Volume One: The Youth Enters the World Chapter 89: Securing a Place

Fang Tian dodged the attack, and Mu Qiaoqiao was not surprised. If he could be defeated so easily, the contest would be meaningless. Her beautiful eyes shimmered as her soft sword danced. In the sunlight, her delicate face appeared especially charming, but Fang Tian had no leisure to admire her beauty. This young girl’s moves were decisive, her martial skills full of power—winning this bout would not be easy.

Mu Qiaoqiao took the initiative, soft sword in hand. She tapped the ground lightly, her petite figure swaying like a willow in the wind, moving with nimble agility across the arena, constantly shifting positions so that Fang Tian could not discern from which direction she would strike.

“This movement technique is different from my Windstride. Mine focuses on pure speed; hers is all about shifting form and confusing the opponent’s sight. If I can’t see which way she’ll attack, this could be trouble.” Fang Tian steadied his mind, considering his options.

Seeing him remain stationary, Mu Qiaoqiao glided behind him as she drew near, lifting her soft sword to stab at his back.

The soft sword was thin and flexible, its form ever-changing, making its attacks unpredictable and hard to defend against.

Fang Tian turned to block. Though he deflected her strike, the sword’s tip grazed his shoulder, tearing his garment and leaving a bloody mark that began to seep.

He counterattacked, thrusting at Mu Qiaoqiao.

She was lightning-quick, evading his strike and slipping out of range, her figure shifting restlessly as she sought the next opportunity.

Watching her ethereal form, Fang Tian grew increasingly curious about her movement technique. He called out in praise, “Miss, your movement is superb. May I know its name?”

Mu Qiaoqiao smiled and replied, “Willow in the Wind.”

“A fine name.” Fang Tian activated his Windstride, his form vanishing from its place and reappearing before Mu Qiaoqiao, launching a martial technique.

She was a bit surprised—when it came to speed, Fang Tian’s movement was on par with her own. She raised her sword to block lightly, retreating as she did so, for her soft sword was unsuited for direct clashes.

Fang Tian pressed on, a howling wind in his wake, his longsword like a shooting star descending from the heavens, unstoppable as it swept toward her.

Sword clashed with soft sword again and again. Their figures flashed across the arena, dazzling the onlookers with their unpredictable movements.

The two were evenly matched, prompting the sect master of Clear Creek Gate and Elder Fu Cang on the high platform to exclaim in admiration.

“Junior Brother, who would have thought this young man has such skill? I underestimated him before.”

“Senior Brother, Fang Tian may not seem to have a high cultivation realm, but his spiritual power is robust—comparable to a seventh-layer cultivator. And look at his mastery of martial skills—truly consummate.”

“Yes, the technique he just used appears to be a heaven-tier, lower-grade art. His talent is remarkable, to have cultivated a heaven-tier art to such a degree. He’s a martial prodigy.”

“These two have finally met their match.”

“That young girl is impressive too. Not only is her realm high, her movement skill is exquisite. By comparison, my disciples at Clear Creek Gate are lacking.”

“I have been too lax in their training.”

“It’s not your fault, Junior Brother. In recent years, the disciples we’ve recruited are too dull—none with outstanding talent. Even the best techniques are wasted on them. Who would have thought our sect would find such talent at this Hundred Isles Gathering? We’ll surely astonish the other islands.”

“Quite so, Senior Brother.”

As they spoke, the duelists exchanged dozens of moves. After the initial wound Fang Tian suffered, all subsequent clashes ended in clever dodges and counters. Mu Qiaoqiao gained no clear upper hand; at best, they fought to a draw.

Fang Tian grew more exhilarated as the fight progressed. He had never enjoyed such a satisfying contest. Gradually, he found his understanding of martial skills deepening, even gaining new insights.

Yet he could not reveal his true strength; he kept his power in check, matching Mu Qiaoqiao blow for blow. Still, this could not go on forever—a victor must be decided.

Moreover, Fang Tian could tell Mu Qiaoqiao was also holding back. Perhaps, like him, she possessed the ability to challenge those above her level.

If he wanted to win, he would have to use his full strength, but that ran counter to his plans.

After consideration, Fang Tian decided not to go all out. For him, this was the best choice. If he lost, so be it. Elder Tian had also told him never to reveal all his cards unless absolutely necessary. Keeping some strength in reserve was the key to staying out of danger and not drawing unwanted attention.

Having made up his mind, Fang Tian focused solely on defense, no longer counterattacking, allowing himself to appear at a disadvantage. As Mu Qiaoqiao’s strikes grew more relentless, he feigned defeat. When she struck out with her palm, he actively leaned into it; with a booming sound, he was sent flying several yards.

He lay on the ground, clutching his chest, slowly rising as if injured, and said through gritted teeth, “I concede, Miss. I admit defeat.”

Mu Qiaoqiao stared in disbelief at her palm. The fight had been going well—why had Fang Tian suddenly collapsed? Watching his slightly theatrical display, she understood at once—he had done it on purpose. Did he look down on her?

The thought made her pretty face flush with anger. Sword in hand, she strode over and said, somewhat indignantly, “Get up. We’re not finished yet.”

Fang Tian felt awkward. He had already conceded—why was she insisting he continue? Had she seen through him? His acting was not perfect, but it was not that bad, surely.

The sect master and Elder Fu Cang were also puzzled by Fang Tian’s sudden defeat, but said nothing. Since he had admitted defeat, it was not their concern.

On the high platform, seeing Fang Tian yield, the judge had no choice but to declare Mu Qiaoqiao the winner.

The other spectators, too distant to see the details, had nonetheless been impressed by Fang Tian’s performance. At first, they thought he would lose miserably.

With the result announced, Fang Tian rose and left the arena without so much as a glance at Mu Qiaoqiao. Judging by her expression, she probably knew he had been faking. He had no wish to be dragged into another match with her.

Mu Qiaoqiao bit her rosy lip, unwilling to accept the outcome. Fang Tian had conceded—she could do nothing about it, and there was no way to restart the match.

“Very well. I’ll remember you,” she muttered with a huff, storming off the field in a pique.

With both of them gone, the next bouts began. After these, Fang Tian would have the chance to issue a challenge.

The remaining matches went by swiftly. Xie Qing, who had chatted with Fang Tian earlier, also won his duel, unleashing seventh-layer strength at a crucial moment to defeat his opponent.

He sat down beside Fang Tian and said, “Brother, when it’s time to challenge, make sure you don’t pick me. I’d rather not fight you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Fang Tian replied. He had no intention of picking Xie Qing. Among the winners, there were those weaker than him; he would not choose a tougher opponent on purpose.

“Good, good.” Xie Qing grinned.

After a few more matches, it was time for the losers to challenge the four victors. The sect master of Clear Creek Gate paused and announced, “The matches are nearly complete. Now you may challenge the winners to compete for a spot.”

Those who had lost pondered whether to try again. After a while, one of them decided to give it another shot, selecting the weakest of the four victors for the challenge.

The result: the challenger lost. Though the victor’s cultivation was lower than the other three, he was by no means easy to defeat.

Seeing the failed challenge, the rest fell silent, too intimidated to try. They figured that even if they challenged, they would only lose in the end.

Fang Tian, seeing that the time was right, stood and said, “I challenge him.”

He chose the same person the previous challenger had—though he was confident he could beat any of them, it made sense to select the weakest.

The chosen man stood up, resigned. He had made it through the second round by luck, but with these rules, the four selected for challenges were the strongest among the fifteen. He knew his spot was only temporary.

Fang Tian and his opponent took the field. At the judge’s signal, they activated their spiritual power and prepared to fight.

“Why shouldn’t I have this chance? I must try, no matter what. I don’t believe this boy can be that strong!” Fang Tian’s opponent charged at him with all his martial skill.

Fang Tian watched the attack approach, undisturbed—he could already see his opponent’s mind was unsettled, his attack riddled with flaws.

Drawing his longsword, Fang Tian sidestepped, appearing behind the man and resting his sword on the opponent’s shoulder. “You’ve lost.”

The man deflated like a punctured ball, sighing, “Your movement is too fast. I concede.”

Fang Tian sheathed his sword and left the stage.

To lose heart before the fight even began guaranteed a humiliating defeat; otherwise, he would not have been bested in a single move.

After about a quarter of an hour, seeing that no one else stepped forward, the sect master announced, “Since there are no further challenges, I hereby declare that Mu Qiaoqiao, Xie Qing, Ma Sheng, and Fang Tian have qualified for the Hundred Isles Gathering. I hope you will all perform brilliantly in the coming event.”

With that, the sect master, Elder Fu Cang, and the others descended from the platform and left the training grounds.

Once their own leaders had departed, the rest of the disciples followed suit. Fang Tian also left with the crowd, heading toward his quarters.