Forgotten Tale of Jianghu

Hearing Xin Long's words, Xu Zhu Han stiffened ever so slightly. The suggestion Xin Long spoke of—it was his own idea.

Indeed, it was a reasonable plan. To prevent conflict among the martial artists attending his wedding, organizing a martial arts tournament seemed the only way to keep the peace. It was a solution Xu Zhu Han had believed in, one he had chosen to put into action.

With a slight nod, he replied,

"I hope you'll participate as well. It's all in good fun—I doubt it would be much of a challenge for someone like you."

A subtle prod. An invitation wrapped in a taunt.

As Xu Zhu Han spoke, Bai Jing Jing noticed something—Xin Long's gaze, calm and steady, never wavered. He was watching Xu Zhu Han intently, his dark eyes fixed on him like a blade hovering just above the skin—silent, yet menacing.

Xin Long's voice remained soft, his tone unbothered.

"My martial skills are hardly worthy of such a stage... However..." He paused, a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I would welcome the chance to exchange pointers with you, Young Master Xu. I've always been curious—how strong is the martial prowess of someone holding the title of 'Tiger and Dragon'?"

His words, veiled with false modesty, carried an unmistakable edge.

The moment the words fell, Bai Jing Jing caught the faintest twitch at the corner of Xu Zhu Han's mouth.

"Exchange pointers, is it? Heh..."

The words left Bai Jing Jing's lips in a low murmur, her amusement flickering like a hidden flame.

"If you win first place in the friendly tournament, then you'll have the right to face me, Xin Long..."

At Xu Zhu Han's words, Xin Long's lips curled into a faint smile—calm, yet unreadable.

"Ah... Looks like I should start praying for that first place, just so I can stand against the 'Tiger and Dragon' himself..."

With a quiet sigh, Xin Long's tone carried a subtle mockery, his eyes reflecting a false sense of humility. He spoke the words effortlessly, yet the weight behind them was unmistakable.

After that, he said nothing more to Xu Zhu Han. Instead, he calmly finished his meal, his gaze shifting to Bai Jing Jing — sharp and unwavering.

Finally, breaking the silence, Xin Long spoke again, this time with an air of detached politeness.

"Since I'm the one who invited you for this meal, it seems only right that I escort you back... Allow me to walk you home… It's grown quite late, and I can't stay any longer... I hope you'll forgive me, Young Master Xu...."

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added,

"If there's another gathering tonight at your residence — a simple dinner among friends — I wonder if you'd be willing to extend an invitation to me as well?"

His words were smooth, yet behind them lay an unspoken challenge.

Xu Zhu Han's gaze sharpened for a brief moment before he gave a slow nod — a silent agreement.

As Xin Long stood, Bai Jing Jing followed suit without hesitation. Their synchronized movements didn't go unnoticed.

Before leaving, Xin Long casually reached into the pouch tucked against his chest, pulling out a few gold pieces and placing them on the table. Then, with an indifferent expression, he stepped away from the table, leading Bai Jing Jing towards the staircase.

He was aware of the murmurs behind him — the whispers, the suspicious glances — yet he paid them no mind.

With each step down the stairs, the noise of the upper floor faded into the distance. And when they finally reached the bottom, Xin Long, his expression as calm as ever, walked out of the establishment alongside Bai Jing Jing, disappearing into the night.

"Clang… clang… clash…"

"Hey… Clap… Clap…"

"I'm The Four-Faced Blade Master — Chu Liu Shan…"

Three days. Yes, three days — a short span for some, yet an eternity for others.

For Xin Long, those three days passed in a fleeting instant.

He barely slept, no more than four hours each night, pushing his body to its limit as he practiced his martial techniques relentlessly — each move blending seamlessly into the next.

And each night, he visited Xu Zhu Han, speaking with him, building a false sense of camaraderie.

This, too, was part of his plan.

The grand halls of Xu Zhu Han's estate, towering and lavish, had become a stage for the powerful — leaders of the Shaolin and Wudang Sects, their gazes sharp and unyielding. Xin Long knew their eyes would inevitably fall upon him. That was the point.

Let them see him as Xu Zhu Han's close friend. Let the other martial artists believe he was a familiar, trusted ally.

The illusion had to be flawless.

At the same time, he made sure to cross paths with Bai Jing Jing daily, exchanging a few words with her — not too much, just enough. She wasn't the type to prattle like some vain sorceress. No, Bai Jing Jing's sharp wit and composed demeanor suited him. She was a woman of substance, not charm alone.

Every time he arrived, Bai Ye Yue was never there — a stroke of luck for him.

But from today onward, he could no longer go as he pleased. She had mentioned that her two brothers would be arriving today.

Xin Long stood silently, his gaze fixed on the two swordsmen clashing atop the martial stage within Xu Zhu Han's courtyard. Yet his mind drifted, replaying the past three days — every move he made, every step meticulously calculated.

Beside the stage, the judges' seats were occupied by prominent figures — elders from the Shaolin Sect, Wudang Clan leaders, and Bai Hongfu, Bai Jing Jing's father. Xu Zhu Han himself stood next to them, his presence steady, exuding quiet authority.

Behind Xu Zhu Han, four elite bodyguards stood in formation — their stances firm, their eyes ever-watchful.

Around the stage, guards lined the perimeter, forming an unbroken wall of vigilance. Beyond them, martial artists from Shaolin, Wudang, and various sects stood in clusters — disciples, wandering heroes, and skilled fighters alike — all gathered, their gazes fixed on the dueling swordsmen.

Only martial artists were allowed inside the courtyard — no ordinary spectators.

This wasn't a simple competition; it was a display of strength.

After five rounds of fierce battles, it unfolded just as he had expected. What began as a so-called "friendly match" had swiftly escalated into a high-level contest.

Despite the formalities, the fighters on stage sought more than victory — they sought recognition, a way to elevate their status and bring honor to their masters.

This was exactly what Xin Long had intended when he advised Xu Zhu Han — to let ambition stoke the flames.

The more intense the competition grew, the more advantageous it became for him.

Xin Long stood still, waiting.

Waiting for the right moment.

Today marked the end of the five rounds, and Chu Liu Shan had already claimed victory five times in a row. Each strike, each counter — Xin Long had carefully observed and memorized them all.

There was no need to rush.

The martial tournament would last three days, and with its rules clear — two consecutive wins to advance to the next stage — Xin Long saw no advantage in hastily stepping onto the stage.

Chu Liu Shan, however, had accepted every challenge thrown his way, leading to his streak of five battles.

As Chu Liu Shan finally descended from the stage, Xin Long's sharp eyes caught a subtle shift of movement — a martial artist standing beside Chu Liu Shan leapt onto the platform with a flash of qinggong, his technique swift and precise.

Almost simultaneously, another fighter from the right side of the stage sprang forward, landing in a blur of motion.

The crowd roared — some cheered, while others, like Xin Long, remained silent observers.

The tournament grounds rippled with tension, a thin veil of early sunlight casting faint rays over the scene. Despite the gentle snowfall, his senses remained razor-sharp.

Amid the chaos, one truth stood clear:

Victory wasn't just a matter of pride — it was a necessity.

To crush those who wished him dead, to settle his scores — it all hinged on winning this tournament.

His right hand clenched into a fist, knuckles tightening.

His jaw set firm.

He would not lose.

End - 42