Chapter 113: The Grand Tournament in the Camp

Fei Qingnu received a secret order from the General to investigate Li Dong’s hiding place within the camp. He privately resolved that once Li Dong was found, he would use the troops under his command as a Wuben Langjiang to capture him in secret.

The main camp spanned several miles and housed tens of thousands of garrison soldiers, varying greatly in appearance and build. With the martial arts tournament imminent, everyone was eager to prove themselves, training diligently. The constant movement of personnel made finding a single target exceptionally difficult.

After a full day of exhausting effort, Fei Qingnu had managed to check only one-tenth of the garrison soldiers. Panting with fatigue and failing to find even a trace of Li Dong, he grew frustrated. That evening, when General Lai inquired about Li Dong’s whereabouts, Fei Qingnu had to bow and apologize, admitting his failure.

General Lai sat steadily in his command tent, chuckling as he replied calmly, "Since he is hiding, he certainly does not want to be found by you. Continue your search in secret."

Fei Qingnu, feeling confident, suggested, "We must also be wary of him suddenly surfacing during the tournament to take the top spot. That would put us in a very passive position."

Lai Hu'er disagreed, shaking his head and offering a cryptic piece of advice: "You really need to use your head more. You are still a Great Wall's distance away from Li Dong!"

Fei Qingnu flushed, unable to stand still. In the General's eyes, he was so incompetent that he was a world away from Li Dong! Was he nothing more than a useless sack of wine and rice? He vowed to dig three feet into the ground to drag Li Dong out, if only to show the General that he was no pushover. He acknowledged the order and stormed out of the tent in a fury.

The sky was like an iron curtain, the night wind felt like water, and the camp was ablaze with light—bright as day nearby, with fireflies dotting the distance. It was a magnificent night view. Within the tents, the roar of voices sounded like boiling water; beneath the calm exterior, hidden currents surged as everyone prepared to excel in the next day's tournament. Even the veteran soldiers, who were not participating, talked loudly about the excitement to come.

Fei Qingnu suddenly realized that although there were many people in the camp, they were all registered. Just as the General had said, Li Dong was brilliant; he would never be foolish enough to blend in with the garrison troops. He might have disguised himself among the laborers or camp followers, making him even harder to trace.

He marched toward the blacksmith’s forge. Qin Qiong had not yet slept; he was on the grass outside the forge, practicing the Taiji moves Li Dong had taught him. From the "Wild Horse Parts Its Mane" to the "White Crane Spreads Its Wings" and "Playing the Pipa," his movements were fluid and continuous.

When Fei Qingnu arrived, he saw Qin Qiong standing in a half-crouch, his arms moving as if they were heavy and difficult to extend. He thought to himself, *What a strange little blacksmith. What is he doing? His movements are so slow, like an old woman spinning cotton—soft and completely devoid of power.*

*Is he actually practicing martial arts? How could such slow techniques injure or kill anyone?*

Ordinary martial artists' moves might be flashy and impractical, but they at least had some aesthetic value, dazzling the eye and intimidating the timid. These moves of his didn't even qualify as a showy display.

*Sigh!* Fei Qingnu heaved a long sigh, feeling sorry for Qin Qiong. A blacksmith who didn't focus on his work but practiced these pathetic moves—did he intend to compete in the tournament as well? *Forget it, he’s just a blacksmith. I’m overthinking this.*

Fei Qingnu shook his head and left the weapon depot to continue his search for Li Dong elsewhere.

Only after he had completely faded into the night did Li Dong emerge from behind the tent. Lingering in fear, he watched Fei Qingnu’s retreating figure and asked Qin Qiong, "Fei Qingnu just passed by; did you see him, Brother Qin?"

"Huh?" Qin Qiong stopped his practice, surprised. "What did you say? Who came? I didn't see anyone."

"Fei Qingnu! He just left! You didn't see him?" Li Dong found it strange that a grown man had passed right by him without being noticed.

Qin Qiong scratched the back of his head, sheepishly saying, "I was focused on my practice, trying to figure out how to make these moves even slower. I really didn't notice anything. You weren't discovered, were you?" His tone betrayed genuine concern.

Li Dong chuckled, making a face. "I spotted him early on and hid behind the tent. I was worried he’d take an interest in the technique you were practicing and linger here. He clearly doesn't know a treasure when he sees one."

"Haha!" Qin Qiong laughed heartily. "Isn't that even better? I can use these techniques to catch him off guard and knock him down!"

Li Dong smiled with satisfaction, and Qin Qiong laughed along; both were very pleased.

The next day, after the morning roll call, the camp drums roared like thunder, and the area in front of the tournament stage was as bustling as a village fair. Cheers rang out incessantly as the fighting began.

Li Dong and Qin Qiong rose early and instructed the blacksmiths to continue their work. The blacksmiths moved sluggishly, constantly glancing toward the stage with longing expressions. Qin Qiong knew they wanted to watch the competition. If they all went out like a flock of sheep, it would inevitably draw unwanted attention. He ordered them to go in small groups of two or three, circling the tents to watch from different corners.

Li Dong admired Qin Qiong's arrangement. He deeply understood that they were merely blacksmiths of low status, yet Qin Qiong used his clever, flexible mind to satisfy their desires within the limited conditions.

After the blacksmiths had left, Li Dong and Qin Qiong slipped quietly into a corner of the stage to watch. Two men were already fighting on the platform—one fair-skinned and one with a yellow face—trading punches and kicks in a lively display. Their techniques were crude, possessing only a few more tricks than a common street brawl.

Seeing no brilliance on the stage, Li Dong tugged on the hem of a soldier’s robe in front of him and whispered, "What are the rules for the tournament? How is victory decided?"

The soldier turned back, looking annoyed. "Fei the Wuben Langjiang announced them earlier. Were you not there?"

"Hehe, I’m just a blacksmith. I repair weapons and only just arrived. Please, brother, enlighten me." Li Dong smoothed things over.

"Hmph. Since you seem like a decent talker, I'll tell you." The soldier proudly explained the detailed regulations.

General Lai had decreed that any new recruit in the camp could participate. Winning three consecutive matches against any challengers would earn one the rank of *Huozhang* (Fire Chief). Winning a fourth match would grant the rank of *Duizheng* (Squad Leader). Five wins would earn the rank of *Bairenzhang* (Centurion/Lüshuai). Winning six consecutive matches without a single defeat would secure the rank of *Xiaowei* (Colonel) in charge of two hundred men.

Those who secured more than six victories could challenge Fei Qingnu. If they lasted fifty rounds without being defeated, they would be promoted to *Guoyi Duiyi* (Commandant). If they remained standing, the final opponent would be General Lai Hu'er himself. A victory there would mean promotion to *Zhechong Duiyi*, placing them in command of eight hundred to twelve hundred men—a rank that would be finalized after reporting to the Emperor.

Li Dong silently memorized the tiers and rewards, thanked the soldier, and looked toward the stage.

By now, the yellow-faced man had won two consecutive matches. One more win, and he would secure the rank of *Huozhang*, regardless of the outcome of his next match.

The man was jubilant, shouting to the crowd, "Who else? Which brother is willing to challenge me?"

"Don't get too full of yourself! I'm coming!" A roar erupted from the crowd, and a man leaped onto the stage, standing imposingly. "I am willing to test my skills against yours! Please, show me your moves!" With that, he struck a beautiful "Immortal Points the Way," aiming straight for the yellow-faced man’s chest.