NOVPUBDusk settled over the city.
The towering structure loomed along the banks of the inner river, and from the arched bridges to the surrounding pavilions, every available space was packed with onlookers craning for a better view.
The Golden Tower, one of the capital's most renowned auction halls, wasn’t just known for sales—it doubled as a venue for everything from duels and matches to beauty contests and debate tournaments, raking in profits through ticket sales and hosting rights.
Tonight’s spectacle? A “Social Death Duel” initiated by Wei Lu of Snow Eagle Ridge, with the Golden Tower officiating, and the challenged party being none other than Zhang Huaiyu of the Imperial Academy.
Though both participants were still young and not yet at the pinnacle of Daqian’s elite, neither came from ordinary stock.
Wei Lu was the direct grandson of Wei Wuyi, the undisputed martial champion of the nation. If he cracked under pressure tonight, had his mask stripped off and publicly humiliated, Snow Eagle Ridge would instantly become the laughingstock of the martial world.
On the other side, Zhang Huaiyu’s master was Fan Li, Libationer of the Imperial Academy, and his grandmaster was the dual sage Ye Ci, source of the famed “Fan Muscles, Ye Bones” technique that Xie Jinhuan had studied since childhood. Mu Yunling of Danyang was his martial uncle.
As a direct disciple of Sage Ye’s lineage, if Zhang Huaiyu embarrassed himself tonight, it wouldn't just be a personal failure—it’d dent the entire Confucian sect’s prestige.
So in a broader sense, tonight’s “social death match” was a clash between martial prowess and Confucian orthodoxy!
And to ensure this ended in utter ruin for at least one side, the entire showdown was held in public, out in the open air—topic chosen by a cabal of Beijing’s most depraved and well-connected playboys, who even dragged in an ancient ritual device: the Echo Drum.
Used by the Astronomical Bureau to test aspiring Celestial Officers, the Echo Drum was designed to examine mental fortitude—“a mind like still water.”
Any tremor of emotion—fear, excitement, lust, nerves—would trigger minute changes in the body. If those shifts surpassed a certain threshold, the drum would sound like thunder...
And boom. Public humiliation.
No wonder the Golden Tower was bursting at the seams before the event had even begun.
Xie Jinhuan arrived with Zhao De, the Prince’s son, taking up positions at the very top of the Golden Tower’s scenic terrace, which offered a bird’s-eye view of several li in all directions.
Below the railing hung a gilded plaque with four bold characters:
Paragon of Virtue.
A giant red ribbon was attached to it—tonight’s trophy for the last one standing.
Linghu Qingmo was feeding dried fish snacks to Meiqiu as she looked over the sea of heads below. People had even climbed trees to catch a glimpse. She frowned and muttered,
“They’ve blown this way out of proportion. If someone cracks under pressure up there, their Dao heart could shatter. All this, just for pride? What’s the point?”
Zhao De, dressed in flamboyant red robes and lounging in the center of the balcony, twirled his folding fan and replied:
“Pride’s exactly why Wei Lu’s bound to lose. Sister Ling’er won’t arrive till the day after tomorrow, but she even sent a message this morning—told me to place a bet on your behalf if you’re competing. So? What do you say, Brother Xie? Want to give it a shot? They're about to close the betting window.”
Xie Jinhuan was momentarily caught off guard that even his landlady, all the way in Danyang, was still betting from afar. He considered it seriously.
He’d already learned that the event had three rounds:
— First round: 10 taels reward
— Second round: 100 taels
— Final round: 1,000 taels for the last one standing.
To brew a batch of Revitalizing Dragon Pills, he needed at least 20,000 silver taels—and that was at discounted southern border prices with free alchemical labor. The real money sink was the mature Jiazi Lotus root.
With that much silver at stake, it was hard not to be tempted.
Still, to be safe, Xie Jinhuan asked,
“So what’s the format? Gonna have a courtesan dance in front of us?”
Zhao De quickly waved his fan and pointed down at the common folk below.
“Courtesans are just to trip up those baseborn laymen. But tonight’s guests? Confucian gentlemen and martial prodigies. Their Dao hearts are like iron! No, tonight’s challenge is something different—it's a Heart Trial!”
Heart Trial?
Xie Jinhuan examined his own conscience:
“Better I betray the world than let the world betray me...”
“Three wives, four concubines, five bedmates...”
...Yeah. This wasn’t looking good.
He frowned, then turned to Zhao De. “So, do you know the test questions?”
Zhao De glanced around, made sure no outsiders were listening, then lowered his voice:
“I had a hand in drafting them, but to keep it fair, even I don’t know the exact details.”
“But there’s no crude stuff like courtesans or lewd distractions. Just tests of concentration. First two rounds are warmups—you could pass those blindfolded.”
“And that third round? If you can muster the ferocity and grit you showed at Huaijiang Bay, you’ll definitely endure to the end. If you lose, it just means you didn’t try hard enough.”
Xie Jinhuan gave a small nod. As long as there was no “beauty trap,” he had confidence.
Sure, he might not be as “morally upright” as the Confucian boys, but in other areas?
He wasn’t going to let anyone walk over him.
Even if he lost, it wouldn’t be that embarrassing...
Plus, it was still too early to visit Han Jingchuan—not a good time to make moves. He couldn’t skip the event halfway through, either.
After some thought, he nodded.
“Since the Prince’s Heir thinks so highly of me, I suppose I should give it a shot. Even clearing the first round will get me enough for a decent night out.”
Linghu Qingmo, usually cold as ice, felt her own Dao heart was pretty solid. She noticed there were other female contestants and joined in:
“If you’re going, I’ll try too.”
Zhao De clapped his hands, delighted.
“Laifu! Go add Brother Xie and Miss Linghu’s names to the list—and place three thousand taels each from me and Her Highness on Brother Xie to win. Charge it to the Prince’s mansion!”
Xie Jinhuan quickly tried to stop him.
“That’s too much. I’m not guaranteed to win. A hundred or so taels is enough...”
“Eh—!”
Zhao De frowned and spoke with heartfelt sincerity:
“Sister Ling’er gave me the message. You think I’d short her on her bet? If you win, no matter how much I wagered, she’ll demand her full payout. And if I can’t deliver, she’ll break my legs. You gonna pay up for me?”
Hell no I’m not paying that!
Realizing Zhao De couldn’t refuse the bet either, Xie Jinhuan winced and pulled out some of the funds he’d gotten from Wu Su.
“In that case, I’ll join in for fun. Five hundred taels on myself to win it all. If I lose, I hope Your Highness and Her Grace will forgive me.”
Zhao De grinned,
“No worries. Even gamblers win sometimes. Just do your best—and if you lose, consider it a learning expense paid for by the Prince.”
Linghu Qingmo, more cautious about her chances, handed over a small purse.
“Place two hundred taels for me. I’m betting on Xie Jinhuan to take the crown.”
Yang Dabiao saw this, nearly crushed his back molars grinding his teeth. He pulled a solitary silver ingot from his belt—his entire fortune.
“Tight-fisted as hell, but I’m all in! If you lose, I’m drinking and eating off you for the rest of my life!”
“Caw!”
Meiqiu plopped a dried fish stick into Yang Dabiao’s palm—apparently, he was all in too.
Even the ever-present, seductive Ye Hongshang whispered in Xie Jinhuan’s ear:
“If you last till the end, big sis will dance for you—the dirtiest kind~”
Oh damn...
Xie Jinhuan, moved by this overwhelming show of reckless faith, felt his blood boil.
“I really want to see how steely these so-called noble disciples’ Dao hearts are. Don’t worry. If I fall today—it’ll be on that arena!”
—
The sun’s final rays slipped beneath the city walls.
Along both banks of the river, the bustling market had transformed into a kaleidoscope of lantern-lit brilliance.
Forty Echo Drums were spaced out across the platform and the small boats surrounding it. Many had already taken their seats, green-leaf-level cultivators meditating cross-legged as faint drumbeats echoed softly:
thump... thump...
The platform only held eight drums for top contenders. Seven were already taken—including two ethereal-looking Daoist priestesses.
As the challenger, Wei Lu sat cross-legged in a black robe, facing the sunset, eyes closed and utterly still. His Echo Drum ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) was dead silent—until the crowd stirred.
“He’s here, he’s here...”
“Master Zhang...”
The crowd parted.
A young scholar in green robes emerged—early twenties, delicate features. He jogged up with his robes hoisted, apologizing as he came:
“Sorry, sorry. Got caught up playing Go with my teacher. Didn’t realize the time...”
With that shy and clumsy energy, he looked like a soft-spoken bookworm—nothing like Wei Lu, all brooding and brocade on the dais.
Wei Lu wasn’t normally arrogant. As the grandson of the nation’s top martial artist, he had no real beef with Confucian scholars.
But the book “The Erotic Chronicles of Wei Wuyi”? That thing was foul beyond belief.
According to it, his grandfather made his fortune selling fishhooks in Xirong...
Fondled Si Kong Tianyuan’s wife’s butt...
Was tricked by Lu Wuzhen into calling him “Daddy”...
And borrowed ten taels from a monk to help prostitutes find religion...
And Zhang Huaiyu, this damn bookworm, had the gall to read it in front of him.
The fact that Wei Lu hadn’t already sliced him open was a testament to his self-control. Seeing him still putting on the "innocent scholar" act, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“No more games. Whether you’re a fake gentleman or a true scoundrel, we’ll all find out soon. Get up here.”
Zhang Huaiyu jumped onto the platform, took a seat beside Wei Lu, and glanced around. Noticing the two priestesses, he commented lightly:
“Even the Astronomy Bureau’s star-gazers are here. With two ladies in the mix, I’m afraid neither of us is winning that plaque tonight.”
The priestesses sat silently, hands forming mudras, eyes closed, avoiding any emotional triggers.
Wei Lu had had enough. Now that everyone was here, he turned to the Golden Tower’s host.
“Let’s begin.”
Fan Guangyuan, the tower’s owner, was still checking the latest sign-up sheet. He looked up and called out,
“Please wait, Young Master Wei. One more esteemed guest has just arrived...”
“...Huh?”
Even with Zhang Huaiyu on stage, the host dared to delay?
Who the hell was coming now?
Before he could ask, a streak of white broke through the lantern-lit sky from the fifth floor of the Golden Tower—
Whoosh—
A flash of white like a diving dragon hurtled down and landed square in the middle of the platform.
BOOM—
The thud echoed across the entire plaza.
And silence fell.
