To be honest, Liu Xiaolou had no desire to take up the challenge. First, he had made no preparations and had no idea what Dong Wei’s cultivation level or techniques were. Second, straightforward, face-to-face duels were not something Wulong Mountain cultivators excelled at. Third, he simply did not have much desire to win. So long as he could muddle through and get a return gift, that was enough.

Even if he won, would the Su family really choose the winner to marry into the family? Probably not. And if he lost, he would only be humiliated for nothing. Besides, his formation technique was nothing impressive. Exposing his tricks so easily was not the way of a Wulong Mountain hero.

If there is no benefit and you still go up there to give yourself away, isn’t that just being stupid?

So he cupped his hands and said, “Brother Dong, you are far superior. I am no match for you. I concede, I concede.”

Dong Wei sneered. “Coward.”

Liu Xiaolou sighed. “Brother Dong, there is no need for harsh words. I admit my mistake. Why don’t we both take our leave from our host and head back to Wulong Mountain?”

The table erupted in laughter, and everyone burst out with glee. Someone called out, “Brother Dong, Brother Liu, why fight us for a spot? Wouldn’t it be better to go back to your own mountain and enjoy your quiet days?”

“Exactly, exactly. If you two are having a falling-out, what are you doing here? And what does that make of Master Su?”

“Master Su, these two clearly have no sincere intent to seek marriage. Please send them away.”

Dong Wei was both angry and anxious. Hadn’t they agreed to first drive out Liu? Liu had been introduced by the White-Robed Swordsman and posed the biggest threat. If they did not work together to deal with him, how had things ended up dragging him into it instead?

Pointing at the loudest heckler, he shouted, “Brother Qian, if you have a problem with me, come down here and test your skills against mine. Let me see your great techniques. Sitting there making snide remarks, what is that supposed to mean?”

Liu Xiaolou had no desire to step into the ring, but there were plenty of others who did. The cultivator surnamed Qian immediately stood up and said to Liu Xiaolou, “Brother, don’t worry. Once I send your Brother Dong packing, he can go back to the mountain with you.”

“Please, show mercy. Don’t hurt him too badly,” Liu Xiaolou replied gratefully.

Qian laughed heartily. “Rest easy!”

Dong Wei was beside himself with rage. He ground his teeth and said, “You Liu, you rat from Wulong Mountain, spouting nonsense. I’ll never let this go! And you, Qian. If you’ve got the guts, make your move. I’ll give you three strikes for free. Let’s see how you plan to send me packing!”

Qian, showing not the slightest trace of humility, brazenly accepted. “Then my thanks to Brother Dong. Here comes the first one!” A copper coin the size of a dinner plate shot from his hand, flying straight at Dong Wei’s face.

Seeing this, Liu Xiaolou felt a sudden surge of respect. Not for Qian’s technique, but for his sheer audacity and decisiveness. He thought to himself, A man like this could stand out even among the many heroes of Wulong Mountain.

When the two are close in strength, a duel is all about seizing the initiative. In his anger, Dong Wei had boxed himself in with his own words, leaving him bound by the “three free moves” he had promised. His hands were tied, and once those three moves passed, he was already flustered. By the time he managed to pull out a chessboard to counterattack, the battle was beyond saving. In just a few moments, a copper coin struck him square in the lower back, knocking him out of the ring.

Qian was not the kind to pull his punches. That single hit had Dong Wei coughing blood on the spot.

Dong Wei was the sort of cultivator from humble beginnings who usually carried himself with pride, yet had little real experience in life-or-death combat. He had also spent a good deal of his time and energy on the art of chess, and a few friends had even flattered him as the “Chess Immortal.” If he had run into Qian out in the wild, he would probably have died beyond saving. Liu Xiaolou could only shake his head at the thought.

Qian let out a soft “Ah,” then turned to Liu Xiaolou and apologized. “My apologies. My skills are lacking, so I cannot control my strength well. I have injured your friend. I hope you can forgive me.”

Liu Xiaolou snapped back to himself, hurried over in two steps, and helped Dong Wei to his feet. He pressed a few key acupoints to stop the bleeding, saying with concern, “Brother Dong, don’t move. Let me treat your injuries and stop the blood.”

He helped him back to the table, patting him here and there as if checking his condition. His hand slipped into Dong Wei’s robe and found a cloth pouch. Inside was a spirit stone. Delighted, he quietly pocketed it. There was also a small bamboo tube. Pulling out the stopper, he caught a whiff of a pungent medicinal scent. Without bothering to find out what kind of medicine it was, he poured the entire contents into Dong Wei’s mouth.

Dong Wei tried to resist, but he could not move an inch. His eyes bulged at Liu Xiaolou, and he could only make muffled sounds in his throat. Liu Xiaolou gave him a light palm to the back of the head, knocking him out cold on the spot.

His movements were so smooth that no one noticed a thing. On the main seat, Su Zhi’s brows were furrowed so tightly it was as if they could squeeze out water. He impatiently ordered the servants to carry Dong Wei away to a guest room and tend to him.

The duel had been brief, but it stirred up the competitive spirit of the young “talents” at the feast. Soon, several more stepped into the ring one after another.

The White-Robed Swordsman had taken his leave early. With Dong Wei, who had been set on targeting him, now out of the running, Liu Xiaolou no longer had any worries. He settled in to watch the matches in complete ease.

As he watched, his mind kept weighing the pros and cons. Twelve spirit stones a year was indeed tempting, but in the end, nothing could be decided by him alone. Even leaving the mountain would require his future wife’s consent, and that thought made him hesitate.

If he could get that yearly sum of spirit stones and still be free to come and go from the mountain as he pleased, how wonderful would that be?

If there were just some small matters he could decide for himself, without having to follow the will of his future wife in everything, that would be even better.

And if there could be a time limit placed on this marriage, wouldn’t that be perfect?

Thinking of this, he shook his head again. Forget about whether such good fortune even existed in the world. Even if it did, with how he had performed today, there was no way the Su family would approve of him.

Had that little stunt earlier, dragging Dong Wei into the water with him, been overplayed?

While his mind wandered, several more matches had already taken place. After three consecutive wins, Qian’s true qi gave out and he was beaten by Jia Po, who then began showing off his own strength.

These bouts were all between cultivators of the third to fifth layers of Qi Refinement. The standard was not high, and without the life-and-death intensity of a real duel, they were dull to watch. Liu Xiaolou found them boring, and Su Zhi was shaking his head over and over.

Su Zhi had lost all interest and wanted nothing more than to drive out this whole group of so-called young “talents.” But when he thought of the Maogongtan and Xunxi families watching his Fifth Lady so intently, a wave of frustration and helplessness welled up in him.

If those two families persuaded an elder from the Danxia Sect to come forward and propose, could the Su family, with its current standing in the sect, block it? Most likely not. When that time came, Fifth Lady would be married far away, becoming another family’s wife, and the next generation of the Su family would have no one left to uphold the clan’s position.

With a sigh, he turned to the butler beside him. “Uncle Song, send someone to ask Fifth Lady if there’s anyone she fancies.”

Butler Song shook his head. “Fancies? Hard to say…”

Su Zhi changed tack. “Then ask her if there’s anyone she could at least accept.”

Song nodded. “I’ll see to it right away.”

A short while later, when Song returned to the Gualu Hall, two more bouts had taken place. Su Zhi was already nodding off, his eyelids drooping as if they were fighting each other. Seeing Song’s strange expression, he asked, “What did she say?”

Song leaned close and whispered in his ear. Su Zhi froze for a moment, then slapped the table. “Absolutely not! Ridiculous! I’ll go talk to her myself!”

He left the table at once, and the matches came to a halt. The young “talents” stared at each other, eyes wide, none of them knowing what had happened, each feeling uneasy.

Liu Xiaolou was watching with interest when someone suddenly stood, cup in hand, and came over to him. In a low voice, the man said, “Brother Liu, after the feast tonight, shall we travel together?”

Liu Xiaolou was still puzzled when the man, without a word, brushed his hand against his own. Goosebumps shot up over Liu Xiaolou’s skin. He slapped the hand away and barked, “Get lost!”