Mingyue Tower had eight floors in total, with a large semi-circular stage at its center.
On the curved side were tier upon tier of viewing platforms, enclosed by low wooden railings. Right beside the railings were rows of tea tables.
The first to third floors and the sixth to eighth floors were for ordinary guests, while the fourth and fifth floors, offering the best viewing angles, were designated as VIP seating, with each table separated by bamboo curtains.
The staff were honest. After Pei Nai handed over that silver ingot, they directly led her to a VIP seat on the fifth floor. Space was indeed limited—most other floors were already packed to capacity, with only a few empty tables remaining on the fourth and fifth floors.
Before the performance began, the crowd was noisy and restless.
Pei Nai found an empty table and sat down. Another attendant came over with cups to pour tea. She ordered some fresh fruits and pastries, then quietly waited for the show to start.
Soon, music began to play, and the crowd gradually fell silent.
Dancers dressed in flowing garments entered the stage from the side doors, moving gracefully in unison. Their long sleeves swept through the air like cascading ribbons, elegant as startled swans, swaying gently with the rhythm.
The precision was stunningly beautiful—some male spectators had already begun clapping and cheering.
After one performance ended, the next event was a martial match.
The two contestants had already stepped onto the stage, warming up and eager to begin.
Pei Nai’s gaze swept over one of their weapons, and she paused slightly.
One was tall, the other short. The taller man carried a long axe that looked somewhat familiar to Pei Nai, his eyes fixed intently on his opponent. The shorter one held an unremarkable long sword, lacking a bit of confidence in his expression.
The outcome seemed obvious.
As expected, the audience was full of excitement.
On every floor, attendants appeared holding betting ledgers, walking back and forth along the corridors. Following the principle of voluntary participation, anyone who wished to place a bet could call them over.
The stands quickly became lively, but the vast majority placed their bets on the taller man.
When an attendant approached, Pei Nai was casually cracking sunflower seeds. He greeted her warmly, “Miss, would you like to place a bet?”
Pei Nai nodded and set aside the seed shells.
The attendant smiled. “Which contestant would you like to bet on?”
“The shorter one. Thirty taels,” Pei Nai said without hesitation, taking out silver from her pouch and handing it over.
As soon as she spoke, the surrounding area fell silent. People nearby turned toward her, puzzled.
A man at the neighboring table saw that she was alone and assumed she was inexperienced. He kindly reminded her, “That tall one is Zhou Yuliang, son of Zhou Mingfang—the ‘Heavenly Axe of Taojiang.’ He was specially invited by Mingyue Tower to entertain the crowd. Surely you’ve at least heard of the Six Rivers?”
“I have. But I favor the swordsman,” Pei Nai replied politely.
The man shook his head and turned back, exchanging glances with his companions. They all wore faintly mocking smiles.
Even the attendant kindly added, “Miss, you should think it through. Once the match starts, the money cannot be refunded.”
In Pei Nai’s view, once a decision was made, it was like a bolt released from a crossbow—there was no turning back. Besides, she was confident she would win this bet.
“I’ve thought it through. Just record it,” she said.
The attendant had just finished writing when suddenly, the bamboo curtain behind Pei Nai was lifted by a pair of delicate hands, slender as carved jade.
Behind it stood a young woman about the same age as Tang Mingzhi, her hair styled elegantly, dressed in an embroidered gown. She looked slightly puzzled.
“How are you so certain the swordsman will win?”
Ah, a beauty—graceful and refined.
Pleasant to the eye, and pleasing to the heart. Pei Nai answered readily, “Because the Heavenly Axe style is easily countered by sword techniques. The owner of Mingyue Tower, Lady Xuanwu, is no fool. She deliberately arranged an unremarkable swordsman as Zhou Yuliang’s opponent—this way, the audience is lured into betting heavily on Zhou, while they secretly bet the other way to reclaim large sums. Since they’ve set it up this way, they must be confident the swordsman will win.”
“But no matter what, it’s still the Heavenly Axe. This swordsman has no reputation. Can ordinary sword techniques really work? What if it’s just coincidence?” the beauty asked again.
“Last-minute practice won’t help—but guidance from a master makes all the difference.”
The beauty looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Look at his hand. The way he grips the sword is exactly at the optimal position for retreating and counterattacking. When facing an axe, the key is to avoid its edge. The hilt of his sword looks entirely new, except for the worn parts hidden under his hand. That means he’s undergone targeted training specifically for this match.”
A man at the next table could no longer hold back and loudly retorted, “Nonsense! All speculation without proof. Have you even practiced martial arts? From what I see, he just switched to a new sword. Grip position? I’ve roamed the martial world for years and never heard such a claim.”
Pei Nai calmly lifted her teacup and ignored him.
The young beauty glanced at the man, then asked softly, “Honestly, how do you know the worn parts are hidden by his hand? What if it really is just a new sword?”
Pei Nai took a sip of tea to moisten her throat, then said, “Look at the guard of his sword.”
The side of the guard near the blade was heavily worn. From a distance, the dents were unclear, but the dulled, darkened sheen was unmistakable.
The beauty immediately understood. The blade, edge, and spine could be polished—but the guard usually wasn’t. Not that it couldn’t be, but few people bothered to spend the effort.
“Incredible. I believe you!” the beauty praised. She then placed two gold ingots on the table and told the attendant, “Add mine as well—bet on the shorter one to win.”
Gold gleamed brightly. Wealthy indeed, Pei Nai thought to herself.
After recording the bet and collecting the money, the attendant left. The match below officially began, and the crowd fell silent, focusing on the fight.
The two clashed fiercely, sword and axe colliding with sharp clangs.
Zhou Yuliang swung his axe downward. His opponent withdrew his sword and dodged, the axe slamming into the stage floor with a loud bang. The swordsman leapt and struck from above. Zhou Yuliang failed to retrieve his axe in time and had to let go and retreat, leaving the ancient silver axe lodged in place.
The crowd gasped. Just as they thought Zhou Yuliang was at a disadvantage, he seized an opening—leaping into a somersault and kicking the axe handle, freeing it from the gap. Catching it smoothly, he swung horizontally.
The opponent seemed prepared, bending low to avoid the strike. Straightening, he unleashed a brilliant series of sword techniques, launching a rapid counterattack that became almost unstoppable, leaving Zhou Yuliang struggling to keep up.
But in the final moment, Zhou Yuliang raised his axe and broke the sequence, forcefully blocking the attack. The sharp edge of the axe shattered the opponent’s sword.
The swordsman stared at the now-broken weapon, standing there, seemingly at a loss.
“That’s just bullying with superior weaponry,” Pei Nai remarked lightly.
She picked up a sunflower seed from the plate and flicked it downward, striking a precise point on the axe.