Chapter Forty-Five: Drawing My Sword for You
A sudden southeast wind arose, parting the swirling, pale clouds and mist.
The quiet, somber Bagua Square swelled like a sail filled with wind; from afar came the sound of rustling leaves, chaotic as a rainstorm.
The dim, ruddy sun now shone gently, kissing the smoky clouds across the sky.
In the dark-red light, faint sounds of sobbing filled the air.
Xu Xing paced back and forth through the dappled shadows, returning time and again to the spot where Ziyan had once stood.
Unknowingly, the soles of his white cloth shoes had picked up stains of bright, fresh blood.
He crouched down, placing his thin, withered hand gently on the pool of blood—the blood was still hot.
A single tear fell, as light as misty rain, merging with the blood and turning it as turbid as a river.
Staring at the gradually roiling blood, Xu Xing stood dazed, a foolish smile on his lips; in that moment, he seemed to see Ziyan’s shadow.
Smiling, he began to weep, his sobs barely audible...
Everyone watched Xu Xing in silence.
Though the Bagua Square was cold and deathly still, a faint funeral song seemed to rise, echoing Xu Xing’s name.
The red sun shone through the gaps in the crowd, casting a halo around Xu Xing.
His figure slowly faded, like an ink painting cherished for years.
“Yesterday,” he murmured, “you taught me of spring grass and singing orioles, of fine rain and mist, and treated me as family.”
“Today, you are gone. I draw my sword and go to war for you. Please look to the clouds in the heavens. I do not know where you are, but I believe you can see me.”
Gazing at the pool of blood, Xu Xing choked back tears:
“How strange. I’m Xu Xing, am I not? A man such as myself—how could I possibly cry?”
The square was utterly silent; throughout Haicheng, all the young prodigies mourned for him.
Xu Xing wiped his eyes, slowly stood, drew a steady breath, and turned his gaze, focusing only on Li Chunyi.
A wildfire blazed in his eyes, burning fiercely—the air around him grew hot.
The square remained mute.
Li Chunyi glanced about, sensing his words had been futile.
No one took his side simply because Xu Xing was from a disgraced clan; on the contrary, he himself had become the villain.
If everyone spat on him like a street rat, how could he remain in North Sea Academy? How could he seize the cultivation garden, or become stronger?
Xu Xing spoke not a word of waste; the sword on his back rang out, and before it was drawn, the blade flew to his heel.
“Xu Xing,” came a voice, “your name is renowned. I have often heard Mo Xi speak of you. You used forbidden drugs at Zhuoding Academy. At this moment, you disappoint me greatly—unable even to protect the one you love most. You wish to be with my sister? That is nothing but delusion.”
Under pressure, Mo Yi stepped forward, facing Xu Xing head-on.
Mo Yi’s presence was no less than Xu Xing’s, and even faintly pressed upon him.
Xu Xing replied coolly:
“As for Mo Xi, I have long since let her go. It is you who cannot forget, she who still clings to the past. I am carefree; all of this is a consequence of your own making!”
The crowd erupted at his words.
Faded memories surfaced in their minds; most began to discuss Xu Xing’s past.
“I think I remember now—years ago at Zhuoding Academy, there was a Xu Xing who took forbidden drugs to win honor and fame. He was expelled in the end. Could this be the same Xu Xing?”
“Yes, yes, I remember too. It must be him! And there was some story with Mo Xi—they parted badly.”
“Hearing this, I recall as well—the one who cheated his way to first place at Zhuoding Academy. It seems Xu Xing is no good either, just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“He was never worthy of Mo Xi!”
As the crowd murmured, Mo Yi smiled in satisfaction, for his words had stirred old wounds.
Something that should have faded in the river of time now returned to haunt them.
These accusations left Xu Xing at a loss, his sword hand trembling—all of it slander!
He, who had lived a wild, unrestrained life, would never be held back by romance—yet now he was made a villain, the world so muddied.
It had been Li Chunyi who once slandered him at Zhuoding Academy; now these two reversed the truth, the guilty crying thief.
Even if he was chilled to the bone, misunderstood by the world, even if his past was twisted—
Xu Xing sighed quietly, ceasing to dwell on it. Though his heart was cold, this battle could not be avoided. Let them misjudge; he would answer with strength alone!
At that moment, several familiar voices rang out.
They were Hang Ri, Jiang Kun, Su Mei, and Zhou Yuan.
“Mo Yi is spouting nonsense—none of it is true. You know nothing of Xu Xing. He’s my brother; I swear on my life, he is not that kind of person.”
“Yes, we know Xu Xing’s character well. If he truly did such things, we would leave North Sea Academy ourselves.”
“Does anyone know me? I am Zhou Yuan, an inner disciple of the sect leader—I vouch for him! Because he is Xu Xing.”
“I am Jiang Kun, a newcomer perhaps, but I have seen Xu Xing’s deeds with my own eyes. He would never do such things. I vouch for him too!”
Finally, the four spoke as one:
“Because he is Xu Xing. We believe in him!”
Xu Xing turned and saw the familiar figures of his friends.
They stood together, grinning foolishly at Xu Xing.
In that instant, warmth flooded Xu Xing’s cold body, setting his blood on fire.
Their words made everyone question—who was true, who was false?
Then, a gentle, crystalline voice sounded from the west. All turned to look.
Was it her? Mo Xi?
“Once, I studied with him at Zhuoding Academy. He would never do such a thing.”
Mo Xi’s words, cold as ancient ice, brought everyone to their senses.
“Li Chunyi, let us fight,” Xu Xing said, ignoring all the rumors. “I will cut off your head and destroy you beneath this light, leaving you nowhere to hide.”
No longer did Xu Xing hear the whispers of the crowd—he spoke only for himself.
Li Chunyi snorted and chuckled:
“Do you really think I’m afraid of you? So what if my reputation is ruined? Let’s fight!”
An elderly figure hovering in the air spoke, his presence stifling, his words slow and deep:
“According to academy rules, at the Freshman Assembly, only new students may duel. Xu Xing, you may challenge someone chosen by Li Chunyi. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Xu Xing replied, kicking the sword at his feet into his hand. He pointed it at Mo Yi through Li Chunyi and said,
“This match—do you dare accept?”
Li Chunyi turned and whispered:
“Master Mo, ignore him. There’s no need to pay attention to this clown.”
“Afraid? Why should I not accept? Either he dies here, or I do. If Ziyan were here, I’d kill Xu Xing before her eyes. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
With that, Mo Yi glanced westward at the woman beneath a bamboo umbrella—Mo Xi, beautiful beyond compare.
Mo Xi avoided his gaze, lowering her head.
In an instant, the old man in the sky flicked his finger; a domain a hundred paces wide formed, pushing everyone else outside.
Within the domain, Xu Xing gripped the scabbard, gazing toward the sunrise, and smiled gently:
“Senior Sister, I draw my sword for you.”
The blade slowly slid free.