Chapter 172 Musical Competition: First came the dance battle, then the musical competition.

It was probably shouted at some immortal being in the audience, right? It's not uncommon for independent cultivators to have teachers.

Qiao Yanshen couldn't calm down; a strong premonition, like a tidal wave, kept crashing against her mind. She turned her head and saw Shen Lixia also watching the person slowly walking down from the stage, his brows furrowed.

They shared a similar premonition. In any case, although Luo You's performance was impeccable, it aroused suspicion, as if her true intentions lay elsewhere... or perhaps it was just a misperception, but in any case, it was necessary to make contact with her.

Just then, Shen Lixia leaned close to Qiao Yanshen and whispered, "Let's go find her after the competition." If it's a misunderstanding, we can just laugh it off and make a new friend.

Anyway, Simmons was also at the loose cultivator camp. That person didn't follow the spiritual cultivation path, so to avoid getting beaten up, he announced that he was at the early stage of the Golden Core realm. He was currently standing leisurely in the line, gently swaying his head and humming a little tune.

The second round arrived, and Shen Lixia took a step forward, being teleported onto the arena by the teleportation array. Qiao Yanshen was supposed to be in the later rounds, so this time she was there as a spectator, watching the young man stand to one side of the arena, his clothes fluttering in the breeze. Opposite her, a figure first appeared, casting a watery red shadow on the white bricks.

As soon as the man stepped onto the stage, a surging cheer erupted. Many disciples of the Taihui Sect also clashed, their attacks shaking the entire arena, as if the white jade bricks beneath their feet were trembling. Amidst these cheers, a clear voice imbued with spiritual energy leaped into Yun Zhixiao's ears.

"Ah Xiao!" Yue Qifeng cupped his hands to his lips, laughing and shouting excitedly, "Give it your all!"

Yun Zhixiao rubbed his temples, not in a hurry to summon his weapon, and muttered, "Couldn't they have said something nicer, like wishing me a win?" Just like the students of Xihe Palace, many of them were shouting that the young palace master would decide the champion.

However, she also understood what Yue Qifeng was thinking—of course he wanted her to win, but he hoped even more that she wouldn't care about winning or losing, and would just have a good fight without being held back by anything.

But it still doesn't sound good!

So she decided to ignore Yue Qifeng for the time being, and not look back at him. Admittedly, Yun Zhixiao had lived in this world for many years, but she was willing to use such childish tricks with Yue Qifeng, and he always managed to catch her. Seeing that she wouldn't even glance at him, Yue Qifeng raised his voice and shouted again:

"You're the best, the most amazing!"

After she finished speaking, her eyes, which shimmered with a soft, peach-blossom light, turned around and met her gaze briefly across the vast sea of ​​people before returning to the flute that had appeared in her hand.

Yue Qifeng's heart stirred slightly, his cheeks flushed, and he rested his chin on his hand, gazing at the deep red figure. Like every young person in love, he was intoxicated and ecstatic by every move of his beloved.

Across from Yun Zhixiao, Shen Lixia also smiled, genuinely happy for the soft and sincere happiness between them. They were friends once they stepped off the stage—though not of the same clan, their bond forged through life and death was deep. She sincerely wished them well... and was also grateful that she had attended the sworn brotherhood ceremony and drunk a cup of warm peach blossom wine.

"Emperor Taihui, Shen Lixia." The young man clasped his hands in greeting, then took out a longbow. "Please enlighten me, Senior Sister Yun."

Yun Zhixiao smiled and said, "Xihe Palace, Yun Zhixiao. Junior Sister Shen is too kind."

The music flowed lightly as she began to play, like clouds and mist, gently drifting away, swaying gracefully.

The audience fell silent for a brief moment. If this were just a piece of music, it would be an extremely catchy tune from the very beginning, drawing the listener in and making them completely absorbed in it.

But for Shen Lixia, the melody was like a deadly poison, instantly corroding her mind and leading her into a state of swaying and hazy illusions. The figures and shouts around her faded away, leaving only the seductive music echoing in her ears, making it impossible for her to find Yun Zhixiao's figure.

She silently activated her inner energy cultivation technique, using the inexhaustible spiritual power as a guide. The intense heat continuously washed over her consciousness, forcing back the disturbing flute music inch by inch.

This invisible game could only be felt by her and her opponent. Yun Zhixiao's offensive was gentle, like a tender struggle. When they were locked in a stalemate, it seemed like there was no feeling. But when they started to tear each other apart, they could feel her suffocating power. If they went forward, they would follow her will and be drawn into the abyss formed by the intertwining notes. If they retreated, there was no way to retreat. If they took a step back, they would be invaded by all kinds of pain and deeply rooted in their sea of ​​consciousness.

If you stay where you are, you will be waiting for her to gradually encroach upon you until the music transforms into a sword, instantly drawing blood and sealing your throat.

The mental technique swiftly erected a solid barrier, repelling the invading scorching sound waves. The anxiety that had initially surged within Shen Lixia subsided considerably. Holding two fingers to her lips, having anticipated what was to come and made ample preparations, she gave a soft shout:

"break!"

The golden light and flames intertwined, producing crackling sounds that powerfully repelled the layers of music and even created tangible ripples in the air.

At the same time, the spiritual energy, woven into a dense net, rebounded, cutting fine marks on Shen Lixia's body. She bit her lip, only two words echoing in her mind—it hurts so much!

Like long scratches from a piece of paper, or the slicing of a knife through the palm of the hand. The burning pain from countless such wounds, combined with the splattering of blood, was a shocking sight, instantly staining the clothes with a deep, vivid color.

The next moment, she felt her body go limp, her strength out of her control. Instead, she moved slowly and stiffly to follow Yun Zhixiao's playing, raising her longbow to shoot an arrow into the sky, exhausting her spiritual power.

It was as if that wasn't a sound, but a melody transformed into thin threads, becoming a constraint that bound her into a puppet.

Suddenly, the melodious music stopped, and everyone was slightly puzzled, as if they didn't know why Yun knew why he would loosen the shackles at this moment.

The Xihe Palace is full of music practitioners, all of whom are exceptionally gifted. They are roughly divided into two factions. One faction focuses on controlling the mind, using the sounds of string and wind instruments to confuse people's ears, eyes, and minds, causing them to lose their composure. Those who are proficient can even control others to become their puppets, moving with the music. The other faction focuses on practical attacks. When the music takes shape, each sound is like a sharp blade with chilling sword energy, covering the sky and the earth. As the music gets higher, the attack becomes stronger.

Yun Zhixiao is a master of both paths, possessing a strong and flexible spiritual sense.

A knowing smile flickered in the young man's slightly lowered eyes.

The silken flute notes she emitted briefly intertwined with Shen Lixia's, allowing them to hear the whispers in each other's hearts—

"The way Senior Sister Yun plays the flute... is frighteningly skilled. Did she get blisters under her lips when she first started practicing...? How miserable."

"I can't relax for a moment, but—but, is this lung capacity even human? Senior sister, aren't you sure you won't run out of breath?!"

"Music is terrifying."

She didn't understand many of the terms on the inside, but she grasped the general meaning. She couldn't help but chuckle, which made her stop playing. At this moment, it had no effect. Rather, because of her extremely high level of musical skill, the pause became a poetic blank space, adding a touch of ethereal beauty that lingered in the air.

What nonsense are they thinking? It's just like when Yue Qifeng first met her and asked, "Won't there come a time when you've played all the scores?"

Shen Lixia forcefully broke free of her restraints, even swallowing a mouthful of hot blood, determined to break free from the silken threads binding her. After a moment, the young man frowned and said in a deep voice, "Retract!"

The invisible shackles shattered inch by inch, and Chen Lixia staggered two steps, almost falling to the ground. To outsiders, Yun had been controlling her for what felt like the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, let alone what she herself felt as if two hours had passed in agony, her back soaked with cold sweat.

She quickly turned the arrowhead around, aimed it at Yun Zhixiao, and abruptly released the fully drawn bowstring.

Flames swirled around the arrow, exploding layer by layer, momentarily blurring light and shadow, and the air itself, as it hurtled towards Yun Zhixiao. The young man stepped back and dodged, then swiftly countered with a powerful musical melody, almost catching the arrow head-on!

The two flames collided violently, slicing through layers of brilliant light like surging waves. The golden light vibrated and hissed, trying to break through the barrier of musical sounds, but only cracked the white bricks on the ground, leaving deep, winding marks.

Shen Lixia drew her bow again, while Yun Zhixiao deftly parried. Flames crisscrossed, and waves of heat swept across their faces, but thankfully the barrier prevented them from becoming drenched in sweat in the cool weather. Both fighters stood solemnly, their hair flying, neither able to gain the upper hand.

Yun Zhixiao stopped an arrow that was only an inch away from her face and laughed, "Junior sister has made great progress—but don't follow someone's style. Just now, she seriously injured your fellow disciple with her spear, and she was punished!"

This competition is not as intense as the previous one. Everyone is fighting personally, and although injuries can be recovered with spiritual power, it is absolutely unacceptable for them to be too severe and leave lasting effects. If anyone on the field is suspected of harboring murderous intent and taking action, someone above will intervene.

Shen Lixia said loudly, "Senior Sister Yun won't be hurt so easily!"

Upon hearing this, Yun Zhixiao chuckled softly, "You're so good at talking." As soon as she finished speaking, she appeared to be in a very good mood, and she switched her flute for a guqin, gently plucking the strings and slowly playing another piece.

Seeing that the stalemate would not yield any results and would only be a contest of who had more spiritual power, Shen Lixia simply put away her bow and arrows, grabbed the Flowing Fire in her hand, and charged forward.

The sword's edge, like a black shadow, shattered the overwhelming sound of the strings, pressing forward relentlessly. The blade, deflecting the sound waves, unexpectedly produced a crisp sound, as if someone had struck metal, adding accompaniment.

Yun Zhixiao smiled silently, engaging her in a constant exchange. Their figures shifted and changed, like two birds of contrasting colors, their plumage vibrant yet subtly vying for dominance. As their tail feathers trailed, they uttered long, melodious cries, weaving together a new melody that was both incompatible and unexpectedly harmonious.

Shen Lixia was clearly cooperating with the melody played by Yun Zhixiao. Between the successive strikes, it was not like a conflict, but more like a chorus—a cold, sharp, and fierce harmony.

She hadn't studied music as diligently as Yunzhi, but she possessed the innate instincts of birds and was extremely sensitive to changes in musical tones.

Moreover...

All the music in the world was composed for the Vermilion Bird, and the songs of Xihe Palace were mostly long songs praising Lord Lingguang. She saw a huge figure vaguely emerging behind Yun Zhixiao as the musical notes flowed, its golden and crimson feathers unfurled, and a majestic bird sang melodiously, harmonizing with the music.

Over time, if one only listens to the music, others might almost forget that this was a martial arts contest and instead perceive it as a moving performance. One of the two was a court musician, while the other excelled in folk tunes; each had their own strengths.

When they finally got close, both Yun Zhixiao and Shen Lixia were exhausted. But the former did not show it, and even his hands playing the zither did not slow down. Each note was like water splashing out when a silver bottle breaks, attacking from all directions.

Shen Lixia held her breath and counterattacked, slicing through the tangible ripples with a "snap" and sweeping her sword across again!

Just a stone's throw away.

But then Yun Zhixiao's zither disappeared, and a flute appeared instead. Suddenly, it was grabbed by her sword and met with her blade!

clang--

Then, with a flick of her wrist, she delivered a solid knock to Shen Lixia's head.

When the burning, swollen pain on his forehead came, the boy saw stars and was completely shocked.

Yun Zhixiao, however, raised an eyebrow and smiled as if she had succeeded, then dodged back a distance.

...No way.

Where in the world can you find a sword that can be blown with a hole, or a flute that can be picked up and used to strike someone?

Moreover, judging from the similar starting stance, she understood almost immediately—

Senior Sister Yue, what exactly did you teach Senior Sister Yun?

-

An eerie silence.

Not only between the two on the field, but also among the audience. They had been standing facing each other for what felt like half an incense stick's time, neither of them making the first move, but this subtle awkwardness could hardly be called courtesy.

Their gazes did not meet. Simmons's eyes fell on the boy's long, white hair, then swept over her stunningly beautiful violet eyes. The boy opposite her frowned, as if pondering why this person neither introduced herself nor revealed her weapon. She did not possess the aura of a spiritual cultivator, but was shrouded in another layer of spiritual light, perhaps only visible to people like her, crystalline, elusive, and flowing across her surface.

Finally, Simmons simply asked her, "You escaped from the snow-capped mountains, didn't you? Aren't you afraid Ami will come looking for you?"

The boy looked surprised. "How did you know... No, what's it to you? Aren't you Central Plains people fighting during these celebrations? Why do you need to ask about our origins?"

That's all it took to explain it in one sentence. Good for fooling people. Simmons made a mental judgment, realizing she was quite different from the person she remembered. She couldn't help but chuckle, stretched her limbs, and said:

"Yes, they came here for a fight. Make your move, little saintess."

The boy was annoyed: "Don't call me that!" As her voice rose, her intonation became more lively, taking on a unique Kalan accent, which sounded somewhat strange, as if the tones and rhythms were all flying around. But Simmons found it quite interesting; the whole scene was like a fully drawn bow, about to shatter in the next moment.

The saintess raised her hand to strike at her, but Simmons took a half step back and actually caught the palm that pressed down with a surge of energy. Those eyes suddenly became clear, filled with intense anger and arrogance, and a hint of amazement, as if they hadn't expected her to withstand the attack.

She abruptly asked, "Is your Ami still alive? What's her name?"

The golden seal floating in the boy's palm was crushed. She hesitated for a moment, then answered Simmons' question in Garan. A string of obscure words rolled over her tongue, drilled into her ears, and lingered for a long time, like the sound of an iron harp echoing in the eternal frost and snow, finally sealed by the word "alive," settling completely.

This question is meaningless, because during the years she spent in the snow-capped mountains, she never asked the other person's name.

She taught her Kalam, the harp, and the Zha Nian; she taught her Kalam folk songs praising divine grace and songs expressing affection; she taught her all things shrouded in mystery and incomparably beautiful. At one point, she even thought she had grown accustomed to the taste of milk wine and butter tea, and could stay there to spend the rest of her life after fulfilling her wishes. Actually, one should ask her if there was a blind elder in her tribe, but what meaning does knowing whether she is alive or dead have?

Fine cloth was wrapped around her body, covering all the stitches.

Simmons tilted her head and laughed, "Is that so? Then she'll definitely drag you back and beat you up." With that, she conjured a long stick and held it horizontally in front of her. Seeing that she seemed serious, the boy smiled and narrowed his eyes slightly.

The two fighters engaged in a brutal battle devoid of any dazzling techniques; it was simply a primal and straightforward clash of flesh and blood, a battle of fire and water between objects, yet it was nonetheless captivating. Intense sounds echoed throughout the arena, each punch and strike sending chills down the spine.

The force of the punch grazed his cheek, and with a soft "hiss," a spurt of blood gushed out.

Having been constantly observing her expression, the young man became instantly alert when he noticed a slight change in Simmons's expression. His strange pupils narrowed into diamond shapes as he stared intently at her. It wasn't until the woman winked mysteriously that he sensed something was amiss, his gaze falling on the hand she had extended from her pocket—

A handful of yellow sand was suddenly flung away by the hand, creating a hazy, grayish-yellow fog in front of her eyes.

Her vision blurred for a moment, and the boy instinctively closed his eyes. Then, a hand, seemingly light but actually precise and heavy, gripped the back of her neck. She knew that if Simmons used just a little more force, the competition would be over. She left the arena and slunk back to Garan, not only facing punishment from Ami but also losing at the very beginning.

She bit her lip, glaring at Simmons with resentment: "You cheated."

With the Buddha above, who would carry a handful of sand with them?

Simmons burst out laughing, then said dismissively, "This is sand collected from under the tree where the World Honored One rested. Don't you all revere it as a deity? This is a gift."

"Sharp-tongued," the young man scoffed. "I may be a bit young, but I'm not stupid. The World Honored One has already attained enlightenment and become a god!"

Not so. Simmons thought to himself, the Buddha was just an ordinary person who probably just lived a very long life after attaining enlightenment.

Seeing the boy gritting his teeth, she couldn't help but laugh and said, "How about this? You really want to win, but I don't care about winning or losing. So, if you grant me one request, I'll concede defeat. How about that?"

She lowered her voice: "We're just at a stalemate right now. I'll loosen my grip a little later, and you can win when you make your move."

"I don't want to—"

"Then you'll have to go back. Even if your mother comes looking for you after you lose, no one will stop you. Let me guess, copying scriptures, kneeling as punishment, being whipped..."

She listed them one by one, until the boy fell silent, then after a long pause he said in a muffled voice:

"I promise you."

The boy before her no longer possessed the serene composure of the saintess, unmoved even by the collapse of heaven and earth, nor did he utter a timeless and compassionate melody. Watching the ever-changing expressions on that familiar face, it was as if the eyebrows, lips, eyes, and nose had come alive, baring their fangs and brandishing their claws, no longer a beautiful, hollow shell, but a flesh-and-blood being bearing the five aggregates, fallen into the countless dusts of the world.

The Garan people have changed their mind and no longer elevate people to godhood or pursue that ethereal divinity.

She lowered her voice, embarrassed, and whispered, "I didn't lose, you remember. I just couldn't outwit the cunning of you Central Plains people..."

"Whatever happens, happens." Simmons shook her head. "Then be more careful, otherwise you'll be betrayed and still be helping them count the money?"

After speaking, she indeed relaxed her strength, letting the boy strike her with his palm. The long staff slipped from her hand, but a smile spread across her face. The outcome was decided, and just as she was about to get up on her own, a fair and strong hand appeared before her.

Simmons raised an eyebrow, grasped the hand tightly, used it to stand up, and dusted off her clothes. The battle was over; both were bruised and battered, and they helped each other as they walked step by step into the teleportation array.

The boy was caught in a subtle flutter of excitement, thinking that this person was lighter than he had imagined, and that there was a slightly bitter sandalwood scent about him that smelled very pleasant. However, the next moment, this flutter of excitement was like a squeaking baby mouse, startled and scattered by a stepping foot.

Because Simmons whispered in her ear with a smile:

"You're so short."

After they stepped down from the stage, the outcome was also decided on the Nascent Soul Realm side. The trick of using a flute as a sword was short-lived. Shen Lixia changed tactics and narrowly managed to press the longsword against Yun Zhixiao's neck before the two of them ran out of spiritual energy.

The feeling at that moment was naturally wonderful, because although she had won by a narrow margin, she had indeed won. A few years ago, she was still in the Foundation Establishment stage, watching from afar as the two who had formed a bond with her had to exert all their strength to confront the demons in the Golden Core stage. Now she could stand shoulder to shoulder with them, and she would go much further and much further.

The weight of time instantly settled in her hands. Shen Lixia sheathed her sword, solemnly cupped her hands, and said, "Thank you for your humility, Senior Sister Yun."

Even though Yun Zhixiao lost, she was not angry. Instead, she said calmly, "Thank you for your guidance, Junior Sister." Her smile was filled with genuine and radiant joy, as transparent and sincere as a ray of sunshine.

"You have really grown a lot."

-----------------------

Author's Note: To be honest, I actually wanted to write about Xia playing the suona in this chapter, since it's a terrifying instrument with a pitch that can rival the best in the world. But that would be too unfair to Senior Sister Yun, so I'll leave it at that.

Updates will be slower from now on, as the Taihui chapter is almost finished. I will try my best to ensure a high-quality ending to this chapter. I apologize for keeping readers waiting...