Chapter 29 — The Final Four

Zhang Qingyue shook his head. "Master treated me with his own hands. They're just about healed."

Su Wan shook her head too. "Outward wounds heal easily; the inward ones are not so quick. Xiaofan, today's Chang Jian is no small matter—even your eldest senior brother, with his cultivation, fell at his hands. Though I hear from your eldest senior brother that even in victory Chang Jian did not fare well, with your half-baked cultivation I fear you still cannot match him. Don't try to be brave later. If you can't hold out, just concede—whatever you do, don't take reckless risks and get hurt again. Do you understand?"

Warmth filled Zhang Qingyue's heart, but he did not nod. He only mumbled: "Master will be angry."

Su Wan smiled and shook her head. "Silly child, go with an easy heart. Your master can't dote on you enough."

A great clap sounded in Zhang Qingyue's head; he turned at once to look at Tian Buhui, only to see him chatting and laughing merrily with the white-bearded old man surnamed Fan, not glancing this way at all.

Su Wan patted his head lightly. "Go on."

Zhang Qingyue slowly mounted the platform and stood there alone, but Su Wan's words still echoed in his mind: "Your master can't dote on you enough!"

His thoughts were in a muddle. From childhood, from the day he entered Qingyun, Tian Buhui had been no less than a god to him. Though Tian Buhui had always treated him poorly, winning his master's praise had remained young Zhang Qingyue's greatest wish.

And now, suddenly hearing his master's wife say this, he could not bring himself to believe it.

He stood on the platform thinking for a long while, while below the crowd buzzed with talk. After quite some time, even Zhang Qingyue began to sense something amiss: his opponent had still not come.

Below the platform, the Changmen disciples looked especially anxious; most were turning to look about. Just then a Changmen disciple came running quickly from afar, face frantic, heedless of the strange looks around him. He rushed to the white-bearded old man's side and said a few hurried words in his ear.

The white-bearded old man's face changed drastically, as though he could not believe it. He pressed: "Truly?"

The disciple cast a bitter glance at the platform, then at last gave a heavy nod. In an instant the white-bearded old man went ashen, utterly dejected, and dropped back into his chair. Tian Buhui, watching, was greatly puzzled and said: "Senior Brother Fan, what has happened?"

The white-bearded old man gave him a feeble glance, heaved a long sigh, gathered himself, and stood up again. In a clear voice he announced: "The Changmen disciple Chang Jian, too gravely wounded in yesterday's bout to rise from his bed, withdraws from today's contest."

Above and below the platform, all was silent.

A moment later, an uproar burst from the crowd! Though most of the Canglan Gate disciples were cultivators, still no few let out coarse curses. As for the Dazhu Peak line, their first reaction was not delight but odd, unsettled looks exchanged among them; only after a long while did they shake their heads one by one with rueful, complicated smiles.

Behind them, as the crowd's expressions shifted through countless permutations and the noise swelled, Tian Buhui and Su Wan slowly rose. Looking at their little disciple still dazed on the platform, Su Wan smiled faintly and said quietly to Tian Buhui: "I told you long ago—this little disciple of yours has luck that truly is out of the ordinary!"

Tian Buhui was left speechless, smiling bitterly without end.

That day Zhang Qingyue spent under the strange stares of others; nearly every Qingyun disciple who passed him had to look at him a few more times, as though he were some rare beast. At the same time, the day's results came out, and Zhang Qingyue had the "honor" of standing among the final four alongside Qi Hao, Lu Xueqi, and Zeng Shuyan.

Qi Hao had always been the favorite to take the crown, and Lu Xueqi's popularity had soared these past days, but that Zeng Shuyan and Zhang Qingyue had entered the final four was beyond what most of the Canglan Gate elders had expected. Before this, Zeng Shuyan was known as Zeng Shuchang's only son; though acknowledged among the Fenghui Peak line as a young man of talent, he was not especially famous within the Canglan Gate. This time, cutting down opponents as he went with exquisite arts, he made everyone sit up and take notice. By comparison, Zhang Qingyue, standing among the four, looked extremely out of place.

On the platform the four stood side by side, with sect leader Daoyan Zhenren and Cangyan Daoren, seat-holder of the Long Peak, at the front. The smile still hung on Daoyan Zhenren's face; one could not tell at all whether he was displeased that the Changmen disciples had unexpectedly been wiped out in this grand meet.

Below, nearly a thousand Canglan Gate members crowded together, the front rows seated with the seat-holders and elders of each line. Su Wan looked up at the platform and said quietly to Tian Buhui: "Xiaofan looks a little nervous!"

Tian Buhui gave a snort and said nothing. Under all those eyes, what his wife could see, how could he not? Of the four on the platform, Qi Hao stood elegant and at ease, Lu Xueqi cold as frost and snow, Zeng Shuyan smiling as he stood—only Zhang Qingyue stood in place, gaze fixed straight on the ground before him, his hands seemingly at a loss where to rest, most awkward indeed.

On the platform Daoyan Zhenren looked at the four, a trace of a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth, then turned to face below and said: "Everyone, as of today the Seven Peaks Martial Meet has decided its top four disciples. Gifted beyond the common run, exquisite in their arts, they are all elites of our Canglan Gate, bearing on their shoulders the duty of glorifying our Qingyun sect hereafter—" He had spoken but half when suddenly, from somewhere below the platform, came a "pfft" of laughter, and a moment later a roar of guffaws burst from the ranks of the Qingyun disciples.

Daoyan Zhenren's brows knit; instinctively he slid a glance at Zhang Qingyue, the youngest of the four behind him, and gave a slight shake of his head. By now laughter kept rolling from below, and what should have been a solemn scene turned somewhat comical. Cangyan Daoren, standing to one side, went cold of face, stepped forward, and swept his gaze like a blade across the crowd below.

The laughter in the crowd at once subsided; wherever Cangyan Daoren's gaze fell, the laughter died. In no time the grounds were calm again. Cangsong had wielded the Canglan Gate's punishments for many years, and the weight of his authority among the disciples surpassed even that of sect leader Daoyan Zhenren.

Only when the scene was wholly calm did Cangyan Daoren step back and say to Daoyan Zhenren: "Sect leader, if you please."

Daoyan Zhenren smiled. "There's nothing more I need say. Junior Brother Cangsong, you take it from here."

Cangyan Daoren nodded, turned to the crowd below, and announced in a clear voice: "Tomorrow's bouts: Qi Hao of the Long Peak against Zeng Shuyan of Fenghui Peak; Lu Xueqi of Xiaozhu Peak against Zhang Qingyue of Dazhu Peak—"

Cangsong was still speaking on, and every eye below was fixed on him. Only now did Zhang Qingyue breathe a sigh of relief; under the countless gazes just now he had nearly been unable to catch his breath.

"Why are you sweating so much?" Suddenly, Zeng Shuyan spoke.

Zhang Qingyue was startled. Ever since his unexpected victory over Pang Chang the day before, Zeng Shuyan had been cold toward him before others; he had not expected him to speak to him of his own accord. Though they had known each other barely three days, Zhang Qingyue already counted him among his good friends.

He stole a glance at Zeng Shuyan, and saw him standing primly at his side, eyes fixed straight ahead, a smile on his face as he looked below, as though he had not spoken at all just now.