Chapter Seven:

Hongjian saw Fang Zheng leading Zhang Yu and the others over and took a deep breath. At this point, there was no room for her to back down. She saluted first and began her accusation: “Senior brothers, I called you here because these two were just speaking nonsense, slandering our sect. My brother and I happened to overhear them.”

Shi Qingxiang frowned, but Jiang Yan had already barked, “What are you talking about?!”

Zhang Yu, who had long been holding in his anger towards the people of the Xianyun Sect, kept his expression stern. “Don’t be afraid, Junior Sister Fang. Just tell us exactly what happened. If necessary, we’ll go get Master Pan.”

Fang Zheng, anxious to the core, immediately chimed in, “I’ll go.”

But Hongjian would never let her brother go fetch Pan Cong at a time like this. She quickly pulled him back and sneered coldly at Jiang Yan, saying, “You just said yourself that there’s no one left in our Dan Cliff Sect. Am I falsely accusing you? And you also threatened me, telling me to watch my mouth, or you’d go beat up Senior Brother Zhang and Senior Brother Chen Zai. Did you say that or not?”

Zhang Yu hadn’t expected to be mentioned by name and flushed with anger, looking to Fang Zheng. Fang Zheng nodded quickly, “I heard it too.” Hongjian, standing to the side, couldn’t help but clench her small fists, secretly praising her brother: “Good boy!”

The apprentices of the Dan Cliff Sect were in an uproar. They weren’t close with Hongjian, but they trained daily with Fang Zheng, who, like them, had a wood spirit root. Everyone knew the boy was honest to a fault. Since he vouched for it, it couldn’t be wrong. All eyes, now burning with anger, turned to Jiang Yan and Shi Qingxiang.

Zhang Yu’s eyes reddened. This was the same “arrogant pest” he’d fought the other day, who, after discovering Zhang Yu was easy to bully, clearly intended to keep squeezing him like a soft persimmon. If Zhang Yu weren’t sure he’d lose in a fight, he’d have already rushed up to settle the score. Pointing a trembling finger at Jiang Yan and Shi Qingxiang, he stammered, “You’re just Foundation Establishment disciples—what’s there to be so proud of? Just you wait. Sooner or later, someone will deal with you!”

Jiang Yan opened his mouth, but seeing Zhang Yu so agitated, he was at a loss for words. What the little girl reported truly was what he’d said, but he hadn’t meant it like that.

Jiang Yan tried to explain, but Shi Qingxiang pulled him aside, first addressing Zhang Yu, “You misunderstood. That’s not what we meant at all.” Then, ignoring the others, he turned to Hongjian. “Since your people are here, speak. What do you want to compete in? I’ll accept any challenge.”

Shi Qingxiang was more composed and steady than Jiang Yan. He’d already realized that in a battle of words, neither he nor Jiang Yan was any match for this little girl. Besides, he was truly angry now and wanted to teach Fang Hongjian a lesson. Once she lost the wager and couldn’t make wild accusations anymore, he’d have plenty of time to explain things to these fools from the Dan Cliff Sect.

Sure enough, the little girl didn’t press the issue further but succinctly told Zhang Yu and the others about the bet. Without waiting for Zhang Yu to react, she turned back to Shi Qingxiang, putting on a serious face. “Senior Brother Shi, I’m younger and only at the fourth layer of Qi Condensation. In any other contest, I’d be no match for you, nor would it be fair. So let’s see who can endure longer after depleting all our spiritual energy. We’ll both exhaust our spiritual power, and whoever holds out the longest wins.”

The assemblage of disciples exchanged uncertain glances. Shi Qingxiang hesitated; he knew well the unpleasantness of total spiritual depletion. Their elders had only ever let them experience it briefly as a warning to use their energy wisely. In a real fight, if you ran out of spiritual power, you’d lose before the duel was over. Moreover, such a contest risked damaging one’s spirit. He didn’t believe he would lose, but he did worry things might spiral out of control.

Hongjian, having finally come up with this solution, had no intention of letting him withdraw. She quickly reassured Zhang Yu and the others, then goaded Shi Qingxiang: “Senior Brother Shi, you can’t say this has nothing to do with cultivation, can you? A true man never goes back on his word. If you’re afraid to compete, just admit defeat.”

Zhang Yu added, “Don’t worry, Junior Sister. We’ll make sure he doesn’t try any tricks.” He’d seen through it as well—this was a fair wager. If Hongjian lost, so be it; but if, by chance, she won, Shi Qingxiang would be forbidden to speak for a month—let’s see how arrogant he’d be then!

Shi Qingxiang shot Zhang Yu a cold glare. At this point, there was nothing more to say. He turned to Hongjian. “Fine. Let’s begin.”

With that, he pointed casually at a spot not far away. The “Demon-Subduing Vine” burst from the earth, several green tendrils wrapping around a huge boulder and heaving it into the air. With a crash, it slammed down again, sending dust billowing—a display of his anger and strength.

After such exertion, he drew back, addressing Hongjian, “I’m about done. Your turn.”

All Hongjian could manage was the “Water Condensation Technique.” She did as instructed, slowly depleting her spiritual power. Both began to feel the discomfort of utter exhaustion. The wager had begun; now it was simply a matter of who could hold out longer.

Recently, Hongjian’s spiritual sense injury had been minor; after so many days of recuperation, she was nearly healed. Yet putting herself into a state of total depletion again could easily exacerbate her weakness, inflicting new harm on her spirit. She was well aware of the risks. Her plan was to win cleanly in front of Zhang Yu and the others, restore her sect’s honor by defeating Shi Qingxiang, and, by enduring new injuries, elicit the pity of Pan Cong or another elder. Whether it was a Moonflower Pill or any other medicine for healing the spirit, she could hold out and give it to the strange man at the Boulder Shoals in exchange for some other benefit.

Thinking all this, Hongjian smiled bitterly to herself, feeling she was driven by gain and profit, willing to risk her very life for advantage.

The torment of spiritual depletion was not lessened by familiarity. The only reason she dared to challenge Shi Qingxiang, whose cultivation far surpassed her own, was her abnormal rate of spiritual recovery.

Her head throbbed as if it would split apart. Her sea of consciousness was empty save for her water spirit root, circulating in loneliness. Her hollow meridians felt squeezed, as if they might be forcibly ripped from her body. Cold sweat streamed down her forehead, dripping from her chin. She felt like a fish thrown onto dry land.

She hadn’t the strength to look at Shi Qingxiang. The injury to her spirit was not fully healed, and this time was far less bearable than after using the myriad transformation technique. She closed her eyes and sat down, leaning slowly against a large tree, thinking, “I forgot we’re in the Spring Forest—this gives Shi Qingxiang an advantage.” The Spring Forest greatly benefited those cultivating with a wood spirit root, just as water spirit root cultivators favored the Infinite Sea. Still, so long as Shi Qingxiang didn’t concede, she would not give up.

All around was quiet. Zhang Yu and the others focused their attention on Shi Qingxiang.

Shi Qingxiang was clearly suffering as well. His face had turned bluish, and he sat cross-legged on the grass, sweat soaking his back. Yet, perhaps because he kept his posture straight, the young man did not appear too bedraggled.