Legend of Fu Yao

As the long summon was announced, everyone turned to look at the entrance. Back facing the sunlight, the woman stepped in with her head raised high. It was still a very eye-catching red robe, and her long shadow was reflected on the dark red palace door studded with copper. She seemed slightly thinner, but her back was straightened.

Meng Fuyao stared at the pair of eyes not covered by her veil, and her heart slightly thumped. This woman had lifeless eyes, like a pond of stagnant water. It was silent but shockingly eerie.

Meanwhile, Pei Yuan walked straight in without looking at anyone and did not rise after her greeting. She knelt on the floor and spoke clearly, “Your Majesty, my husband Yan Jingchen felt unwell during night time and is unable to participate in the True Martial Arts Meet. However, since we have traveled all the way here to Heaven Demon, we’re not willing to return without a battle. Since my husband and I are like one, please allow me to fight in his place!”

“Outrageous!” Zhan Nancheng immediately refused. “Yan Jingchen was the one who earned the right to enter the final battle of the Meet, not you, Mrs. Yan. If you replace him, how is it fair for all other contestants who have lost?”

“I have merely not participated in the fight for the champion,” Pei Yuan responded, and she looked up with dignity. “If Yan Jingchen can earn that right, so can I!”

Zhan Nancheng was taken aback. He looked towards Zhan Beiheng, who added, “There is precedence for the wife replacing her husband in the battle. Furthermore, if Yan Jingchen lost his chance just like that, it would be unfair to him as well.”

After he spoke, Zhan Nancheng contemplated for a moment, but his expression had relaxed. Smiling towards Zhansun Wuji, he said, “The Crown Prince is the referee of the Meet. You shall decide.”

Meng Fuyao scrunched her face. ‘What a pair of cunning foxes. Your attitude is already clear, so what else should Zhangsun Wuji say?’

Looking towards Pei Yuan without much emotion, Zhangsun Wuji spoke, “I will not revoke your claim that you have the ability to earn your right. However, a claim is still a claim without any evidence. If you want all the heroes in the world to believe you, you have to show us what you’ve got.”

Pei Yuan promptly answered, “May the Crown Prince point any of the ten finalists to battle with me! If I lose, I will accept my punishment for disturbing the Emperor!”

“That’s good.” Zhangsun Wuji grinned, and his gaze darted across the ten people and landed on Meng Fuyao. He smiled.

Thinking that he would assign her to chase Pei Yuan out of the palace, Meng Fuyao rolled up her sleeves in preparation. But Zhangsun Wuji looked away and beamed at Ya Lanzhu. “Princess Ya, please,” he said.

Ya Lanzhu was momentarily stunned, but she recovered with a laugh and remarked, “Okay, anyway I had one less battle in the previous round. It’s just the right time for me to practice my skills.”

She strolled over and blew at her fist. Giggling, she opened her arms and said, “Let’s do it.”

In the meantime, Meng Fuyao could not see Pei Yuan’s expression from the back. However, she realized that while Ya Lanzhu still looked as naive and lively as before, the way she stared at Pei Yuan was different. Her eyes had darkened.

Pei Yuan… was there anything abnormal about her?

Meng Fuyao suddenly realized that there seemed to be a deeper meaning behind Zhangsun Wuji’s move in provoking Pei Yuan to propose a battle, and then appointing Ya Lanzhu. Did he sense something?

While she looked back with suspicion, battle cries had already sounded in the palace. Two strokes of light, one colorful and the other crimson red, had tangled together in mid-air; Pei Yuan and Ya Lanzhu had started fighting against each other.

When Pei Yuan executed her first move, Meng Fuyao already knew that she was not lying. Though her skills were not on par with Yan Jingchen’s, she was more familiar with the Stirring Thunder technique, and her sword technique was not worse than his. Furthermore, her inner energy was similar to Yan Jingchen’s — they were both disciples of Mist.

Meng Fuyao felt that this couple was full of puzzles. How did they become a couple? Was she taught by Yan Jingchen or Mist? As husband and wife, they were strangely awkward, so were there any reasons behind their marriage? How did Mist even allow Yan Jingchen to marry her?

As Meng Fuyao was pondering over those matters, she still kept an eye on the fight. Ya Lanzhu was born into the royal family of Fufeng, a land of magic, so she had a strong martial arts foundation. In addition, she had been chasing after Zhan Beiye for many years and became very quick and agile in her movements. As she leaped, she resembled a shiny rainbow that blinded one’s eyes. The weapon she used was a pair of strange but exquisite copper dice cups which rang a shrill or clear sound every once in a while when they clashed. The vibrant colors and messy sounds easily gave people migraines whenever she passed by.

As for Pei Yuan, she was starkly different. Steadily, she wielded her sword, and each move was accompanied by fog and the sound of thunder. The air around her was heavy and forceful, seemingly to overpower Ya Lanzhu’s agile and distracting tactics. Her strategy was indeed useful; the butterfly-like Ya Lanzhu started to slow down her steps and attack her face-on.

At the 127th move, there was a twist to the battle. Pei Yuan obviously lacked in stamina compared to Ya Lanzhu, which was reasonable as her skills had once been destroyed, and she could in no way catch up with Ya Lanzhu’s solid foundation. Seeing the colorful sleeves travel across the palace like rainbows, her eyes turned icier.

Suddenly, she flicked the sword.

The gleam of the sword was originally accompanied by fog, but the fog changed from a shade of light grey to black, and there was a slightly rancid smell. As she wielded her sword, she smirked and aimed straight for Ya Lanzhu’s face — all her attacks only targeted the face.

Habitually, Ya Lanzhu slanted her head and avoided the strike, but a very small black bead suddenly exploded out of the tip of the sword and aimed towards her ear.

The angle was very uncanny, causing Meng Fuyao’s heart to thump. Then, the black bead suddenly grew out microsize claws!

It was alive!

What was that!

That thing was as fast as a meteor and so near its target. If it shot into Ya Lanzhu’s ear, what would be the consequence?

Meng Fuyao was about to jump, but Ya Lanzhu’s slanted body suddenly made an arc and pivoted in the other direction.

The black claw followed her movement tirelessly. Nevertheless, as though she was boneless, Lanzhu rotated a full circle back to where Pei Yuan was standing, and suddenly raised her copper cup.

A slit appeared in the cup, revealing a red light which flashed by. Suddenly, the black claw trembled in mid-air, and as though it was magnetized, slowly got sucked into the slit.

From Meng Fuyao’s perspective, she could see that the black claw was struggling in mid-air and wanted to break free. Yet, no matter how it struggled, it could not defeat the red thing in Yan Lanzhu’s strange weapon, and could only be absorbed into the slit.

Pei Yuan slowed down in her strikes. She had only lost one black bead, but her face turned ashen. On the other hand, Ya Lanzhu giggled and said, “Playing with this in front of the ancestor of Guchong ¹ ? That’s cute of you.”

Then, she clapped her cups and happily exclaimed, “Little Treasure has some snacks again!”

That was when the realization struck Meng Fuyao. No wonder the cups looked familiar yet peculiar — they were the cups used to raise Guchong! Zhangsun Wuji must have noticed that Pei Yuan had something up her sleeves, so he appointed Ya Lanzhu, a royal member of Fufeng.

Who else would be abler than Ya Lanzhu, a descendant of the three major witch clans in Fufeng, to handle all witchcraft?

Meanwhile, Pei Yuan stepped back with her sword. Ya Lanzhu kept her cups and was walking back to her seat, but Pei Yuan stopped retreating and suddenly dashed forward, raising her sword towards the back of Ya Lanzhu’s heart!

Ya Lanzhu felt something approaching her from behind, and when she turned, she realized that Pei Yuan’s figure had already shadowed her. In her hurry, she raised her hand to block.

With a clash, Ya Lanzhu’s cups flew, while Pei Yuan’s sword menacingly slashed towards the top of her forehead!

A light-purple beam darted by.

The beam suddenly appeared in the air, and it was as light as clouds and wind. It resembled the feather that dropped from the peak of a holy mountain or a floating cloud above the Nine Heavens.

That beam shot past, and it gathered to form a light-purple figure, which casually raised his fingers and easily grabbed onto Pei Yuan’s sword.

Pei Yuan tried hard to slash, but she could no longer do so. When she tried to pluck out her sword, it did not even move.

Subsequently, Zhangsun Wuji smiled. Calmly but adamantly, he took away her sword and said, “Mrs. Yan, enough is enough.”

Though Pei Yuan’s eyes were bloody and she looked extremely resentful, the authoritative tone in his speech silenced her.

There was another round of commotion behind the screen as chatters of “No, I am going to faint…”, “Ah… demure as a maiden and quick as a rabbit… the demeanor of god…” appeared, to which Meng Fuyao responded by muttering under her breath, “Hoes!”

This elicited a look from that person, who smiled and transmitted his comments quietly. “Fuyao, you’re prettiest when you’re jealous.”

Meng Fuyao took in a deep breath, shut her mouth and retreated three steps. Someone was particularly thick-skinned, and scolding was of no use. Anyway, physical scolding meant no effect, while not scolding meant scolding him thoroughly in her heart. That would suffice.

At that moment, Zhan Beiheng had already walked over. He hurriedly commented, “Princess Ya’s weapon fell on the floor, so Mrs. Yan won.”

Meng Fuyao boiled with anger.

There really was no end to shame.

Stepping forward, she gazed curiously at Zhan Beiheng and smiled. “Prince, your Heaven Demon nation really holds the moral high ground. You are not afraid of pain and exhaustion, and that makes us really envious of you.”

Zhan Beiheng stared at her with caution and asked, “General Meng, what do you mean?”

“You sent an invitation letter to the Crown Prince of Wuji from thousands of miles away, to be the referee of the last round of the True Martial Arts Meet. Yet you’re not willing to let him be tired out, and often hurry to complete his duties for him. Such a move really touches our hearts and makes us want to cry…”

Meng Fuyao looked up at Zhangsun Wuji and asked innocently, “Crown Prince, do you feel like crying?”

Zhangsun Wuji gazed deeply into her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He did not look at the embarrassed Zhan Beiheng and answered, “General Meng has always known me well.”

‘What do I know of you!’ Meng Fuyao retorted internally. But a wide grin was plastered on her face, and she responded humbly, “Sometimes, only sometimes.”

The corners of Zhan Beiheng’s lips twitched. He could neither laugh nor reprimand and stood at his spot awkwardly.

Seeing that this could not go on, Zhan Nancheng spoke, “Beiheng, you have overreached. The refereeing should, of course, be done by the Crown Prince.”