Ch 2: None But I!
Sixty years ago, Emperor Taizu Zhao Kuangyin, relying on his fists and a staff, established a glorious empire. While returning home to pay homage to his ancestors, Zhao Kuangyin accidentally obtained a stone tablet.
The front of the stone tablet was inscribed with the names of one hundred and eight martial arts experts of the time, divided into thirty-six Tiangang and seventy-two Disha; the back depicted a map of mountains and rivers.
If a person on the list died, or was defeated by someone ranked lower, the ranking would change accordingly. Over time, a ranking culture was formed in the martial world.
There were various rankings such as the Dragon and Tiger List, the Beauty List, and the Potential Dragon List. Independent of the Tiangang and Disha Lists were the “One Immortal, Two Buddhas, Three Demons, Four Absolutes,” which gave rise to several intelligence networks.
This wasn’t hype; it was real profit.
Martial artists listed on the Disha List were respectfully called Grandmasters and could establish sects in states, prefectures, and counties, acquiring profits.
Martial artists listed on the Tiangang List were respectfully called Grand Grandmasters and could establish sects in famous mountains and rivers, Cave Heaven and Blessed Lands, becoming the patriarch of a school, or an Imperial Attendant.
The Tang Family of Hangzhou is the best example.
The Tang Family was originally a branch of the Shuzhong Tang Clan. Tang Songting, with exceptional talent, abandoned the skills of poison and hidden weapons, specializing in martial arts, and ascended to the Tiangang List at the age of twenty-five.
Afterward, Tang Songting left the Tang Clan’s main branch and established himself in Hangzhou. The Tang Clan didn’t say much, only forbidding the Tang Family from practicing the Tang Clan’s unique skills.
Another example is Empress Dowager Liu E, who ruled from behind the curtain.
Liu E was a disciple of the Yin Gui Sect, inheriting the legacies of the Yin Gui and Huajian Sects, and ranked first on the Tiangang List, only slightly inferior to Empress Wu Zetian.
There’s another theory that the Tiangang List represents the limit of human physical capabilities; surpassing it leads to becoming an immortal or Buddha, which is the “One Immortal, Two Buddhas, Three Demons” at the pinnacle of the martial world.
These are too distant, too ethereal.
A Disha Grandmaster is already someone countless people look up to.
A Tiangang Grand Grandmaster is even more rare and unattainable.
Li Zhaoting, at a young age, possessed the strength comparable to a Tiangang Grand Grandmaster. Even if he only reached the bottom of the Tiangang List and made no further progress throughout his life, he could still protect the Feng Family for seventy years.
The competition proceeded very quickly.
Contestant after contestant was knocked off the stage, and the competition gradually shifted from a round-robin format to a defending champion format.
Wen Chou, Dongfang Sheng, Liu Changying, and Li Zhaoting each occupied a stage, and all contestants could challenge them until everyone was convinced.
Wen Chou’s weapon was a sugarcane; Dongfang Sheng excelled in blade techniques; and Liu Changying wielded a folding fan.
Initially, they could maintain their composure, their moves elegant, grand, and magnificent. As the number of challengers increased, their physical strength diminished, and the situation gradually became disadvantageous.
If they weren’t of noble birth, they would have already lost their position as defending champion.
Defending one’s position is inherently like that.
The more battles participated in, the more severe the depletion of True Qi and physical strength, and it also becomes easier for opponents to discover weaknesses in one’s moves, inadvertently leading to desperate situations.
Only Li Zhaoting remained composed.
No matter who challenged him, whether they used spears, swords, knives, fists, claws, or meteor hammers, Li Zhaoting always effortlessly knocked his opponents off the stage.
Dressed in a blue robe, wielding a green bamboo staff, employing a unique sword technique.
His sword stood across his chest like an insurmountable chasm, an impassable barrier, and no one could approach within a step, nor withstand three moves.
Even more surprising was that Li Zhaoting used swordsmanship, yet his weapon was an ordinary green bamboo staff; no one could make Li Zhaoting draw his sword.
Whose disciple is this?
What is the Lingnan Li Family’s background?
Initially, Feng Shaoqing’s eyes were on Liu Changying and Dongfang Sheng, looking down on Li Zhaoting. As the competition progressed, Feng Shaoqing became increasingly excited.
Just as in “Seeking a Son-in-Law After the List is Posted,” where those who select a lower-ranked scholar often do so, if one party’s status is far higher than the other, conflict will inevitably arise sooner or later.
Not everyone has Liu E’s fate!
Compared to the son of a minister or a Young Marquis, Li Zhaoting, a poor boy without official rank or title but with exceptional talent, is more suitable to be a son-in-law, without worrying about being bullied.
In fact, in the martial world’s “Seeking a Son-in-Law After the List is Posted,” the selection often falls on talented martial artists from small sects, while talented disciples from famous sects mostly marry within their own circles.
For example, Wudang and Emei have intermarried for generations.
“Whether you are a contestant or not, whether you have the qualifications to participate or not, no matter how many of you there are, those who are willing to come up, come on! Don’t waste time!”
Li Zhaoting lightly swept his staff forward, leaving a deep scratch on the stage. Two long banners flew from his sleeves and hung on the wooden bar in front of the stage.
—Today, if one asks for a son-in-law worthy of the name, who else dares to answer this title?
“Damn it, this kid is incredibly arrogant. It’s a pity it’s not the right time; I really want to fight him!”
A man in a black robe stared intently at Li Zhaoting on the stage, his battle intent almost tangible. His name was Feng Bo’e, and he loved fighting more than anything.
“Not so, not so. This boy’s skills, compared to our Young Master, are like fireflies compared to the sun and moon; just a pretty boy, nothing worth paying attention to!”
The speaker was a thin middle-aged man, quite tall, with a split mustache, wearing a drab gray robe. He liked to stroke his mustache while speaking.
This person’s name was Bao Butong. He was sworn brothers with Feng Bo’e and loved arguing with people, whether right or wrong; his sharp tongue made him offend many.
The “Young Master” they were surrounding was the famous Suzhou Murong.
Suzhou Murong was a descendant of the Xianbei Imperial Family. Although their dynasty had fallen six hundred years ago, they still harbored dreams of restoration.
Murong Fu’s participation in this Martial Arts Competition for a Bride was not to marry Feng Suzhen, but to take the opportunity to gather some young talents to prepare for the restoration of his kingdom.
Unfortunately, having Feng Bo’e and Bao Butong by his side, two brilliant but troublesome individuals, meant he was doomed to fail.
With great difficulty, he used Money Power to make friends, only to have them either beaten away by Feng Bo’e or scolded away by Bao Butong. He made no friends and gained a multitude of enemies.
Seeing the elegant Li Zhaoting, Murong Fu thought that since this young man had no official position or wealth, he could probably be won over with a large sum of money.
Before he could voice his thoughts, Feng Bo’e and Bao Butong shattered his fantasy: Recruiting someone? Hah!
With Bao Sange’s sharp tongue, not making enemies would be considered a good thing; the possibility of making enemies was much greater.
Seemingly sensing Murong Fu’s resentment, Bao Butong glanced at him and swallowed.
I know I’m wrong, but I won’t change!
Bao Butong and Feng Bo’e were not jealous or power-hungry. Their conduct was upright, and they weren’t deliberately sabotaging things; they simply couldn’t change their bad habits.
Even if their mute points were pressed or their tongues cut out, Bao Butong would still argue with others, using a writing brush.
Life is not over, arguing is not over.
The only comfort for Murong Fu was that his father had left behind the “Four Great Ministers”; the other two were relatively reliable and at least wouldn’t cause trouble.
Gongye Qian whispered, “Young Master, when you challenge him later, defeat Li Zhaoting first, crush this guy’s arrogance, and then offer him a large sum of money…”
Deng Baichuan added, “Li Zhaoting has no official position, wealth, or family fortune, so he will surely submit to you.”
Feng Bo’e glanced at Bao Butong.
Bao Butong covered his mouth, his neck stiff.
Feng Bo’e smiled gleefully and pressed Bao Butong’s mute point: “For the Young Master’s important matter, we can only make Bao Sange suffer the indignity of being a mute for a while!”
Murong Fu nodded in satisfaction, then leaped onto the stage: “A graceful lady, a gentleman’s pursuit. Brother Li wishes to marry Miss Feng; I should facilitate this…”
“Too much nonsense, make your move!”
Li Zhaoting interrupted Murong Fu.
Murong Fu, outwardly tolerant but actually petty, frowned, drew his sword and stabbed at Li Zhaoting. A bright light flashed, forming a large arc.
Li Zhaoting exerted a slight pressure with his five fingers, shattering his green bamboo staff into dozens of bamboo strips. He pulled out a bamboo sword.
With a thought, his sword momentum suddenly changed. Thousands of willow branches turned into a torrential storm; one sword followed another, the sword momentum like thunder and wind, vast and unending.
The Murong Clan’s hereditary Douzhuanxingyi unique skill could borrow and redirect force, rebounding internal energy. Suzhou Murong’s reputation of using one’s own methods against them came from this.
Murong Fu wanted to use “Douzhuanxingyi” to reverse the trajectory of the sword light, but Li Zhaoting changed his moves incredibly quickly. His sword qi was like mist, his sword momentum like water, and his sword light like a waterfall.
With a flash of sword light, the bamboo sword cut out with a strange and peculiar arc, like the willows reflected in lake water when the surface ripples are stirred by a gentle breeze.
The shimmering light and shadow intersected, making it impossible for Murong Fu to sense the changes in the energy, like the subtle ambiguity of wind rustling water, revealing the illusion of reality and the reality of illusion.
The Murong Clan collected martial arts from various schools. Murong Fu had practiced various martial skills since childhood, but he had never seen such ethereal and superb swordsmanship in his life.
Two moves.
Just two moves.
The renowned Suzhou Murong was forced to dance and his swordsmanship was disrupted. He could only desperately defend, swinging his sword in a circle to resist the ubiquitous sword qi.
Gongye Qian and Deng Baichuan wanted to offer praise to bolster Murong Fu’s reputation, but the situation was unexpectedly this way; they wanted to help but couldn’t think of a way.
The so-called mastery of various martial arts was child’s play in the face of Li Zhaoting’s thin, delicate sword qi.
“Ha!”
Murong Fu roared, his sword spinning, displaying the Murong Clan’s hereditary Longcheng Swordsmanship; the moves flowed smoothly, continuously, his sword intent desolate, his killing intent awe-inspiring.
Li Zhaoting’s eyes narrowed. His sword moved with his body; wisps of sword qi rotated and overlapped with his body’s movements, transforming from thin threads into a long whip, the tip gathering energy into a sharp point.
A loud “pop” echoed through the air as a bright whip flower appeared, its tip precisely striking Murong Fu’s sword blade, instantly shattering the sword.
Li Zhaoting lightly stepped, moving like a fleeting shadow, and in a single step, arrived before Murong Fu. His left hand, fingers like hooks, brushed against Murong Fu’s chest, dispersing his energy.
Was this a gentle breeze, calm waters?
This was clearly a raging storm, a wild sea.
Murong Fu was a small boat in the storm, tossed up and down by the waves, completely at their mercy, his body limp, without the slightest ability to resist.
“Swish!”
Murong Fu was thrown off the stage.
Murong Fu lost, but he at least achieved something others couldn’t. Murong Fu was the only one who made Li Zhaoting draw his sword, which was quite a consolation.
Gongye Qian and Deng Baichuan hurriedly stepped forward, supporting Murong Fu, and glared angrily at Li Zhaoting.
Li Zhaoting laughed, “Anyone else? If no one challenges me, then Miss Feng should present her challenge!”
The beaded curtain moved slightly, and the sound of a zither was heard.
Feng Suzhen’s primary martial art is… zither music!
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