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034 Semi-Finals
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 15:21:41 +0000 UTCFan Shi was definitely not a player. That much was clear. She wasn’t even reacting to things a modern person would recognize. No memes, no references, no sense of shared culture. That meant she was either a special NPC or a genuine person in a world that had, for some reason, become real to me.
Either way, as far as I was concerned, this was no longer a game.
I dismissed Fan Shi after our talk, letting her go about her day while I continued playing Go with Gu Jie. The game was oddly relaxing, a simple yet deep distraction from the ever-growing mystery that was my existence here. Eventually, though, duty called, and I had to leave for the semi-finals.
It wasn’t exactly a duty, but… there was an obligation to it, in a sense.
Lei Fen for example would appreciate to have someone watching his back, especially with Pan Xia and Long Xieren being buddy-buddy.
I arrived a bit earlier than usual, and to my mild surprise, Long Xieren was already there. The arena felt different today—quieter, as if the air itself was holding its breath for what was to come.
"My fellow Daoist, you are early!" Long Xieren greeted me with a wide grin, already making himself comfortable.
I sat where I had last time. "Same goes for you, Daoist."
Long Xieren chuckled and leaned forward. "So, still up for another bet? I am feeling lucky today."
I waved him off. "Nah, yesterday was enough excitement for me."
He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "That was amazing. You should have seen Pan Xia’s face after the entire ordeal, returning to his quarters looking like some guy just killed his dog."
I smirked at that. Considering how his night ended, I couldn’t blame him.
Gu Jie hadn’t accompanied me this time. She was worried about her demonic qi affecting me, as if people would suddenly start accusing me of consorting with demonic cultivators. Instead, she stayed behind with Ren Jingyi, the little goldfish, using the peaceful morning to continue her cultivation.
That was fine.
Long Xieren was an Elder of the Sword Canopy Sect, but he looked no older than a middle-aged man. He had the sharpness of a swordsman in his bearing—disciplined, yet relaxed, like a blade resting in its scabbard. He carried himself with the ease of someone who had long mastered his craft, his every movement deliberate and efficient.
Compared to him, Pan Xia was basically an old man. His beard alone could house a family of birds, and his wrinkled face gave him the appearance of a wise sage—though his attitude was closer to that of a scheming fox.
Elder Lei Fen, on the other hand, looked much younger than Pan Xia, but still carried the weight of years. He seemed to be in his late 40s, the kind of man whose presence alone was enough to command respect.
Just on time, the others arrived.
Ren Jin, the governor of Yellow Dragon City, entered the arena first, followed closely by Elder Lei Fen and Pan Xia.
I watched them take their seats before turning to Ren Jin, curiosity getting the better of me.
"If you don’t mind me asking," I said, "why is it that some people call you City Lord while others call you City Governor? Is there a difference?"
Ren Jin considered my question for a moment before answering. "A matter of perspective, I guess… Most commoners refer to me as a City Lord, but that’s technically wrong. For one, I wasn’t born in this city. It was my wife who was born here. She’s the City Lord. The Empire had simply posted me here, making me a City Governor."
That was interesting. "So, in other words, a City Lord is someone who rules over their own birthplace, while a City Governor is someone assigned by the Empire?"
"Precisely," Ren Jin confirmed. Then, with a knowing smile, he added, "Since you asked anyway, what is it like in your home? Do they have Lords too?"
It depended, of course. But if I wanted to stay consistent with my supposed background as a Paladin…
"Yes," I answered. "We do have Lords. Kings. Nobles. And the like."
Ren Jin’s smile widened ever so slightly, as if he were reading into my words. "I see… Your homeland must be quite the place."
I merely nodded, keeping my expression neutral.
Ren Jin was surprisingly easy to talk to. Despite being the City Governor, he lacked the stiff, overly formal air I expected from someone of his status. We exchanged pleasantries, discussing the festival, the upcoming semi-finals, and eventually, I found myself recounting my little adventures with Fan Shi and Jia Yun last night.
As I spoke, I noticed Elder Lei Fen and Pan Xia subtly turning their heads in my direction. Their ears perked up, and I could practically feel their curiosity. After all, I was talking about their disciples.
"So, you're saying," Ren Jin said, holding back a chuckle, "that you had them competing in a contest to see who could make the other laugh first?"
I grinned. "They were already looking for an excuse to fight. I just gave them a different battlefield."
Lei Fen and Pan Xia exchanged a glance before letting out a breath, visibly relaxing. I guess they had been worried I was dragging their disciples into something more serious. Once they realized it was just harmless messing around—with me as the main perpetrator, no less—they seemed content to let it go.
Ren Jin leaned back with a nostalgic look in his eyes. "There were times I would mess around like that when I was a child. Of course, I had to be careful—being a prince meant that not everyone took jokes lightly. But a little mischief never hurt anyone."
That was interesting. I was about to ask more about his childhood when another thought crossed my mind.
"Do you know anything about a Lin Lim?"
Ren Jin's face immediately soured. He sighed, rubbing his temple as if just hearing the name gave him a headache. "Efforts have been made to placate them so they wouldn’t cause trouble," he finally said.
That was vague. Too vague.
"They don’t seem to have come here to cause harm," I pointed out. "At least, not from what I’ve seen."
Ren Jin gave me a contemplative look. "You’re not the only one who thinks that. My son has been saying the same thing."
I filed that information away for later. Before I could press further, the atmosphere in the arena shifted. The noise from the crowd quieted as Chief Enforcer Liang Na stepped onto the stage. She moved with an air of authority, her robes billowing slightly as she came to a stop at the center.
Four figures followed behind her:
Fan Shi. Jia Yun. Lu Gao. And a sword cultivator from the Sword Canopy Sect.
Never really got his name. But from the way he carried himself, he was definitely skilled.
The semi-finals were about to begin.
Chief Enforcer Liang Na stood at the center of the arena, her commanding presence silencing the murmuring crowd. She gave a sweeping glance across the gathered spectators before speaking in a clear, authoritative voice.
“The time has come for the semi-finals of the Yellow Dragon City Tournament.” She gestured toward the four contestants standing behind her. “Before you stand the four warriors who have fought their way through the preliminary rounds, proving their strength and determination.”
She introduced them one by one, her voice carrying effortlessly across the arena.
"Fan Shi of the Isolation Path Sect."
Fan Shi stepped forward, her eerie yet composed aura causing a faint murmur among the spectators. She remained silent, hands hidden within her wide sleeves, her expression unreadable.
"Jia Yun of the Cloud Mist Sect."
Jia Yun hopped forward, hands on her hips, brimming with confidence. "Jia Yun is honored to continue in this tournament!" she announced, her voice carrying a lively energy.
"Lu Gao of the Lu Clan."
Lu Gao stepped forward, arms crossed, his confident smirk never wavering. "This one shall carve his name into the annals of history," he declared, exuding the self-assured aura of someone who never even considered the possibility of defeat.
"And lastly, Huo Jun of the Sword Canopy Sect."
The last contestant, Huo Jun, stepped forward with a steady, controlled grace. He wore the signature robes of the Sword Canopy Sect, his posture disciplined, his expression calm. A man of few words, he simply gave a respectful nod.
Liang Na continued, "The rules for the semi-finals are as follows: This round will be a two-versus-two match. The teams will be decided by drawing lots. Points will be allocated based on the number of knockouts or by forcing your opponent out of bounds."
A brief wave of excitement rippled through the crowd at the unexpected twist. A tournament usually followed one-on-one battles, but the two-versus-two format added a layer of unpredictability. The contestants, too, exchanged glances, gauging their potential allies and opponents.
An attendant stepped onto the stage, carrying a wooden ballot box. The contestants approached one by one, reaching inside and drawing their respective lots.
Jia Yun peeked at her slip of paper, her brows furrowing before she glanced toward Huo Jun. Meanwhile, Lu Gao grinned as he unfolded his, turning to look at Fan Shi, who raised an eyebrow.
Liang Na announced the results. "The match configuration has been decided. Team One: Lu Gao and Fan Shi. Team Two: Jia Yun and Huo Jun."
Lu Gao’s smirk widened. “Looks like fate has granted me a fine partner.”
Fan Shi gave him a sideways glance but said nothing.
Jia Yun narrowed her eyes at Lu Gao before turning to Huo Jun. “Hmph, I don’t know about you, but this Jia Yun does not intend to lose.”
Huo Jun finally spoke, his tone as calm as a still lake. “Neither do I.”
With the teams set, the semi-finals were about to begin.
Lu Gao stood tall, his long dark hair tied back into a neat ponytail, exuding the confidence of a young master who had never tasted true defeat. His features were sharp, his stance relaxed but commanding. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as if he already knew the outcome of this match before it had even begun.
I had been hearing a lot of hype about him from the common folk. Whispers of his battles filled the streets, painting him as a genius of unconventional tactics. Yesterday, he had managed to achieve an unbelievable 50% win rate—not by outright defeating his opponents, but by forcing draws in each of his matches. How? By breaking both his and his opponent’s weapons.
An annoying yet undeniably effective strategy.
Yet today, something was off.
Lu Gao stood with a sword strapped to his waist. Not a spear. That was odd. He had used a spear yesterday. He had used a spear in every other match before this. Why switch weapons now?
I strained my hearing, extending my perception as Lu Gao casually spoke to his opponents.
“So,” he drawled, “Jia Yun of the Cloud Mist Sect and Huo Jun of the Sword Canopy Sect. Two sect disciples. How traditional.” He exhaled as if he were already bored. “Shall we make this interesting, or will this be another dull match?”
Jia Yun scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lu Gao smirked, flicking his wrist, causing his sword to hum faintly as he loosened it in its sheath. “It means that in the grand scheme of things, this match doesn’t really matter to me. Whether I win or lose, I’ll make sure everyone remembers my name.”
I cringed. This guy was seriously talking like a villain who hadn’t read ahead in his own story.
Huo Jun, as expected, remained impassive. “Words are meaningless. We’ll see if you can back them up.”
Fan Shi, his supposed ally, simply gave him a sideways glance but remained silent. It was hard to tell what she thought of his antics.
The contenders took their positions, standing opposite each other. The tension in the air grew thick as the crowd quieted in anticipation. They bowed, a gesture of respect before the clash.
Liang Na’s voice rang out.
“FIGHT!”
Jia Yun moved first, anticipating the building energy in Fan Shi.
A translucent frost wall erupted between her team and the opposing duo, a barrier of solid ice that stretched high, covering both herself and Huo Jun.
Right on time.
Fan Shi’s unlinked projectile chains came raining down like serpents, writhing midair with eerie precision. Each chain was jagged, pulsating with cold, metallic energy. The frost wall held for a brief moment before the relentless barrage chipped and shattered through it. Cracks splintered across the icy surface before it exploded into misty fragments.
From the lingering mist, Huo Jun emerged.
His sword was already drawn. Three sword-like energy constructs floated behind him in a sharp, triangular formation—ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Fan Shi whipped her chains back, trying to ensnare him before he could act. But Huo Jun was fast.
He flickered—his figure blurring as he dodged at an impossible angle, leaving only a faint afterimage. He reappeared several feet away, safe from Fan Shi’s reach.
Jia Yun, unfazed, flicked her fans. A barrage of wind blades shot forward, cutting through the air with lethal precision.
Lu Gao deflected them all.
His sword, seemingly ordinary, moved in rapid arcs, redirecting each wind blade harmlessly aside. Not a single one touched him.
Meanwhile, Huo Jun honed in on Lu Gao. His movement was swift, his sword constructs shifting with him, forming a calculated offense.
Lu Gao simply smirked.
"A perfect line."
Huo Jun’s eyes widened.
Sensing danger, he instantly brought his sword up—along with the three sword constructs—forming an asterisk-like defense.
Lu Gao's sword pulsed.
"One Road to Hell."
A sulfuric scent filled the air. Black and red sparks flickered as Lu Gao swung downward.
Huo Jun’s composure shattered. He gritted his teeth, his arms shaking from the sheer force.
Yet he endured.
The same could not be said for Jia Yun.
Lu Gao’s sword wave didn’t stop. It surged past Huo Jun, cutting through the air in a straight line—honing in on Jia Yun.
Fan Shi’s eyes flashed. She didn’t let the opportunity go to waste.
Her chains lashed out once more.
Jia Yun’s reaction was immediate—another frost wall rose between her and the twin threats, blocking both Lu Gao’s sword wave and Fan Shi’s chains.
"One Road to Heaven."
The moment Lu Gao’s sword wave slammed against the frost wall, something bizarre happened. Instead of dissipating or breaking through, the energy reversed.
The very same sword wave curved unnaturally, bending in midair as if guided by an unseen hand—homing straight toward Huo Jun’s undefended back.
Jia Yun's eyes widened. She reacted fast, snapping her fan open and waving it with force.
A powerful gust of wind blasted Huo Jun, shoving him forward just in time. The redirected sword wave barely missed him. Instead, it returned to its origin—Lu Gao.
A normal cultivator would’ve been caught off guard.
Lu Gao wasn’t.
He extended his free hand, absorbing the returning energy without breaking a sweat. The golden-red glow of his sword pulsed as he seamlessly channeled it back into his weapon.
Fan Shi saw the momentary opening.
Her chains lashed out at the disoriented Huo Jun, aiming to end his fight then and there.
Huo Jun, despite being off-balance, didn’t panic.
He gritted his teeth and went for the only option left—attacking Lu Gao directly.
His sword sliced through the air, honed for Lu Gao’s neck.
Lu Gao crouched low.
Huo Jun’s blade whistled above him, missing entirely.
Fan Shi’s attack was next—her chains shifting and coiling into a gauntlet-like weapon around her fist as she closed the distance. She swung at Huo Jun with fierce precision.
Huo Jun barely managed to react. His sword met Fan Shi’s gauntlet in a desperate block, the impact pushing him back a step.
Meanwhile, Jia Yun moved again.
She flicked her fans, empowered by wind qi. They rotated rapidly like bladed discs as they homed in on Lu Gao with incredible speed.
Fan Shi pressed her attack, giving Huo Jun no time to regain his footing.
Lu Gao, seeing the incoming fans, smirked.
"It would be troublesome if you suddenly transformed into a fox," he said, eyes locked on Jia Yun. “I have to remove you whether by hook or crook.”
Then, he moved.
Lu Gao stomped down hard. His figure flickered—disappearing from Jia Yun’s view in an instant.
He didn’t dodge. He surpassed the speed of the fans entirely.
By the time Jia Yun realized what had happened, he was already in front of her.
Lu Gao’s palm struck her square in the chest.
A loud impact rang through the arena.
Jia Yun barely had time to process what happened before she was sent flying backward, crossing the boundary line.
"Out of bounds!"
The match was already tilting in one direction.
