Chapter Thirty-Three: Lin Qingyu

All afternoon the gentle breeze persisted, and the quarterfinals were about to commence.

The eight remaining disciples stepped onto the stage to draw lots. Among them, Chen Fan, just thirteen or fourteen, and Yan Linzu, only a little older, stood out conspicuously.

When it was Chen Fan’s turn to draw, a wave of jeers erupted from a particular corner of the crowd. The source was none other than the area occupied by the disciples of the Four Symbols Sect.

Yu Xingzheng stood coldly at the forefront of their ranks, eyes fixed on Chen Fan atop the platform; the enmity between the two was already set.

Chen Fan shook his head, glanced obliquely in their direction, and raised his middle finger. “Idiots…”

He rarely went out of his way to provoke others, but when he was offended, he would never allow himself to be cowed. Besides, he was already convinced that yesterday’s ambush had been orchestrated by Yu Xingzheng, and a fire of anger was smoldering within him.

Meanwhile, up on the dais, Li Linliu witnessed the scene and snorted coldly, causing the other pavilion and gang leaders to shudder. The old master of the Four Symbols Sect wore a bitter smile: “Young disciples are competitive by nature. Forgive their rudeness, Pavilion Master Li.”

The actions of the disciples inevitably reflected on their teachers, leaving him helpless.

Li Linliu sneered but said nothing more.

Chen Fan looked at the result of his draw and felt a touch of resignation. His first opponent was, unexpectedly, another female disciple—the sole woman among the top eight—also from the Cold Plum Pavilion, named Lin Qingyu. She, too, was at the second level of martial cultivation.

She was younger than Li Wen, her senior sister, and it was unclear which strength-training manual she had studied, but it was surely not an ordinary one.

Although female disciples were naturally at a disadvantage in terms of vital energy and blood, and thus generally weaker in combat, Lin Qingyu was far stronger than Li Wen—on an entirely different level from Chen Fan’s previous opponents.

Many in the audience gasped at the result, marveling at Chen Fan’s luck in drawing the only woman among the top eight. But in reality, Lin Qingyu’s strength was formidable; the crowd, blinded by prejudice, unfairly labeled Chen Fan as merely “lucky.”

Backstage, Feng Yuancheng shook his head as he watched the arena, thinking to himself, “Chen Fan is certain to lose. Even for me, defeating Lin Qingyu would be no easy feat!”

Yu Xingzheng’s expression was icy, but excitement flickered in his eyes. “Even if you escaped the Black League’s ambush, you’ll still be defeated. Hmph, weakness is a crime in itself!”

A bronze gong rang out.

When the referee announced the names of the competitors and called for Chen Fan, another round of jeers erupted from the Four Symbols Sect’s section.

“Those bastards!”

Bao Tianyou and the others who were on friendly terms with Chen Fan stepped forward to confront them, nearly sparking a conflict. Fortunately, event staff quickly intervened to keep order and separate the groups.

Even so, the audience buzzed with speculation and discussion.

Returning to his seat, Bao Tianyou was at a loss: “Yu Xingzheng really is a fool. He’s already been eliminated—there’s nothing to be done about it—so why go out of his way to antagonize a genius like Chen Fan?”

The difference in their emotional intelligence and perspectives was vast; their values utterly at odds. Bao Tianyou simply could not comprehend Yu Xingzheng’s self-defeating behavior. He had never thought much of Yu Xingzheng; though talented, his character was so poor that he was unfit for any great responsibility.

Li Linliu continued to smile coldly, saying nothing. You Shahu narrowed his eyes, watching the spectacle with amusement. “Chen Fan reached the quarterfinals by default. If he wants to quell the rumors, he has no choice but to fight a good match—perhaps even win…”

He paused, then sighed regretfully, “It’s a pity—Chen Fan has both luck and talent, but he’s simply too young. His raw strength is insufficient. Against Lin Qingyu, the gap is too wide. I fear this is as far as he’ll go.”

Chen Fan’s youth and progress so far were attributed to his robust natural energy and extraordinary talent. However, he had yet to demonstrate the strength needed to match the tournament’s seeded favorites and thus lacked widespread support. Many believed his advancement to the top fifteen, or even the top thirty, was merely a result of not having faced strong opponents.

The other pavilion masters all nodded in agreement.

“In truth, if Chen Fan wishes to prove himself, he needn’t win. As long as he puts up a decent fight and holds his ground for a few more exchanges against Lin Qingyu, that would suffice.”

By any measure, Chen Fan was not weak; his performance in reaching the top fifteen had been impressive and had already showcased his talent. Yet, his age set him apart from Lin Qingyu and the others; they were on an entirely different level. Expectations were different—so long as he met them, he could escape his current awkward position.

Li Linliu smiled as he watched the arena, narrowing his eyes. “Do you all really think Chen Fan will lose so easily? I see it differently. The fact that he hasn’t faced powerful opponents or advanced by default doesn’t mean he’s inferior.”

The others shook their heads, laughing it off.

The master of the Four Symbols Sect said, “If Chen Fan were two years older, he might have a chance. As things stand… ha!”

Teng Bo coughed. “Chen Fan is prodigiously talented—he’ll surely last a few extra moves…”

Li Linliu only smiled in silence. As the deputy master of White Cloud Pavilion, even if his own disciple was weaker, he would still support him as a teacher should. His words had been spoken deliberately. Whether or not Chen Fan could win was, in fact, unimportant; the very fact that he had come this far was enough. As for public opinion, what were a few words worth?

Li Linliu paid little heed to such things. His perspective differed from most: between talent and strength, he valued the former more. He was already considering what gift to present to this young man.

The referee announced the start of the match.

Chen Fan and Lin Qingyu took to the stage.

Chen Fan studied her—her black hair tied in a ponytail, her features delicate and refined.

In terms of looks, she was no less attractive than her senior sister, Li Wen. Her movements were graceful, her demeanor gentle, giving off the air of an elegant lady from a good family.

Chen Fan cupped his fist in salute, making no immediate move to attack—not out of softness towards women, but because Lin Qingyu seemed approachable and reasonable. Still, there was a question nagging at him. “Senior Sister Lin, I have a question—would you mind clarifying something for me?”

Lin Qingyu raised an eyebrow at him. Seeing his handsome face and sincere, modest manner, she formed a good first impression and replied with a gentle smile, “Go ahead.”

Chen Fan was the youngest among the remaining contestants, and his appearance only heightened that impression. Without further preamble, he asked directly, “Senior Sister Lin, you’re not yet seventeen, yet you’ve already reached the second level of martial cultivation. I don’t understand—since you’re under eighteen, why not study another strength-training manual, solidify your foundation further, and then break through?”

Lin Qingyu’s gaze softened; she had taken a liking to his polite manner and saw no reason to hide anything. “Half a year ago, I mastered the Cold Plum Pavilion’s highest-level strength-training manual, ‘Plum Blossom Fist.’ Now that I’m past seventeen, even if I spent another year, I’d only complete a lesser manual—at best a third- or low second-grade one. The gains would be limited. It’s better to begin true cultivation immediately.”

Strengthening one’s foundation was like a logarithmic function—the further one progressed, the harder it became to improve. Once a top-tier manual had been mastered, further gains from lesser manuals were minimal. Since it was impossible to lay a much stronger foundation, it made sense to pursue advanced internal cultivation early.

After all, accumulating vital energy was meant to facilitate true cultivation later. The difference between starting a year early and a marginally improved foundation came down to personal choice.

Chen Fan was surprised. “Senior Sister, you’ve only been cultivating for half a year, and you’ve already broken through the first level?”

Lin Qingyu nodded. “The first level is the simplest. It only requires converting your inner energy into true essence. Some prodigies do it in three or four months; for someone like me, it takes a little over half a year…”

She was being modest. While perhaps not on par with Feng Yuancheng, her talent far exceeded that of Yu Xingzheng and his ilk.

Chen Fan nodded, finally understanding. So the first level of true cultivation could be conquered in just months. No wonder the gap between first-level martial artists and ordinary practitioners wasn’t so great. That explained why Yu Xingzheng and Ge Yuantong, both under eighteen, had already reached the second level.

Chen Fan had always thought true cultivation was extremely difficult, requiring two or three years to break through a level. He’d thought Yu Xingzheng and the others were wasting their time by starting so early.

“So this Senior Sister Lin only recently advanced to the second level. No wonder, despite a stronger foundation, her reputation is not as high as Yu Xingzheng or Ge Yuantong’s…”

Give her a few more months, and Lin Qingyu’s strength would surely surpass theirs by far.

Chen Fan cupped his hands. “Thank you for enlightening me, Senior Sister.”

Lin Qingyu shook her head. “No need.”

These were common facts, but Chen Fan had entered the martial path so recently that he simply didn’t know them. After this brief exchange, Lin Qingyu found herself with a favorable impression of this handsome, courteous junior.

Having cleared his doubts, Chen Fan bowed and readied his stance. “Let’s begin.”

Seeing how quickly he switched from conversation to focus, Lin Qingyu felt a faint sense of loss, but composed herself and stepped forward. “Junior Brother, I’m coming!”