Chapter 84: Martial Contest

The masters who have made Chinese martial arts illustrious often have little fondness for disciplines like taekwondo or karate. Thus, when it comes to their own martial uniforms, they would never design them to resemble those of others—no blue belts or black belts here; we have only the sash.

When Sui Yi received a set of martial attire, she was momentarily taken aback but gave it little thought before stepping into the women's changing room to put it on.

When she emerged, she was already dressed and stood quietly by the wall, waiting as Ah A approached, guided by the sound of footsteps.

He paused in surprise.

The uniform was simple—two pieces, made of soft silk, loose-fitting, all in pure black. The collar was a shallow V, designed for comfort and ventilation, with only two rows of buttons and no unnecessary adornment. A single silk sash cinched the slightly longer hem at the waist. It was understated and elegant, but not particularly striking in itself.

Yet, on Sui Yi—her skin as fair as snow, features delicate as a painting—it exuded a sense of aloof and peerless beauty. In the past, whether in action or conversation, Sui Yi’s demeanor was always composed, rarely showing anger, and dressed in her school uniform, she truly looked the part of a young girl.

Now, clad in the all-black martial uniform and walking silently with an air of indifference, her innate cold and distant temperament was unmistakable—like a frosty blade unsheathed.

Ah A was momentarily dazed. It was only when Sui Yi asked a question that he snapped back to reality.

“Oh? You mean this broom?” he replied, grinning. “It’s for you, of course.”

For me?

Sui Yi looked at the broom and fell silent for a moment. Ah A, thinking he’d finally rattled the usually calm girl, grinned wider. “Every new disciple sweeps the floor on their first day. How long you sweep—it’s up to you.”

Wasn’t this just messing with people? Most would have stormed off to confront the man who took their money, demanding a refund—that would have been the normal reaction.

But Sui Yi simply took the broom and asked, “Where should I sweep?”

Ah A chuckled, unsurprised, and led Sui Yi through the inner corridor.

Inside, the place was vast. It was said this was the ancestral home of Shi Yunkai, covering nearly three thousand square meters. Though it stood on the outskirts near fields, the bustling city was just beyond the front gate. The value of this ancestral house was incalculable, and for this reason, no one ever believed Shi Yunkai opened his martial hall for money—if he rented out the place, the daily rent alone would be a fortune.

Sui Yi seemed to have a special fondness for such a house, especially upon catching the subtle scent of osmanthus blooms drifting from a corner of the side courtyard.

“Is there an osmanthus grove outside the courtyard?” Sui Yi asked, diligently sweeping the corridor, as Ah A loitered nearby.

“Yes, that’s Old Shi’s residence. I’ve heard the grove is centuries old, passed down through his family, and he’s never had the heart to cut it down. If he had, the house could have been expanded much more.”

A centuries-old osmanthus grove—no wonder the fragrance was so intoxicating. The scent lifted Sui Yi’s spirits, and a faint smile appeared on her face. For a moment, Ah A felt that even if the martial arts here failed to satisfy Sui Yi, she would not regret coming. The thought brightened his own mood as well.

As they swept, the two suddenly heard a great commotion from within the osmanthus grove.

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Training gone awry?

The training grounds were in the other, larger courtyard—not here.

Neither Sui Yi nor Ah A were ones to suppress their curiosity, so Sui Yi carried her broom and walked in.

The grove was dense with osmanthus trees, hundreds of them lining the long path outside the courtyard. Osmanthus blossoms are small and shy, neither gaudy nor cold. If few bloom, they’re nearly invisible; if many, they cluster thickly, not especially beautiful. But their allure is not in their appearance, but in their fragrance—the most enchanting aspect. When the wind carries that scent, the legend of the osmanthus fragrance drifting for miles is no exaggeration.

Now, amid hundreds of blooming trees, a group of people were shouting loudly.

Fists and feet clashed, breaths overlapped, and the sounds resonated sharply.

The fallen osmanthus petals were swept up by the wind, and the fragrance intensified.

Bang!

A man in a black martial uniform was overpowered, sent flying five or six meters before halting as his feet pressed against a stone.

Suppressing the tightness in his chest, he looked up to see a tall, powerful young man shaking his fist, grinning broadly with white teeth—reminding him of a good-natured but formidable black bear.

Beyond him stood two groups, one in black, the other—

“Old Shi, your disciple has lost,” said a woman, her voice crisp yet languid, always drawing out the ends of her words, with a lazy, husky undertone—modulated and commanding, impossible to refuse. One could easily imagine her as a noble lady hidden behind a gauzy curtain, reclining on a soft couch, or as a gallant horsewoman on the field.

These contrasting impressions were the source of her peculiar charm. Her voice was heard before she appeared.

Old Shi was imposing, but at her words, he was not angered. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and smiled, shaking his head. “He lost, and lost well.”

The defeated young man looked deeply ashamed but, under the gaze of all, clenched his fist and bowed to the much younger victor.

The defeated bows in respect to the triumphant.

The tall youth was a little taken aback, glancing over.

A skilled young man standing by the woman shot him a sidelong look and said coolly, “If you’ve won, accept it. Why the rush?”

“Well said… Now, for the next match, you step down,” the woman said, as if playing a game of chess, her tone casual and unhurried, each move guided by her whims.

Old Shi glanced over his disciples. Most had only begun their training in recent years—they possessed determination, but had started late, lacking talent, and so struggled to grasp the essence. The older ones, though strong enough, would seem to be bullying the younger. If he carelessly chose a weaker young disciple, the morale of the group would suffer with another loss, creating a barrier to their progress.

It was a tough choice.

Suddenly, Old Shi’s gaze drifted past an osmanthus tree and landed on Ah A, just coming from the entrance, and he broke into a smile.

“Ah A, come here…”

For Old Shi to call a disciple by name—especially one who had only joined ten days ago—meant that disciple was truly exceptional.

Everyone in the hall had known from the first day that Ah A was extraordinarily gifted and a fast learner; it was no wonder Old Shi favored him. It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy.

But at least they still had him.

Ah A was only eighteen or nineteen, at most twenty. In terms of age, he was the perfect choice, so his skill…

The slender young man was unsurprised to see Ah A, even smiling slightly, while Ah A frowned at him.

Why him?

He looked again at the woman standing ahead of the group, so poised, and his frown deepened. Still, at Old Shi’s call, he took a few steps, glanced back, then jogged forward.

“Heh, I remember your name is Ah A,” the other said.

“Wind Slayer…” Ah A asked.

Wind Slayer smiled. “Are you sure you want to fight me?”

Now that the challenge had been issued, refusal was not an option.

Ah A raised an eyebrow, handed his phone and belongings to a senior brother, rolled his shoulders, and asked, “Do you want to use weapons?”

Nearby, a rack of weapons had already been carried out and arranged—clearly, this contest was prearranged, not spontaneous.

“No… I’d rather not hurt anyone.”

“But I want to,” Ah A replied bluntly. In truth, he was a street kid, hardened by a rough life. Gentlemanly conduct meant nothing to him—only achieving his goal mattered.

Wind Slayer gave him a glance but didn’t press the point. “You first, then.”

If you go first, I can use a weapon later if I wish.

Ah A chose a short-handled Tang saber. With his temperament, he was ill-suited to the sweeping power of a guandao, or the refined elegance of a sword; the cunning and technical Tang saber suited him perfectly.

Lately, he had been training with the Tang saber, and the senior brothers nodded approvingly. He was clever—not arrogant, choosing his greatest strength, unlike those who foolishly clung to pride.

Saber in hand, his unruly aura became sharp and imposing. Ah A took a few steps forward. Wind Slayer remained motionless, but his clothes stirred slightly, a sign of inner strength shifting the air.

Ah A took a left-forward stance, right leg back, body low, both hands gripping the saber before his navel. The stance made many disciples solemn. Wind Slayer narrowed his eyes and flicked the cigarette from his fingers.

The butt hit the ground, scattering ash and sparks.

In a flash, Wind Slayer moved like the wind itself, his form a blur of shadow, appearing before Ah A in an instant. With a twist of his body, he lifted his leg and struck out—a kick like a raging gale!

A mighty wind rises and the clouds are swept aside!

Such was the force of his attack.

In that very moment, the blade rose!

The powerful kick met the saber’s edge.

Would the leg break, or the blade yield?

Bang!

A dull, resonant crack rang out—the leg’s shadow grew faster and fiercer, while the saber’s speed increased, its dominance and cunning shifting in an instant.

The wind howled, growing ever more intense!

The disciples were silent, and Sui Yi stood by the doorway behind the trees, watching quietly. The scent of osmanthus seemed all the more intoxicating.

Ahead, at a slant.

“The first form of the Zhen Guan Saber Technique—‘Crosswise Blade, Mounted Warrior,’” the woman intoned coolly, her slender fingers twirling a small cluster of fallen osmanthus blossoms. As she rolled them between her fingers, their fragrance wafted through the air. She smiled. “Old Shi, you have an excellent eye.”

Old Shi stroked his white beard, nodding with a smile. Taking this disciple, he felt, was the greatest reward of his return home.

Of course, such words he would never say to the others. (To be continued.)