Master, This Poor Disciple Died Again Today

The weapon cultivators circled around a set of familiar stone tournament floors, laid out neatly on a perfectly flat and bare stretch of mountain. To the side, a familiar board listed off matchups. All around, weapon cultivators moved through their footwork techniques and stretched, preparing for their matches. Muscles gleamed. Steel glinted. All around, the stench of hot-bloodedness filled the air.

Beside Sectgoer, Ying Lin vibrated in excitement, her eyes wide. Sectgoer, on the other hand, clutched his beating stick for dear life. What the ever-loving fuck am I doing here? How on earth did I allow the other clones to trick me into this? I’m not a weapon cultivator. We—we aren’t weapon cultivators! Why even attempt this trial? I should’ve doubled up on magical techniques with Peak Lord. Maybe even gotten to share a little of Bai Xue’s love…?

But no, instead I’m here, surrounded by bulging muscles and sweaty, brutal men. Dear Master, who art ascended to Immortality, can you save this small Hui? I barely know a single close-combat footwork art. I can’t wield a sword to save my life. What am I doing here?

“Master, look! We won’t meet until the second-to-last round,” Ying Lin pointed out, beaming.

Hui glanced nervously at her. “Ying Lin, when you beat me, can you at least be gentle?”

“Master! Don’t say that. I’m sure you can defeat me if you try your best,” Ying Lin said, nodding.

Hui turned and grabbed her face. “Ying Lin.”

“Yes?” she squeaked, too startled to say anything else.

“Don’t you dare intentionally lose to me. Beat me mercilessly. I won’t feel any more confident in myself if you throw the fight… and your Master will know. I know your potential. I’ve seen you fight. You can defeat me.”

“Master, you’re a whole realm above me—”

“You’re a sword cultivator, aren’t you? I’m sure you can make up for it.”

“I’ve only been using a sword art for a few hours—”

Hui rolled his eyes. “Elder Sister, you’re clearly a protagonist, so live up to it, no?”

Ying Lin blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean… don’t hold yourself back. Not for me, not for someone you love, not for anyone. Not at any point in your life, not ever. Fight as hard as you can, or you’ll regret it later. No… even putting fighting aside, never diminish yourself for the sake of someone else,” Hui said, nodding seriously.

Ying Lin put her hands on her hips. “Master, are you really telling me this?”

Hui rolled his eyes. “I’m a hypocrite and a coward. What else do you want? Anyways, your Master’s path of cowardice and death-fa… er, nobly escaping danger clearly isn’t yours. What I do isn’t fit for you.”

“Maybe it isn’t fit for you, either,” Ying Lin suggested.

“No, no. It fits me well, quite well,” Hui said, nodding.

She frowned at him. “Master… is this really the you that has the confidence heart-demon?”

“I question that too. It’s clearly Rogue who has the heart-demon,” Sectgoer grumbled under his breath. “I’m just an innocent me who’s a little bit… who dares to have a tiny speck of confidence.”

Sectgoer’s robes suddenly bulged at the chest. He grabbed at them, startled, only for a crow to burst out the next moment. Chen Wuya flapped up and perched on Sectgoer’s head, turning around to preen his wings nonchalantly. “Ah, a good old-fashioned tournament.”

“Chen Wuya, what—how—” Hui stuttered.

Chen Wuya stomped on his head. “I go where I please, and it isn’t a lowly disciple’s role to question it!”

“Ah! I count as Senior’s disciple? Honored, truly honored,” Hui said, nodding.

“Hmph. Barely. Where’s that Jing Ruchen brat? Has he fixed his ankles yet?” Chen Wuya asked.

“Senior, I don’t think anyone could fix a fundamental flaw in their technique in a few hours,” Hui said cautiously.

“Didn’t your disciple learn the whole technique a few hours ago?” Chen Wuya returned.

Ying Lin glanced away. “Disciple only has a basic understanding of the lowest portions of the art. I don’t dare claim full comprehension.”

“Naturally. Still, to have a basic understanding of the basics is more than that pitiful Jing Ruchen can claim, and he’s been studying it for years,” Chen Wuya complained. He stood up tall on Hui’s head to get a good look around. “Hmm… no, it doesn’t seem like he’s fixed his ankles. More’s the pity.”

Hui followed the crow’s gaze. In the distance, Jing Ruchen walked through his basic form, breathing slowly, clearly preparing mind and body for the fight ahead. To his eyes, the man’s technique appeared correct, but then, I understand even less of the technique than Ying Lin does.

“Do either of you fight him? It seems my friendly warning did no good, so perhaps he’s the type that needs it beaten into him,” Chen Wuya asked, peering up at the board.

Hui peered at it as well, then shook his head. “Only if we both make it to the finals.” He turned to Ying Lin.

“Master, don’t count yourself out,” Ying Lin said, shaking her head.

“No, no. It’s only fitting that the one with the greater comprehension of the technique faces him in the finals,” Hui said, nodding to himself. In any case, it’s not as if they’re only accepting one weapons-master from this trial. There’s eighty-some peaks in the outer circle. Making a good showing in the semi-finals is likely enough for me to still make it as a peak lord!

Although… I have to admit it’s unlikely I make it that far! Every step of the way, I’ll be facing weapons cultivators, those terrifying existences who can fight above their realm. As a mere ordinary fifth-realm, I’m in grave danger!

Which means I absolutely cannot fight fair. A fair fight is a losing fight for this small Hui. Until I face Ying Lin… I’ll fight dirty!

…

Ah, I feel like if Rogue could hear me right now, he’d point out that we’ve only ever fought dirty…

“First round!” the sword cultivator overseeing the trials called out.

Hui took a deep breath and stepped forward. He cupped his hands to Ying Lin, giving her a last salute. She saluted back, and they went their separate ways.

A clone of the sword cultivator hovered over each of the tournament floors. Hui walked up to his and licked his lips, still nervous. He scanned the room, searching for his opponent. Please pair me with one of the little ones. Someone small and weak, like me. Make it a tournament worth watching! Please!

Someone nudged Hui’s shoulder gently. A gentle voice whispered, “Excuse me, I think I’m your opponent.”

Hui smiled. Ah, thank goodness. They understand tournaments. They gave me an opponent fitting for my meager skills! He turned to his opponent and looked up, up, up.

Muscles on muscles, rippling up a huge frame. Robes barely contained the man’s huge body. A timid expression made a broad jaw and cleft chin look no less threatening. His hair swept neatly back, tied by a ribbon.

Shiiiiiiit. Forget Ying Lin, this first opponent is going to turn me into mush on the ground! Hui forced himself to keep smiling and cupped his hands to the man. “This lesser one is called Xing Huang.”

“I… I’m called Xin Mobing,” the man replied, hastily cupping his hands back.

Hui nodded. He licked his lips nervously and flickered his hands, checking the weapons on his body. Beating stick, check. Moonlight Cutter… still in the node, and unreachable. Needles… brought those. Talismans… a few, and some of them are the new ones we just recently comprehended. Mmm, I have a few miscellaneous spiritual weapons on me, as well. Nothing… that can seriously overcome this man mountain, but…

Don’t give up, Hui! Don’t give up! No… I still have a route to victory! I can do this. Yes… actually, come to think of it… isn’t it entirely possible? Hui flexed his hands. Black threads flickered from his fingertips for just a moment. It’s been a while since I used that technique, but… well, it’s a bit of a risk, but… it’s better than losing!