Chapter Nine: The Eve of the Final Battle

“Lin Shan, have you had breakfast... yet?”

Morning.

A graceful figure slipped silently through the corridor of the western wing and tiptoed into one of its rooms, pausing inside with an expectant gaze fixed upon the person before her.

His body was clad in pale blue finery, the edges embroidered with delicate white floral designs. The expertly tailored garment fit firmly across Lin Shan’s chest, giving him an upright, imposing presence. The unruly hair of before was now neatly arranged, no longer the disheveled mess it once was.

Lin Ruoxi’s eyes sparkled with surprise as she stared at Lin Shan. It had only been four days since she last saw him, and now he was dressed in splendid attire. Truly, clothes make the man as harness makes the horse—she was taken aback, for a moment mistaking him for someone else when she entered.

“I’ve eaten,” Lin Shan replied, but he didn’t turn at the sound of her voice immediately. Instead, he glanced at the remnants of breakfast beside him, paused a moment, then finally faced the young woman.

Her eyes were like gemstones, large and spirited, with a hint of rippling water in her brows. Her pout betrayed mild displeasure; she wore loose-fitting white clothes that accentuated her translucent, dewy skin. Hands behind her back, lips parted as she spoke, “Since you’ve eaten, come watch me spar at the training grounds!”

Lin Ruoxi’s lips pursed in irritation at Lin Shan’s indifferent answer, but she wasn’t deterred from her purpose here. Today’s sparring match would decide whether she could freely leave the house in the future.

For the past four days, she wasn’t sure if Lin Feng had discovered her sneaking out early to teach Lin Shan martial arts. Regardless, her father subjected her to a relentless regimen—save for mealtimes, she trained from dawn to dusk, never leaving her yard. Yet her strength had grown markedly; facing her former self from five days ago, she would easily win within three or five moves.

Confidence surged within her; otherwise, she wouldn’t have come to invite Lin Shan.

“No. Your father, Lin Feng, has something to discuss with me today,” Lin Shan said with a raspy voice, shaking his head under her hopeful gaze.

“Hmph! If you won’t come, then I’m leaving!”

Lin Ruoxi huffed petulantly, expressing her dissatisfaction, then turned, her small legs stomping towards the door in frustration.

“Won’t you see me off?” she demanded, stopping after a few steps and turning back, her voice tinged with annoyance.

“I’m coming,” Lin Shan smiled helplessly, the corners of his lips rising. He seemed to enjoy Ruoxi’s silly antics, grabbed the sword before him, and prepared to rise and escort her.

“No need! Just take a good look at yourself in the mirror, you... narcissist!” Lin Ruoxi enunciated each word loudly. Seeing Lin Shan’s sudden realization, she smiled, her goal achieved, and bounded out of the western wing’s room in delight.

She couldn’t be blamed for calling him that; since her arrival, Lin Shan had been gazing at his reflection, barely glancing away except to exchange a few words with her.

“Master, it’s time to go!” Two figures emerged from behind the curtains, apparently impatient, reminding Lin Shan that it was time to depart.

Lin Shan nodded in the mirror, his dark, enigmatic eyes betraying a certain unnaturalness. He took up the sword beside him and strode out swiftly.

Where did Lin Shan get his sword and clothes? Did my father give them to him? In these past three days, has my father’s attitude towards Lin Shan changed so much—because of me?

Heh!

Ruoxi smiled, a hint of doubt flickering in her gaze before it vanished.

“Lin Shan seems a bit odd today,” she murmured as she walked in tiny steps.

The training grounds lay at the very heart of Xiaolin Town. It was said that a thousand years ago, the Lin family led the settlement, hence its name. Over time, the first character faded, but the faint mark of “Xiao” could still be discerned.

The Lin residence was exceptionally close to the training grounds—just a few steps away.

The noise grew louder and the crowd thicker as she approached.

“Ruoxi, are you confident today? Your opponent is Mo Qian from the Mo family,” came a voice from ahead. It was Aunt Xiumei, whom Ruoxi had met when she first entered the town, now inquiring with concern.

“I suppose so...” Ruoxi replied as she entered. To her surprise, the entire training field was packed with people; the grand spectacle unsettled her confidence.

“How could my father make such a big event? If I lose, it’ll be so embarrassing,” Ruoxi muttered, frowning at the sea of faces. She knew that despite her recent efforts, she had often slacked off when her father wasn’t watching. How could she surpass those who had trained diligently since childhood?

Ruoxi’s brow furrowed as she surveyed the training ground.

The arena was as large as a football field, with crowds lining both sides. Normally, few would gather, but today, every glance revealed heads—men, women, young and old alike. She guessed the entire town had come to watch; the streets had been deserted when she arrived.

At the center was a circular stone platform covering two-thirds of the area. Four massive stone swords stood at each corner, their engravings worn and blurred by the passage of time.

Soon, she would stand there, competing before the multitude.

“Old Feng, do you think your Ruoxi can beat Mo Qian from the Mo family?” On the left side of the arena, the crowd stood to observe, while the right was reserved for those of high martial prowess or noble status.

Lin Feng sat at the head seat, others arrayed beside him. The speaker was a middle-aged man of similar age, calling him by his nickname.

“How could the daughter of the Lin family not be skilled in martial arts?” Lin Feng laughed strangely, watching Lin Ruoxi enter.

“...” The man beside him turned his handsome face, following Lin Feng’s gaze to Ruoxi.

He had watched her grow up, though she’d never displayed her abilities. Yet, the Lin family was renowned for their martial prowess, generation after generation.

Everyone present was a master of innate talent or above, some even traveling from afar after hearing rumors. If Ruoxi couldn’t defeat Mo Qian, Lin Feng would surely be furious—his pride would be shattered.

No one knew why he organized such a public match. Was it not better done in secret? Or did he wish to inspire Ruoxi to reach her potential?

“The whole arena...”