Volume Two: Travels in the State of Qi Chapter 104: The Grand Contest of the Imperial City

The Imperial Capital of Qi was extravagantly splendid. People filled the streets, and high-level cultivators were everywhere. Anyone seeing it for the first time after coming from a small town would glance around in stunned wonder.

But Zhang Heng felt nothing at all. After all, he was a man of the 21st century; there was no sight so grand—no soaring towers or strange wonders—that had never existed in his world.

His first priority, however, was to find a place to stay.

He wandered into a random inn and went straight to the counter. He took out a Spirit Crystal from the ring of spatial storage and placed it on the table. In a calm tone he said, “Host, I need a room.”

Even if prices in the Imperial Capital were absurd, he figured one Spirit Crystal ought to buy him lodgings for quite a long while.

But the proprietor was too busy counting money to even raise his head. Without looking up, he said casually, “Our place is full. Please try another establishment.”

Full? Zhang Heng had no choice but to move on.

He tried several inns in a row. Every single one said there were no rooms.

This was excessive. He knew the capital was hosting the coming Capital Great Tournament, so he expected many cultivators to be in town. But he never imagined it would be this bad—no room at all.

Did he really have to do what old demons who had cultivated for hundreds of years do and just pitch a hut in the outer forests?

After thinking it over, Zhang Heng gave a rueful smile. There was still a long way until the tournament began. It was impossible that every sect participating in the Imperial City Contest had already arrived. Some sects, trying to put on airs, would likely come only in the last two days before it began. But surely those people would find a room somewhere?

So, it wasn’t that no rooms existed—just no rooms left for an “ordinary mortal” like him.

He turned and went back inside one of the inns again.

The shopkeeper, seeing the ordinary, untrained man walk in again, was displeased but still polite. “Honored guest, this inn is truly full. There are many inns in the city—you may try another.”

Zhang Heng did not answer. He simply took something out of his space ring and set it on the counter.

“Host,” he said, “can anything like this be exchanged for a room?”

Impatient, the innkeeper snapped, “Just leave. If there’s none, it’s none. You can’t trade anything for a room. If you don’t go now, I’ll—”

He did not finish the sentence. The moment he saw the object on the counter, he froze. He reached out gingerly, examined it again and again, and, once convinced it was genuine, his face lit up as if he had met his own parents.

“Ah, this guest is a friend of His Highness the Eighteenth Prince of Qi, is he not? You’re taking a room, then. Just this moment, a guest has checked out. I’ll take you right up.”

Zhang Heng smiled to himself and, pretending not to notice, followed the innkeeper upstairs.

Qi Xuan’s little jade token still had some use after all.

Downstairs, people drank and chattered everywhere; it was loud and boisterous. Upstairs, by contrast, it was utterly silent—as if some special device had blocked every sound.

At the door, the innkeeper stopped, bowed deeply, and said reverently, “This honored guest room is yours. If you need anything, call for me directly.” Then he stepped back politely.

Zhang Heng pushed the door open. A faint, clean fragrance drifted through the room. The furnishings were complete and fine—backing from Qi’s royal house certainly had its benefits.

He sat quietly on the bed for a long while. His mood slowly steadied.

“System, bro. Any advice on wiping out the Yin-God Cult?”

He had come with two goals. One was to destroy the evil sect that had ruined the lives of tens of thousands—the Yin-God Cult. The other was to come to the capital and make connections with people of power and strength.

Training in cultivation was far too hard, after all; it was safer to find some strong legs to stand on.

A mechanical chime sounded.

Suggestion: Host should participate in the Royal Capital Tournament.

The system replied, but it did not answer his question.

“Hey, System, bro. I asked how to destroy the Yin-God Cult. Just tell me that. I have zero interest in that so-called Imperial City Tournament.”

By now, after staying in the capital long enough, Zhang Heng had begun to understand what the Royal City Tournament was.

It was a competition organized by the Qi royal house in which all young people of the realm could contend: members of the royal family, disciples of the sects, and even some young independent cultivators.

In the Seven Great Ancient Kingdoms, Qi’s strength stood on par with Liu’s. Both were, by any measure, near the bottom. In Liu, the strongest, Lord King Liu Tianqing, had only the ninth rank of the Reversion-Realm. Qi fared no better; the Emperor of Qi himself was only at the first rank of the Heavenly Origin realm.

Though weak, both kingdoms survived among the Seven without being swallowed by stronger states for one major reason: many powerful sects thrived within their borders.

So both the states of Qi and Liu desperately courted their internal sects. Qi held this Royal City Tournament to tighten ties with each clan and bring them closer. Each contest also produced a number of talented young cultivators, allowing Qi to recruit them and strengthen the nation.

For the sects, the tournament had many advantages. First, it tested the strength of their young disciples and added to their grit. Second, it fed their mutual vanity, each one eager to outshine the others.

For powerless yet passionate solitary cultivators, it was by far a rare and precious opportunity.

So at every Royal City Tournament, countless geniuses gathered in the Imperial City of Qi, where they could compete against peers of the same age.

But what did any of that matter to Zhang Heng? Brilliant as he was not, he could scarcely be called a talent. If he entered this “Great Tournament,” he would surely be used as cannon fodder.

There was, of course, another possibility: he could face opponents with Dugu Sword Sage’s Heart-Protector Sword. But what sense did that make? Anyone stepping in would die from a single move.

Another tone from the system:

If Host wants to destroy the Yin-God Cult, then join this Royal Capital Tournament. If Host has no intentions toward the sect, it is also best to sit quietly as a spectator.

How was destroying the Yin-God Cult connected to joining this tournament? Zhang Heng could never make sense of it.

Ding. Host should simply follow what this system says; this system will not explain the link.

Zhang Heng let out a laugh. “Not bad. This so-called mindless machine can even put on airs.”

“Fine. Whatever you say, I’ll do.”

He thought about it: participating in a contest was no big deal. At worst, he could simply dodge with the Auroral Mirage stance and keep running whenever someone attacked. If someone exhausted their spiritual energy from running him down first, wouldn’t that count as a win?

“System, bro, are there any conditions?”

It is better to get things clear first, otherwise you can get cheated.

Ding. The system’s requirements are simple: Host must, by his own strength, take first place in the Royal City Tournament.

What? First place? By my own strength? Impossible.

Zhang Heng was stunned. He was a pitiful fighter—where was this strength supposed to come from? How could he possibly win first place?

Spiritual-stone conversion:

Ten low-grade Spirit Stones contain the same amount of spiritual energy as one mid-grade Spirit Stone. Ten mid-grade equal one high-grade Spirit Stone. Likewise, ten high-grade equal one Spirit Crystal. So one Spirit Crystal can be exchanged for one thousand low-grade Spirit Stones.

Normally, no one wants to trade high-grade stones for lower-grade ones, because lower-grade ones take up too much space and are troublesome to carry.