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Chapter 204: Cangling Debate of Swords (12)
Chapter 204: Cangling Debate of Swords (12)
As Feng Bu Jue followed Lin Chang up to the second floor, the morning’s spectacular show finally concluded. Yet the buzz among the martial world factions showed no sign of dying down. Feng Bu Jue’s debut had sent shockwaves through the entire Cangling Town, even making many forget why they’d come here in the first place—for a brief period, his presence overshadowed all else.
Who was Feng Bu Jue, really? What martial technique had he mastered? How could someone barely twenty-something possess such divine-level power? When was the Broken Sword Teahouse founded, and was it truly just a minor sect—or did it have a hidden, grander backing? And what of the four companions who accompanied him? Their skill levels also became a hot topic of speculation…
Of course, by the next day, as one major event after another unfolded and the duel time drew closer, the crowd’s attention gradually shifted elsewhere.
But back to the morning of “Day One.”
After Feng Bu Jue’s group was escorted upstairs by Lin Chang, the members of Wanxia Tower were left in awkward silence. They could only slump back to their seats, nursing their wine in frustration while pretending nothing had happened.
Gongsun Qian had initially planned to humiliate the opposing party and save face, but Feng Bu Jue’s bold words and the astounding display of inner cultivation skill left everyone speechless. Now, every time Ji Tong’s table at Bafang Tower shot them a mocking glance, Gongsun Qian’s anger boiled further. Soon, he stood up and stormed out of the inn lobby.
As he turned to head upstairs, Ji Tong’s taunting voice followed:
“Brother Gongsun, don’t forget to get rid of that bastard’s corpse. Save the inn from getting stained with filth.”
“Hmph!” Gongsun Qian snorted coldly but said nothing. Today’s humiliation wasn’t worth dwelling on—he’d let it slide. If he escalated things with Ji Tong now, it would only make him look petty and lose his dignity as a senior cultivator.
Climbing the stairs, he muttered lowly to his senior disciple trailing behind:
“Later, when no one’s watching, take a few apprentices with you and bury Wang Ao’s body in the mountains.”
“Yes, disciple.”
“Oh,” Gongsun Qian added, as if recalling something, “Take the back exit…”
“Yes… disciple understands.”
……
The newly reopened Azure Spirit Inn had clearly undergone renovations and expansions, doubling its size compared to its abandoned days. The four-story inn housed over fifty rooms, divided into Heaven, Earth, and Human tiers, then further categorized under the celestial stems (Jia, Yi, Bing, etc.). Each room’s furnishings and decor varied subtly.
As previously mentioned, due to delays during negotiations in Tongqiu County, most major sects arrived in Cangling on the same day via the main road. Upon entering the town, they quickly realized the inn’s room shortage.
After all, no sect could reasonably occupy twenty rooms for twenty people—from sect master to apprentices. Otherwise, the first wave of arrivals from First Mansion and Second Floor alone would fill the entire inn.
Thus, after discussion, the sects agreed on a “fair” allocation system.
Despite their reputation, Wanxia Tower only occupied four rooms: one for the sect master and his wife, one for Gongsun Li, one shared by two of the highest-ranking disciples, and a single cramped room for five apprentices (soon to be four, once Wang Ao’s corpse was removed). The remaining ten disciples had to stay outside, ready to respond instantly if summoned.
Similarly, Bafang Tower took four rooms, while the Three Sects and Four Gates each claimed three. Smaller factions managed only two rooms at most. Some minor sects’ masters shared a single room among three to five members, their accommodations far worse than those of senior apprentices from major sects.
Comparatively, lone cultivators like Lu Shan—who held decent martial world status and skill—had a massive advantage. Those who arrived early could easily secure private rooms for themselves.
Now, Feng Bu Jue’s group followed Lin Chang into Suite A-03, one of the inn’s finest accommodations.
For this pre-duel period, the Ye Family had sent only seven people: the Huaying Six Swords plus Ye Hai. Yet these seven claimed seven of the inn’s best rooms.
Unlike other factions, the Ye Family—led by Sword God Ye Cheng himself—needed no negotiations in Tongqiu. As the martial world’s supreme authority, their presence alone silenced objections. Truthfully, if the Ye Family had locked the entire inn to outsiders, no one would dare protest.
Ultimately, this duel was a private matter between Xie San and Ye Cheng. They’d invited no spectators, but leaked news drew the crowd. These onlookers craved the legendary showdown, gatecrashing without invitation. The Ye Family had done them a favor by neither charging entry nor turning them away. Let the outsiders argue over “fair allocation”—the Ye Family had no interest in their squabbles.
“Young Master Feng,” Lin Chang began as he entered the suite, gesturing toward Feng Bu Jue, “these three are my juniors—disciples and a martial sister.”
The suite already hosted three people, clearly waiting for their arrival.
“And these,” Lin Chang turned to his companions, pointing at each member of Feng Bu Jue’s group, “are the Teahouse Master Feng, the Teahouse Mistress, and the other heroes of the Broken Sword Teahouse.”
After this brief introduction, one of the three guests spoke.
“This humble one is Bamboo Sword Miao Shaoqing.” The speaker, a man in his early thirties, exuded scholarly elegance in his black brocade robe. His sword—a bamboo pole about a meter long—leaned against his chair. At first glance, it resembled a dog-beating staff more than a blade, with no clear hilt or edge.
Fifth-ranked among the Huaying Six Swords, Miao Shaoqing bowed formally, addressing Feng Bu Jue first.
“Long admired your name,” Feng Bu Jue smiled, though inwardly groaning at the thought of memorizing more eccentric names.
“Autumn Orchid Sword Su Shang.”
“Night-Blooming Sword Ye Muhan.”
The next introductions came from two female swordswomen. Neither used the self-deprecating “this humble one,” likely feeling it inappropriate to address a junior cultivator like Feng Bu Jue so formally.
Su Shang, the fourth-ranked among the Six Swords, was in her mid-twenties. Standing barely five feet tall, her petite frame contrasted sharply with her ample curves—so pronounced that even in a high-collared beige martial robe, her figure remained unmistakably alluring.
Ye Muhan, slightly older than Su Shang, radiated tomboyish ruggedness. Her short-cropped hair, weathered skin, and gruff tone gave her a masculine edge, though her lack of an Adam’s apple kept her clearly feminine. While undeniably handsome, she still leaned more “feminine” compared to someone like Ji Bu Shao Ye.
Feng Bu Jue bowed politely to both: “Honored to meet you both.”
Since the others had introduced themselves, Xiao Tan and his companions felt obliged to respond. “Ah… this humble one is Wang Tan Zhi. No title, I’m afraid…”
(End of Chapter)
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