CUI BUQU FINALLY spoke up. "In that case, Qiao Xian will shoot. I will hold the apple."
"You cannot!" interrupted Ade. "That woman is your servant. Archers and target bearers must be of the appropriate status. They cannot be replaced with slaves and servants. Can a woman represent your Sui dynasty?"
"Qiao Xian is not my servant," said Cui Buqu coolly. "She holds a high position within the Zuoyue Bureau and is an official of the imperial court."
"The Eastern Khaganate sent their chief envoy to shoot while his deputy held the apple!" Ade changed tack. "That woman doesn't hold a rank equivalent to the Eastern Khaganate's deputy envoy. You may choose her, but her inferior status will be taken into account in the judging." He looked to Apa Khagan. "Father, what do you say?"
"This…" The khagan stroked his beard and hesitated but didn't disagree.
Ade was elated. "Do you insist on sending that woman to shoot?" he asked Cui Buqu.
Cui Buqu frowned and glanced toward Feng Xiao, who slowly stood up. "I'll do it."
The second prince looked like a cat that had gotten into the cream. His plan had succeeded.
Fo'er watched as Feng Xiao raised his bow and nocked the arrow. He waited until Cui Buqu was galloping toward him at full speed, then let fly.
The arrow whistled through the air and struck the apple.
The distance between Cui Buqu and Feng Xiao was almost exactly the same as Fo'er's shot. Jinlian fretted in silence, afraid Apa Khagan might show bias. But this time, the khagan was fair: "Both our honored guests are equally outstanding archers."
Ade hadn't expected Cui Buqu to comply so readily. He snorted coldly.
Yet Fo'er, though he made no move or sound, was deeply pleased. Regardless of where Feng Xiao's wound was located, Fo'er was certain that draw had aggravated it.
Feng Xiao lowered the bow and cupped his hands at Apa Khagan, then returned to his seat. His movements were free and graceful; there was no sign of discomfort. But Fo'er noticed a stiffness to his right shoulder when he turned, the motion the slightest bit unnatural.
Such details might escape others, but they didn't escape Fo'er, who'd watched him closely since the moment he stood.
By now the sun had climbed in the sky, and the foot of Mount Sanmi was broiling. Most of the assembled guests wore light and breezy attire, but peeking out of Feng Xiao's collar was a white cotton top, with a thick outer robe layered over. This wasn't because Feng Xiao feared the cold. His shoulder must be bandaged, and the additional layers were to conceal that his left and right shoulders weren't level.
So it was his right shoulder that was injured. Fo'er's lips curved.
Fo'er and Feng Xiao's spectacular showings had elicited thunderous applause from the remaining envoys, but with it came a creeping sense of inferiority. Those who still insisted on competing either fell short of the required distance, failed to hit the mark dead on, or missed completely. A few unfortunates managed to shoot the horse instead, almost crushing the rider.
After that, no one dared to try again, and the first contest of the conference ended in a draw. Yet having failed to embarrass the Central Plainsmen, the second prince was far from satisfied. He set out to make more trouble.
"Father, the first contest ended too quickly today. We can't let the same happen with the second!"
Apa Khagan nodded. "What do you propose?"
"The martial arts of the Sui envoy's maid left a deep impression on me yesterday," said Ade. At the words deep impression, he gritted his teeth. His smile turned savage. "My own subordinate Namudo wishes for a match, so he may learn from her skills."
The khagan looked toward Cui Buqu. "What say you, honored guests?"
"Who is Namudo?" asked Cui Buqu.
A middle-aged Göktürk man had stood silently behind the second prince. Now he took a step forward and saluted Cui Buqu in the Göktürk manner. Despite being Ade's man, he had none of his master's brash aura. Cui Buqu didn't need Feng Xiao to tell him this was a top-notch martial artist.
"Can you win?" Cui Buqu asked Qiao Xian in a whisper.
"I haven't seen him in action," said Qiao Xian. "He wasn't at the second prince's side yesterday. But look how calm he is—he must be strong. This subordinate is willing to try."
Cui Buqu read between the lines: had this man been present yesterday, Qiao Xian might not have been able to step on the second prince's head the way she had.
Many looked incredulous as they watched the delicate-looking Qiao Xian step gracefully out. Only a few had witnessed the scene in the royal yurt the day before, when Qiao Xian had crushed the second prince into the floor. How could this young, beautiful woman be a match for a Göktürk warrior like Namudo?
Before anyone could wonder further, Namudo threw the first punch.
A single glance revealed the power behind that blow—his was a style that valued sweeping movements and brute force.
Qiao Xian was slender, her footwork swift and agile, a complete contrast to Namudo. Yet she didn't shrink in the face of his heavy blows. Two silhouettes clashed, one gray and one white. The first was as fierce and vigorous as a tiger, his every punch capable of collapsing mountains and shattering earth as it whistled through the air. The second was weightless as a dragon cutting through water, her sword glare weaving through the wind from his fists, a wicked killing intent cloaked behind an ethereal exterior. If her opponent was even a little deceived, even slightly careless, they'd find themselves at her mercy.
Namudo should have looked down on an opponent like Qiao Xian, but he didn't. He brought his full focus to fighting her and ignored all else.
"How does he compare to Qiao Xian?" Cui Buqu asked.
"In time, he might become a second Fo'er," came Feng Xiao's answer.
Cui Buqu frowned.
To progress along the path of martial arts required hard work, but talent was also a significant factor. Feng Xiao's natural talent was extraordinary; Fo'er's, too, went without saying. No matter how hard they worked, someone without talent would never become a peerless expert, let alone a martial arts grandmaster.
If Feng Xiao said Namudo could grow to rival Fo'er, he had recognized Namudo's gifts. What was more, Namudo showed neither arrogance nor contempt when facing a woman like Qiao Xian. In this regard, he showed better judgment than Fo'er. Against this opponent, Qiao Xian would find it difficult to emerge victorious.
The world teemed with talented people. There was always a taller mountain, always a higher sky—always another better than oneself. Considering the size of the Khaganate, Fo'er couldn't be the only expert. While he'd monopolized their attention, Namudo had popped up.
"It will be hard for Qiao Xian to win," said Feng Xiao.
If Feng Xiao could see this, Fo'er could as well. He watched as one figure flipped and whirled upon the field, while the other stood stolid as a mountain. He smiled.
Ade, however, remained anxious. He was a mediocre fighter and couldn't tell who was the stronger of the two. Like many amateur spectators, he felt Namudo's slow, steady strikes were inferior to the quick and graceful flow of Qiao Xian's forms.
"What are you smiling for?!" The second prince snarled, glimpsing Fo'er's expression out of the corner of his eye.
Fo'er was unprovoked. He answered good-naturedly. "I'm merely happy for you, Second Prince."
Ade scowled. "What's there to be happy about?!"
"Namudo's victory is nigh."
"You mean Namudo can defeat that woman?" the prince asked, taken aback.
"The Central Plains woman has superior qinggong," said Fo'er, "but she will eventually exhaust her stamina. Namudo has abundant internal energy, and his fist techniques, though simple, are powerful. There is a saying in the Central Plains: 'the truly artful are crude in appearance.'"
At that moment, Namudo struck Qiao Xian hard in the stomach. She froze and stumbled back a few steps, barely managing to recover her balance. Namudo seized his advantage and closed in, leaping up to kick the sword from her hand. He spun in the air, and his foot slammed into Qiao Xian's waist.
Qiao Xian blanched and struck out with a palm. Namudo had jumped back, but a line of bright crimson trickled from the corner of Qiao Xian's mouth: she'd suffered an internal injury.
"Stop!" Cui Buqu rose swiftly from his seat. "We concede! Stop the fight!"
Gratified, Ade urged Namudo, "Don't stop! Keep fighting!"
Namudo didn't move. "She's conceded the bout."
"Who is your master?!" Ade roared. "I want that woman dead!"
"Khagan!" Jinlian yelled, unable to watch any longer.
"Ade, sit down!" barked Apa Khagan.
"Father," Ade complained, "the Central Plains sent a woman as an envoy. This is an insult to us! On top of that, this woman laid her hands on me yesterday. Would publicly losing her life in a martial arts contest not be fair payback?!"
"This is the Eight Tribes Conference. It's not a venue for your personal revenge," said Apa Khagan coldly. "If I tell you to sit down, then sit!"
Qiao Xian slowly made her way back to Cui Buqu's side.
"How is it?" Cui Buqu asked in concern.
Qiao Xian shook her head—she was fine.
Within the jianghu, Qiao Xian was considered a second-tier martial artist. Losing to Namudo wasn't unexpected. Before she'd entered the arena, Feng Xiao, Cui Buqu, and even Qiao Xian herself had anticipated this outcome.
Cui Buqu's expression was one of faint anger and suppressed panic. It seemed to confirm all Fo'er's speculations about Feng Xiao. These three were cornered; they'd hoped to steal the spotlight today, yet instead they'd suffered defeat.
But the final blow had yet to be struck. It was time for Fo'er himself to step in.
Fo'er calmly got to his feet. He gazed at Feng Xiao from afar and raised his voice. "I wish to challenge Feng-langjun to a match."
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Feng Xiao. Fo'er had failed to defeat him twice in their previous encounters. Today, before the eyes of the crowd, he would kill Feng Xiao openly and honorably, but not before making him accept Fo'er as his better.
So focused was Fo'er on Feng Xiao, he missed that Cui Buqu had spoken. But Feng Xiao heard him.
"I had Qiao Xian go to great pains to create this opportunity. Please don't waste it, Deputy Chief Feng."
Feng Xiao smiled. "Would you really be so harsh on an injured man?"
Cui Buqu said nothing more, but every line of his face, down to the set of his brows and the flutter of his lashes, said the same thing: Yes, I would.