Watching Xiao Ning crash into the crowd below, alive or dead no one yet knew, the entire gathering fell once more into silence.
After a long moment, pair after pair of eyes — as though fixed upon some specter — turned to rest upon the black-robed youth on the high platform. Though few could truly grasp what had happened, all had witnessed with their own eyes Xiao Ning's sudden surge in strength. And yet, against all expectation, in the wake of that very surge Xiao Ning had lost even more decisively, more completely, than before. One fist — and he was gravely wounded.
On the seats of honor, Ya Fei watched the abrupt turn upon the stage, and one pale, slender hand rose slowly to cover her tempting lips. The full swell of her chest rose and fell, tracing lines of breathtaking curve.
"Such a ferocious Dou Technique... What grade could it be? Mysterious-grade? How could that be?" She drew in a sharp breath, and her shock ran deep. She knew all too well how rare and how stubbornly difficult Mysterious-grade Dou Techniques were — to obtain, and to master.
Reeling beneath that astonishment for a good while, Ya Fei finally felt her thoughts steady and return to themselves. Raking back over the formidable technique Xiao Yan had just used, a faint frown creased her delicate brows, and her mind raced: "If I recall aright, the highest Dou Technique the Xiao clan possesses should be but a low-grade Mysterious one — the 'Lion Mountain Split' — which pairs with the Mysterious-grade method 'Raging Lion Whirlwind'. But the technique that young master just displayed..."
Her long lashes flickered once, twice. The hand that held her teacup suddenly tightened, and a silent suspicion formed in her heart: "...it certainly was not the Lion Mountain Split. Could it be that this technique was never taught to him by Xiao Zhan?"
A glint of sharp light passed through her half-lidded, languid eyes. She turned her head ever so subtly, by the barest degree — and chanced to catch, upon Xiao Zhan's face, a flicker of hidden, barely-suppressed shock.
"So it truly was not a technique taught by Xiao Zhan, then." Her bountiful chest fell gently as she let the breath go. Her slender fingers, smooth as young jade, twisted restlessly together behind her teacup. Recalling how utterly at ease Xiao Yan had seemed wielding those techniques, a thought struck her with sudden force: "In that case, this little fellow must have a master behind him. For a Mysterious-grade Dou Technique is not something a mere boy could fumble his way into mastering with such perfect polish, all on his own."
"To be able to teach a Mysterious-grade technique... that hidden person must be at the very least a Dou Ling. Perhaps even more than that." A grave, sober note entered her beautiful face. Gracefully she set her cup down, and her eyes, filled with a lingering, appraising curiosity, slowly wandered over the delicate-featured youth out on the stage. "This little thing... he grows more mysterious by the day. It truly makes one long, against one's will, to know."
"Ahh... this boy Yan'er of mine grows harder and harder to fathom." While Ya Fei turned such thoughts over in her heart, Xiao Zhan on the bench beside her could not help but sigh to himself as well. Even he had been moved to silent applause by the technique Xiao Yan had just unleashed. So clean and decisive was its force that, seeing it purely as a question of attack power, it could rival — perhaps even match — the clan's Mysterious-grade Lion Mountain Split.
Slowly he shook his head, let out a breath, and his eyes burned with a sharp light. "There is someone behind Yan'er, teaching him. That much seems certain."
"But who?" He rubbed his own chin, and then, almost without meaning to, let his gaze drift toward Xun'er, seated far away below the stage. At that very moment, the girl's lovely face wore a soft, faint smile as her eyes rested upon the youth who had just made such a spectacle of himself upon the platform.
"Could it be her?" He turned the suspicion over in his mind for a while, and then, remembering how intimately Xun'er had always been treated by Xiao Yan, a measure of ease finally settled into his heart.
...
On the high platform, Xiao Yan belched out a long, murky breath. The arms that had hardened like stone quietly returned to normal, and the sleeves that had bulged taut relaxed and fell soft once more.
Rolling his head upon his neck, Xiao Yan glanced down at Xiao Yu, who was frantically lifting the unconscious Xiao Ning from the ground. His face remained cold, and he felt not the faintest flicker of pity. Had he not possessed those two Mysterious-grade techniques to shield him, the very fist that had just been thrown might well have snapped his right arm in two. Since that boy had shown him no mercy, Xiao Yan saw no reason to play the fool who plays the kindly fool to everyone who wrongs him.
Slowly he drew back his fist and turned his head toward the Second Elder, who stood near him still frozen in astonishment. His voice flat, he asked: "Is the match finished now?"
The Second Elder gulped, shook himself back to his senses, and nodded hurriedly, on the verge of crying out the outcome of the contest — when a furious, sharp cry cut him off.
"Hold!" From below the stage, Xiao Yu, taking in her brother Xiao Ning's blood-soaked, near-lifeless form, bit down savagely on her lip and shouted through her anger.
The Second Elder frowned and demanded sternly: "Xiao Yu, what are you doing?"
Xiao Yu carefully handed the unconscious Xiao Ning to a clansman behind her, then leapt lithely up onto the platform, glaring at Xiao Yan with utter hatred: "Xiao Ning is your cousin, whatever else he may be! How could you strike him so cruelly?"
Xiao Yan gave a cold, derisive laugh at the accusation written across her face, and shot back without turning fully to face her: "It was nothing more than a challenge of no meaning whatsoever — and yet he broke the rules and swallowed a medicine pill. Did you see the way he came at me? Do you honestly think he was showing me any mercy? Had I not fought back, it would be me lying down there now — and when that happened, would you be screaming at him on my behalf? He is a person, and so am I. All you know how to do, Xiao Yu, is cling to smug, one-sided favoritism. What else can you possibly do?"
Struck silent by that rapid volley of rebukes, Xiao Yu felt a lump catch in her throat. Her flushed, pretty face went white, then red. Proud as she was, when had she ever been lectured so publicly by one younger than herself? She drew a long breath, fought down the temper that surged up ready to burst, and said, her voice icy: "I care nothing for your fine excuses. All I know is that you have hurt my brother. Now I challenge you — and if you have the spine, then fight me."
"Xiao Yu, get down from there! This is no place for your foolery! The rules of this contest are for those below the rank of Dou Warrior, and you have no standing here!" the Second Elder barked in fury from the side.
Xiao Yu bit her lip stubbornly, her gaze fixed upon Xiao Yan with hatred. "Are you telling me you dare not accept?" she asked, her voice dripping with contempt.
"This fool of a woman."
Xiao Yan cursed her savagely in the depths of his mind. His battle with Xiao Ning had already drained a good portion of his Dou Qi. Facing now Xiao Yu, who stood at the Three-Star Dou Warrior rank, he knew full well how grave his disadvantage would be.
"You would not refuse the challenge of a girl, would you?" Seeing that cold light gather in Xiao Yan's eyes, Xiao Yu felt a rush of savage satisfaction, and sneered.
Xiao Yan touched his nose and felt the muscles at the corner of his mouth twitch. Then, abruptly, the darkness in his pupils turned to a blaze of danger.
Just as Xiao Yan braced himself to trade blows with this long-legged woman at any cost, a girl's voice, pure as the ripple of silver bells, drifted softly up onto the high platform.
"Cousin Xiao Yu. Xiao Yan-ge is spent, and to challenge him now is to strike a man when he is weary. If you truly wish for a match, then let Xun'er spare with you instead — would that be agreeable?"