Chapter 89: The Living Precious Child
After speaking, Li Mufeng leapt lightly onto the platform and came to a steady halt. “I am Li Mufeng, second disciple of Mount Mao. Who will come forward and offer instruction?” Standing there, calm and composed, he raised a hand, and a dark blue spiritual aura could be seen slowly unfurling around him.
Nagawa Inoshita knew there would be no avenging this round. Turning to a ninja behind him, he said, “Mr. Kato, I leave it to you.”
Kato nodded, ran forward a few steps, and used the force of his charge to spring straight onto the fighting stage. Unfortunately, he jumped a little too early. Had he gone up like that, he would inevitably have landed right on the edge of the platform, and the disgrace would have been complete.
Kato himself realized as much. In midair, he threw his upper body forward and forced himself into a front somersault, barely managing to land on the very brink of the stage.
The moment he was up there, he did not exchange a word with Li Mufeng. He drew his blade and hacked at once.
Yuan Tingyu and Zhou Yi exchanged a glance, both somewhat helpless. This match held no suspense at all; victory was certain. Their frowns came from the fact that the man’s cultivation was simply too low. Sending Li Mufeng up against him felt like using a cannon to kill a fly.
If Li Mufeng and Xu Muyang had exchanged opponents, both matches could have been won just the same. But things had already come to this, and sighing over it would accomplish nothing.
Just as the contest unfolded in the arena, Zhou Yi’s heart tightened in warning. An expert was approaching, and this aura was one he knew all too well: Monk Xuhua of Mount Wutai.
“Daoist Yuan, I must take my leave for a moment,” Zhou Yi said, cupping his hands toward Yuan Tingyu.
“If Daoist Zhou has business, then by all means,” Yuan Tingyu replied, stroking the pointed goat beard on his chin, looking rather conflicted. “But the next bout—?”
“Do not worry, Daoist Yuan. Let Baozi take the next round; he can secure us a steady win. An old acquaintance has arrived. I’ll meet him and return at once.”
Before Yuan Tingyu could answer, Zhou Yi shot into the air and sped straight down the mountain.
“Amitabha. I ask that Daoist Zhou accompany this humble monk to Mount Wutai.”
Before Zhou Yi had even reached the foot of the mountain, Xuhua’s voice had already drifted over.
“You bald donkey Xuhua, how is it that wherever I go, you always manage to find me?” Zhou Yi was thoroughly sick of him. No matter where he went, this man followed at his heels. No one would find that easy to endure.
“Amitabha. My master’s command cannot be disobeyed.”
“I told you long ago that Zhang Zuozheng deserved to die. If you kill me now, and my master later comes seeking vengeance from you, will you have to pay for my life too?” Zhou Yi shouted sharply. By now he was truly angered, and there was not the slightest courtesy left in his tone.
“Amitabha. The taking of life is the gravest precept of the Buddhist order. This little monk dares not violate it,” Xuhua said with lowered eyes.
Zhou Yi let out a long breath. Xuhua truly had a talent for speaking in ways that infuriated people. “To hell with you, you damned bald monk.”
Driven past endurance, Zhou Yi cursed aloud. Then he drew the Lihuo sword from his waist and rushed straight at Xuhua.
Now to return to the tournament on the mountain.
There had been no suspense at all in the bout between Li Mufeng and Kato. To begin with, Kato’s speed fell far short of Li Mufeng’s. By the end, Kato suddenly flung his katana to the ground, pulled a pistol from his waist, and aimed to fire at Li Mufeng.
The moment Nagawa Inoshita saw this, he sprang from his seat and roared, “Idiot, Kato! You’ve disgraced the honor of our warriors entirely!”
He did not dare let Kato do as he pleased. Ono from the previous round was a living example. If Kato fired, not only would he fail to injure Li Mufeng, but Yuan Tingyu would certainly intervene again.
“We concede this round,” Nagawa Inoshita declared.
He had known from the start that this match was lost, so the result stirred little emotion in him.
“Kameda, the time has come to win glory for our warriors. Nagawa Inoshita humbly asks it of you.” As he spoke, he bowed deeply to a swordsman behind him, his tone exceedingly polite. Plainly, Kameda’s status was no ordinary one.
Kameda smiled faintly. “Inoshita, you and I have been close friends for many years. Why be so courteous? Leave this bout to me.”
When he finished speaking, he did not move a step. Instead, his figure gradually faded, and when he appeared again, he was already standing atop the fighting stage.
At the sight of this, Yuan Tingyu’s brows knit even tighter. His heart sank. Zhou Yi had said before leaving that Baozi could take this round, but from Kameda’s movement technique alone, it was clear this man was anything but simple.
“No need to trouble yourself, Daoist Yuan. I’ll go.” Baozi grinned broadly.
He had been watching the matches from the side, already itching for action, eager to get up there and teach those island ninjas a lesson. Ever since Shandong, he had been carrying a bellyful of anger.
Seeing Baozi volunteer, Yuan Tingyu had no choice but to nod. “Be careful, young friend. This man is no simple opponent.”
Baozi flashed another grin. “All right then, just watch me.”
Ever since entering the capital, that phrase had become his habitual saying, slipping out now and then.
Without another word, Baozi went straight to the fighting stage. He went on foot. The platform stood two meters high and had no steps, because those who came up to fight all possessed light-body skills; steps would have served no purpose.
Baozi reached the base of the platform, jumped upward, grabbed the edge with both hands, then heaved with all his strength and clambered up in a rolling scramble.
There was no denying that this was partly a bid for comic effect. The spectators, seeing this, burst into laughter.
Yuan Tingyu, watching Baozi’s antics, could not help drawing his brows together. He turned to glance at Mu Chen and found her covering her mouth, laughing. For the sake of dignity, Yuan Tingyu could not laugh in such a setting and could only endure it, suppressing himself with great difficulty.
“I’ve killed bears, I’ve killed roe deer, I’ve even killed tigers, but I’ve never killed a pig. Looks like today I get to taste fresh meat.” Once on the platform, Baozi untied the single iron mace at his waist, pointed it at Kameda, and asked, “What’s your name?”
Although Kameda understood the language of Han, he was not truly fluent in it, so he failed to realize Baozi was insulting him. He gave Baozi a deep bow before speaking. “I am Kameda Taro. Please instruct me.”
Baozi nodded. “Oh, so it’s Mister Kameda. My name is Your Grandfather. Better remember it well.”
Kameda nodded. “Mm. Grandfather, I shall remember it. Please instruct me.”
Baozi’s voice was loud enough for all the surrounding spectators to hear clearly, and they doubled over with laughter. Baozi never missed a chance to gain a little advantage with his tongue.
“You really remembered it? My name’s a bit hard to say. Most people have to ask a few times before they can remember it. Don’t go forgetting now. I’m called Your Grandfather.”
Kameda was already growing impatient, but he still restrained himself admirably. “Grandfather, I remember. Please make your move.”
The moment those words left his mouth, the people of Mount Mao could no longer hold back; they all burst into peals of laughter. Seeing their expressions, how could Kameda fail to understand that Baozi had made a fool of him? He could restrain himself no longer and shouted, “Bastard!”
With that roar, he charged straight at Baozi.
Baozi had not expected Kameda to be so fast. Before he could even react, Kameda was already in front of him, bringing his katana down in a fierce vertical slash.
By the time Baozi came to his senses, he only had time to raise the iron mace above his head to block.
With a clang, blade and mace crashed together, scattering sparks in all directions.
Baozi bent his knee and drove it toward Kameda’s lower belly, but just as his leg rose, Kameda flashed away once more and vanished from sight...
...
The Japanese names here were all made up on the spur of the moment; the author clearly took some delight in inventing them.
If you have a flower to spare, offer one. Add this book to your shelf. And if you can, cast a vote. Writing burns with passion, and without passion there is no strength to keep the words coming. Gallant heroes, lend me your power.