Food Fairy Lord

Chapter 809 Eyes flashing with swords and spears, hearts burning with hatred and enmity (Part Two)
Yong Ji staggered twice on the sword platform before regaining his balance. He glanced back at the fallen Gao Ge and the distance between them, then looked down at the sword in his hand. After seemingly pondering for a while, he slowly sheathed the sword.

Then he took a deep breath and felt the "Zheng" fighting spirit surging within his body, with tiny thorns sprouting from his bones.

“Even if it’s just a shadow… it’s a truly chilling sword.” He looked down at the tremor rising in his arm. “Is there anyone in the world who can withstand such a sword… but it seems to be used incorrectly.”

He muttered to himself, ignoring the countless spectators around him who were beginning to stir. When he looked up, his face was expressionless again. He turned around, took the halberd that had been standing on the stage, and then stepped down.

Prince Yongji's appearance in the first match of the Feather Scale Tournament brought an unimaginable spectacle to the Winter Sword Platform. Even the Feather Trial had never witnessed such a sight.

In fact, any skilled swordsman could see that incongruity—Yong Ji didn't seem like someone who knew how to use a sword; he simply consistently used swordsmanship at an extremely high level.

When he won, a reddish twitch appeared on the side of his neck and cheek, as if a sharp bone spur had pierced his skin and then retracted.

There's something inside him, and everyone wants it.

This sense of dread cast a shadow over the newly begun Scale Trial. Many of the cultivators waiting to be tested looked at the tall pavilion that had been helped up, their faces solemn or pale.

That sword strike just now… or was it really a sword? Anyone could see how difficult it was for Yong Ji to control; he nearly fell off the stage. The power was so immense, so unrestrained, that in retrospect, it almost gave the illusion that it had torn Yong Ji's body apart.

If it were used on oneself, if Yongji lost control even slightly... who could guarantee that it wouldn't be one's own neck that was severed?
Gu Yuan, the master of the Beihai lineage, kept his gaze on the stage for twenty breaths until the next performance was about to begin. Then he looked away and glanced at Xiu Lü of the Dongting lineage next to him. Xiu Lü also cast a distant and reminiscing look at him.

The older generation looked at each other, and several of them recalled a name that had been lost to them for a long time and was covered in dust.

It wasn't nine years ago; Wang Jiuqiao was still a complete junior in their eyes. Nor was it eighteen years ago; they had witnessed Tianmu's first appearance on the list.

It has been twenty-three years.

It was a time that could truly be called an era, when they were all still vying for rankings on the Crane List, and the Tang Dynasty had only recently emerged from a turbulent period of chaos, with demons and bandits running rampant in all directions.

That name was considered young among them, and he did indeed possess a sword technique that no one could withstand. Back then, even at the level of a black-robed warrior, he had won several matches in the Feather Trial.

But it has been lost for so long.

The sword strike that has now appeared is rigid, far from possessing that kind of spiritual energy; it is clumsy, and the person wielding the sword clearly does not know how to control it; it is even... very slow.

In that person's hands, the sword was as easy as a thought; he glanced at you, and the sword was already at your neck. No matter what level you were at.

But right now, it seems that the Crown Prince of the North is being dragged along by it, or rather, it has simply opened the prison door that was blocking it, but nothing inside has escaped from the cage, only casting a shadow on the ground.

However, they still sensed some signs that the dusty past was about to be broken.

Too slow. Gu Yuan thought to himself, his expression blank.

It may be faster than most swords in the world, but compared to itself, it is still like a shell, appearing clumsy.

It is still relatively fast, not absolutely fast.

That person is more like it.

Gu Yuan recalled the scene at the Illusionary Tower a few months ago.

That seven-year-old boy, with his cold and clear-eyed swordsmanship, actually made him lose his composure for a moment, and his sword almost flew out of its sheath. When he came to his senses, Li Du's Buddha face had already been cut open and fallen to the ground.

Seven Lives, Sword, Heavenly Tower. Just thinking about these three words together inexplicably reminds him of that name.

Many others, seated high up but rarely speaking, also recognized the sword strike. They silently recalled past events, first about that person, then about themselves. They remained silent, simply looking down again, finding the subsequent trials somewhat promising, and decided to come every day for the next four days.

Pei Ye and Xu Chuo watched the next round of the scale test. After about twelve rounds, Pei Ye turned around and took her arm.

The boy's face was still showing a thoughtful expression when he said, "Let's go."

"Xiuwen Hall?"

"Okay, I'll go first. I need to think about something."

Xu Chuo nodded, looking at him. The furious expression only lasted a few breaths on the boy's face. After Yong Ji left, before the second contestant even took the stage, his anger subsided, leaving him with a rather expressionless face, his eyes sharp and bright as he stared into the empty space.

The two went downstairs, boarded the carriage, and sat down on either side of the tea table. Then the carriage started moving.

“He doesn’t really know how,” Pei Ye said. “I know why he ‘improved quickly’ because it’s hard to learn something, but it’s easy to learn how to use something.”

Xu Chuo shook his head: "I don't understand swords. I don't understand much of what they say either."

“He replicated this sword strike through something. The same goes for swordsmanship at this level; it’s not that he knows how to use a sword, but that thing taught him how to use it,” Pei Ye said. “To put it bluntly… you know, Grandpa Yue once had a strange eye.”

"..."

“I guess it’s that eye,” Pei Ye said in a low voice, “because when I saw Grandpa Yue, his eyes were empty.”

Xu Chuo tilted his head slightly and pursed his lips: "So... that's what the Prince of Yan put down."

Pei Ye looked at her.

“Because he is unwilling to admit defeat in the matter of the Mirage,” Xu Chuo said. “So since entering the capital, he has been constantly increasing the stakes. With Yucheng as the wager, we accepted the martial arts competition; in order to make Yong Ji defeat you, he gouged out this eye from his own and gave it to Yong Ji… Yong Bei is quite determined.”

“…That’s right.”

"Ah."

The carriage was quiet, with only the sound of wheels rolling over the stone slabs.

Pei Ye was silent for a moment, then said, "Xizhou, I want to try fighting Yu Lin."

"it is good."

……

About fifteen minutes later, the carriage entered Xiuwen Hall again, but this time it stopped as soon as it entered the gate, because a girl in white was standing there, looking curiously as she lifted the carriage curtain.

Xu Chuo glanced at her first, smiled and nodded, then tugged at Pei Ye's sleeve.

Pei Ye tilted his head, slightly taken aback: "...Yin'er?"

"Greetings, Brother. My master sent me to request an audience with you." Jiang Yin'er bowed to Xu Chuo. "Do you have time, Brother?"

Pei Ye replied solemnly, "Of course, I was just about to pay them a visit."

(End of this chapter)