Qian Ye emerged, and the once-shouting youth immediately flinched back. After retreating, he only realized something was wrong and felt an embarrassing loss of face. He stiffened his neck and shouted, “This is the Bai family’s territory! You, you had better not act recklessly!”
The tall and imposing young man at the forefront felt humiliation and anger mixed together. Grabbing that man and pulling him behind his back, he stared at Qian Ye with ill intent and said, “Dare you still appear in the Empire? A vampire…”
Before he could finish speaking, his sentence was cut short by a loud laughter from Song Zining. “We emerged from The Neutral Land undefeated, claimed dominance in the Floating Land Campaign and earned the foremost merit. This has gained public acceptance in imperial courts! So how—how dares you—people like you who don’t hold even an iota of achievement, dare to question our legitimacy?”
The tall youth wasn’t foolish; he quickly understood the potential danger lurking behind Song Zining’s words. Glancing towards several elders who were engaged in a quiet game of strategy nearby, one of the elders gently shook his fingers holding a tile to subtly indicate the youth not to provoke further.
Thus, the tall, young leader gained clarity and said, “The exploits and achievements of the seventh Young Master have won our sincere admiration. My own words before, admittedly crude, I apologize on behalf of myself now. But this…you showing up at Ningyu Mansion like this? Even ignoring past grudges, many of our kinsmen cannot accept this. What is to be done with such matters hanging heavy between us?”
Song Zining glanced toward Qian Ye, who, with a cold tone and without expression, bluntly commanded,“Kill the rebellious and be done. Who’s got time for this nonsense!”
Inside this section belonged wholly to the youth of the Bai Clan, a collective of passionate, blood-racing young minds. Opposing Qian Ye and Song Zining who appeared hardly older, although not much younger—Qian Ye, to many gathered, might have been younger still. Under such circumstances, who could restrain their tempers amidst this brewing challenge?
“This is within Bai territory!” One man, a mask of menace, clearly articulated one biting word after another.
“So now within *your territory* you feel free to disregard all manner of order and propriety?”Song Zining fired back with a tongue as sharp as any cutlass. He’d never been scared of words or enemies, not at any level.
“Meaning what by that?! You explain yourself right now or you don’t leave here!” the man screamed irately.
With calm disdain, Song said, “There is no debt you can’t settle in blood. If that is their grudge they bear, then let them confront us and have at it. As for attempting threats with such a crowd? Cowards and thugs charge together; that wouldn’t even shame the least reputable houses—perhaps, of course, in Bai’s case they’d welcome this very same dishonor.”
The group of younger Bai roared with collective fury but curses rained from mere mouths; their prominent leader retained a level head. He coolly remarked, “You, Seventh Young Master, you speak of laws and manners like those aren’t rules we don’t all understand just fine. You’ve arrived yourself at Ningyu Court, I suppose no need to explain the standards here? No objections there, are there?”
“Just face us one-to-one. I don’t really care otherwise what you pull next,”Song Zining remarked offhandedly while shrugging with clear arrogance.
“Greatly humbled indeed by your condescension to the Bai!”
Yet it was at that moment that Bai’s confidence cracked as Song coldly snapped,“Since Bai Ao Tu rose…Bai’s best still has none worthy a proper respect from me!”
Previously Bai Ao Tu was Bai family’s most fearsome youth. When young and full of fire and fury in strength, she surpassed Zhao Jung during parts of his prime, pursued with merciless intensity leaving Qian Ye with absolutely nowhere in this world safe enough to run. With Bai Ao Tu’s power waning now, no current lineal member of Bai family rivals the ever ascending might of Zhao Jung. Of course, perhaps Bai Kong Zhao is still alive and formidable—but ultimately, in their minds, not quite considered truly belonging. Bai family had clung tightly to dignity matters of this degree for quite the duration.
Also from ancient battlefield memories like Iron Curtain where Bai was shattered deeply during brutal bloodshed, be said both individually and in combined combat they’ve suffered great shame by the hands of Qian Ye and Song Zining. When faced so candidly again with bitter pasts spoken now like blunt reality—there was no counter to such biting truth.
Bai was struck awkward, and the lead young leader, after a pause, erupted into loud laughter. “Fine then! If Seventh has spoken his heart out, then the Bai cannot simply ignore this challenge so plainly delivered by you now, yes? Let the battle remain undelay, here shall do—on this very ground!”
Song Zining nodded quickly in agreement.
“Bring our tools forth,” he bellowed out, “Make sure the land is clear!”
With youthful vigor, all sprang into motion, gathering and scattering efficiently. Within moments wide ground space was formed right near the door, armor-fortificated boards arranged below ground as protective flooring. Nearby came great crates dragged beside—opening one, it was laden with melee weaponry in every form imaginable; another brimming with various kinds of primal guns. Additional freighters stored defensive equipments of every form from thin lacrymose-leaf plates up through the heftiest of full battle gear armor suits.
Truly one of the great Four Clans, the Bai displayed its deep foundations; these gear choices were of highest quality, and many pieces would’ve been simply unobtainable to any ordinary purse outside. Song cast a cold amused gaze at the leader—they’d readied up swiftly and covered every aspect of preparation impressively, perhaps overly eagerly.
Unperturbed, the leader offered,“Take whatever the two need. The Bai youths will arm themselves thusly too.”
Providing standardized armaments is traditional courtesies practiced amoung esteemed clans, for visiting challengers seldom arrived armed to their fullest potential—thus was a perfect opening where grand families may display their magnanimous stature accordingly.
Another unspoken etiquette among houses dictated challengers faced successive contests. A privilege of the home territory that was commonly assumed fair, as it were, though such challenges came often under a gentle rule—for example, best over three matches might bring an acceptable conclusion; but dragging through dozens like an exhausting cycle, though victory may result from effort—would tarnish the name of any honorable clan. Among great Houses such things weren’t about short-lived wins and defeats as much as they were long-term face and family honor.
But Song, accepting this very condition with a bravado laced tone, left even this silent convention unobserved entirely—he offered a challenge wide open! Send a thousand men if Bai deemed worthy. Bai could bring a legion if so wished.
Thus had Song’s boldness stung Bai hearts of these youths pridefully ablaze.
First to step up from the Bai side was a heavily-built man, likely reaching the tenth tier. Cloaked in armor, shielding himself with heavy metal buckler; in battle, his long breath meant his endurance would last for drawn engagements. The sole purpose would be to drain a challenger’s primal energy rather than any hope of decisive battle.
Exactly the sort of lumbering tank opponents that were a joy for Song’s mastery; Within Song’s ‘Three Thousand Falling Leaves’ aura realm—these clumsy, thick-armored fools would simply question realities of movement as each would be mocked and tricked relentlessly around the battlefield.
But with Song on the brink of stepping in—Qian Ye gently but firmly pulled him to stop.
With his face expressionless and unmoved, calmly stated，“I’ve grown weary of their child’s play… I end this now.”
“Fine then… Be careful,” Song warned carefully, still anxious as further words escaped him. “Easy blows alright. No need to knock too hard or cause damage.”
Nodding once in agreement，“So it shall be.”
A conversation carried out with such deliberate solemnity made both appear gravely invested—it was like an exchange between masters of the old school. And yet its content only managed to inflame the gathering Bai youth further in utter aggravation.
One Bai warrior already entered and hammered against his thick hammer against shield, producing thunderous reverberations, venting his fury.
Qian Ye took notice neither of challenge nor provocation; he simply strode forward unflinching. In quick strides he advanced—soon enough in range where with no delay, launched his first move. He suddenly drove out with a palm, striking the warrior’s chest directly.
Cackling with menace, the armored brute slammed hammer and shield downward in a crushing strike on the approaching limb—enough force in this single strike to shatter bones of any ordinary practitioner.
Yet Qian Ye—undaunted and uncaring—simply allowed the blow to fall against his palm. Feleing nothing at all, the strike did nothing, barely even a moment’s hesitation. His hand grasped the throat of foe in iron grip and lifted man in air effortlessly.
Such raw strength, such a massive warrior, yet he hung in Qian’s grip limbs useless flailing—unable to lift hand or fight against it! A powerful left hand flashed—a sharp, resounding SLAP! He sent the massive armored brute sailing ten meters through air crashing to ground in immediate blackouts.
All that had just unfolded happened so swiftly—the gathered had hardly time enough to react, still stunned in anticipation before their champion’s defeat. As the stunned warriors collapsed in unconsciousness a few swiftly moved to verify him—scrambling over to him with flustered hands, finally relief emerged as one called out,“He still breathes, nothing more than knocked unconscious.”
Their tension eased momentarily before the gazes of Bai turned furious toward this unthinkably audacious opponent. The stronger warriors, frowning deeply. Through that brief match did none spot Qian Ye manifest so much of a flick of primal force! But how had he beaten that massive fighter so effortlessly and instantly? Such ease as taking the life of a mere fowl, it seemed so impossibly trivial?
Their leader shouted with rage, demanding explanation from Qian Ye,“Qian Ye—you hit him so harshly, what purpose does that kind of brutality serve now?!”
Yet Qian’s icy smirk cut through with mockery, calmly rebutting. “I struck no vital spot, what reason say harm was intended here?”
The words silenced all as they knew a slap to a warrior’s face—though technically nonlethal—held humiliation far harsher than damage done. The leader stood speechless; red faced.
Standing aside but watching carefully, Song struggled to decide whether intervention needed his words or mere silence was wiser. Finally shaking his head, understanding within that after beholding Bai Ao Tu’s present condition, wrath boiled within Qian. The fury had driven him to not allow even one single opportunity of respect or dignified retreat. Even the harsh trials within the great Song Clan, facing the Council of Esteemed Elders, Qian’s mercy in his victories was more pronounced when side-by-side against these methods of brutal dominance today.
For he had once shared brotherly battlefields where life depended beside one-another; Qian Ye considered all comrades—fellow warriors. In defense of his brothers he feared no enemies that might rise against him.
At that moment, for Bai Clan’s young chieftain, his face had flickered a storm-like expression only fleetingly as he forced an artificial grim humor across his face.
“Marvelously done, simply exceptional. Such generous teachings you bestow upon us! It would be the gravest disrespect for Bai to leave that lesson unanswered. Bai Longfei, step forth and learn from Master Qian’s expertise!”
Out came Bai Longfei, clean-shaven with a pale-skinned visage that appeared aged around thirty with twin daggers at his back. Stepping forth into the field, his stride revealed an elegant display of speed—an individual barely leaving dust trailing his gentle steps, exhibiting his swift gifts.
Careful to avoid direct confrontation, Bai Longfei chose another path to exploit the field, moving around Qian with swiftness to wear away some portion of the latter’s reserves or, at least, slowly deplete Qian’s primal strength little by little.
Around circled Longfei three laps in the blink of any eye—an image of grace like a current of air in swiftest movement he was! With his spirit buoyed in confidence—thinking proud thoughts of how impressively he had performed, suddenly—an enormous hand emerged with an abruptness defying reality—an ethereal strike from nowhere! Nowhere indeed was a place to hide—no room for evasive action. Only a heartbeat to panic as the cold steel grip found his throat again and yanked him bodily into midair helplessly.
“How?!”
The thought passed through his head before darkness. A second slap! His vision burst into black even quicker with another echoing sound, and consciousness followed into unconsciousness.
But to watchers, he simply ran straight into Qian with the arm snatching him seemingly waiting on cue, another ear-piercing slap later, he soared from field to being discarded outside like trash.
The head youth, his features twisting, greenish with fury spat command out,“Bai Longjing!”
In walked a newly summoned figure; this fellow had short stubby hair, an image suggesting raw practicality and combat-hardiness; swift and concise his movements were, lacking all form except brutal efficiency. An actual practitioner of battlefield proven skill.
Truly, this individual possessing vast experience had just stepped across Qian’s perimeter when another firm hand lifted him by the throat up for all to see. Another ear-slap sent him flying into oblivion before comprehension registered.
“Bai Longyu!”
“Bai Huyi!”
“Bai Chentian!”
“Bia…!”
Regardless of individual; whomever the Bai threw forward—it always happened—their match, no different than all others. Each simply slapped into darkness. The events all unfolding at too fast a pace—as if no movement had occurred, let alone the display of any primal arts. Before long nearly ten or more Bai combatants littered the area near the field side—all knocked down and laying around the ground groaning—visage of black, swelling skin across all cheekbones—one by one unconscious, slumps into nothing.
A large crowd had gathered to spectate at this display—silence, thick and suffocating! It was clear to keen eyed observers: there lay simply too wide an abyss between Master Qian’s realm of martial prowess and all these immature heirs of youth. Thus his ease in battle, his effortless single-palm strikes dropping entire combatant lineages in rows.
While there was no permanent harm to wounds, all bore their injuries across cheeks most shamefully.
The young Clan leader’s decorum finally cracked completely, his expression as stormlike as he growled bitterly,“Are you declaring eternal enmity with the great Bai family now?”
But facing such furious words and darkened gazes—Qian calmly stood motionless. Expression devoid, he uttered cool and softly:
“When matters advance thus far… is there truly a way left for us to reach any other end? A peaceful resolution…?”
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