The Strife of Chaos Chapter Seventy-One: The Tournament for Marriage

The news of the Qian family’s heiress about to be married spread across almost the entire Song Kingdom, drawing countless martial artists in a rush to the capital. The strong and ambitious hoped to vie for the position of Qian’s son-in-law, while others simply wished to join the excitement and catch a glimpse of the rumored most beautiful woman in Song. For a time, Lin’an City became unusually lively. Though Song was at war and normally strangers would not be allowed into the city, money could resolve many problems. After it became known that Qian Ju spent a large sum to strengthen the defenses at the front lines, the Song Emperor turned a blind eye to the influx.

That day, the main avenue of Lin’an was flooded with crowds—people of all sorts mingling together. Yun Luoxuan and her companions found themselves swept up among them.

“My goodness, so many people! Is it really necessary for a woman seeking a husband to be this chaotic?” Lan Hao cried out in astonishment.

Lan Ke, though surprised as well, explained, “The Qian family marrying off their daughter is no small matter. I overheard that there’s to be a martial contest for her hand. The winner can marry the Qian heiress on the spot, and will also become the next successor of the Qian family.”

Lan Hao’s interest was piqued. “Should we go take a look?”

Lan Ke glanced at Yun Luoxuan. “We have important matters to attend to—don’t wander off.”

“It’s alright, Brother Lan. Let’s go see. I am curious about the Qian family’s approach this time,” Yun Luoxuan unexpectedly agreed.

“But—” Lan Ke wanted to protest, but Lan Hao had already grabbed him, pulling him forward and whispering, “Can’t you show a bit of masculinity? When you marry Princess Yun, I hope you don’t become a henpecked husband.”

Lan Ke was momentarily speechless.

Meanwhile, in a shady corner, a pair—one large, one small—sat alone, with no one daring to approach. The boy, about ten years old, was cute but wore a stern expression, entirely unlike a child. The adult’s muscular chest was bare, a rough cloak draped over his shoulders, and he wore pale red armored trousers. His handsome face was marred by a long scar, and the aura of hostility he exuded kept everyone at bay.

“Uncle, why are we here?” the boy asked curiously.

Yu Ziqi patted the child’s head. “Little Yun, today we’re here to find you a wife.”

“What’s a wife?”

“She’s a big sister who can play with you.”

“Really?”

“But others will try to take her—you’ll have to beat them,” Yu Ziqi said domineeringly.

Wanghai Tower, one of the great wonders of Song, built by generations of the Qian family, was said to be the tallest in the world. Today, Qian Jinyu’s martial contest for marriage would be held there.

Atop the high platform, Qian Ju held a loudspeaker and shouted to the crowd below, “Thank you, heroes, for coming today. We are here for one purpose only: my daughter Qian Jinyu’s lifelong happiness. I, Qian Ju, have worked hard for most of my life and have only this precious daughter. Now that she is of age, I have called heroes from all over to compete for her hand, seeking a man who can protect her well.” With that, Qian Ju handed the loudspeaker to the master of ceremonies.

“Now, let me announce the contest rules. Actually, there aren’t many rules—it’s a tournament. Challengers may ascend the platform directly; there’s no limit to numbers, no restrictions. The last man standing will be Miss Qian’s husband.”

The crowd below was instantly stunned. No one expected the Qian family to take it this far—this was not a fair duel, but a battle for survival.

Qian Ju then sat beside his wife and daughter atop the platform. Today, Qian Jinyu wore a bright red cheongsam, her face adorned with glamorous makeup like a bride, but even the perfect makeup could not conceal the sorrow in her eyes.

Qian Ju leaned quietly toward his wife, whispering, “Have the people from Chu arrived?”

Song Yuelan replied softly, “They’re here.”

“That’s good. My greatest fear was them breaking their promise.”

Qian Jinyu, lost in her own worries, had not noticed her parents’ exchange.

“I now declare the martial contest for marriage officially open.” As the words fell, a group of prepared martial artists rushed onto the platform. Some were barehanded, others wielding broadswords, some brandishing long swords. Suddenly, martial energies flared and scattered, chaos erupting across the stage.

Originally spacious enough for over a hundred fighters, the platform now felt crowded. One martial artist had just knocked an opponent off, when pain struck his chest—a gleaming sword appeared below.

“You—you ambushed me,” the man said angrily.

“Sorry, there are no rules,” his attacker replied, kicking him off the stage.

Below, Yun Luoxuan and her companions watched the mayhem in silence.

“What is the Qian family trying to do? By inciting such a brawl, aren’t they just weakening Song’s own strength?” Lan Ke asked, perplexed.

Yun Luoxuan said nothing, her brows furrowing as she clearly pondered something.

“Ke, maybe I should try. These fools are just clowns—I might actually win,” Lan Hao said, eager.

Before Lan Ke could reply, a loud crash echoed from the stage.

With the crash, a terrifying wave of energy spread out, knocking many weaker martial artists off the stage.

As the dust settled, a small figure appeared at the center.

“Hey, I advise you all to get off now. If I start fighting, I won’t hold back,” the boy called confidently.

The surrounding martial artists saw it was only a child, barely over a meter tall, with a face not yet fully free of youthful innocence. Their hearts relaxed.

“Everyone, get him off first, then we’ll fight,” one martial artist said, rushing at the boy. Some others followed, while many wiser ones chose to wait and watch.

Seeing his warning ignored, the boy raised his fists. A powerful aura radiated from him. The first martial artist reached him, and the boy casually punched his abdomen—next moment, the man spat out something unidentifiable. The boy was already moving; his speed was not fast, but his control of position was perfect—one punch per person, and none could withstand him. At first, challengers approached him, but as his rhythm continued—step, punch, one opponent—fear began to take hold.

“Who else? Hurry up. I’m waiting to marry my wife,” he declared. With those words, his aura intensified. Though he was only a boy, everyone felt inexplicable terror—a suffocating oppression weighed on them.

“Such powerful aura without any martial energy—must be Chu’s martial arts,” Yun Luoxuan said gravely.

Lan Ke nodded. “This boy is interesting, but judging by his strength, he shouldn’t be too strong. I’ll try him.” Just as Lan Ke moved, Lan Hao stopped him. “Let me. You shouldn’t reveal your martial energy form yet.”

Lan Hao looked to Yun Luoxuan for approval.

She did not object, only cautioned, “Commander Lan, be careful. Don’t expose the Heavenly Sword.”

“Understood.” Lan Hao smiled and leapt onto the stage.

Many contestants, cowed by the boy’s aura, gave up. In moments, the crowded stage had only a few scattered fighters left, circling the boy and hoping for another chance.

Suddenly, a figure flashed—except for the boy, all others were cut down with a single sword, their lives ended.

“The small fry are gone; now for the main course.” Lan Hao spoke, but did not look at the boy; instead, his gaze turned to the viewing platform. At that sight, Lan Hao’s heart raced—everything about the distant girl was so beautiful. The most beautiful woman of the Heavenly Kingdom was, without question, Yun Luoxuan. But everyone believed she belonged to Lan Ke, the genius—no one dared covet her.

Yet before him now was a woman whose bearing, beauty, and figure equaled Yun Luoxuan. At that moment, Lan Hao’s heart stirred—he felt she was his dream lover. Smiling foolishly at her, Lan Hao shouted, “I will marry you and bring you home, just wait for me!”

Of course, his words had no effect—many martial artists had professed love to Qian Jinyu, but now no one knew where they had gone.

“Kid, take my advice—go home and grow a few more years before you think about marrying,” Lan Hao said derisively.

The boy remained cold. “Father said a man must always win.”

Lan Hao shrugged. “Then don’t blame me for being ruthless.” As he spoke, his figure vanished. The boy quickly became alert.

A flash of blue light streaked beneath him; the boy spotted it in time, but the sword was so fast it was almost impossible to dodge. The boy raised both hands above his head and shouted, “Dominion!”

Lan Hao had expected to hit, but suddenly felt the boy’s aura surge, almost tangible, thickening the air. Battle-hardened, Lan Hao sensed something was wrong and quickly drew his sword in defense.

After a loud boom, Lan Hao barely stopped himself. Looking at the boy, that aura was now unstoppable—many martial artists near the stage collapsed, unable to withstand it.

Lan Hao’s expression grew serious. As he stood, blue light erupted around him—a slender, crystal sword appeared at his side, swirling sword energy around him.

“How could he use the Heavenly Sword form against a child? Isn’t he exposing us?” Lan Ke said angrily.

“Calm down, Brother Lan. Commander Lan hasn’t truly used the power of the Heavenly Sword—he hasn’t invoked the sacred seal. No one around should realize he’s from the Heavenly Kingdom,” Yun Luoxuan explained.

“That may be, but to use form against a Chu child, without martial energy, isn’t it shameful for the Lan family?”

Yun Luoxuan’s face was solemn. “It’s not that simple. The boy reminds me of someone.”

Lan Ke understood. “You mean—the Overlord?”

Yun Luoxuan nodded slightly. “Yes, it’s said the Overlord has a son, about ten, named Xiang Yun. Though not as formidable as his father, he’s said to be a rare martial prodigy.”

On the stage, Lan Hao, wielding martial energy form, was no longer intimidated and began to gain the upper hand. He controlled his sword to attack the boy from all directions. Unable to dodge, the boy was soon covered in wounds.

“Give up. I haven’t used my full strength yet,” Lan Hao advised kindly.

But the boy kept his eyes fixed, showing no sign of surrender. “In Chu, only warriors die in battle—there are no soldiers afraid of death. You forced me.”

On the high platform, Qian Jinyu saw the boy’s injuries and began to worry.

“Father, can you stop them? If this continues, the boy might die,” she pleaded, her natural sympathy for children compelling her to help.

Qian Ju shook his head helplessly. “Yu’er, no. The rules are set—I cannot break them.”

“But—” Qian Jinyu started to protest, but suddenly another terrifying wave swept the stage.