Chapter Eighteen: A Friendly Duel

Three days later.

The Gu family officially passed into the hands of Second Master Gu. Gu Zhiheng left the family estate and returned to Mo Han’s villa, ready to prepare for their upcoming sparring match.

Yet, despite the sun already high in the sky, Mo Han was nowhere to be seen. Gu Zhiheng had been standing in the courtyard for an hour, nearly suffering heatstroke, but still, Mo Han did not appear.

“Ninth Master, Lord Black Serpent said the sparring was to be held in the evening. Why don’t you come inside and rest?” Chen Yuan remarked with exasperation. Had it not been for concern that Gu Zhiheng might faint from the heat, she wouldn’t have bothered coming out at all.

“In the evening? Why didn’t anyone say so earlier!” he grumbled, annoyed that he’d stood in the sun for so long. What if he ended up sunburned?

With a stormy expression, Gu Zhiheng returned to his room. The heat was unbearable, sweat clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He took a shower, changed into fresh clothes, then went downstairs to sit on the sofa and watch cartoons with Chen Yuan. Childish as it was, it passed the time.

Since leaving the ancestral hall, apart from specific tasks that needed his attention, he truly had nothing to do. Each day seemed to drift by in idleness. Already, at the very start, he found this lack of purpose difficult to bear. How would he cope with such empty days stretching out endlessly ahead?

“Ninth Master, your father is handling the Gu family well. Will you return someday to inherit the family business?” Chen Yuan asked, uncertain herself why the question arose—perhaps out of simple curiosity.

“Not necessarily. It depends on how far the Gu family can go by then, whether they’ll even need me,” he replied. The family probably wouldn’t need him anymore. Once everything was settled—the old masters reincarnated, punishments lifted, seals undone—the Gu family could develop its influence normally. Whatever course the family took, it would have little to do with him. His ambitions lay elsewhere; the life he yearned for was not one of worldly affairs.

Still, he supposed he would one day find a quiet, secluded place to settle down.

“What shall we have for lunch today? Should we order delivery?” Perhaps spicy crayfish, or garlic crayfish?

Chu Xingran had been in good spirits lately and wasn’t picky about food. Of course, only she would think to feast on crayfish and drink alcohol in the middle of the day.

“I’m not really hungry. You and Chen Yuan decide,” Gu Zhiheng said. Everything they wanted to order was off-limits to him anyway; he might as well rummage through the fridge for snacks.

He felt uneasy about the sparring match that night. He knew too little about Mo Han, had only the barest grasp of his strength. Before leaving the ancestral hall, all the information he’d found was in ancient texts, where every species was described in only a few terse lines. Beings as powerful as Lord Black Serpent were mentioned even less.

Even the books Chu Xingran had brought him later contained precious little information. To truly understand was simply impossible. Rumor had it that the further northwest one went, the stranger and more mysterious the spirits and monsters became, their abilities and strengths utterly unfathomable.

“Are you worried? Relax. There’s no shame in losing.” Was that supposed to be comforting?

Chu Xingran patted Gu Zhiheng on the shoulder, then turned and went to the fridge by the kitchen door.

All afternoon, Chu Xingran and Chen Yuan lounged about, eating, drinking, and watching TV. Bored, Gu Zhiheng simply went back to his room to sleep. If he was uneasy about the sparring match, so be it. Truthfully, he didn’t believe he would lose; his strength was real, after all. But in terms of experience and real combat, he was no match for Mo Han, who had centuries more practice.

His mind was a jumble of thoughts, swirling until he drifted off to sleep.

…

Ten o’clock at night.

The door to his bedroom opened from the outside and the lights flickered on.

“Ninth Master, it’s time to get up,” Chen Yuan called.

“Yes, right away.” He’d slept for several hours, longer than he’d intended. Quickly getting out of bed, he washed up, dressed, and headed downstairs.

There were more people in the living room than just his companions—several faces he didn’t recognize. Presumably, they were Mo Han’s guests. Well, of course. Someone had to bear witness.

“Let’s go to the courtyard and begin,” Mo Han said, rising and casting Gu Zhiheng a sidelong glance. Tonight, he would see just what this young man was capable of—where did such courage come from, to take on the mission of hunting in the northwest?

“Please, Lord Black Serpent,” Gu Zhiheng said, all levity gone, his manner serious.

“After you.”

Mo Han seemed completely at ease, as if the upcoming contest mattered not at all. They moved to the center of the courtyard, where the protective barrier activated, formally marking the start of their match.

Gu Zhiheng’s mastery of magical techniques was evident; his swift hand movements dazzled onlookers. Mo Han, naturally, was equally skilled, launching a swift attack. Gu Zhiheng’s hand seals were quick, but with the attack bearing down on him, he was forced to dodge while continuing his spellwork. As expected, his lack of combat experience put him at a disadvantage from the very start.

“Three moves, boy. If you can withstand them, I’ll agree to any request you make!” Mo Han’s casual tone struck Gu Zhiheng as almost mocking.

This was the gap between them. He’d thought himself impressive, but outside the ancestral hall, he was just ordinary. Though also a five-hundred-year-old spirit, he could only best lesser beings like Gui Zhi and Chen Yuan; against Mo Han, he had no chance.

Still, Mo Han’s words lingered in his mind: withstand three moves, and he could make any request—even ask Mo Han to accompany him to the northwest, and the other would agree.

But could he really do it?

Could he?

The question echoed in his mind, almost like a spell. He was Gu Zhiheng, master of the Gu family, the heir on whom all the ancestors had pinned their hopes. If he didn’t try, how would he ever know his own limits?

With this realization, Gu Zhiheng abandoned the standard hand seals and chose an unorthodox approach. It was simple: one hand drawing talismans, the other forming seals—a method he’d developed himself. He’d never used it before and had no idea how effective it would be. But wasn’t this the time to take a gamble?

His sudden change in technique left the onlookers astonished—was such a thing even possible? No one had ever dared to draw talismans and form seals at the same time, but here was the Gu family’s young master boldly trying it.

Those with true skill could see: if Gu Zhiheng slipped even once, the chance of death was over eighty percent. Yet that still left a twenty percent chance of survival.

So, in this sparring match, Gu Zhiheng was literally gambling his life for a win.

“Lord Black Serpent, tonight I must defeat you. I want you to accompany me to the northwest!” As he spoke, he successfully neutralized the first attack.