Chapter Twenty-One: Talent Showcase

By the banks of Lake Tianze, more than two hours had passed. The disciples had drunk copious amounts of wine, and if they didn’t exhibit their skills soon, they’d all be drunk. Yet, on the principal seat, Han Qiaoman and Long Feiyu were still exchanging pleasantries.

Han Qiaoman had suggested several times that everyone showcase their cultivation results, but Long Feiyu deflected each attempt. His greatest interest now lay in Zhou Qi—or, more precisely, the fragment of the Heavenly Profound True Lord’s soul within Zhou Qi. Even the affectionate glances of the female disciples couldn't draw his attention. He had already devised several ways to eliminate Zhou Qi, only to dismiss each one himself.

To kill Zhou Qi on the territory of Life and Death Sect would be tantamount to courting death. Though he was the son of the Sect Master of the Celestial Union Sect and could easily dispose of a few core disciples on his own turf, this was not his domain. If he revealed the secret, and it turned out to be true, would he not be hoisting himself with his own petard? He was conflicted: he wanted Zhou Qi dead, and Zhou Qi surely felt the same, but with Zhou Qi’s lower cultivation, he wouldn't confront him now. If Zhou Qi hid in the Life and Death Sect forever, he'd be powerless to act.

At last, the attendant led Zhou Qi in, riding his sword.

Upon seeing Zhou Qi in the core disciple robes of Life and Death Sect, Han Qiaoman’s anger flared. Who here wasn't a core disciple? Who was Zhou Qi trying to impress with that attire?

Zhou Qi hadn’t expected that, although this was a gathering of core disciples, not one other person wore the sect’s robes. The men wore tailored gowns, flowing capes, or handsome armor. In his uniform, he stood out awkwardly.

Finding his seat, Zhou Qi didn’t look at the people on the main dais. One glared at him with murderous eyes—Han Qiaoman; the other smiled kindly, almost amorously, as if gazing at a beloved—Long Feiyu.

Zhou Qi turned his attention to the food and wine before him, eating with relish. Ever since he had transmigrated into this world, he hadn’t had a proper meal. The wine was spiritual in nature, the dishes were made from spirit beasts and rare herbs, all nourishing to the blood and vitality. Zhou Qi could feel the energy within him rising with each bite—truly excellent fare.

Was it this aura that captivated Long Feiyu? Han Qiaoman thought it odd. Did Brother Feiyu have some peculiar taste? Even after countless flirtations from Junior Sister Xia Shu, he had remained unmoved. Unconsciously, Han Qiaoman edged away from him.

“Friends, today we gather for two reasons: first, to welcome Brother Long Feiyu of the Celestial Union Sect, and second, to exchange insights from our cultivation. If Brother Feiyu could offer us some guidance, it would save us years of bitter practice. I propose we toast him,” Han Qiaoman, as host, announced.

“I wouldn’t dare. Sister Qiaoman flatters me too much. All the brothers and sisters here are more accomplished than I. I am hardly qualified to instruct anyone,” Long Feiyu replied modestly.

“You began cultivating at ten, formed your foundation at twenty—who here can claim the same? This toast is well deserved.” With that, Han Qiaoman drained her cup, and Zhou Qi, along with the others, followed suit.

Long Feiyu, unable to refuse, also downed his wine.

Zhou Qi watched with amusement. So cultivators also had drinking rituals?

After three rounds, would it become a free-for-all?

Fortunately, Han Qiaoman didn’t press for three consecutive toasts, or he’d have suspected a communal transmigration from his own homeland.

After the toast, Han Qiaoman invited Long Feiyu to demonstrate his skill. Unable to decline, Long Feiyu rose and performed a set of sword techniques—elegant and graceful, his handsome demeanor drawing yet more admiring glances from the female cultivators. When the swordplay ended, the words “Friendship Between Two Sects” lingered in the air, drawing a round of applause.

Zhou Qi couldn’t help but find it amusing. Was this swordplay or calligraphy? The performance was worthy of a perfect score for flair.

After Long Feiyu finished, the disciples of Life and Death Sect each took the stage to showcase their talents for those they admired: one struck the lake with a palm, sending the waters surging; another manipulated several flying swords, forming patterns in the air; a female disciple embedded her attack within her music, the sound of her zither transporting everyone to a battlefield; others sang and danced, displaying their slender forms.

It was like a grand variety show. At last, the performances ended amid a flurry of praise.

“Junior Brother Zhou Qi, what skill will you share with us?” Long Feiyu asked with a faint smile.

All eyes turned to Zhou Qi in his core disciple robes. He was well known: first place in the Five Sects’ Foundation Tournament, so young, favored by the mysterious Elder Liu Ruitai—how could anyone not recognize him?

Was he expected to bring his own act to this gathering?

Seeing everyone’s expectation, Zhou Qi could only rise and bow. “Esteemed brothers and sisters, your skills have broadened my horizons. With my humble cultivation, I’d best not embarrass myself.”

“Don’t be so modest, Junior Brother Zhou. Today is about sharing our progress, not competing in strength. As the top Foundation disciple, you must have many extraordinary techniques. I heard your footwork in the tournament was remarkable, why not enlighten us?” Long Feiyu said, half-smiling.

Did he not know the Divine Walking Step? Zhou Qi wondered. Or was he unsure whether Zhou Qi truly harbored the soul of the Heavenly Profound True Lord? Zhou Qi could not fathom his intent.

Zhou Qi remained silent, but a girl who had been eyeing Long Feiyu couldn’t hold back. “Yes, Brother Zhou, we’re only exchanging experiences. No need to be so reserved.”

“Well then, since you insist, allow me to recite a poem for you.” Being led by the nose was not in his nature.

A poem? The audience was baffled.

“Zhao’s guest wore a tassel of Hu braid,
Wu’s sword gleamed with frost and snow beside.
Silver saddle on a white steed,
Galloping swift as a meteor’s speed.
With every ten steps, a life he’d take,
A thousand miles gone, leaving no wake.
When the deed is done, he shakes his cloak,
Hiding his name, disappearing like smoke.

Idly he drank at Xinling’s side,
Sword across his knee, his honor his pride.
Roasting meat for Zhu Hai, toasting Hou Ying,
Three cups and a promise, worth more than anything.
The Five Peaks would bow beneath his word,
Dizzy with wine, his spirit stirred.
With a golden hammer, he saved Zhao’s land,
Handan first to quake at his hand.
Two heroes famed for a thousand years,
Their valor echoed through Liang’s peers.
Though dead, their bones are fragrant still,
No shame among heroes, steadfast will.
Who can inscribe your story, friend?
The Grand Mystery is pursued to the very end.”

Zhou Qi recited “Song of the Swordsman” by Li Bai. Since it was a talent showcase, reciting poetry seemed fitting enough. If they wanted to see the Divine Walking Step, they’d be disappointed.

The crowd listened, but couldn’t grasp the meaning. Zhou Qi’s passionate and rhythmic delivery seemed impressive, but the words eluded them, leaving them unable even to offer empty praise.

A round of applause broke out—Long Feiyu, clapping as he spoke: “Ten steps to kill a man, a thousand miles to walk unfollowed. When the deed is done, he shakes his cloak, hiding his name and fame. Excellent! Junior Brother Zhou is indeed a man of lofty spirit. No wonder he gathered herbs for the Fifth Elder without seeking reward, risking his life for the sect’s honor and taking first place in the tournament. Of all the disciples present in their finest attire, only you remember the honor of the sect, never forgetting your identity as a core disciple. The Life and Death Sect is truly fortunate to have you.”

Zhou Qi was startled—such a performance! What other tricks could this man have? Let him keep at it.

Long Feiyu was indeed suspicious, Han Qiaoman thought grimly. What a pervert.