Chapter Eight: There Are Always Fools in This World

After a while, Shi Qingxiang gently lifted his hand, brushing the leaves of a shrub by his side. A flash of green light flickered across his palm—everyone recognized this as "Verdant Wood Art," the most basic spell of the wood spiritual root, a technique every wood-rooted disciple of Pill Cliff Sect could perform. Since the wager was about who could endure longer in a state of spiritual exhaustion, any spiritual energy recovered during this period had to be immediately expended. After being completely depleted, spiritual energy returned only very slowly—over this half day, he could only manage to perform the "Verdant Wood Art" once.

Although Hongjian kept her eyes closed, she heard the murmured whispers around her and understood what had happened. She thought to herself, "How quick he is. No wonder Zhang Yu can't break through to the sixth layer of Qi Refining, but he can." At present, she could barely muster enough spiritual energy to use "Condensing Water Art" once, but she decided to wait a little longer—if she could get away with slacking, so be it. After all, she was only at the fourth layer of Qi Refining; recovering more slowly was perfectly normal.

Time crept by, and dusk was falling. The stalemate between Hongjian and Shi Qingxiang continued.

The two of them looked like a pair of water ghosts just dredged from the endless sea, their faces ghastly pale. Each time they managed to cast a spell, it was feeble and weak. A metallic taste rose in Hongjian’s throat, and her vision darkened in waves. She dared not secretly accumulate too much spiritual energy—one, for fear of being found out, and two, for worry that Shi Qingxiang might be playing the same trick. Everyone believed he should recover more quickly than she did, so she used that expectation to pressure him into using "Verdant Wood Art" as soon as possible. By now, victory was still uncertain, but her old spiritual injury had flared up again, just as she had hoped.

Ah, if only she didn’t have this old injury. Without it, there’s no way someone like Shi could ever be her match. Hongjian felt a little dizzy, a faint sweetness and metallic tang on her tongue. She bit through the skin inside her lip.

Fang Zheng’s wailing seemed to come from a great distance: "Sister, don’t do this anymore, let’s admit defeat, please, Sister, I’ll go get Master Pan..."

His crying irritated Hongjian, who dazedly thought, "What a pity, I haven’t even won yet, and the injury isn’t that bad. If Pan Cong comes, maybe—if he’s in a good mood—he’ll give me a Moonlight Pill." Fang Zheng’s wails continued, though it sounded as if someone was trying to calm him.

The taste of blood filled her mouth. Hongjian forced herself not to faint—if she fell, she’d lose, and not only would all her efforts be wasted, she’d have to remain silent for a month. Enduring the intense nausea, she cast "Condensing Water Art" one more time.

"See, I told you your sister’s fine; she knows her own limits. Stop making a fuss," came Zhang Yu’s voice.

"Zhang, why do I feel like punching you?" That sounded like Jiang Yan from Xianyun Sect.

"What are you so smug about? You only reached the seventh layer of Qi Refining a bit before me. The road ahead is long; let’s agree to a ten-year bet and see who’s stronger then." Zhang Yu gave a snort of laughter. "For your own good, listen to me—make fewer enemies. If you don’t survive the next ten years, that would be a shame."

"You think you can just say ten years and that’s it? Hell with that, I’ll beat you to a pulp right now!"

Amidst this chaos, Hongjian suddenly heard a voice: "I concede!"

She thought she must have misheard in her distress, but immediately everything around her grew quiet. Shi Qingxiang’s voice sounded again: "Enough, it’s over. I admit defeat."

"Junior brother Shi, what’s wrong with you? Losing to that little girl? You look way better off than she does!"

Almost as if in response to Jiang Yan’s dissatisfied shout, Hongjian felt her nerves relax, and a spasm seized her stomach and intestines. Unable to control the overwhelming nausea, she quickly turned her head aside, mouth open to retch. By this time, dinner had long since passed. During the day, she’d eaten little due to her worries, so she only dry-heaved some sour fluid. Fang Zheng rushed forward and threw his arms around her, sobbing, "Sister, sister, why are you coughing up blood?"

Hongjian wanted to explain that she was fine, that it wasn’t blood she’d vomited, and that he should stop clinging so tightly. But another wave of nausea interrupted her, and she hurriedly pushed her brother away.

At that moment, only Hongjian herself knew that her condition was not so dire. Whether it was Zhang Yu, Jiang Yan, or even Shi Qingxiang—who, pausing mid-conversation, now stared intently at her—they all looked startled to see her suddenly coughing up blood.

Seeing that she hadn’t really vomited anything serious, Zhang Yu steadied himself and sneered at the two from Xianyun Sect: "Whatever the case, you conceded this match."

Jiang Yan pointed at Hongjian, who was slumped on the ground, then looked at Shi Qingxiang—who, by now, seemed to have mostly recovered. He opened his mouth to argue, but Shi Qingxiang had already spoken: "Don’t worry, I won’t go back on my word."

Zhang Yu and the others saw Jiang Yan’s face sink. They ought to be mocking him, but somehow, seeing the scene before them, none of them could laugh. Zhang Yu pointed at Shi Qingxiang and reminded him, "About your wager with Junior Sister Fang: since you lost, you’ll have to be mute for a month. You’re not allowed to complain to the elders."

Shi Qingxiang showed no sign of irritation. Calmly, he said, "A promise is a promise. I won’t go back on my word. I’ll likely remain at your sect for the next month; since you all bear witness, just keep an eye on me."

As he spoke, he forced himself to stand, but swayed violently. Jiang Yan, startled, rushed to steady him, only then realizing how truly weak his brother was—if he didn’t rest and recover, he’d probably fall seriously ill. Panic surged in Jiang Yan’s heart, and he swallowed back any harsh words, pressing his lips together in silence.

Shi Qingxiang drew a deep breath. Benefitting from the spiritual energy of Springwood Grove, his recovery had been particularly rapid, so he deeply admired the little girl from Pill Cliff Sect before him. Seeing Fang Hongjian coughing blood, her complexion waxy yellow, clearly enduring the pain of an injured spirit, he felt even more remorseful. He summoned his last strength and said to her, "Sister Fang, this wager was pointless and meaningless, harming both of us. It was my fault; I shouldn’t have agreed. That’s first. Second, once I realized things were wrong, I should have immediately conceded. To cling to pride and force things to the point of mutual harm was mistake upon mistake. You’re still very young, yet possess such tenacity—I admire you. I was wrong to hold prejudices against the disciples of your sect in the Qi Refining stage. I’ve caused you injury. Here, I have a pill for healing spiritual wounds—please take it."

Hongjian, her eyes closed, had been pondering how to get her brother Fang Zheng and Zhang Yu to fetch Master Pan, when she heard Shi Qingxiang apparently apologizing. After all this ordeal, his voice was dry, but the more he spoke, the more earnest he became, and at the end, he even mentioned a pill. Wait—a pill?

Hongjian’s eyes flew open. She saw that wretched Jiang Yan, face sullen, reluctantly helping Shi Qingxiang fish a round pill from his inner pocket. He stalked over and thrust it at her. She reached out instinctively, and Jiang Yan gave a vicious snort: "This is the Weak Rain Pill Elder Zhu of my sect awarded Junior Brother Shi. He’d barely had it in his hand before you lucked out, you little brat!"

Shi Qingxiang watched as Hongjian took the pill, nodded at her, and left, supported by Jiang Yan.

Hongjian stared blankly after them, fingers closing tightly around the "Weak Rain Pill" from Xianyun Sect, her nose stinging with emotion.

The pill was hers at last.