[Young Master Xian]—❈—73:: The Royal Banquet [III]

In this world of cultivation, two things matter above all others: lineage and talent.

And while those with the former but not the latter can bluster, and pretend, and try their hardest to convince themselves that lineage matters most, everyone who knows anything about anything knows the truth; in the face of talent great enough, even the most noble lineage is trash.

816th Princess, Feng Qiling doesn’t just have the heaven-defying talent of an MC, she also has the kind of pedigree that would turn someone with lacking talent into someone to be wary of in battle.

Put together, these two things make for a fearsome individual.

I had my suspicions about that from the moment I first saw her; her age, her cultivation, and where she sat at the table, four places from The Empress, all of it spoke volumes.

Her confidence, her… aura, if you will. It was clear that she was no mere girl, regardless of age.

Ru confirmed this.

As soon as The Empress vacated the Hall of Impending Equilibrium, followed closely by her progeny, the rest of the guests began to leave too, all heading outside to the huge courtyard where the spar would be held.

Meng Yi and Xiuying came to me.

They said nothing, simply offered quiet support.

I was glad for it.

Ru came to us then.

“Well, Brother,” he said, “you’ve set your sights quite high.”

I turned to him, wanting to make it known that I hadn't asked for this. But then I realised that he definitely knew, and even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t care one way or the other.

So, instead, I said, “Tell me everything I need to know about her.”

He smiled in that disconcerting way he did. “And what do I get in return?” he asked.

I watched him. “If I win, you get the pleasure of knowing that your information was essential to my victory,” I say.

He pretended to think about it. “And if you lose?” he asked finally.

“Then clearly your information wasn't worth shit,” I say levelly.

Ru laughed. Ha ha. Two sounds.

I knew the laugh had to be fake. I knew it had to be something designed to evoke discomfort from its unnatural rhythm.

Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t stop it from having that effect all the same.

“I’ll take your bargain, brother,” Ru said, and then he gave me information about the princess Qiling.

It was… informative.

None of the information he gave me about the princess was anything that a determined and well-connected individual couldn’t acquire legally, but the fact that he could just recite all of that information on the spot; it implied so many things that I didn’t want to think about.

When he was done, he patted me on the shoulder, wished me luck, and walked off.

We watched him go.

“That is not someone we want to rely on for information,” Xiuying said.

“No,” I agreed, because she was right.

Today, it was something he considered small enough to not ask for payment over, but who knows what we might need to know tomorrow.

“Unfortunately, he was the best available option,” I said.

“For now,” Meng Yi said, looking thoughtful for a minute before she shook off whatever she was thinking about and focused on the matter at hand. “We should go. The spar starts soon.”

 Outside, the thousands of attendees were spreading out on the staircases surrounding the courtyard. Due to its size, and the fact that no one was in a rush, this was taking a while, but that was fine, every extra minute I could get before the duel was appreciated.

What Ru had told me about Princess Qiling had left me more than a little nervous.

This is not just a girl who is strong for her level; no, this is a girl who is strong, period. And she’d won a tournament to prove it.

According to Ru, there was something called the Foundation Tournament, which, exactly as can be guessed from its name, is a tournament for Foundation Realm cultivators that happens once every decade.

Any cultivator is allowed to try for it as long as they meet the requirements, the primary of which are that they’re Foundation Realm, and under twenty-five years old.

It’s a very big thing here in The Capital, and the young scions of the top families almost always use it as an opportunity to earn renown and acclaim.

The last Foundation Tournament was three months ago, and since there’s no minimum age, or cultivation level stipulated in the rules, the freshly fourteen-year-old Princess Qiling, with her cultivation still only in the fifth layer of Weaving, entered into it.

She won, defeating the runner-up, a twenty-five-year-old one whole phase of cultivation above her in the fifth layer of Sprouting. His name is Sun Yahui, a scion of one of the Fifty Great Clans, and a divine rank genius.

I am one rank and three layers of cultivation below that guy. And while I recognize that I’m packed to the gills with all sorts of added bullshit like my healing and whatnot, that still only gives me confidence that, best case, I’m about to enter into the toughest fight of my life.

Worst case, this will end with me suffering the kind of ass-whooping they make memes about.

Thank Heaven the internet isn’t a thing here, at least.

Even as they spread out to surround the courtyard, I noticed people separating into small groups; family members, friends and similar clumping together.

I spotted my parents and siblings where they stood together.

“You guys should go stand with them,” I said, pointing.

Meng Yi nodded, then called my name. “Qigang.”

I look at her.

“Hold nothing back,” she said seriously.

“She’s right,” Xiuying chimed in. “Knowing you, you’re gonna want to, but when you face that girl, hit her with everything you have, Qigang. Because you can be damn sure that she will hit you with everything she has.”

I sighed, knowing their words were true.

I nodded.

They left me then, Meng Yi taking my hand for a second before letting go, and Xiuying giving me a short, gentle squeeze on my shoulder.

I watched them go until they settled silently into place by, but separate from, my family.

Turning to the courtyard, I saw the princess taking her place in the centre, eyes on me, her power solid and real.

No one really knows how cultivation talent works in this world. Or why the children of powerful cultivators so rarely inherit their parent’s monstrous talent.

Spirit roots aren’t really a thing here, unlike in the many xianxia stories on earth. One can’t simply have a high-grade spirit root and thus be a better, more powerful cultivator because of it.

There are a myriad of little parts that come together to make that thing called talent, and no one really knows what they all are or how they work.

Some experts, likely frustrated from their inability to unravel these secrets, have declared that Qi itself hides this truth from us, so that we all remain equal before it, and our talent remains the result of blind luck and the roll of the dice, as it were.

I have no clue if that’s true. But if it is, then people like my mother, like Princess Qiling, and like me too, I suppose… we’ve rolled a heck of a jackpot.

—❈—

Xiuying

“Are you prepared, Xian Qigang?” 816th Princess, Feng Qiling’s question rolled across the silent courtyard, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Qigang didn’t look prepared. He didn’t look close to prepared.

When he looked at her and Yi though, Xiuying cheered him on silently.

“Please don’t hold back, Qigang,” she murmured softly in prayer to the universe.

Yi reached out and took her hand, and Xiuying looked down in surprise before allowing herself to enjoy the comfort the simple gesture gave.

“He can do it,” Yi said in a whisper so low the wind could steal it. “He can do it.”

Glory of The Sun

The familiar technique activated, and Qigang’s power rose with it, greater and more potent than Xiuying suspected any noble rank cultivator of his level could ever manage.

Qigang stood tall, proud. Regal in his fine blue robes.

He looked ready.

Princess Qiling struck.

Despite her complete focus on the courtyard, Xiuying almost missed it.

Qigang didn’t.

In less than the blink of an eye, Princess Qiling covered the distance to Qigang, her long, thin sword aimed straight for his throat; a killing blow by any definition.

Qigang caught the blade in his fist.

Princess Qiling didn’t stop. She didn’t even look surprised that he’d reacted, she simply snapped off the blade of ice in Qigang’s grasp and moved in for another stab, the blade regrowing as she did.

Weight of the Emperor’s Will

The crushing force of the second technique slammed onto the princess, slowing her down and messing up her attack, leaving her open for a good solid punch to the face.

But Qigang didn’t punch her. He withdrew, creating space between them once again.

Xiuying almost screamed.

Beside her, Yi winced sharply.

Xiuying looked to her friend, assuming that her wince was because of how painful that wasted opportunity had been, but then she felt tugging in her hand.

She looked down.

“Oh, fuck, sorry, Yi,” she said, letting the other woman’s bruised hand go.

She’d forgotten she was still holding onto her.

Yi waved it away and they focused back on the courtyard.

Qigang was flexing his left hand, the one he caught the Princess’ ice sword with.

“That ice sword of yours is impressive,” he said. “Kind of reminds me of my sister’s shitty cultivation.”

A low rumble of laughter rolled across the assembled crowd.

Xiuying made sure to not even let her lips twitch.

Qigang seemed to realize what he said.

“Not that I’m saying your cultivation is shitty, of course,” he hurried to explain.

Princess Qiling watched Qigang silently for several moments.

“That was a good opportunity you wasted just now,” she remarked. “I underestimated you and acted recklessly. You could have punished me for it.”

Qigang nodded. “Yeah, I just...” he shrugged. “I have a hard time hurting people I don’t have beef with.”

“Beef?” the princess asked, brow raised.

“It means uh, bad blood,” Qigang explained.

“A quaint expression,” she said.

Qigang shrugged again, then said, “And, you know, it’s completely understandable that you underestimated me. I mean, you’re a peerless genius who’s proven yourself again and again, meanwhile I’m some nameless loser who just lucked into power.”

Princess Qiling gave Qigang a funny look. “Did you just refer to yourself as a nameless loser?” she asked.

Qigang shrugged again. “I was,” he said simply.

The sight of someone taking himself so unseriously seemed to leave the princess floundering for a moment.

Finally, she decided to set it aside and got back to the original matter.

“Regardless of how reasonable it was to underestimate you, it was a mistake that I can never afford to make again,” she said. “Such acts can often prove fatal.”

“True,” Qigang agreed. “But then again, that’s the whole point of a spar, right? To give you room to learn and make mistakes without actually risking anything.”

Princess Qiling gave Qigang a long deciphering look. “Perhaps,” she allowed.

She held her sword out to the side then, and it transformed into a massive, curved blade the colour of midnight longer than the princess was tall.

Divine Harness of The Combat Goddess

An exquisite armour of a deep rich green faded into existence over her body, complete with a helmet that covered her full face.

“Can we go back to when you underestimated me? Because I think I much prefer that,” Qigang said.

“Ready yourself, Seventh Young Master Xian,” 816th Princess, Feng Qiling said.

Qigang sighed. “Well, on the bright side,” he said as he cracked his knuckles, “having you all armoured up actually makes me feel a whole lot better about going all out, so...”

Qigang did something then.

He didn’t flare his qi. He didn’t force it out.

No, he... accepted it.

It was like, up until this moment, he’d treated his power as something separate from himself, a tool to pick up and set down.

Now though, he was treating it as what it truly was, a part of him. Inseparable.

A golden crown burning with an orange flame appeared over his head, and a gentle wave of heat and light poured from his being.

His already active technique, Weight of The Emperor’s Will, improved in power manyfold, the range growing to the point where Xiuying felt the technique reach and pass her where they stood well over a hundred paces away.

She felt the pressure of the technique settle on her, but it didn’t overwhelm.

It recognized her as a friend, and it wrapped around her like a warm hug.

Xiuying tried not to let how nice it felt distract her.

The mood of the audience changed; focuses sharpening, interests piquing.

While for Xiuying (and Yi too, she knew), Qigang’s technique was a warm, gentle embrace, for his opponent, Princess Qiling, it was a constant assault.

The princess flared her own qi to combat it.

Cultivations clashed, and Xiuying would admit, Feng Qiling’s power was unquestionable. An awe-inspiring display, especially for one so young.

It was so great, in fact, it was enough to push back Qigang’s cultivation and put the princess on even footing again.

But the display didn’t fool anybody.

Qigang hadn’t flared his cultivation. He hadn’t pushed, he hadn’t even tried. He simply was.

That was the power of a domain.

In the eyes of the judging audience, Qigang was the clear winner in a clash of cultivation.

But cultivation was not all it took to win a duel, and as both fighters rushed at each other, Xiuying had to do everything in her power to not cheer on her Young Master at the top of her lungs.

—❈——❈——❈——❈—

—❈——❈——❈——❈—

A/N:: I'm considering Meng Yi's POV next chapter.

Thanks for reading.