Chapter 117: Qin Shubao Competes in the Arena
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Just as Lai Huer was about to send Fei Qingnu back onto the stage for a second round to defeat Dou Jiande, Qin Qiong seized the opportunity and went up first.
Lai Huer was greatly surprised. What was happening to his men today? One challenge after another! According to protocol, Qingnu should have been the one to face Dou Jiande next!
What was Qin Qiong’s intention in stepping forward? Could this be another of Li Dong’s schemes?
Dou Jiande was also taken aback to see Qin Qiong take the stage. His brows knitted into a tight knot as he asked in a deep voice, “What is your meaning, Brother Qin Qiong?”
Qin Qiong cupped his fist in salute and replied calmly, “I share the same intention as Brother Liu Heita—to assist you. But unlike him, I am not here to help you win. I am here to help you lose, to defeat you so as to save your life and reputation.”
“Hmph! Sweet words without substance!” Dou Jiande was displeased with Qin Qiong’s words and said arrogantly, “If you are so confident that you can be defeated by me, then begin!”
Seeing the change in his expression, Qin Qiong knew Dou Jiande had misunderstood. He apologized lightly, “The world is ever-changing and unpredictable, beyond human control. Brother Dou, I hope you will understand my sincere intentions in time. Forgive me for any offense.”
With that, Qin Qiong took three steps forward and stood face to face with Dou Jiande, left hand guarding his chest, right arm extended.
Dou Jiande also extended an arm, and the two lightly touched arms, then quickly stepped back to create distance.
This peculiar gesture, to Lai Huer and those familiar with martial customs, was a brotherly salute—a respectful sparring greeting, not a fight to the death.
To some of the less knowledgeable soldiers watching from below, it seemed hesitating and lacking decisiveness.
“Fight!”
“Come on, fight!”
“Quick, fight!”
The soldiers below kept urging them on, unclear on who was meant to defeat whom.
Li Dong felt deeply pleased to see Qin Qiong take the stage. In both wisdom and martial skill, Qin Qiong surpassed Dou Jiande. Particularly, the way Qin Qiong ascended—not the usual leap onto the platform but a steady climb up the stairs—was telling.
Qin Qiong felt no panic or excitement at the prospect of a challenge; the calmer the mind, the easier it was to unleash potential. Tai Chi requires a peaceful heart and mind, using subtle force to redirect the opponent’s energy, applying minimal effort for maximum effect.
Qin Qiong was well versed in these principles.
Dou Jiande reached out with a probing strike aimed directly at Qin Qiong’s chest.
Qin Qiong sidestepped, avoiding the blow, then swiftly extended his left hand, applying the “Rolling” technique to seize the attacking arm and gently guide it to the left.
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Dou Jiande’s move missed its mark; his body tilted forward and, combined with Qin Qiong’s leverage, he lost balance, staggering five steps before regaining control.
Qin Qiong did not press the attack, simply standing his ground, waiting for Dou Jiande’s next move.
Having lost the first exchange, Dou Jiande’s anger flared. With his back to Qin Qiong and feet firmly planted on the stage, he sprang into the air, spinning 180 degrees, aiming a single-leg strike at Qin Qiong’s face.
The head is the seat of the six yang energies; nerves densely clustered there. A hit would cause dizziness, loss of bodily control, and leave the recipient vulnerable to attack.
Qin Qiong and Dou Jiande were brothers with a deep bond.
That Dou Jiande resorted to such a ruthless move showed his resentment had reached a peak. He wanted to defeat Qin Qiong quickly to prepare for the next challenger—Fei Qingnu—hoping to win fame and glory.
Qin Qiong’s mission was to defeat him, stopping him from facing Fei Qingnu and being used by Lai Huer.
Though they shared friendship, conflict stood between them, unavoidable.
The only path was to settle superiority through skill, to determine victory and defeat, honor and shame.
Seeing Dou Jiande’s fierce charge, Qin Qiong braced himself. Even if he avoided injury, Dou Jiande would not fare well.
With a sigh, Qin Qiong stepped back two paces, dissipated the incoming force, then used his shoulders to lift Dou Jiande upward.
With a sharp upward shake of his shoulders, Qin Qiong tossed Dou Jiande into the air.
Dou Jiande twisted his waist mid-air, landed on the stage with both feet, but was still off balance, staggering back several steps before halting.
“Well done!” Dou Jiande’s repeated setbacks only fueled his fury. Like a tiger descending a mountain, he lunged at Qin Qiong again.
Dou Jiande flailed his arms, whipping up gusts of wind as he targeted every vital point on Qin Qiong’s body with fierce strikes.
His assault was ferocious, like wind, thunder, and a lion’s roar.
Qin Qiong employed the Tai Chi “Deflect” technique to neutralize every strike. Dou Jiande’s blows landed as if on cotton, eliciting no response—like a stone sinking silently into water, or raindrops falling on lotus leaves without a sound.
No matter what technique Dou Jiande used, Qin Qiong easily parried. Soon, Dou Jiande was dripping with sweat, veins bulging on his forehead like restless worms, agitated and uneasy.
They exchanged more than forty rounds with no clear victor.
The soldiers watching grew aware of a significant problem.
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Dou Jiande grew increasingly fierce, like a wild horse unbridled, a frightened raging bull, an enraged lion. The stage became a tempest of fists and palm strikes, a whirlwind rising.
Qin Qiong, however, remained purely defensive—dodging left and right, elusive as a butterfly, hidden as a bee, calm as wind ceasing and rain stopping, never retaliating even once.
If Qin Qiong was already formidable without counterattacking, what would happen if he did? Would Dou Jiande meekly accept defeat? Surrender so easily?
The audience had already formed an opinion on who was the superior fighter. Among them were some laymen who had jeered when Qin Qiong ascended via the stairs, now deeply ashamed, thinking, “Damn, we were mistaken!”
Li Dong looked at Qin Qiong with admiration.
In just a few days, Qin Qiong had brought his Tai Chi to such a level. Given time, he would surely master it completely—surpassing his teacher.
Though Dou Jiande was eager to win, his moves were commendable and conventional.
Lai Huer admired both men—the courage, strength, and ferocity of Dou Jiande, launching relentless, continuous attacks like a woven tapestry; and Qin Qiong’s calm composure, setting aside pride and shame for the sake of friendship, embodying noble integrity and humility.
At the same time, his regret deepened.
What merit did Li Dong have to gather such talented warriors around him, while Lai Huer himself could not gain even a scrap?
Alas, a gentleman does not snatch another’s beloved! Otherwise, he could have taken one or two of them to serve him directly.
But I am a general, not a gentleman. To secure victory in Liaodong, I must employ one of them—either Dou Jiande or Qin Qiong. Preferably Qin Qiong! This man’s skill is superb, yet he is humble and sincere, loyal and righteous, willing to live as an obscure blacksmith, treating fame and fortune as dirt. He is the one!
Lai Huer leaned close to Fei Qingnu and whispered a few words, instructing him to bring Qin Qiong to obey orders after their match.
If it were anyone else, Fei Qingnu would surely interfere and refuse. But mentioning Qin Qiong was different. This man had never opposed him and was a potential ally. If he could be won over, so much the better; if not, better not to offend him. His martial art was peculiar—slow as ants moving home but with sudden, fierce follow-up moves. I must learn the secrets of his style.
“General, after Qin Qiong wins, I want to meet his masterful moves. Please grant me permission,” Fei Qingnu said eagerly, looking impatient, requesting from Lai Huer.
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