Decaying World-Chapter 27

Fine, fragmented snow drifted down from the leaden sky like cold ash. On the squared ring, thick layers of curing beast hides paved the ground, carrying faint hints of musk and dried blood. Sturdy black ropes enclosed the space, forming a four-sided barrier.
"Twenty-four Front Courtyard disciples are remaining to observe. According to the last ranking, the duels will commence from the tail end. Five consecutive victories will win a specific prize designated by the Temple Master!"
The female Daoist attendant who had been singing earlier struck a brass gong once. Her voice rang out through the chill air, announcing the rules of engagement.
Below the stage, the twenty-four Front Courtyard disciples consciously moved forward. They had changed into pristine white Daoist combat uniforms, making them stand out starkly like mourners within the crowd.
Eldest Senior Brother Chen Sui stood at the very front, arms crossed over his sword, waiting in silence.
Behind him were Mu Qiaozhi, who was chatting with Huang Shan and Qiu Yiren.
Further back were Wu Cheng and Chen Chong.
Wu Cheng looked confident, his physique robust and powerful. His black hair was tied high, and his smile was sunny and brilliant. His bronze skin, contrasted against his silver-white longsword, gave him an air of abundant, almost jarring vitality in this gray world.
Chen Chong, however, looked gloomy, his face etched with worry. Clearly, he had not yet recovered from the psychological shadow of his last exchange with Lin Hui.
The Front Courtyard disciples behind them were much lower profile and far more relaxed. These men and women felt no pressure; some were even whispering and flirting, stealing quiet laughs.
As a newly promoted disciple, Lin Hui stood in the rear echelon. There were only three or four people ranked lower than him—disciples who had been promoted even later than he was.
At this moment, he was listening to two male disciples just ahead discussing the content of the Grand Competition.
"Looking at it this way, whoever goes up first in the Grand Competition suffers."
"That's why there's a special reward for five consecutive wins—it's compensation. This is fundamentally a celebration, and the ranking starts from the back. That means the strongest ones, like Eldest Senior Brother, go up last. The later you go up, the lower the probability of facing weaklings to farm five wins."
"So the early ones scramble for the five-win streak, while the later ones can only fight for the top ten ranking rewards?"
"That's about the size of it. Who's up first?"
"Yu Fan, from Mengshan Town. He was only promoted last month. He's going up first to warm up the stage."
"Him? Whoever draws him is picking a soft persimmon."
The two chatted in low voices, while Lin Hui quietly adjusted his condition. He was also curious about what level he could reach in the ring.
Theoretically, the sword techniques of Clear Wind Temple won by speed; wheel battles didn't actually consume much physical stamina.
Unless one got entangled in a prolonged struggle, or activated secret techniques or high-consumption abilities like the Lightness effect, fighting three or four rounds in a row wouldn't be strenuous for a single person.
Looking at it this way, I'm ranked fifteenth. I could actually strive for five consecutive wins...
Lin Hui gently gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist, loosened his fingers, then tightened them again, repeating the motion.
"Rank Twenty-Four, Yu Fan. Please take the stage."
At this moment, the Daoist attendant on stage loudly called out the first name.
On the surrounding spectator stands, people began to take their seats one after another. Among the relatively conspicuous ones were evidently the Director and Deputy Director of the Xinyu Town Security Station, as well as the patriarchs of several large households in town. Amidst laughter and conversation, everyone took their seats at the spots marked with their wooden nameplates, where Daoist attendants served tea one by one.
Whump.
A massive gray rain awning overhead was unfurled, covering a section of the stands to shield these relatively distinguished guests from the drifting snow.
The twenty-fourth rank, Yu Fan, had been standing just a few steps behind Lin Hui. Hearing the call, he gripped his sword and walked briskly up the wooden steps on the side. Standing on the ring, he bowed first toward Temple Master Baohe and the 'Ming' generation Daoists, then clasped his fists toward the Security Station Director and the other guests. Finally, he stood quietly at one end, hugging his sword, awaiting his opponent.
"Rank Twenty-Three, Zhang Yuanchun. Please take the stage!"
As the voice rang out, a young woman with white hair leaped up, sword in hand, vaulting onto the ring.
"Please advise."
The two wasted no words. They clasped fists directly, drew their swords, and discarded their scabbards.
Immediately, their figures flashed simultaneously, slashing toward each other.
Clang.
Two swords crossed, then slid apart rapidly.
The Nine-Section Swift Sword unfolded instantly. The two sword shadows flickered, writhing around their bodies like two gray snakes, constantly stabbing, dotting, slicing, or blocking toward the opponent.
"This swordsmanship... truly walks a precipice. If one isn't careful and actually gets poked, that's a bloody hole. The Swift Sword of Clear Wind Temple truly lives up to its reputation," Ning Shaolang, the Director of the Security Station, commented while stroking his beard.
He was thirty-nine years old and in his first year of service in Xinyu Town after coming out from the Inner City. He accepted the invitation primarily because Clear Wind Temple was considered the strongest martial hall in Xinyu Town, so he came to give face and observe the ceremony. He hadn't expected the very first match to make him feel the trip was worthwhile.
"This is the Clear Wind Temple's Nine-Section Swift Sword. It prioritizes speed, with moves mostly consisting of dots, stabs, slices, and turns. It lays the foundation for the Clear Wind Sword Technique later on," Deputy Director Yu Zhenhao explained in a low voice from the side. He had served in Xinyu Town for many years and was quite familiar with Clear Wind Temple.
"Such a fast sword is actually quite suitable for service in the Security Station. When encountering troublemakers, one can subdue the enemy with a single sword stroke at maximum speed. Because it is fast and precise, it won't cause excessive damage. The Flying Cloud Fist from before always caused internal injuries, which was troublesome," Director Ning Shaolang said thoughtfully.
"Indeed. The cooperation between Clear Wind Temple and us has always been very stable," the Deputy Director agreed.
"How about this: this time, we'll hire an extra three people from here to join the Emergency Suppression Squad. We'll extend the invitation by three spots down the Front Courtyard sequence," Ning Shaolang whispered.
"For the Emergency Suppression Squad... isn't adding three people at once a bit..." The Deputy Director hesitated.
"Recently, there have been more and more outsiders in the Outer City. The pressure on public order is immense. More manpower is always good," Ning Shaolang explained.
The treatment for the Emergency Suppression Squad was very high, but that wasn't the key point. The key was that this position held provisional execution authority. In the event of an incident, they could handle it themselves first and it later.
With this execution authority, as long as it wasn't used against someone from the Inner City, even accidentally killing someone wouldn't result in any problems.
That was why the Deputy Director hesitated.
"Alright, watch the ring. A winner is about to be decided." Ning Shaolang smiled, stopping the Deputy Director who wanted to speak further.
On the ring, the two combatants had reached the end of their fierce struggle. Two sword shadows clashed rapidly dozens of times, then swung apart, returning to their respective masters' hands.
Shua!
At that instant, Zhang Yuanchun on the left took a step forward. Her longsword spun, transforming into a cone that enveloped Yu Fan's upper body.
Opposite her, Yu Fan wanted to parry, but his wrist went limp for a moment, failing to connect his strength.
Ding!
The longsword in his hand was agitated and flung away. Immediately, a silver blade hovered before his chest, motionless.
"I yield," Zhang Yuanchun gasped loudly.
"Zhang Yuanchun wins!" The Daoist attendant shouted from the side simultaneously.
This scene didn't exceed anyone's expectations; the higher rank defeating the lower rank was normal.
But then, the twenty-second rank took the stage and was beaten down by Zhang Yuanchun after only a few moves. This surprised the crowd somewhat.
Following that, the twenty-first and the twentieth were both knocked off the stage. Although Zhang Yuanchun was already considerably exhausted, she forced herself to remain standing on the ring.
Below the stage, Lin Hui watched this girl quietly, calculating in his heart how many moves it would take to defeat her if he used his ordinary strength.
Judging from the residual shadows when Zhang Yuanchun struck, she had reached the 2nd Rank of Body Tempering.
Being able to win so many consecutive matches at this level had a lot to do with her understanding of sword techniques. After all, her Body Tempering itself wasn't an advantage.
Soon, another person went up. This time, Zhang Yuanchun finally couldn't hold on. She was beaten down in three moves, fell to the ground, and was carried off by two people.
But everyone around offered her warm applause.
The subsequent ring matches saw victories and defeats fluctuate. People were swapped out constantly, one after another; no one managed to win two matches in a row.
Finally, Lin Hui heard his ranking called.
"Rank Fifteen, Lin Hui!"
Lin Hui tightened his grip on the hilt, stepping onto the stage one stride at a time, his expression calm.
Hiss.
He pulled off the scabbard and tossed it aside, hearing Chen Zhishen's cheering voice from the distance.
His opponent was a young man ranked sixteenth—sword-shaped brows, bright star-like eyes, and handsome features. Compared to the plain-faced Lin Hui, he enjoyed the support of the female disciples below the stage.
"Rank Sixteen, Feng Cheng'an. Please advise, Senior Brother." The opponent clasped his fists toward him.
"Rank Fifteen, Lin Hui. Junior Brother, please." Lin Hui pointed his sword tip downward, indicating the ground.
He had watched the battles from below and knew the opponent's standard. At most, a 2nd Rank Body Tempering level. There was no challenge.
If this were actual combat, the opponent's strength might not even allow Lin Hui to warm up.
I'll focus on defense then. Treat it as training my protective capabilities.
He told himself this.
Ending the battle too quickly would offend people too much. The previous matches had all gone on for quite a few moves before a winner was decided; if he ended it instantly here, it would be too abrupt and conspicuous.
Lin Hui didn't like being conspicuous.
Therefore, he decided to end the battle in a gentle manner.
Clang!
The moment the brass gong sounded, signaling the start of the fight.
Feng Cheng'an struck with all his might. The Nine-Section Swift Sword erupted with gray sword shadows, stabbing ruthlessly toward Lin Hui's right shoulder with a speed a hair faster than before.
Clang!
Unfortunately, this strike seemed to be blocked by happenstance as Lin Hui raised his sword backhanded.
Feng Cheng'an didn't hesitate. Retracting his sword, gathering his breath, he changed moves in an instant, stabbing toward Lin Hui's abdomen.
Clang!
Another crisp sound.
Feng Cheng'an's expression shifted slightly. He changed moves again, his sword shadows transforming into gray snakes, striking repeatedly.
Clang clang clang clang!!
What was eerie was that no matter how he struck, the sword shadows would abruptly freeze beside Lin Hui, then be parried away.
Lin Hui stood in his original spot, the longsword in his hand turning into an almost invisible gray line, drifting and dancing, blocking every glint of sword light attempting to approach him.
The metallic ringing of collision chimed continuously, a rhythmic cacophony exploding in the air, faster and faster.
Lin Hui's face remained impassive. He hadn't even moved his feet a fraction of an inch. He simply stood there, precisely parrying every sword, every move from the opponent.
Half a minute later.
The surrounding spectator stands, originally somewhat noisy, had fallen silent at some unknown point.
Lin Hui narrowed his eyes slightly. The longsword in his hand abruptly snapped upright, freezing still, blocking the opponent's sword tip that was stabbing toward the center of his brow.
Ding.
Amidst the soft sound, he looked at Feng Cheng'an opposite him, who was gasping for breath, a look of disbelief on his face.
Lin Hui extended his empty left hand, index finger thrusting forward abruptly. Using his finger as a sword, he tapped gently.
He tapped right on the center of the opponent's brow.
Thump.
Feng Cheng'an could no longer support himself. He stumbled back several steps and collapsed heavily onto the ground.
He had just unleashed every ounce of his strength, attacking wildly with over a hundred sword strikes in a single breath, each delivered at full power, but…
Now, his face was flushed a deep purple-red. His lungs heaved convulsively, as bellows worked to their limit.
"Next," Lin Hui's voice sounded, calm and unhurried, as if he hadn't moved at all.
Feng Cheng'an tried to rise, but he couldn't; exhaustion had utterly overtaken him. He was left sprawled on the stage, unable to get up, and had to be carried off by two logistics Daoists.