Chapter 161: Room for Maneuver

If there was anyone left in the Qilian Sect who could still remember the name Hantan Yi with absolute clarity, it had to be Xia Wuya. After all, both of them had once stood at the very pinnacle of the younger generation. When it came to the title of successor, the choice without a doubt had to be made between the two of them. But now, it seemed fate was far more inscrutable than one could ever imagine. Hantan Yi and the Blue Lotus Sect appeared to have become inextricably entangled, bound in a way that offered no release for the rest of his days. Especially when he had suddenly appeared at the Bright Moon Manor three months ago, Xia Wuya could feel his heart experience a distinct, restless surge. Just as at this very moment, gazing upon that familiar face, a thought involuntarily welled up from the depths of his mind: "He was once my senior brother, and my rival as well. Yet that rivalry was built upon the foundation of our friendship. Now, however, we can only be enemies. Perhaps the only thing I can hope for now is that we never cross paths again, for if we were to meet once more, I would not even know how to face him!"

Such thoughts had naturally crossed his mind more than once, but never had any of them been as sudden and sharp as the one before him now. The commencement of the Martial Arts Tournament heralded the arrival of confrontation, and right now, Hantan Yi was destined to be within the ranks of the Blue Lotus Sect. For Xia Wuya, this meant that the very thing he least wished to face was ultimately coming to pass. Distracted by his turbulent thoughts, he failed to catch whatever Dao Tianfeng said next. Had it not been for Ye Hanguang’s sudden, sharp warning cry from atop the high platform, he might truly have been unable to pull himself back from that labyrinth of entanglement.

As far as the eye could see, it was by no means a favorable situation—at least, not for Gong Shaoling. Her figure had already reached the edge of the high platform, on the verge of plunging off. Dugu Meng’s sleeve was rapidly surging forward, carried by the momentum of her charge. The scene bore a striking resemblance to the previous night, with the only difference being the exchange of roles today. Although a sleeve lacked the lethal sharpness of a long sword, if imbued with formidable spiritual energy, it could prove to be no less powerful than a blade. Of course, Dugu Meng was unlike Xia Wuya; Xia Wuya’s heart was prone to softness, while Dugu Meng’s was destined to be ruthless. Therefore, she certainly would not hold back this move; her sole objective was to force Gong Shaoling down off the platform.

For Gong Shaoling, this situation was undoubtedly excruciatingly awkward. Maintaining her footing on the narrow edge was already exceedingly difficult. Had her opponent not been pressing her so relentlessly, she might have relied on the momentum beneath her feet to barely stabilize herself. Yet, seeing her adversary merely feet away, how could she possibly fend her off? From the very instant their blows had first exchanged, she already knew that winning was an absolute impossibility. All she could do was hold on for as long as possible. Yet, stubbornly, Dugu Meng had uttered those provocative words, setting her own target at ten moves. Now, however, achieving even that goal seemed utterly out of reach. After a mere eight moves, she had been reduced to such a plight. Even with this final attack included, she was still falling short of that target of ten.

No matter how profound her reluctance and unwillingness, she was utterly helpless. While secretly reproaching herself, her eyes closed slightly, as if she were resigning herself to defeat. The spiritual energy that had previously swirled around her body correspondingly withered away to almost nothing. Naturally, how could Dugu Meng fail to perceive such a shift? Winning in nine moves was even more efficient than her provocative words had implied. For that alone, an indescribable sense of joy welled up within her, and a faint smile emerged upon her face. When arrogance is elevated into one's very bones, she even felt she surpassed the late Shen Wanzan; what he had failed to accomplish, she had achieved.

"Master?" Xia Wuya called out softly, perhaps wishing to remind Dao Tianfeng, for he knew that his master seemed unwilling to see such an outcome unfold. And indeed, it made sense: if Dugu Meng were allowed to keep winning, with her formidable capabilities, she would undoubtedly end up among the top four. For a group of Central Plains martial artists to accept leadership from a young lass hailing from the distant southern border regions was clearly an utter impossibility. Furthermore, a direct campaign against the Blue Lotus Sect carried immense perils—matters of life and death were inherently unpredictable. Since she was acting as the vanguard, it was inevitable that she might fall victim to some scheme. Therefore, the wisest countermeasure was to have her eliminated from the tournament and sent back obediently to the southern borders. Moreover, Gong Shaoling hailed from the Donghua Sect. Given that Ye Hanguang had lost his match the previous night, only by having her win back the honor would things be set right. After all, the Donghua Sect stood on equal renown with Mount Qilian; this would ensure that Mount Qilian was not overshadowed, while simultaneously bestowing a favor upon Shao Changchun!

His calculations were comprehensive indeed, and Dao Tianfeng appeared to share this very intention. His posture remained utterly motionless as he sat there. The only movement came from his left hand, which lightly tapped upon the desk, maintaining an air of profound calm with nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Perhaps this was the true hallmark of his supreme mastery. From his seat to Gong Shaoling's location was a distance of over three zhang; assisting her required transmitting spiritual energy purely through the air. For an ordinary person, even unleashing a full-powered palm wind would fail to reach such a distance, let alone manipulate a person's entire body from afar.

Yet, miraculously, Dao Tianfeng accomplished precisely that. Just at the very moment Gong Shaoling's body was about to topple backward, she felt an immense, invisible force gently catch and cradle her. Her form was suspended rigidly above the platform surface, preventing her from dropping so much as an inch further. She leaned there at an angle, looking somewhat ethereal and bizarre to any onlooker. Almost simultaneously, a voice sounded softly beside her ear: "Little lass, do not be startled. It is I, your Uncle Dao. If you wish to win, do not speak. Relax your body and let my spiritual energy guide you. Do you understand?"

Faced with such an unexpected turn of events, Gong Shaoling's heart was inevitably filled with doubt. Yet the title "Uncle Dao" caused her to wake up to the reality of the situation with a start. Throughout the entire martial arts world, those bearing the surname Dao were few and far between, and one possessing such astonishing skill required no guessing to identify. Dao Tianfeng and Shao Donghua were numbered among the Four Great Masters of equal renown; although their ages differed considerably, they were still considered peers. Since Gong Shaoling belonged to the same generation as Shao Changchun, for him to claim the title of uncle was entirely logical and proper. Yet why would he do such a thing? Gong Shaoling could not fathom the reason for a moment, and her gaze involuntarily drifted toward Dao Tianfeng's seat. She saw the old man sitting with a calm expression, showing no signs of abnormality, though a trace of absent-mindedness lingered in his eyes, as if his thoughts were somewhat scattered.

To concede defeat just like that went entirely against Gong Shaoling's nature. Therefore, regardless of whether the voice truly belonged to Dao Tianfeng, she had no choice but to give it a try. She hurriedly reined in her own spiritual energy, channeling it back along her meridians, and surrendered complete control of her body to that external force. And lo and behold, the very instant Dugu Meng's sleeve brushed against her form, Gong Shaoling's feet violently tapped the high platform twice. As her entire body broke contact with the surface, she sprang several meters high into the air. With a sudden, swift twist of her body, she spun like a soaring swallow. When she descended, she landed right in the center of the platform, standing steady and firm. The entire sequence of movements was executed in one fluid motion, appearing utterly natural without a shred of pretense, leaving no visible flaws whatsoever.

"Since when has Shaoling practiced her movement techniques to such a realm? Under those circumstances, even Father would have found it impossible to reverse the tide. No matter how formidable she is, she cannot possibly possess Father's cultivation. Yet this scene is happening right before my eyes, and it cannot possibly be false. What on earth is going on here?" Gong Shaohua stood beneath the high platform, watching as Gong Shaoling seemed on the verge of falling. His heart was gripped by tension and anxiety. When the situation underwent such an abrupt reversal in a split second, he naturally struggled to process it, and sheer astonishment was etched clearly across his face. Of course, he possessed a general understanding of his younger sister's capabilities, but the martial arts onlookers did not. Mistaking it entirely for the young lass's own genuine skill, a wave of applause, cheers, and praises erupted simultaneously.

Even Ye Hanguang, standing at the edge of the platform, could not help but quietly wipe away a cold sweat, mentally crying out in fright. His gaze, which had already been fixed upon Gong Shaoling, became even more glued to her, refusing to look away. The look in his eyes revealed a genuine, heartfelt admiration—he was mere inches away from rushing forward and shouting praises right to her face. Of course, if one were to speak of the person most shocked at that moment, it was undoubtedly Dugu Meng. She had delivered that strike believing victory was securely within her grasp, never anticipating such a dramatic reversal in the blink of an eye. Moreover, witnessing Gong Shaoling's movement techniques, she even began to suspect that the young lass's previous display of distress was all an act, and that she had never unleashed her true, full strength at all. Victory and defeat mattered deeply to her, and with the ten-move pact reduced to a single remaining move, securing a one-stroke victory under the current circumstances was clearly impossible. To be looked down upon by others while being played for a fool was something no one could easily accept. Even so, for the moment, she could not think of any effective countermeasure. Her face was dark as a gathering storm, a fierce and murderous glint flashed in her eyes, and even her breathing grew heavy and ragged.