Volume Three: Rising Fame Chapter Three: Accustomed to Sitting

“There are quite a few impressive people here,” Li Yu remarked, gazing at the arena.

This was nothing like friendly sparring; many on the stage were utterly serious, some even losing their lives in the heat of battle. Even with two fifth-rank arbiters stationed at each stage, there were times when rescue simply came too late.

“If you think those people below are formidable, you’d better give up your seat!” The speaker was a young man—one of the seeded contenders, Qing Yuanwei. He appeared to be about twenty-four or twenty-five, and the spiritual energy rippling from him was already at the peak of the sixth rank, its stability betraying years of cultivation at this level.

“What do you mean by that?” Li Yu asked with some curiosity.

There were only two seats left on the high platform, one in the far right corner. While the view made little difference, Li Yu had chosen the seat right beside Qing Anqi, naturally preferring to sit near her.

“Because someone has grown used to occupying that spot!” The voice was gentle, but it came from behind him.

Turning, Li Yu saw that a young man had appeared at some point beside Xiaocui. He was strikingly handsome, also around twenty-four or twenty-five.

“So, would you mind moving?” the young man asked.

“There’s an empty seat over there,” Li Yu replied, raising an eyebrow but otherwise unmoved. After all, the seats weren’t assigned, and giving up just because someone asked would be quite the loss of face.

The young man who had warned him earlier now sat stiff and silent, staring straight at the arena below, clearly avoiding the newcomer.

“And what if I refuse?” Qing Yuan smiled, placing a hand on Li Yu’s shoulder and giving a slight squeeze.

“If you refuse, then you’ll just have to stand,” Li Yu replied, shrugging his shoulder to break free from the iron grip.

A glimmer of surprise flashed in Qing Yuan’s eyes—he hadn’t expected his hold to be so easily shaken off. Even without using spiritual energy, this shouldn’t have happened!

“Interesting,” Qing Yuan mused, now even more intrigued. He was about to make another move when Li Yu caught his hand in return.

“Would you mind stepping aside? Thank you,” Li Yu said, his tone polite but flat, a cordial smile on his lips. With that, he released his grip.

“I couldn’t break free just now!” Qing Yuan stood frozen, incredulous. He had nearly summoned his spiritual energy, and though Li Yu let go, he had the distinct sense that even with force, he might not have escaped.

How was this possible? He was already a fifth-rank cultivator, and yet he’d felt as if he were struggling against someone of a higher rank. Who would believe it if he said so?

Qing Yuan had trained with the finest techniques of the Qing clan, not some common rabble. Among his peers, he considered himself top tier. The audience’s attention was fixed on the high platform; many had noticed the exchange between the two. At first, they assumed Qing Yuan had simply not arrived, which emboldened someone to take the central seat. Yet now, someone dared challenge Qing Yuan directly.

Did someone in the clan believe themselves stronger than Qing Yuan?

“Who is that? He seems quite close with the princess.”

“I know him—his name’s Li Yu. He’s the only non-clan seed among the Qings, truly unprecedented.”

“Seriously? How could an outsider earn that honor? He’s doomed, though—everyone knows Qing Yuan’s temper!”

Many among the Qing clan were aware of Li Yu’s existence and knew what had earned him his place. Hearing others predict his doom, some scoffed.

“He’s got the Thunder Vein, after all. There’s no telling who would win. Plus, he’s friends with the princess—Qing Yuan will have to give her some respect, no?”

“Exactly. Otherwise, why would he dare sit in the center? They were clearly testing each other just now!”

“Don’t forget—the princess’s own brother was beaten by him, wasn’t he?”

Even before the contest on the high platform began, debate raged below.

Some time ago, Qing Heng had subtly spread word of Li Yu’s prowess throughout the clan. So, though many had never seen Li Yu, they had a strong impression of his strength. This was the root of the heated arguments—the rivalry between two factions. Li Yu was considered to be on Prince Qing Heng’s side, close with his daughter Qing Anqi, while Qing Yuan belonged to the Second Elder. Tensions between the two camps were ever-present.

“Enough!” Li Yu brushed aside Qing Yuan’s hand once more, and as he turned, he saw Qing Heng approaching. Rising to his feet, he said, “My lord.”

“Remain seated,” Qing Heng replied with a satisfied look at Li Yu, stopping several seeds from rising. “I’m just here to observe your spirit. The finalists from the arena will be chosen soon.”

“You’ll be fighting as well. I hope you’ll show restraint. We’re all members of the Qing clan—don’t waste your strength on each other needlessly.”

Qing Heng’s gaze swept briefly over Li Yu and Qing Yuan, lingering on neither. A soldier hurried up to hand him a list.

“Well, the selection has just ended,” Qing Heng said, quickly scanning the list. He stepped to the front, his voice amplified by spiritual energy to fill the arena.

“This martial contest is to select our young representatives for the Gathering of the Hundred Clans. Only those under twenty-five may participate. I am pleased to see so many of you here—your energy and dedication bring pride to our clan!”

“Congratulations to those who have advanced. You will be escorted to rest. Please wait—final selection will begin in one hour!”

“The candidates are: Li Yu, Qing Yuan, …”

The first name was not Qing Yuan, causing a stir in the crowd below. But soon, those in the know explained in hushed voices who Li Yu was. His name quickly became known, which was one of Qing Heng’s goals—the other being to dampen Qing Yuan’s prestige, which had grown too great for the prince’s faction.

Li Yu didn’t think much of it. Since Qing Heng had listed him first, he had only to do his best and live up to the trust and support he’d been given.

Beside him, Qing Yuan’s eyes gleamed.

This was the first time someone had been ranked above him. All his life he had been used to being first, and he had earned it—even Qing Heng’s own son had lost to him. But today, not only had his name been pushed down the list, even his seat had been taken.

“How I’d love to crush you right now, you little upstart,” Qing Yuan muttered, a cold, hunting light in his eyes.