Chapter 78: The Grand Finale

As they arrived at the scene, Qianye gradually came to realize that the spring-themed night painting by Song Zining wasn’t a random artistic stroke, it unmistakably depicted what lay right before their eyes.

It was a gentle, sloping plain. In this season blossoms danced alongside the chirping birds, while scattered native wildflowers dotted the ground. In the sky, luminescent wind lanterns floated, each filled with refined energy. At first glance, it seemed as though the stars had simply migrated to earth. Such illumination was a lavish display in itself; refined energy lamps were already rare and valuable, let alone the immense expenditures required for maintaining levitation and hover capabilities.

Following traditions of an ancient civilization long since passed, every guest at the banquet dined at an individual seat. Across this large expanse, more than a hundred such places were prepared as gracefully draped maids and attendants glided about like fluid currents, bearing tablewares and victuals. Dancers and musicians glided in graceful swirling motions, their gowns appearing like rolling clouds or drifting mist.

An old-world fad swept through imperial society, and since taking upon himself Qiqi’s task, Qianye encountered these revivals with monotonous frequency, yet there was a sensation this night unlike others, a feeling that the resplendent revels just some few steps afar weren’t truly real at all, appearing at times almost separated by two worlds entirely apart.

While the denizens upon the lower continent struggled to find food for the coming dawn, this banquet on the plateau could easily expend resources equivalent perhaps, to those enough to care for a small town. And in reflection, the meaning, the necessity, indeed the purpose of wastelands, was brought into question and left unanswerably ambiguous.

At the honored position at the table two prominent settings stood side by side — for this gathering was being jointly orchestrated tonight by the Zhaos and the Songs.

In essence, that banquet mirrored the recruitment of gifted contenders, so those in attendance were largely offshoots of noble bloodline factions seeking representation. Securing a position here relied not on surname but sheer might. Naturally, everyone lucky enough to receive an invitation endeavored to showcase talent for the night, making the chairs beside Zhaolei (Zhao Junhong) and Song Zining hubs of continuous attention. Occasional spur-of-the-moment matches erupted — unlike official dueling arenas they were staged mostly as performance displays, meant not fatal duels, yet highlighting combat specialties.

Lifting his gaze, Song Zining caught sight of Qianye approaching at the distant edge of the venue, halting, almost turning to leave. In one heartbeat the Song steward was called upon, ordered swiftly to intercept approaching admirers.

“Qainye!” he sang his friend’s name joyously calling him over, smilingly he declared, “Quite unexpectedly indeed did you arrive via Qiqi’s request!”

Hardly waiting for a response, Song Zining feigned an air of deep disappointment. “Truly unfortunate, this night Qi Qi hosts alongside Nan Gong Wanyun an evening for ladies far nobler — oh, what company did she assemble — regrettably now passed missed by you.” Pausing briefly, gazing into the distance of banquet grounds again, he extended, pointing vaguely, “Still — take that sultry dancer over there in red, her figure quite agile, feel free to invite her home later.”

Silenzio followed. Years hence perhaps softened many things, alas, old pal’s tastes for pranks appeared disturbingly unchanged still.

Nonetheless he pulled Qianye toward his table as greetings wound down among many attendees and dishes poured in. The two were seated now while dancers twirling, in lines, spread colorful skirts blooming amidst clear space like flowers.

Across at the adjacent席, seated and nursing his thoughts in sly isolation was ZhaoJunhong deep amidst wine cups, drinking leisurely alone amidst the bustle.

The spring hunt’s opening flashbacked for Qianye the day Viscount Wei’s banquet at Wu’antang where he recalled clearly Zhao’s demeanor — that night spoke only with Song Zining, Qiqi and one or two others at the periphery, otherwise barely sparing a glance even, how curious that so changed, hosting banquetry amidst the young gentry now.

Discussing this with Song Zining drew from him a teasing chortle: “House Zhao may bear aloof pride, but madness they’re not! Be it royal clan or any great family needs truly capable hands to rely upon. And truth, the fixation upon pedigree stems because generally the gifted flourish more when birthed to privilege, with more available tools. Mind I know there’s imperfection within such divisions, yet amid strangers, it mostly functions efficiently more often than one dares to hope.”

Musing over his friend’s logic, Qianye slowly nodded in concurrence.

In times since dawn of Great Qin’s birth, the old and mighty ancestral clans awakened original energies of blood through ancestral gifts. In the intervening thousands two centuries, generations nurtured upon ancient wealth. Fair or not, it seemed the accepted truth, even though darkness-race nor men comprehended or mastered such inheritance fully — bloodline continuation however remained universally acknowledged as key.

Indeed injustice does not lie primarily in the unequal starting points but whether meaningful progress was possible at all; for those lamenting the final rungs only due to their start forget birth’s diversity — men after all born varied across the vast tapestry, unlike vampire-made thralls of tightly managed grades and might, such is natural rule — we either reshape it… or yield willingly to its law.

“Yet remember this Qainye.” Song continued softly. “Noble births may set your path’s stone foundation, but only when carved through by unique strength — will true peers recognize.”

“His manner’s harsh yes” Song smirked knowingly. “yet it clears many superficial pests quickly; truly for him only one converses when equal status met, or power met in battle, none in-betweens.”

“That does spark curiosity for our match tomorrow Song!”

Qianye’s gaze measured his friend, finally murmuring. “Still though — a duel facing you I’d personally savor.”

Song merely blinked teasingly. “No shortage of moments perhaps we could arrange one … albeit, the amusement for idle minds viewing us as animals fighting merely for sport? That, maybe we should politely decline for mutual appreciation?”

Suddenly an eerie mischievous grin curled his lips — an all-too-familiar sight. Qiang Ye now felt that same sense of foreboding he always dreaded. Instantly his memory flashed to General Wie’s exhausted collapse after prolonged sparring with宋 Zining earlier during the Hunt, where宋 could’ve decisively won near that final hour.

“After Spring’s Grand Pursuit draws conclusion…where exactly shall see you off then, my old friend, Qianye?” the Song finally intoned gently.

Qianye had mused this question since determining the Spring Hunt’s ultimate objective meant fulfilling the last of many promises owed to Qiqi. Indeed as the decision matured within him, so too began consideration for the road post departure the village lantern light shone upon, when even dark-blood City’s days passed filled perpetually by wandering without any known or named harbor toward home or purpose beyond his grasp.

Now however he’d arrived at decision, voice steady, “Return toward Night Eternal land I must… where an enemy there I shall strike down with purpose.”

Song considered, amused again briefly “Murder shouldn’t consume more days than needed surely?”

“A General resides there … one I will fight through years to kill,” he replied grimly.

Silence draped as this admission sank heavier. Song’s brow furled deeply. A Lord-commander on Endless Eclipse land held vastly different meanings from minor noble retainers found amid surface courts — here merely elite hire, in the Eternal Shadow’s land each governed swathes mighty enough.

“Did such a foe stem from the past, Qainye, connected with origins?”

“Na,” the dark wanderer’s voice flattened — unattached, “only a few cherished bonds I bore on Endless Night, perished directly or distantly by both Father and offspring bloodline — compounded by the betrayal trading on dark crystals to darkkin factions.”

Another still span passed, then finally a quiet request:

“What name does this man bear?”

“Deputy Warlord commanding the Army’s 7th Expedition Division… Wu Zhengnan.”

Match Day came with hushed expectation broken now by clamoring attendance — the arena packed with more spectators even than the peak contest rounds before!

At entering field Qai found Zhao there early — arms interlocked quietly before him eyes partially shut seemingly in repletion gathering energies when snapped open fierce gaze struck forth like a whip lashing the air:“Do not disgrace these trials.”

He answered succinctly. “Expect me without restraint, unshirked.”

An echoing long-drawn ceremonial horn cried out announcing the duel’s true beginning.

Then emerged silver radiance rippling through Zhao rising as mist from polished steel armor — forward suddenly, finger pointing forth with deadly intention at the bridge between Qianye’s eyes. It looked light but upon that slender limb, silver brilliance blazed with the dense reality like forging itself.

Qainye cried an undaunted response, stepping steady without retreat, fists unleashed bare force directly towards Zhao’s piercing finger — choosing raw confrontation immediately.

Anticipating such resolve, Zhao opened ten digits deftly catching mid-flight. The very instant their extremities contacted the two clashed violently twisting mid-motion — Zhao executed pulling and striking rhythmically causing a violent repulsion sending Qianye tumbling backward mid-air.

Simultaneously both clashed with crimson radiance of兵伐决 against cool silver energy. Remarkably the collision did not detonate like typical energies. Utilizing opponent-provided kinetic, mid-rotate Qainye countered with subtle manipulation. Slipping from trajectory twists through impossible gaps, his body rotated seamlessly evading precisely Zhao’s trinity assault — three rippling rays nearly skimmed through space his torso had earlier existed in before slicing high again leaving void in their absence.

Landing with feline grace Qianye whipped out a sideways knee strike directly into Zhao’s side mid-body — but with minimal effort at all Zhao simply pressed downwards redirecting the strike outward sending Qai skidding several meters backward, disrupting the followup kick combo he had planned, allowing him time to recover.

In this singular initial engagement, they locked multiple movements faster than eyes might track — separating finally after a dizzy blur left both in new positions. Then the audience roared with deafening approval.

Marshall of Wei himself murmured nodding, amused and surprised, “How compelling.”

Qianye felt the first true brush in actual combat, grasping now Zhao’s depth — how refined and superior the hand-to-hand mastery he displayed so unlike nobles raised in silken nurseries. And in the realm of elemental balance, his innate refinement appeared perfectly attuned to suppress兵伐决 in the same manner.

Zhao now stood in solemn recognition, the brilliance on his frame swelling stronger like dawn breaking, voice steady: “Indeed… formidable.”

Suddenly an eye-shaped gleam blazed across Zhao’s brow radiantspilling over his face as a mirrored glowing slit. Suddenly gliding like over liquid, he closed near instantly, finger pointed forth anew though this strike extended further than before — now manifest as a physical thread of silvery line piercing through emptiness, aiming straight upon Qainye’s bosom.

Someone in the stand cried aloud instinctively in astonishment:

“Silver Flow Finger of old Zhao style!”

A secret and highly renowned assassination and combat skill, when mastered, the energy forged into blade’s cutting force, devastating, unstoppable. The art is said reserved for master combatant rankings. Not surprisingly many assumed Zhao mastered only rudimentary version at his current seventh level — however he had in truth, crafted it so powerfully, actual physical energy blade manifested, heralding him truly among prodigies without peers.

Feeling that approaching sense of doom from afar — a silken strand shimmering with explosive intensity, he sensed in heart akin to artillery shell’s incoming roar!

With no hesitation Qai’s roar rose again. He threw yet another full-force punch straight toward that tangible radiant thread!

Activating兵伐决 with precision, he surged tidal flows upon tidal flows — within an instant accumulating near thirty overlapping surges of energy bursting from his fist in full force straight toward the silver filament!

Frontal section of the filament ruptured instantly, disintegrating under impact, only for those splintered fragments to morph instantly to countless smaller needles shooting toward Qianye piercing past his shielding energies, trying to trace origin points straight along pathways through flesh toward direct penetration within.

But兵伐决 churned anew in counter-motion in the same moment. With his thirty layers reaching the peak — an unprecedented crest forming in response. As the new wall of energy wave emanated from his punch — the swarm of silver threads were blasted into dissolution by its massive kinetic push.

Then echoed a piercing war cry, this time from the adversary himself! Scattering remnants Zhao summoned back their presence as silvery tendrils, interlacing mid-air in a coiled whirl to tear directly Qianye’s onrush apart!

Yet兵伐决, with its legendary resilience refused complete dispersal; instead even under rupture the current twisted back together to converge center, persisting relentlessly forward!

Momentarily the battlefield exploded in a full-scale interlocked surge — energies from both warrior fully entangled in endless collision — each level fighting for dominance against its opposing layer upon layers unseen.