Chapter 162: The Yao Family’s Brat

This was indeed his own fault. Meng Qi apologetically nodded to the people at the tavern and retracted his left hand from the table.

However, the swordsman refused to let it go, drunkenly cursing, “You brat, is an apology really that simple? Then if I slash you once, will a nod erase it?”

He charged toward Meng Qi, sword still in its sheath, slashing diagonally downward, intending to teach the brat a lesson.

Meng Qi slightly shook his head, casually moving the position of the longsword lying across the table.

Before the swordsman’s blade could descend, he suddenly saw himself rushing straight toward Meng Qi’s sword hilt. Worse yet, he would strike a vital point on his waist before even landing a hit!

Panicking, he changed his move, swinging his sword sideways to propel himself aside, narrowly avoiding the stationary hilt.

Under the influence of alcohol, he staggered, nearly falling flat on his face, drawing laughter from the tavern patrons.

Enraged, the swordsman activated his martial arts techniques, intending to circle behind Meng Qi and thrust the sheathed sword into his back.

Yet as he took his first step, he saw the longsword had somehow shifted direction again, once more pointing its hilt directly at his waist. The timing was perfect, the positioning precise. Despite both swords being the same length, he would definitely collide with the hilt before landing his strike.

Meanwhile, Meng Qi looked at Zhang Yuanshan, speaking gently and sincerely, “Brother Zhang, if you’re not ready to decide, go home and get a good night’s sleep. Think it through and make your decision afterward. Whether you choose family or Miss Zhenzhen, as your friend, I will support you.”

The swordsman forcibly adjusted his stance, shifting to Meng Qi’s left side and preparing to swing his sword sideways.

Suddenly, a numbness shot through his waist, freezing his entire body in place. Before he realized it, Meng Qi’s sword had already been positioned there—but this time, it was the tip of the scabbard quietly awaiting his collision!

His drunkenness vanished instantly, his eyes filled with terror and fear. Had this opponent truly defeated him without even drawing his sword, moving his feet, or raising his hand?

The onlookers in the tavern could no longer laugh. Though the swordsman wasn’t the strongest, he was widely acknowledged as a skilled martial artist among the regulars at this tavern. Even though he was drunk, his basic martial foundation remained, and no one present dared to claim they could easily defeat him. Yet this seemingly frail young man had done so without even launching an attack, merely by adjusting the placement of his sword, sealing the swordsman’s own acupoints.

What kind of sword technique was this, so unfathomable and supernatural?

Since Meng Qi had not used internal energy, the swordsman gradually recovered after a brief paralysis. Seeing that Meng Qi ignored him, he quickly fled the tavern.

“Walk with me outside for some fresh air,” Zhang Yuanshan gritted his teeth, stood up, grabbed his sword, tossed down a silver coin, and walked out of the tavern, intending to calm himself before making a final decision.

His internal cultivation surpassed Meng Qi’s, so even after drinking most of a jar, his steps remained steady and his speech clear.

Meng Qi hadn’t drunk much, so he followed out without any adverse effects, sword in hand.

The sky had already darkened, the sun vanishing in the west.

“Have you already gotten engaged?” Meng Qi asked.

Zhang Yuanshan grunted affirmatively, his eyes vacant, as if locked in intense inner turmoil.

The two walked slowly, one behind the other, circling around Tonglong Town, the night breeze brushing their faces, bringing a chill that dispelled Meng Qi’s post-drinking warmth.

When they reached the open fields outside, a figure carrying two swords on his back emerged from behind a tree, blocking their path.

Under the moonlight rising in the east, Meng Qi saw the figure clearly. He was short, with delicate features and a youthful appearance. His slightly raised eyes gave him an air of arrogance—an arrogant young man.

“Disciple Yao, why are you blocking us?” Zhang Yuanshan asked gravely. His mood was terrible, lacking his usual gentleness.

Disciple Yao—was this the younger Yao brother, Yao Xingliu? Meng Qi recalled Zhang Yuanshan’s earlier introduction. Judging by age, he couldn’t be Yao Xinghen—although the Yao family had many descendants, few were as highly regarded by Zhang Yuanshan.

He was supposed to be seventeen already? Yet he was half a head shorter than Meng Qi, looking like a thirteen or fourteen-year-old kid. Hmph, maybe he was just a late bloomer… Meng Qi mused.

Yao Xingliu glanced at the two of them, “Brother Zhang, I passed by the tavern earlier and saw this friend demonstrate an exceptional sword technique. I’d like to spar with him.”

Tsk, no wonder he’s a martial arts fanatic. But was it really just a coincidence that he happened to pass by the tavern at the exact moment I defeated that swordsman? Meng Qi half-mused, half-doubted.

Zhang Yuanshan turned his head, asking Meng Qi’s opinion without making the decision himself.

This kid and I are both at the Fourth Aperture level, and we both know external techniques. I wonder who’s stronger… A fierce fighting spirit surged within Meng Qi, eager to test himself against a direct disciple of a major sect at the same cultivation level, to assess his true standing among his peers.

Before he could respond, Yao Xingliu snorted, “Relax, I won’t resort to ‘Yang Empty Yin Substantial.’ We’ll duel using only the sword techniques of the Aperture-Opening level.”

“Fine,” Meng Qi didn’t want to draw the Red Sun Demon-Suppressing Saber either, to avoid revealing his identity.

Zhang Yuanshan stepped aside, reluctantly focusing his mind to watch the spar, ready to intervene if necessary to prevent injury.

Yao Xingliu drew the two swords from his back—one long, one short. Holding the long sword in his right hand and the short one in his left, without a word, he slashed each sword in a different half-circle, launching an oddly coordinated attack at Meng Qi.

His right sword was bright and forceful, while his left was cold and soft. Yet together, they harmonized surprisingly well, waves of curved energy rippling outward, seemingly capable of deflecting any weapon.

No openings. No, the openings constantly shifted as yin and yang interchanged… Meng Qi’s expression grew serious. He stepped back, keeping his Ice Abyss Sword sheathed.

As Meng Qi retreated, Yao Xingliu pressed forward. The long and short swords suddenly crossed, forming two back-to-back half-circles, the wind sharp, the yin force stealthily attacking.

Meng Qi still didn’t draw his sword, retreating another step to avoid the long sword’s range.

Yao Xingliu seized the advantage, advancing with each step, launching seven consecutive attacks. Meng Qi still hadn’t drawn his sword, retreating seven steps.

However, each step back was perfectly timed, just barely evading the range of Yao Xingliu’s techniques.

Yang sword above, yin sword below, yin and yang rotating, forming a Taiji—Yao Xingliu executed his tenth move.

Suddenly, Meng Qi drew his sword—a simple, ordinary strike, yet precisely aimed at one of the “fish eyes” in the Taiji’s yin-yang symbol.

With two clinks, Yao Xingliu’s dual swords were deflected outward by the circular force, leaving his chest and abdomen wide open.

Meng Qi did not pursue his advantage. Instead, he sheathed his sword, bowed, and said, “You’ve been gracious.”

Yao Xingliu stared at his dual swords in disbelief, unwilling to accept that he had already been defeated. In an instant, the momentum had shifted, and the outcome decided.

Though he still had life-saving ultimate techniques and several desperate moves, this was a sparring match—there was no doubt he had lost.

Zhang Yuanshan was even more shocked than Yao Xingliu. At his own Fourth Aperture stage, perhaps due to his extensive combat experience, he might have held a slight advantage over Yao Xingliu. Yet, seeing Yao Xingliu defeated so decisively, even Zhang Yuanshan doubted whether he could have performed any better—even if he had maintained a Taiji defensive stance the entire time.

Moreover, although both he and Yao Xingliu possessed peak-level exterior sword techniques as their trump cards, Meng Qi also had such a technique!

Most importantly, Meng Qi was more proficient in saber techniques!

Could it be that the sword technique called “Solitary Sword of Dugu” was truly this formidable, comparable to the “Kanxu Sword Technique” at the Qiao-opening stage?

Outwardly calm and composed, as if the victory meant nothing, Meng Qi’s mind was unusually exhausted.

The previous duel with Yao Xingliu had been the most intense and demanding sword fight since he’d begun learning the “Solitary Sword of Dugu.” Those nine retreats were actually steps forward, drawing Yao Xingliu into his rhythm, step by step, until an opening appeared. That final strike required perfect timing, angle, hand speed, and variation—his ultimate synthesis of sword techniques.

Thus, that single strike had been more draining than battling a “Yama Edict” once.

In a calm voice, he said, “If you had used only the yang sword or the yin sword alone, I might not have landed a decisive strike so quickly. When you combined yin and yang, the transitions were somewhat stiff and not smooth enough. The yin and yang clashed rather than complemented each other, giving me an opening. Still, I must thank you. This match has benefited me greatly.”

This was the truth. Yao Xingliu’s demonstration of dual-sword coordination had given Meng Qi new ideas for his dual sword and saber techniques.

Yao Xingliu thoughtfully sheathed his dual swords back behind his back, smirking, “Losing is losing. There’s no shame in admitting it, even if it’s to an idiot.”

“Who’s the idiot?” Meng Qi’s mouth twitched slightly. This kid’s mouth was truly foul.

Yao Xingliu chuckled and looked up at the sky, saying, “If I were Brother Zhang, I’d comfort that girl first, keep the engagement unchanged, and after passing the True Martial Big Dipper Formation, I’d arrange an ‘accidental’ death during my journey.”

“Eh?” Both Meng Qi and Zhang Yuanshan looked at Yao Xingliu in shock. He hadn’t just happened to pass by! How much had he overheard?

Yet Yao Xingliu’s words sparked an idea in Meng Qi. Just moments ago, he had been too immersed in the situation to think of this!

Yao Xingliu continued gazing at the sky, “An ‘accidental’ death dissolves the engagement naturally. Senior Sister Song won’t bear the stigma of being jilted or having her fiancé flee. By then, the Zhang and Song families will have already collaborated many times, and the alliance will be solid. Whether you two are engaged or not won’t matter much. At most, your parents might feel sad for a while, but you still have younger siblings. Oh, you’ll have to go into hiding afterward, no longer using your current name, and rebuild your martial reputation from scratch.”

“Once the dust settles, you can secretly meet your parents again. The Zhang family won’t expose this secret themselves. If you want to return in glory, then strive to become a Grandmaster.”

“Even if I reveal this matter, as long as there’s no proof of your survival, the Zhang-Song alliance won’t change.”

Zhang Yuanshan’s eyes widened with growing excitement, as if freed from heavy shackles.

Meng Qi listened in astonishment. The analysis of pros and cons was spot-on—just like what he had just thought of!

He blurted out, “Aren’t you supposed to be a martial arts fanatic?”

Since when could a martial arts fanatic speak like that?

Yao Xingliu glanced at Meng Qi disdainfully, “I’m a martial arts fanatic, but I’m not stupid.”

“Brat, what are you implying?” Meng Qi’s face twitched.

Yao Xingliu huffed, “Someone who only knows how to drink and can’t come up with plans is just an idiot.”

“Come on, brat! Let’s fight another three hundred rounds!” Meng Qi, now thoroughly annoyed, decided to settle things with martial prowess.

Yao Xingliu’s face twitched, grumbling, “You’re a brat too!”

Meng Qi was actually younger than Yao Xingliu, but his tall stature and mature demeanor made him seem seventeen or eighteen.

Meng Qi gritted his teeth in frustration but could do nothing. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and he saw through something. Smirking ambiguously, he looked at Yao Xingliu and said, “A member of the Yao family, showing no intention of disrupting the Zhang-Song alliance, treating the Zhang and Song family affairs as his own—what kind of spirit is this?”

Yao Xingliu’s expression changed, “What do you mean?”

“As a martial arts fanatic, ‘coincidentally’ visiting a tavern without any masters present in the evening and overhearing our conversation—what an incredible coincidence,” Meng Qi’s ambiguous smirk deepened, “unless he had been following us all along.”

Without a word, Yao Xingliu turned and left, “I have urgent matters. Excuse me first.”

“Why follow? Why care? Why not stand on his family’s side but instead sincerely help us come up with ideas?” Meng Qi raised his voice, his expression growing increasingly solemn and dignified, “There’s only one truth!”

“Yao Xingliu likes Song Mingxi!” He shouted loudly.

Yao Xingliu stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face, and ran even faster.

With Zhang Yuanshan’s matter seemingly resolved, Meng Qi’s mood lightened. Laughing heartily, he called out, “A lovesick brat! Come on, let’s fight another three hundred rounds!”