Chapter Twenty-Four: The First Duel of Swords

The next day, after waking up, Liu Xian went to the rocky stream to wash his face before stepping to the cave entrance to bathe in the spring breeze. A new day had dawned; the rising sun peeked through the mountains, casting a bright, golden radiance across the land and foothills. This warmth melted much of the accumulated snow, replaced by a vibrant, pulsating green. The wild grass seemed to have sprouted and spread overnight; where it was only a finger’s length long yesterday, it now seemed ready to swallow the horses' hooves.

What he admired even more were the pear blossoms blooming on the southern slope. Overnight, they appeared like thousands of white butterflies dancing in the air, reflecting the shimmering snow on the distant peaks. Combined with the overflowing, delicate fragrance, it felt as if he had arrived in an untainted, serene, and pure world. A brilliant rainbow stretched across several ridges, making one wonder if celestial beings were truly gazing down upon the mortal realm.

Moved by the scene, Liu Xian took out the bamboo flute given to him by the younger Master Ruan and began to play. He did not know many tunes, so he played "Small Bridge and Flowing Water." The melody was light, cheerful, and melodious, as if birds were singing in harmony, brimming with joy. Indeed, some sparrows flew onto nearby branches, chirping incessantly at him.

One could imagine that Liu Xian was feeling extremely content at that moment. However, when he turned his head, he bumped into a sullen, youthful face—it was Wang Zhou.

Wang Zhou was clutching his Fubo Sword, his body trembling with agitation, while his eyes were filled with fury and exhaustion. Clearly, he had just made an important decision.

Liu Xian had anticipated this. He met the other’s gaze, waiting for him to speak.

Sure enough, Wang Zhou said, word for word, "Liu Piji, I challenge you to a duel!"

As a descendant of Wang Chen, the Duke of Boling and one of the Eight Dukes who founded the Western Jin Dynasty, and the eldest legitimate son of the contemporary Duke of Boling, Wang Jun, Wang Zhou had enjoyed a life of luxury and splendor in his mere thirteen years that most people could not hope to experience in a lifetime. His sword was a rare treasure passed down for two hundred years; his mount was a black steed with white paws worth a hundred gold pieces; and his guards were the finest soldiers of You and Yan.

Yet, this was but a drop in the ocean of the Duke’s estate. What truly mattered was the vast power network of the Boling Duke’s residence.

Through marriage and patronage, prestigious families like the Cui clan of Qinghe, the Hua clan of Pingyuan, and the Zao clan of Yingchuan all looked to the Boling Duke’s residence for direction. Not to mention that kinsmen such as Wang Hun, Wang Shen, Wang Lun, and Wang Zhan held key positions in the imperial court. Even in front of the Emperor, Wang Zhou could hold his head high; no one had ever dared to treat him with anything but deference.

Yet yesterday, Wang Zhou had been disarmed by Liu Xian and berated as a "pig-herding slave." This was a humiliation Wang Zhou had never encountered. When it happened, he had been completely stunned, his mind a blank; he could not imagine that anyone in the world would treat him this way. Having practiced swordsmanship for years, he had never faced a real blade. When Liu Xian swung his sword, the sight of the gleaming white edge had frozen Wang Zhou with a sudden chill, leaving him unable to even flex his fingers. He remembered nothing of what followed until Liu Xian returned the sword to him, waking him as if from a dream.

On the way back, Wang Zhou wanted to lash out but didn't know how. Firstly, admitting he was disarmed by someone two years his junior was humiliating. Secondly, a lingering fear made it hard for him to look Liu Xian in the eye. But back in the cave, after the adrenaline wore off, Wang Zhou tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Could this just be ignored? In the dead of night, he replayed the scene. He was not a petty person; his parents often said he had a heroic spirit, yet now he felt as though a fish bone were stuck in his throat. After much thought, it dawned on him: he hated Liu Xian for the humiliation, but he hated himself even more for being conquered by fear. He was two years older, larger, and stronger—why had he stood there like a wooden chicken, letting Liu Xian toy with him?

Unable to swallow his pride, the questions, pain, and hatred festered in his chest all night. He had to do something to release these emotions to feel like himself again—the heir to the Duke of Boling. After hearing Liu Xian’s flute, Wang Zhou finally erupted, issuing the challenge.

"We duel here, just the two of us. Let’s settle this fair and square." After the first sentence, Wang Zhou felt a sense of relief, and his fighting spirit ignited. His words became more fluid: "Regardless of who wins, last night is wiped clean!"

Because they were young, their words were straightforward, unburdened by worldly affairs or social tact—they simply wanted a fight. It seemed that to a youth, every emotion could be resolved with a fight, after which they could simply let go. When an elderly Liu Xian later recalled the duels of his life, he would often fondly remember this boyish contest, for it was something rarely found in the adult world.

Liu Xian had not yet learned to reminisce; he was only excited. For those who study the sword, the hardest part is having nowhere to use it. Liu Xian was no different. He studied under the younger Master Ruan, but none of his peers were skilled swordsmen, leaving him few opportunities to spar. Now that someone had challenged him, how could he refuse?

Thus, he replied with a single, concise word: "Fine!"

Once the duel was set, it didn't take long for all the young hunters to hear. Their reactions were similar: first disbelief, then laughter. Jia Mi, for instance, asked directly, "What is there to duel about?" In his view, Wang Zhou’s advantage was too obvious; his victory was a foregone conclusion.

Shi Chao thought the same, but since it concerned personal dignity, others found it hard to intervene. As a friend, he could only offer a few words for Liu Xian, saying, "A duel isn't about strength; it’s not that simple."

Regardless of their thoughts, no one wanted to miss the spectacle, and the youths gathered around in unison.

***

Under the gaze of the youths, Liu Xian and Wang Zhou stepped out of the cave, stopping at the pool where they had arrived.

There were no rules for a youth’s duel, nor any protective gear. They simply found an open space and used wooden swords, fighting until one side conceded.

Liu Xian stood his ground, raising his wooden sword into a middle-guard stance. Seeing Wang Zhou was ready, he asked, "Wang Hutou, shall we begin?"

Wang Zhou, meanwhile, was sizing up Liu Xian. Comparing their physiques and stances, he felt victory was in his grasp. His confidence surged, and the fear from the night before vanished. He shouted, "Fine! Let’s go!"

He lunged forward with a sliding step, closing the distance in an instant, and brought his wooden sword down toward Liu Xian’s head.

Wang Zhou didn't know Liu Xian’s true level, but given their sizes, there was no doubt Liu Xian was weaker. Facing Liu Xian’s defensive stance, he chose a direct strike. Even if Liu Xian parried, he could use his strength advantage to lock him down, winning cleanly and avenging his shame.

The strike was like lightning, but Liu Xian understood his intent instantly. He shifted his body weight while keeping his feet planted, moving back and forth with incredible speed. Wang Zhou’s sword grazed his collar. Liu Xian switched his grip to one hand, raised the sword above his head, then gripped it with both hands again, using the torque from his waist to deliver a downward strike.

"Missed?" Wang Zhou had expected a sure hit. He was forced to stop his momentum and dodge sideways, losing the initiative.

After dodging, Wang Zhou retreated—his teacher had taught him to avoid grappling when the advantage was lost. But Liu Xian didn't pursue; he returned to his middle guard, watching for Wang Zhou’s next move.

Wang Zhou realized he had been too rigid. Liu Xian’s strength was inferior, meaning his offense couldn't be sustained. If he could survive the initial flurry, he would eventually win. He admired Liu Xian’s cold judgment.

Liu Xian, meanwhile, sighed internally: *Wang Hutou has such strength! If we fight head-on, I will surely lose.* He recalled his teacher’s advice: when the gap in strength is great, the trick is to lure the opponent, break their rhythm, and win in one strike.

Liu Xian dropped his middle guard, pointing his sword at Wang Zhou with a provocative tilt.

Wang Zhou was annoyed, realizing the strategy but seeing no better option. Being older, a long stalemate would be mocked. He tightened his stance, gripped the hilt by his ribs, and roared, "Ahhhhhh!"

He was trying to intimidate Liu Xian. However, while the other youths were startled, Liu Xian remained unmoved. Having been haunted by ghosts in his dreams, he had heard screams far more terrifying than Wang Zhou’s.

Wang Zhou’s fighting spirit reached its peak. He surged forward like a leopard, thrusting his sword.

Liu Xian lunged forward at the same time—the element of surprise was his only chance!

Liu Xian’s sudden advance nearly caused Wang Zhou to misjudge the distance. Wang Zhou adjusted his aim toward Liu Xian’s chest, shouting, "Break!"

Liu Xian remained silent, staring at the incoming tip, and thrust his own sword forward.

A jarring friction sound rang out. Wang Zhou’s thrust hit Liu Xian’s hilt and slid aside, while Liu Xian’s blade grazed Wang Zhou’s neck.

***

They passed each other, the result nearly decided.

Liu Xian took several steps before stopping. Wang Zhou, though standing still, was dazed. He turned around, rubbing his neck with lingering fear, and sighed, "Good lad! You really have skills!"

Liu Xian smiled, his hands shaking slightly, his palm numb. *If the next strike doesn't decide it, I will surely lose.*

The onlookers finally understood. Though they weren't swordsmen, they saw the intensity of the clash. The beauty of the movement captured them, and they began to cheer.

Deciding to settle it in one blow, Liu Xian took the initiative. He feinted to the left, then shifted to the right, circling slightly.

To others, it was nothing; to a fighter, it was a distraction. But Wang Zhou was no novice; he judged the true direction and countered with a fierce horizontal slash—a "cutting through a cut," a high-level technique to seize the initiative.

The blow was vicious. If it landed, Liu Xian would be forced to concede.

But it was a trap. Liu Xian had baited the slash.

Because a slash is hard to redirect, Wang Zhou was committed. Liu Xian arched his sword, turning the slash into a thrust toward Wang Zhou’s wrist. Simultaneously, he pivoted on his left foot and kicked hard at Wang Zhou’s knee!

With a loud *thud*, before anyone could see what happened, Wang Zhou was on the ground, his wooden sword spinning into the pool. Liu Xian stood nearby, panting and trembling. He knew he had given everything; he could never repeat that sequence. It was a hard-won victory.

He hadn't been crushed by the gap in physical strength; he had outmaneuvered his opponent. It proved his understanding of swordsmanship was far superior to Wang Zhou’s!

Wang Zhou lay on the ground for a moment, then looked at his empty hands and laughed. He stood up and praised, "Liu Piji, good swordsmanship! As agreed, last night is wiped clean."

Wang Zhou’s sincerity stunned Liu Xian. He dropped his sword and shook Wang Zhou’s hand. "It was luck. I was rude last night; please don't take it to heart."

There is a saying: "Friends are made through fights." Liu Xian and Wang Zhou had come to understand each other’s character—the former’s straightforwardness and the latter’s resilience. The grudge was dissolved.

As the youths gathered around to tease and praise, Liu Xian packed his things. Suddenly, he caught a glance that sent a chill down his spine.

He looked up and saw Jia Mi sitting on a rock, staring at him without a word. He was smiling, his eyes naked and unhidden, like a vulture eyeing carrion. When he saw Liu Xian looking, he didn't look away, but smiled even more recklessly.

*What is he thinking?* Liu Xian couldn't fathom it, but he felt a premonition that he had just stumbled into a great deal of trouble.