webnovelvip Chapter 540: A Battle of a Bunch of Useless Fools, Who Wants to Watch?
Chapter 540: A Battle of a Bunch of Useless Fools, Who Wants to Watch?
The inn's private rooms face the street, with windows half-open, allowing autumn sunlight to filter through and spread a thin layer of golden light on the floor.
Qin Mu leaned against the rosewood armchair by the window, his moon-white robe loosely draped over his body, the collar slightly open, revealing a small section of his collarbone.
He held a celadon teacup in one hand and rested the other on the armrest, his posture as languid as a satiated cat.
The streets outside the window were bustling and noisy, and the sound of the martial arts tournament horn could be faintly heard, as if through a layer of water.
Jiang Zhaoyue stood behind him, her slender fingers resting on his shoulders, massaging them gently.
Her technique was skillful and gentle; each press was just right, making Qin Mu's shoulder muscles loose and soft.
Zhao Qingxue sat on the embroidered stool beside him, holding a white jade plate in her hands, which contained peeled grapes.
Her movements were light and slow as she picked up a bright green fruit and brought it to Qin Mu's lips.
Qin Mu opened her mouth, took a bite, chewed, nodded, and then picked up the next one.
Yunluan stood at the door, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her back ramrod straight, her gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over every passing figure outside the window.
Her face was expressionless, except for a fleeting glint of alertness in her deep eyes.
Chen Ruoyao knelt on the brocade cushion at Qin Mu's feet, her hands on her knees, her posture as submissive as a tamed cat.
She wasn't wearing the white jade mask, revealing a face that looked exactly like Yun Suxin's.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on Qin Mu's face, filled with a perfect blend of admiration and trepidation.
Yun Suxin sat in the corner with a cup of tea in front of her. The tea had gone cold, but she didn't drink it.
Her gaze fell on Chen Ruoyao's face, which was exactly the same as hers, on her kneeling posture at Qin Mu's feet, and on her obedient and submissive appearance.
Her heart was churning with indescribable complex emotions, like a pot of porridge that had been stirred up.
That face is hers.
The body was wearing the clothes she had once worn.
That kneeling posture was something she had practiced before.
But at this moment, that face is fawning over another man, that body is serving another man, and that posture is seducing another man.
She sat there like a ghost whose shadow had been stolen, watching her own shadow come to life in someone else.
Chen Ruoyao raised her head and looked at Qin Mu, her voice as soft as a petal falling on the water.
"Your Majesty, aren't we going to the martial arts tournament now?"
Her eyes held just the right amount of curiosity, like a demure concubine inquiring about her husband's schedule.
Qin Mu did not rush to answer.
He held the teacup, gently blew away the foam, took a sip, put it down, and then spoke in a soft voice, with a hint of nonchalance.
"What's so interesting about that lousy competition? It's just a bunch of useless trash fighting."
He spoke so casually, as if he were talking about what to eat tonight.
But beneath that casualness lay an undeniable, deep-seated disdain.
Chen Ruoyao's eyes flickered slightly, but she didn't dare to say anything. She just lowered her head and softly hummed in agreement, her tone conveying a sense of obedience that "Your Majesty is right."
Yun Suxin shifted her gaze from the teacup to Qin Mu's face.
Her gaze held an indescribable complexity, a mixture of sarcasm, self-mockery, and a deep weariness that even she herself was unaware of.
She recalled how she had been like that, sitting on the high platform, watching the martial artists below fight, her heart filled with disdain, thinking they were nothing more than a bunch of ants tearing each other apart.
But now, she herself is just one of those ants.
A self-deprecating smile slowly curved her lips.
The curve was very shallow and faint, almost invisible in the candlelight.
Qin Mu seemed to sense her gaze, and turned his head slightly to look at her.
The smile remained on his lips, revealing no emotion.
"Moon Goddess, what do you think?"
Yun Suxin's eyelashes trembled slightly.
She looked up and met Qin Mu's gaze.
She didn't dodge or flinch; she simply looked back at him calmly.
"If His Majesty says they are useless, then they are useless."
Her voice was soft and calm, revealing no emotion.
But beneath that nonchalance lies a deep-seated acceptance of reality.
It's not about flattery or pandering; it's just that I'm too lazy to argue.
Qin Mu looked at her for a long time, and then smiled.
That smile was genuine, carrying a hint of heartfelt appreciation.
"You've learned your lesson."
Yun Suxin did not answer.
She simply lowered her head, looking again at the now-cold tea, at her pale, blurry reflection in the tea.
Has she learned her lesson?
Maybe.
But she knew that this kind of "obedience" was not what she wanted.
She was just tired.
Jiang Zhaoyue's fingers paused on Qin Mu's shoulder for a moment, then continued to massage it.
Her gaze lingered on Yun Suxin's face for a moment before shifting away.
She said nothing and asked nothing.
Another horn sounded outside the window, this time closer than before.
The second round of the martial arts tournament should have already begun.
But none of the people in that private room paid any attention to the bugle call.
Qin Mu leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest twice.
The tapping sound was soft and steady, carrying a sense of unhurried composure.
"Let them fight. When they're done, someone will come and tell me the result."
Jiang Zhaoyue's hand paused on his shoulder for a moment, then continued to massage.
Her voice was very soft, so soft it was as if she were talking to herself.
"Your Majesty's strategic planning and ability to win battles from afar are truly admirable."
Qin Mu smiled but didn't say anything.
The laughter was very soft, like smoke scattered by the wind, disappearing in an instant.
The bugle call outside the window grew louder and louder.
Chen Ruoyao lowered her head, picked up another grape, peeled it, and brought it to Qin Mu's lips.
Her fingers trembled slightly, a tremor so subtle it was like the flutter of a butterfly's wings.
She didn't know why she was trembling. Maybe it was because the horn outside the window was too loud, or maybe it was because of Yun Suxin's gaze from the corner, like a cold needle pricking her back. It didn't hurt, but she couldn't ignore it no matter what.
Qin Mu opened his mouth, took the grape in, chewed it, and swallowed it.
The private room fell silent again.
Only the afternoon sunlight of autumn remained, slowly shifting through the windowpanes.
The situation on the stage was almost settled the moment the scorpion missed its target.
Zhao Wujiu's sidestep appeared to be merely a dodge, but as his dagger retracted, it silently flashed with a dark light.
The trajectory of the light was very short and narrow, almost invisible, as it swept across Wu Xingyun's left wrist without spilling a single drop of blood.
But Wu Xingyun's wrist suddenly froze.
He looked down at his wrist, at the thin white line as fine as a hair. His pupils contracted slightly, and then slowly, the white line turned into a red mark, which in turn turned into a blood line, from which tiny beads of blood seeped out.
His fingers loosened uncontrollably, and the blue Gu King bag slipped from his palm, falling to the ground with a "thud." The bag's opening came open, and several slender tentacles peeked out before retracting.
Wu Xingyun's lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but before he could utter a sound, his body swayed and then fell straight down like a sawn piece of wood.
"Bang."
With a dull thud, a small cloud of dust rose from the arena.
There was a moment of silence in the audience.
Then, like a pot of water being boiled, a cacophony of voices erupted.
"One move?"
"Just one move? And Wu Xingyun fell?"
"That dagger is poisoned!"
"No, it's the Gu worm turning on us! He severed the connection between Wu Xingyun and his natal Gu!"
"What can sever the Gu worm's senses? Isn't that a secret technique of the Southern Border Gu King Sect? How did he do it?"
On the stage, Zhao Wujiu put away his dagger.
The dark dagger spun in his palm before sliding into his sleeve, like a fish swimming back into deep water.
He glanced down at Wu Xingyun lying on the ground, then at the blue Gu King Bag, before raising his foot and gently kicking it to the edge of the arena.
He didn't speak, didn't boast, and didn't even give a superfluous glance.
He simply turned around and walked off the stage, his pace still unhurried.
Fan Li stood on the high platform and remained silent for two breaths before speaking.
"Wu Xingyun is defeated! Zhao Wujiu is victorious!"
Xu Longxiang leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips lightly on the armrest, his gaze fixed on the gray-robed figure walking off the stage.
"This Zhao Wujiu... is quite interesting."
Fan Li nodded, his voice very low.
"Unaffiliated with any sect or faction, a rogue cultivator of the Great Qin Dynasty, his origins are shrouded in mystery. His attacks are swift and decisive, leaving no trace, as if he has seen blood before."
Xu Longxiang didn't reply, his gaze lingered on the gray-robed figure for a moment longer before shifting away.
Jian Lai stood on the Qinglan Sword Sect's seat, watching the gray-robed figure walk off the stage, his fingers gently stroking the hilt of his sword.
He had seen it clearly just now: Zhao Wujiu's slash was neither poison nor a curse.
He used an extremely refined internal force to cut into the sensory link between Wu Xingyun and his natal Gu along the blade of the dagger.
He had seen that technique in an ancient book; it was the long-lost "Pulse-Severing Blade," specifically designed to deal with cultivators like Gu worm masters and puppeteers who rely on external objects.
But that ancient book must have been destroyed in a wildfire a hundred years ago.
How did Zhao Wujiu learn it?
Who is he?
Where did he learn his teacher?
Jian Lai's brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed.
He didn't look at Zhao Wujiu again, his gaze returning to the arena.
The third match has begun.
Another swordsman from the North was facing off against a swordsman from an island in the East Sea.