Chapter Eighteen: Yang Ning's Fury

“All right, now… can you… take your hand… off me?” Li Fu hunched his right shoulder, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“Li, you’ve ruined me! Not only did you make a fool of me in front of everyone, you’ve cost me my place in the Heavenly Strategy Hall this year!” Yang Zixu’s eyes blazed with fury, nearly spitting fire.

“I never asked you to forfeit; how is that my fault?” Li Fu rubbed the spot where he’d been pinched, looking innocent.

“If you don’t make the top three, I’ll have to pay up!”

“That’s your own doing. How dare you blame me!”

“I don’t care. You’ve done me in this time—how are you going to settle this score?”

“If you keep nagging, I’ll tell your grandpa you lost on purpose because of a wager!” Driven to the edge, Li Fu threatened him.

“You win!” Yang Zixu deflated instantly, like a duck with its neck squeezed, and shot Li Fu a resentful glare.

“That’s enough, both of you. Look there.” Yang Ning interjected quietly, gesturing for them to look at the arena.

They saw a man in black armor wielding a strange blade, dominating his opponent so thoroughly the other couldn’t even parry. The air around him seethed with the aura of a Celestial Origin Upper Realm cultivator.

“Isn’t that… Li Siyie from the Loyal and Brave Marquess’s household? When did he reach Celestial Origin Upper Realm?” After a moment’s thought, Yang Zixu recognized the man on the stage.

“Seems that after spring, the capital will see a few more Celestial Origin students,” Yang Ning remarked.

“Have Jiang Moyuan and Chu Ge returned from the northern frontier yet?” Yang Zixu asked.

“Soon—it should be any day now,” Yang Ning replied after a moment’s thought.

“With their military exploits, surely both of them will receive noble titles this time?” Yang Zixu sounded excited, as though he hadn’t just forfeited his own match.

“Fool, it’s not so easy to be named a Military Marquess. At best, they’ll get the title of Great General.” Yang Ning considered, then added, “But on the northern front, the Divine Strategy Hall and the Shangguan family may have someone enfeoffed.”

“Shangguan Qi?” Yang Zixu asked.

“Yes.”

“But he’s only a general, not even a great general. How would the Ministry of War grant him a marquessate directly?” Yang Zixu was puzzled.

“He killed the third prince of the Rongdi. That might be the reason,” Yang Ning replied uncertainly.

Li Fu listened intently, then mused aloud, “If Shangguan Qi is still just an ordinary general, I doubt he’ll be enfeoffed. During Emperor Taizong’s reign, the ranks of Martial Marquess, Divine General, Military Marquess, Great General, and General were all earned by accumulating great merit step by step. If it were that simple, our Tang Dynasty wouldn’t have produced fewer than eighty Military Marquesses in over eight centuries. When your father, the Heavenly Feather Divine General, first enlisted, he slew two princes of Northern Yan, but didn’t receive a marquessate—only the title of Mighty General. It was only after the battle at Qinshui during the third Northern Yan invasion that he amassed enough merit for a marquessate. Even then, the Ministry of War approved it, but when it reached the Three Dukes, they overturned it.”

Yang Zixu was slightly taken aback; he hadn’t expected Li Fu to know the inside story.

“It’s my turn,” Yang Ning said, patting Yang Zixu on the shoulder.

By then, the outcome on stage was clear: Li Siyie’s strange blade split his opponent’s twin halberds with a single stroke, and the back of the blade struck his foe to the ground.

The strange blade was the signature weapon of the Tang army’s elite heavy infantry—seven feet long, with a three-foot blade and a four-foot hilt, double-edged with three points, inlaid with steel and diamond. When swung with the waist, it could grind anything in its path to dust, especially effective against cavalry.

However, the Heavenly Strategy Hall and the Divine Strategy Hall favored spears, unlike the other military divisions of the Tang.

This round, Yang Ning faced Shangguan Yuan of the Marquis of Valor’s household. By ill fortune, their factions were precisely the Heavenly Strategy and Divine Strategy Halls!

The rivalry between these two halls had lasted centuries, ever since the Divine Strategy Hall was founded by the Holy Empress—a delicate balance maintained with great effort by the ministers, the Three Dukes, and the six ministries. In later years, the halls even marshaled troops outside Hanwu Pass, suffering forty thousand casualties before both sides withdrew.

Later, Lord Toastmaster mediated, allowing a few hundred years of uneasy peace. Yet the underlying tension had only grown, like an overripe berry ready to burst with the slightest squeeze.

“Yang Ning, adopted son of the Martial Marquess. Hmph! Why didn’t your foster father bring you to the northern front this time? Instead, he took Jiang Moyuan and Chu Ge, leaving you behind in the capital. Has he found two dogs more obedient than you?” Shangguan Yuan sneered, his lips curling with malice.

“Grand Secretary, may we begin?” Yang Ning’s eyes turned cold. He ignored Shangguan Yuan, turning instead to the Grand Secretary below the stage.

The Grand Secretary had heard Shangguan Yuan’s words and his expression darkened. For centuries, the ministers and the Three Dukes, as well as the six ministries, had striven to preserve the fragile balance between the two halls. Shangguan Yuan’s taunts displeased him greatly.

He said nothing, only nodded to indicate that the match could proceed.

“Yang Ning! Are you deaf? I’m talking to you!” Shangguan Yuan’s tone was haughty and disdainful.

Yang Ning didn’t answer. The tip of his spear was already leveled at Shangguan Yuan’s throat.

Without a word, Yang Ning gripped his spear and charged without hesitation.

The eight-foot black spear gleamed coldly, reflecting the starlight, its murderous intent soaring skyward.

Within the arena, the spear’s howl was sudden and fierce, like a coiling dragon.

Shangguan Yuan’s brows arched; his own steel spear met Yang Ning’s without flinching.

A crimson flame flickered on Shangguan Yuan’s spear tip, a bloodthirsty aura emanating from him.

“That’s the Divine Strategy’s Tiger Phantom Technique!” Yang Zixu frowned, a look of gravity on his face.

Where Yang Ning’s spearlight swept, the air shrieked with the sound of rending space. The stage became a meteor streaking through the night, leaving behind an elegant arc. From that arc, a dragon’s piercing roar resounded. A crimson flash burst from Shangguan Yuan’s right wrist, as Yang Ning’s cold spearhead seized the moment and thrust straight into the heart of the flaming aura!

A furious, unwilling roar erupted from the arena.

“It’s over! Shangguan Yuan is doomed. I’ve never seen Brother Yang Ning use the Thirteen Winds in a duel—he’s truly enraged him this time.” Yang Zixu pressed a hand to his brow and closed his eyes, as if Shangguan Yuan would be struck dead the next instant.

A deafening crack rang out.

Shangguan Yuan’s steel spear shattered into several pieces, flying off toward the sacred path before the Hall of Supreme Harmony, crashing to the ground with a clang that splintered the marble steps and smashed a guardian beast statue.

With a muffled groan, Shangguan Qi—struck down from the stage—landed heavily, two clear wounds blooming on his chest as blood gushed forth. The broken end of his spear glowed faintly red, blood hissing into steam upon contact.

Such was the true power of the Martial Marquess’s Thirteen Winds!

At that moment, the aura radiating from Yang Ning in the center of the arena was unmistakably that of the Dawn Dew Realm—the first student in this year’s Lantern Festival Grand Examination to reach that level!

In a fit of rage, Yang Ning had severed the tendons in Shangguan Yuan’s right hand with one thrust. Nor did he hold back at the end; the last reserves of his true energy surged into his spear, striking Shangguan Yuan square in the chest.

“Take him to the Imperial Physicians’ Court at once,” Grand Secretary ordered, his face expressionless as he surveyed Shangguan Yuan’s wounds.

Yang Ning spared not a glance for Shangguan Yuan, who lay on the ground like a dead dog, as though none of it concerned him. Instead, he saluted the Grand Secretary and stepped down from the stage.

The Grand Secretary acknowledged him with a slight nod, indicating that Shangguan Yuan was not in mortal danger.

But Yang Ning was indifferent to his fate. Even if Shangguan Yuan died, it had little to do with him. After all, the Lantern Festival Examination made no explicit prohibition against fatal injuries—who could guarantee there would be no accidents?

“You did hold back in the end,” Li Fu observed quietly, watching Yang Ning wipe the blood from his spearhead.

“If he’d truly died by my hand, I doubt the capital would remain so peaceful,” Yang Ning replied calmly, raising his head.

“You’re wrong. If he had died here today, the Shangguan family could stir up no real trouble. With the Grand Secretary and Grand Guardian presiding, they’d have to content themselves with a commotion and a token punishment,” Li Fu countered, shaking his head.

“I agree with Li,” Yang Zixu nodded. “If it were me, I’d have killed him outright. Suppose you meet again on the battlefield and he sets a trap for you?”

“Next match: Li Fu versus Li Siyie.”

Unshaken by the unexpected turn, the Grand Secretary announced the next pair of contestants in an even tone.