coobybook Chapter 515 Rookie's First Battle
Chapter 515 Rookie's First Battle
The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the bluestone ground of the Immortal Sect's martial arts arena was still covered with dew. I stood on the edge of the presiding platform, my fingertips unconsciously stroking the gold patterns on the ancient book in my arms.
The word "tomorrow" spoken by the Azure Scale Man before he exploded into black mist last night felt like a needle stuck in my throat—but the noise from the stands was too loud at the moment. The disciples' discussions mixed with the soft sounds of magical artifacts colliding, and the fishy smell of freshly turned soil rushed over.
"Junior Sister Xiao." Senior Brother Lin's voice came from behind me. His wide sleeve swept across the back of my hand, revealing calluses from years of wielding a sword.
This senior disciple, who entered the sect ten years earlier than me, had his brows furrowed as he glanced at the neatly lined-up newcomers below the arena: "The first round is a sparring match of basic spells. These kids can recite the theory lessons fluently, but once they get on the stage, they can't even do a three-step maneuver."
You have to demonstrate yourself, otherwise things will get really chaotic.
I turned to look at him. The bronze sword tassel at his waist was still stained with mud from chasing the black mist last night—after Elder Xuanfeng led his men out to chase after it, when we returned to the Star Gazing Hall, Senior Brother Lin volunteered to stay and help repair the barrier.
At this moment, a bluish shadow floated in his eyes, but his voice remained as steady as a pillar of strength.
“Okay,” I replied, turning around as the pages of the ancient book rustled softly.
The warmth of the person in my arms still lingers. This morning, when he combed my hair, he said, "I'll be waiting for you at the Star Gazing Hall." The wooden hairpin at the end of my hair is now pressed against the back of my neck, like an invisible support.
The moment I leaped onto the ring, the bluestone slab beneath my feet was chillingly cold.
I breathed on my palm, and spiritual energy gathered at my fingertips—this was a little trick I learned after secretly practicing for three months in the servants' quarters back then.
The audience fell silent for a moment, then a junior disciple whispered, "It's Senior Sister Xiao!"
"Watch closely." I whispered, drawing a fire talisman with my right hand.
Crimson gold runes shot out from his fingertips, condensing into a three-inch fire lotus in mid-air. Then, his left hand formed a sword incantation, and the wooden sword at his waist "hummed" as it was drawn from its sheath. The tip of the sword, carrying the fire lotus, thrust straight at the imaginary enemy's Jianjing acupoint.
The fire lotus exploded half a foot away from the "enemy," but the wooden sword stopped with remarkable stability, its tip touching the opponent's wrist pulse—a skillful technique for disarming a magical weapon.
Cheers erupted from the stands.
As I sheathed my sword, I caught a glimpse of Elder Li nodding on the judges' panel. His white beard was blown up by the wind, and the ink on the bamboo slip in his hand was still wet—this old man valued practical details the most.
Master Zhao stood by the arena with his arms crossed, the supervisor's flag at his waist crumpled in his grip, but his gaze never left my swordplay.
But my gaze remained fixed on the faces of the rookies in the audience.
Zhou Xianzi stood in the first row, her arms crossed and eyes lowered, her fingertips unconsciously twirling the ends of her hair, silently memorizing my movements; Junior Sister Chu shrank at the back of the line, her already pale face even paler, her fingers twisting the jade pendant at her waist, a talisman her master had given her before the competition, now tinged with bluish-gray in the morning mist.
"The competition begins." Senior Brother Lin's voice shattered the brief silence.
When Chu Shimei's name was called for the third time, she staggered and jumped onto the arena.
Her opponent was the closed-door disciple of Uncle Zhang, an inner sect master. He was burly and strong, and at the moment he was smiling at her while holding a thunder talisman. His smile carried a hint of arrogance unique to young people. He had gone on two missions with Uncle Zhang last year, so he naturally did not take this junior sister, who had only been in the inner sect for three months, seriously.
When the first lightning talisman struck down, Junior Sister Chu screamed and dodged to the side, forgetting the basic rule of spell sparring: protect your lower body when dodging attacks.
Her left foot tripped on a protruding rock at the edge of the ring, and she fell flat on her backside.
A burst of snickers erupted from the stands, and an outer disciple shouted, "This is too weak!"
Junior Sister Chu's face flushed red. She tried to get up by supporting herself on the ground, but her hairpin was askew, and stray hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead.
The boy pressed his advantage and conjured another wind blade talisman—this talisman was originally meant to restrain, but he clearly didn't control his strength well. The wind blade grazed the tip of Chu's ear and left a bloody mark on her cheek.
"Wah—" Junior Sister Chu suddenly burst into tears.
She sat on the ground, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling, the jade pendant slipping from her fingers and crashing onto the bluestone slab with a "clang".
The boy froze, his hand holding the talisman hovering in mid-air, his arrogance turning into panic.
The murmurs from the stands were like a honeycomb bursting open.
Elder Li put down the bamboo slips, frowning as if about to speak; Hall Master Zhao's command flag trembled, seemingly wanting to call a halt; Senior Brother Lin sighed heavily beside me, whispering, "This girl... she was frightened unconscious by a snake in the herb garden last year, she's terrified of this kind of situation."
Looking at Junior Sister Chu's trembling shoulders, I suddenly remembered how I looked the first time I stepped onto the arena.
At that time, I was standing on the stage, listening to the curses of "useless trash with no spiritual roots" from below. My nails were almost digging into my palms. If Wen Chen hadn't secretly given me half a piece of osmanthus cake and said, "Get up when you've cried enough, I'll practice with you until you win," I probably would be curled up in a ball like this now.
Junior Sister Chu's sobs grew clearer and clearer, mingling with the laughter from the stands, like a fine needle pricking my heart.
Her tears fell onto the bluestone slab, splashing up tiny water droplets that shone brightly in the morning light.
I stared at the crooked hairpin in her hair and suddenly remembered what Wen Chen had said last night when she was combing my hair: "You always say you want to protect these children, but protecting them isn't about shielding them from the wind and rain; it's about teaching them to hold their own umbrellas."
But at this moment—I gripped the wooden sword at my waist, the engravings on the scabbard hurting my palm—she couldn't even hold an umbrella properly, I couldn't just watch her get soaked in the wind and rain, could I?
"Senior Sister Xiao!" a junior disciple suddenly called out.
Only then did I realize that I had unknowingly stepped off the stage. The moment my toes touched the edge of the arena, the morning mist was startled away, revealing the eaves of the Star Gazing Hall.
There was a familiar white figure leaning against the railing, looking this way—it was Wen Chen. He was holding the ancient book in his arms, and when he saw me looking over, he nodded slightly at me.
Junior Sister Chu was still crying, her opponent stood there helplessly, and Elder Li on the judges' panel was about to speak when I leaped onto the stage.
The wind lifted the hem of my clothes, carrying a wisp of warm fragrance from the heart-protecting jade—carved for me by Wen Chen from thousand-year-old warm jade, which is now burning hot against my heart.
"Pause!" My voice, mixed with spiritual energy, resounded throughout the arena.
When I knelt on one knee beside Junior Sister Chu, I could hear the broken breaths in her sobs.
Her hands were still covered in dust from the bluestone slabs of the arena, and her fingernails were filled with the brown residue of freshly turned soil from last night, much like how I used to sweep fallen leaves in the servants' quarters. "Don't be afraid," I said softly, deliberately softening my tone at the end—Wen Chen had said that when I trained my disciples, it always sounded like I was reciting sword incantations, too harsh.
At that moment, my thumb brushed against the crooked wooden hairpin in her hair. It was carved from the most ordinary peach wood, with half an unopened lotus flower carved on it, almost exactly the same as the one I had secretly carved in the servants' room years ago.
Junior Sister Chu's shoulders trembled, and half of her reddened eye peeked out from between her fingers.
I could see the teardrops clinging to her eyelashes, shimmering like tiny gold fragments in the morning light. "Remember what I taught you: 'A calm mind leads to stable techniques.'" I lowered my voice, my spiritual energy, imbued with the warmth of warm jade, seeping from my palm into her heart—the protective pendant Wen Chen had carved from thousand-year-old warm jade, now burning hot, almost scorching her clothes. "Last week in the herb garden, you practiced the Whirlwind Slash seventeen times, stepping on the seventh star of the Big Dipper, didn't you?"
Her fingers suddenly loosened.
When she lifted her tear-stained face from between her fingers, I saw my reflection in her pupils.
Behind that shadow, on the eaves of the Star Gazing Hall, Wen Chen's white shirt was lifted by the wind, like a snowflake falling into the clouds.
Junior Sister Chu sniffed, her Adam's apple bobbing, and finally replied in a hoarse voice, "Yes."
“Very good.” I straightened her crooked hairpin and stood up to see her still holding the wind blade talisman, frozen in place, with sweat trickling down her jawline from her forehead—this little brat must have been scared half to death just now.
I turned to look at the judges' table. Elder Li's white beard was still hanging in mid-air. Hall Master Zhao's command flag finally dropped from between his clenched, white fingers. Senior Brother Lin was holding onto the wooden railing by the arena, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the knot of the bronze sword tassel, an old habit of his when he was nervous.
“Continue.” I stepped back to the edge of the ring and nodded to the referee.
When Junior Sister Chu stood up, the hem of her dress swept across the water stains she had just spilled.
Her back was ramrod straight, though she was still swaying a little, but her left foot finally stopped moving onto the protruding rock—this little girl remembered what I told her last week at the training ground: "Your lower body must be as stable as an old pine root."
Her opponent tentatively conjured another lightning talisman, this time not daring to use her full strength. Just as the pale purple lightning burst forth, Junior Sister Chu suddenly let out a low shout and slashed at the void with her right hand in a knife shape—that was the "talisman-breaking hand" I taught her, which is specifically designed to counter low-level talismans.
The thunder talisman exploded into sparks with a "crack," and a few scattered "oh" sounds rang out from the stands.
Junior Sister Chu didn't stop. She suddenly spun around with her toes, and the wind she created lifted the corner of her sleeve, revealing the wooden ring I had given her on her wrist—it was carved with the word "broken" from my first wooden sword.
Her spin was the starting stance of the Whirlwind Slash. Last week, when I accompanied her to practice in the herb garden until the moon was high in the sky, she always staggered on the third spin, but now she was as steady as a stake driven into the ground.
"Alright!" Senior Brother Lin suddenly shouted, startling the junior disciples around him who all turned to look at him.
He probably didn't expect to make a sound, his ears turned red instantly, and he pretended to cough and turned his face away.
Elder Li slammed the bamboo slips onto the table with a "thud," and I saw the corners of his mouth turn up slightly—this old man always had a stern face, and even the slightest smile was a huge compliment.
Junior Sister Chu's sword slid out from her sleeve; it was a narrow wooden sword with a nick on its spine from when she practiced swordsmanship.
As she spun around, the tip of her sword, catching the afterglow of the wind blade talisman, pierced straight towards her opponent's Jianjing acupoint—the exact location I had just demonstrated.
The boy hurriedly tried to block, but forgot to protect his lower body. He was then struck on the knees by Chu's junior sister with her sword sheath and fell to his knees on the stage with a thud.
"Chu Qing wins!" Before the referee's voice had even finished, the stands erupted in cheers.
A junior disciple jumped up, holding a candied hawthorn, and shouted, "Junior Sister Chu is awesome!" The outer sect servants slapped their thighs and laughed. Even the usually serious Hall Master Zhao loosened his command flag and said something to Elder Li. I was too far away to hear clearly, but I saw Elder Li stroking his beard and nodding, probably praising the girl for her progress.
Junior Sister Chu stood on the stage, her hand still gripping the wooden sword, her knuckles white.
When she looked up at me, I gave her a "good" sign.
She paused for a moment, then suddenly laughed. Tears welled up again, but she didn't hide anymore; she just wiped her face haphazardly with her sleeve.
It was only then that I noticed the bloodstains on the tip of her ear were still oozing tiny beads of blood, which looked like red coral in the morning light.
“Junior Sister Xiao,” Senior Brother Lin approached me without me noticing, his voice tinged with laughter, “Last year at the training ground you said ‘these little brats can succeed,’ and I didn’t believe you—but now I do.” As he spoke, he raised his hand and patted my shoulder. The calluses on his palm hurt a little, but they were as warm as a burning coal.
But the warmth that had just reached their hearts was frozen by a low curse. "The barrier of Fairy Zhou's group is fluctuating..." Hall Master Zhao's voice was like a shard of ice hitting the noisy stands.
When I turned my head, I saw the veins bulging on the back of his hand as he gripped the command flag tightly, his gaze fixed on the west arena—which should have been covered by a light blue protective array, but now looked like a lake surface hit by a stone, with circles of black lines spreading from the edges to the center.
"boom--"
The magic circle suddenly burst out with a blinding white light, which made me stagger and my ears ring.
The bluestone slabs of the arena cracked with spiderweb-like fine lines. The junior disciples who were nearby screamed and retreated. Someone knocked over a teacup, and the scalding tea spilled onto the wooden railing, sending up plumes of white steam.
Elder Li suddenly stood up, scattering bamboo slips all over the ground with a "clatter"; Senior Brother Lin had already drawn his sword, the bronze tassel swinging wildly in the wind; Junior Sister Chu was still standing on the platform, her hand gripping the wooden sword trembling, but she didn't take a single step back.
I squinted and looked at the west side of the arena.
Two figures were moving in the white light. One was Zhou Xianzi, whose usually neatly combed hair was now disheveled, with a few strands of black hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. The other... was Chen Erniu from the outer sect.
How did he end up on Zhou Xianzi's list of opponents?
I remember that during the pre-match draw, Zhou Xianzi's opponent was supposed to be Su Mingyuan from the inner sect.
"Hold on!" I shouted towards the stands, my spiritual energy carrying my voice and shattering some of the noise.
Wen Chen's figure suddenly appeared at the edge of his field of vision. As he swept over from the Star Gazing Hall, his white robes billowed in the wind, like a snowflake falling into the chaotic clouds.
He nodded at me, and when his gaze swept across the west side of the arena, a cold frost appeared in his eyes—that was the look of someone who was truly enraged.
I gathered my strength and was about to rush towards the west side of the arena when I heard a soft "ding" sound.
Looking down, I saw that Junior Sister Chu's wooden ring had fallen to her feet—she must have run too fast when she rushed over, and the wooden ring on her wrist had come loose.
As I bent down to pick up the wooden ring, the moment my fingertips touched the engraving of the word "broken," another muffled thud came from the west arena, and the white light intensified.
"Senior Sister Xiao!" Junior Sister Chu's voice trembled with tears, "I'll go with you!"
I turned to look at her.
She still clutched her wooden sword in her hand, her hairpin askew, but the panic in her eyes had turned into determination—just like me back then, holding a broom in the servants' quarters and saying, "I want to learn swordsmanship."
“Okay.” I put the wooden ring back on her wrist. “Follow me.”
Before the words were finished, the white light on the west side of the arena suddenly disappeared.
I saw Zhou Xianzi's figure flash in the light, and her opponent raised something—a dark, short blade with a ghostly blue light at the tip.
The light stung my heart, like someone had stabbed me hard with a needle.
Wen Chen's voice suddenly rang in my ears: "Be careful, that's..."
But his words were drowned out by another loud bang.
I ran as fast as I could, the wind rushing into my throat, salty and bitter like blood.