trial.

The arena, after countless bouts, was now on the verge of collapse and could not withstand further matches—a situation no one had anticipated.

This year’s martial candidates were far stronger than in previous years; the arena provided by the Student Supervisory Office was no longer adequate for the later rounds, and they had not prepared a second one. There was simply no time to build another.

“What are we to do now?” The officials of the Student Supervisory Office were at a loss—four matches remained, but they were faced with the dilemma of having no venue.

“Move to the square before the Hall of Supreme Polarity,” the Grand Chancellor said calmly from beneath the long corridor as he stood. As he departed, his gaze swept over Li Fu, a trace of approval in his eyes.

“They’re going to open the Pivot Platform!” An official of the Supervisory Office was momentarily stunned before realizing the Grand Chancellor’s intent.

The Pivot Platform was an arena established during the previous dynasty. Though the Tang Empire was founded upon military might, the court was largely divided between the Confucians and the militarists. Now under Confucian rule, it was deemed improper to wield blades before the Hall of Supreme Polarity, the very heart of Tang power. Since the founding of the dynasty, it had been used only once—back when Emperor Taizong ranked the Divine Generals. Since then, it had never been opened again.

………………………

Before the central square of the Hall of Supreme Polarity, there stood a circular granite arena. This arena had been constructed for the triennial court examinations in the previous dynasty. Since the reign of the High Emperor, it had lain dormant for many years. During the reign of the Sacred Empress, there had been proposals to dismantle it, but she had not consented.

“Grand Chancellor, the Pivot Platform hasn’t been used for centuries. Is it appropriate to open it so suddenly?” a senior scholar of the Supervisory Office asked.

“When Emperor Taizu took up residence in the Eastern Capital and rebuilt the Daming Palace, he too considered demolishing this arena. But Emperor Taizong advised, ‘The arena was established to select the most talented under heaven; it has stood in the old capital for nearly three centuries and is a spiritual pillar for all martial artists. If we demolish it, the people will see Tang as lesser than the previous dynasty.’ Emperor Taizu agreed and left it untouched. Later, when Emperor Taizong ascended the throne, it was on this very platform that he selected the eight Divine Generals and won over the hearts of the former dynasty’s loyalists. Since then, the Lantern Festival’s examinations have flourished. By rights, every year’s martial trial should be held here,” the Grand Chancellor said, his hand resting on the cold granite.

His voice was soft, yet it carried to every ear in the arena.

Emperor Taizong had preserved the platform for a reason, but successive emperors of Tang had left it standing, neither removing nor using it. It was as if the arena did not exist.

The Grand Chancellor, however, paid no heed to the assembled crowd’s feelings. With a grand gesture, the Dragon Guard behind him began to dismantle the railings around the arena, restoring it to its original glory.

“They’re really opening the Pivot Platform? That thing’s been sitting here for centuries. Is it even fit for combat?” Yang Zixu scoffed as he watched the railings come down.

“You can’t say that—the Pivot Platform is still the foremost arena of Tang, even if it’s faded from memory,” Li Fu replied, studying the granite arena with great interest.

The carvings of floral patterns and the four guardian beasts around the arena had dulled with the passage of time, but their forms could still be made out.

“There are eight left. Which of the remaining five do you think will give us the most trouble?” Yang Zixu asked Li Fu.

“How should I know? You’re a local of the Eastern Capital—how can you ask me?” Li Fu honestly wanted to crack open Yang Zixu’s head to see what was inside.

“It seems the remaining few don’t pose much threat to the three of us, but…” Yang Ning trailed off.

Li Fu and Yang Zixu understood—there was little chance the three of them could avoid facing one another in the remaining matches.

“So what now? I’ve placed a hefty bet on you making the top three, Li Fu. Don’t let me run into you or Brother Yang in the first round!” Yang Zixu’s eyes darted nervously between Li Fu and Yang Ning, hoping against hope not to face either in the upcoming bouts.

“You can’t beat him, can you? I’m not confident either…” Yang Ning smiled wryly. The Grand Preceptor’s disciple was not someone ordinary candidates could defeat. Besides, the Grand Preceptor was among the greatest masters of the age, on par with the Marquis of Martial Valor and his peers.

“You can’t beat him either, Brother Yang?!” Yang Zixu exclaimed, looking at Li Fu as though he were some rare specimen. This fellow was too good at hiding his strength!

“His techniques are unique. The Grand Preceptor’s Azure Lotus Sword Technique is no weaker than the Marquis’s Gale Spear, and he also wields the ‘Cleansing Azure’ sword,” Yang Ning said, not particularly concerned about first place.

“True…” Yang Zixu nodded, glancing at the “Cleansing Azure” sword in Li Fu’s hand.

Meanwhile, the railings around the arena had all been cleared away. The Grand Chancellor himself drew lots to determine the matchups: the first versus the last, and so forth, dividing them into four pairs. Unfortunately for Yang Zixu, he was pitted against Li Fu…

……………….

“What did the Grand Chancellor do last night? His luck is atrocious… to pair me with this guy…” Yang Zixu gritted his teeth, displeased with his draw.

“Li Fu, you wretch! I was counting on you to win me some money!” Yang Zixu groaned.

Li Fu was equally helpless. If he fought in earnest, Yang Zixu would be reluctant to strike. But if he held back, Yang Zixu would lose more money afterward.

“So what do we do?” Li Fu tossed the dilemma back to Yang Zixu.

“You’re asking me? What can I do but lose? Either I lose money or lose face…” Yang Zixu rolled his eyes in resignation.

“So which will you choose—lose money or lose face?” Yang Ning was amused. The old patriarch of the Yang family had declared before the New Year that if Yang Zixu placed among the top three in the Lantern Festival, he would be admitted to the Divine Strategy Bureau as he wished; if not, he would have to enter through the regular examination route.

After a moment’s struggle, Yang Zixu shot Li Fu a venomous glare, startling him. It was the same look the vicious dog in Rice Fragrance Village had given him as a child. If not for Yang Ning’s presence, Li Fu suspected Yang Zixu would skin him alive.

Yang Ning could only shake his head and smile wryly at his friend’s predicament.

“Next match: Yang Zixu of the Celestial Plume General’s House versus Li Fu of Liangzhou,” the supervising scholar announced, naming the two for the third round.

“Er… Grand Chancellor… I ate something bad last night… my stomach is upset… I forfeit…” Yang Zixu doubled over, clutching his belly with his left hand, his right hand gripping Li Fu’s shoulder and pinching him hard, all the while groaning pitifully.

Standing beside him, Li Fu’s brow was furrowed, his facial muscles twitching uncontrollably.

The Grand Chancellor glanced over, puzzled by the scene, but Yang Zixu’s little trick did not escape his notice. He let out a long sigh and announced, “Yang Zixu forfeits this round. Li Fu advances.”

Before the Hall of Supreme Polarity, a hush fell.

Moments later, the crowd erupted. Even among the noble scions of the Eastern Capital, many cursed aloud. Yang Zixu was truly shameless—feigning illness to avoid losing money in the Lantern Festival examination! Yang Ning could only shake his head and smile at his incorrigible friend.