Chapter 23 — The Contest

Tian Lingsu was plainly young and hot-blooded. The moment the bell ceased she pointed a finger forward, and in an instant rosy light flashed, swift as lightning. The Amber-Red Silk Sash raised a great wind that stung the face as it rushed at Shen Tiandou.

Shen Tiandou had not expected Tian Lingsu to strike the instant she spoke. Seeing the Amber-Red Silk Sash come rushing at him in the blink of an eye, he hastily retreated two steps, shook both hands, and the immortal sword before him blazed with light and went to meet it.

Rosy light and gray-brown radiance collided at the center of the platform. With a "peng" both Tian Lingsu and Shen Tiandou shook—but at once they steadied themselves, and the two treasures locked in a stalemate in midair.

Below the platform, Tian Buhui's brows knitted, and Su Wan said in surprise: "Yi—this Shen Tiandou's cultivation is not low." At the same time the Zhaoyang Peak disciples below let out a great roar in unison: "Good!"

The shout of a hundred-odd people was indeed no small thing, and at once it overwhelmed the cheering of the Dazhu Peak folk. Old Sixth Du Biyan said, "So it's all about volume? It's not a contest of lungs."

On the platform the two treasures remained locked a moment longer, neither giving way, then both were drawn back at once. Shen Tiandou trod the Seven Stars, his face grave, murmuring an incantation, then shouted: "Hasten!"

His gray-brown immortal sword shot abruptly skyward, and a moment later, swift as lightning, came striking down from directly above Tian Lingsu's head. Before the sword reached the ground, her robes and skirts were billowing and a fierce wind rose all around.

Tian Lingsu was not flustered and showed no thought of retreat. Her left hand seized the Amber-Red Silk Sash as it flew back before her and pulled it up over her head; at once the rosy light spread like gauze, the sash widening several times over in an instant and weaving a barrier of rosy radiance above her head. Quick as thought, while Shen Tiandou's face was still grave, the immortal sword with a "zheng" struck the rosy light once more; the red glow shuddered violently but held, unharmed.

Only then did Su Wan breathe easy. She said in a low voice to Tian Buhui: "That child Ling'er—so overbold."

Tian Buhui gave a grunt and shook his head.

Shen Tiandou's gray-brown immortal sword struck once and accomplished nothing; it folded upward. Tian Lingsu, however, did not pause for even an instant. Where the amber-red silk flared with its rosy glow, it suddenly grew ten times its length. With a delicate cry from Tian Lingsu, the amber-red silk shed its soft and supple nature entirely and became like a single enormous staff, hanging perfectly straight across the air, one end gripped in Tian Lingsu's hand.

Below the platform the spectators erupted in an uproar, gasps of amazement spilling one after another without end.

Tian Lingsu did not hesitate another moment. She swept her right hand, and the giant staff that the amber-red silk had become gave a "whoosh" through the air and came crashing down straight toward Shen Tiandou's head.

Shen Tiandou's brows knitted tight, his face grave. In that brief instant his immortal sword had already flown back into his hand. He set his jaw, right hand gripping the sword, left hand flexing and extending. The giant staff was about to strike his head; below the platform the crowd held its breath. Then, with a sudden tremendous crash, the wooden platform before him—flat and level but an instant before—split apart, and five or six great boulders burst up through the boards to shield him.

Below the platform, Tian Buhui and Su Wan both paled slightly. By contrast, Shang Zhenglan, the seat-holder of Chaoyang Peak, nodded again and again.

With a single resounding "boom," the rosy-glowing staff smashed violently into the rock. In an instant dust billowed up and hung over the whole platform. Tian Lingsu felt her whole body shudder; her opponent's "rock-commanding art" was truly impregnable, and the entire length of amber-red silk rebounded upon her.

The dust had not yet settled. Shen Tiandou's face was faintly pale, yet even now he gave no pause. With a great shout from his throat he drifted up onto the immense boulder, seized the hilt with both hands, and his gray-brown immortal sword blazed with light as he drove it into the rock—hard beyond hardness—cleaving it like a knife through bamboo.

"Crack, crack, crack!" A series of dull, hoarse, utterly rasping sounds of shattering rose. Tian Lingsu's expression changed; she felt the ground beneath her feet shaking without cease. Then came more great crashes, and the wooden boards beneath her all burst apart. Amid the "rumbling," countless huge and jagged rocks shot up from the earth, and where Tian Lingsu had stood, the ground was stabbed into a body riddled beyond recognition.

"Ah!" Below the platform Zhang Qingyue cried out despite himself, but at once clamped his mouth shut. Tian Buhui and his wife had both gone grim, and Su Wan's face held a note of alarm. The Chaoyang Peak disciples, by contrast, cheered loudly, thunderous applause rolling out.

"Well done, Senior Brother Shen!"

"Truly formidable!"

"Victory is ours!"

The shouts rose and fell one upon another. Dust filled the platform as well, so thick one could scarcely see anything, but Shen Tiandou, standing high atop the boulder, showed not the slightest sign of relaxing. His eyes were wide, searching the surroundings carefully. Sure enough, moments later, in the thick dust above the boulder ahead, a rosy light flashed. In an instant it blazed brilliant, and there was Tian Lingsu, like a red phoenix, bursting suddenly into flight. The amber-red silk streamed with shifting radiance, whirling ceaselessly about her.

Tian Lingsu's face was stern, her almond eyes shooting out a piercing cold light. Both hands formed the mudra, then she swung them heavily downward. The amber-red silk halted abruptly, then plunged straight into the earth like a venomous snake, boring through those hard rocks with sheer force.

Shen Tiandou's face changed drastically. Without a thought he floated backward, and indeed, just where he had been standing, the amber-red silk—a venomous snake a moment before—now burst furiously up from below like a red dragon, and the spot where he had stood exploded in flying sand and shattered stone, a great hole torn open, its violence enough to chill the blood.

Tian Lingsu, now in midair, formed orchid mudras with both hands, crossed them before her chest, and cried out: "Bind the Spirit!"

The amber-red silk checked in the air, and with a crisp report its radiance surged. It grew on the wind, swelling in moments to who knew how many times its length, blotting out sky and sun. It flew swiftly, now circling aloft, now plunging into the earth and bursting up again on the other side, and with Shen Tiandou at the center, countless red silks wrapped him tightly round in a ring.

The folk of Dazhu Peak could not help exchanging glances. Two years ago, in her duel with Lin Jinghong, Tian Lingsu had used this same wondrous art of "Bind the Spirit." Today its power seemed even greater—sky and earth both enclosed. Who could say how Shen Tiandou compared to Lin Jinghong of that year?

As Tian Lingsu's incantation sounded again and again, the amber-red silk as a whole became a giant red sphere, pressing inward without cease. Through the seams, beneath the rosy glow, a faint gray-brown light could still be seen; Shen Tiandou was clearly still resisting stubbornly. Yet though the red silks slowed under that resistance, they pressed inward still, irresistibly.

Below the platform, all was silent. The Chaoyang Peak disciples had fallen quiet, watching the great red sphere tensely. Everyone knew what happened when one of the immortal treasures bore down like this and a man could hold out no longer.