Chapter 29: “Farewell My Concubine,” Shocking the Audience

Though the guqin’s tone is gentle and restrained, it is by no means lacking in lethality.

As his senior sister once said: the guqin’s simplicity is precisely where its danger lies.

A sword hidden in bamboo—when the bamboo breaks, the sword is unleashed.

Its softness conceals deadly sharpness.

Lin Wuming had never before played an aggressive piece—not because he couldn’t, but because there was no need.

Besides, such songs might frighten the audience in a casual performance.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how.

Even without his senior sister’s direct teaching, he grasped it instinctively.

In his past life, he had heard many battle melodies—and “Ambush from Ten Sides” was one of them.

He might not recall every note, but he understood the meaning behind the music.

Where there is intent, there is soul—and every pluck of the string carries killing intent.

Mo Xiaoyue’s shameless tricks had genuinely angered him.

So this time, he held nothing back.

Infused with the spiritual energy drawn from the Sea Crystal Gem, each note carried a chilling murderous aura.

His technique of merging energy into sound surpassed even Mo Xiaoyue, who had practiced it for ten years.

The surging waves of sound formed an unstoppable army, bearing down on Mo Xiaoyue like a tide of ten thousand soldiers.

Her face turned pale.

Her aggressive zither tones collapsed instantly, powerless to resist.

In her mind, armored warriors surged toward her, shouting, blades raised high.

Overwhelmed by the illusion, terror shattered her mental defenses.

She panicked, stumbled backward, and collapsed onto the floor in fear.

“You dare?!”

Chu Biyue, the Tianyin Sect Master, was alarmed.

If her disciple endured this trauma, she might never be able to play music again!

Ignoring her status, Chu Biyue leapt onto the stage to shield her student.

Though she held back and did not use power beyond the Qi Condensation realm, her cultivation and technique were far above Mo Xiaoyue’s.

Lin Wuming instantly felt the pressure increase—but his gaze remained calm.

“You think I’d be scared just because some old woman showed up?”

His fingers didn’t stop.

The melody surged, more intense than ever.

As “Ambush from Ten Sides” entered the “Small Battle” and “Great Battle” movements, the force only grew stronger—like mountains crashing, soldiers charging, unstoppable.

Chu Biyue’s anger shifted to shock.

‘This boy… he is terrifying.’

Even she found it difficult to keep up.

Lin Wuming had had enough.

First one, then another—everyone wanted to rob him of his three mid-grade spirit stones.

Not today.

Fueled by fury, his music turned ferocious.

The battle reached a stalemate.

Chu Biyue was overwhelmed and furious, barely able to keep up.

Lin Wuming, however, remained poised—because he had not yet played his trump card.

As she struggled, his music suddenly shifted.

The battle ceased.

The tide had turned.

A sorrowful melody followed—it was “Farewell My Concubine.”

A tune of defeat, of a general removing his armor, accepting his fate.

Chu Biyue, understanding music as she did, instantly grasped the intent behind the melody.

She felt as though she was caught in an inescapable trap.

The mighty Tianyin Sect Master—being led by the nose by a mere youth!

She didn’t even have time to be angry before the music shifted again—melancholy and mournful, then rising into a heroic crescendo.

Tragic, like a hero in decline.

Lamenting, like a general at the end of the road.

Blood fades.

Life drains.

Each step reflects on a life of glory and regret.

And finally—a sharp, slicing final note.

The king lays down his sword.

Everyone in the hall felt their hearts freeze.

Even Chu Biyue, caught fully in the song’s intent, slumped back in her seat—dazed, disoriented, completely defeated.

The hall fell into total silence.

Not a whisper could be heard.

Liu Yingfeng, Zhong Xiao, the City Lord of Luoshui—all were wide-eyed and speechless.

That young man on stage… had just defeated the Tianyin Sect Master.

It took a long moment before Chu Biyue regained her senses.

Recalling the overwhelming emotions of her defeat, she was shaken to the core.

Remembering her underhanded actions, she felt utterly ashamed.

Without a word, she grabbed her disciple and fled the stage, humiliated.

She lost.

She ran.

In utter disgrace.

Liu Yingfeng’s beautiful eyes widened as she stared at the young man’s white-robed figure, her heart stunned and moved.

She had only meant to help casually—and accidentally witnessed the birth of legend.

The Tianyin Sect Master, undefeated since her ancient duel, had been bested by a 17-year-old boy just beginning his cultivation path.

A moment that would go down in history.

This boy was now famous with a single performance.

That such a genius could appear in tiny Luoshui City…

Liu Yingfeng sighed.

If her fiancé had even a fraction of this boy’s talent, she’d gladly set aside her pride and obey without complaint—no need to talk about forced marriage.

“What a pity…”

She lowered her gaze, regretfully.

This youth had dazzled her, caught her interest—but a betrothal was a betrothal.

As a woman waiting to be wed, she could not stir up unnecessary trouble.

As she made her decision, she couldn’t help but think:

“If only this young man were my betrothed… how wonderful that would be.”

She shook her head, full of helplessness.

“But how could such a coincidence exist in this world?”

Better to finish the tournament, return home early, rest, and sleep.

After all… in dreams, anything is possible.