Volume 2, Chapter 2 – Publicity

As the vehicles entered the city, Bai Xiang stopped asking about cultivation and decided to let herself unwind.

Keeping the nerves strung too tight isn’t good either. In her past life Bai Xiang knew a master whose maxim was, “Cultivate well, play well, rest well, relax well,” and she agreed with it.

Her path differed from the world’s anyway. Whether to blaze a new trail after Transforming Qi or to reference the Sword Dao—neither was something she could figure out in a hurry. Better to watch the street scene and settle the mind.

Dawn had grayed the sky. Pushcart vendors began to appear—some hawking fruit and vegetables, some porridge and flatbreads—gradually filling the roads with clamor.

Bai Xiang noticed students showing up more and more among the pedestrians, and figured the break must be over.

Staggered returns to class?

Hopefully. Otherwise, if she couldn’t find the younger ones of the Bai family when she got back, it’d be a pain to teach The Startling‑Spirit Cicada to them all at once.

She wasn’t worried about herself; even if she didn’t go back to class, Chilong No. 1 High School wouldn’t dare do anything to her.

And she still had that sword match on her mind.

Counting the days—excluding the day Chengfeng Sword Dao came to issue their challenge—today was the sixth day, which meant tomorrow was the date for Bai Shengju and Liu Mengqing’s Sword Dao bout.

Compared to the day she left, Bai Xiang was no longer the same. She certainly wasn’t going to let Bai Shengju take the stage.

Her thought was simple: since Jiang Haojing was the one she threw out to start this, she should be the one to put a period on it.

“Whap—”

A flyer suddenly drifted in from the street and slapped right onto the front windshield.

Even if Huang Qian reacted in time, he couldn’t yank the wheel hard in traffic; he had to let the flyer smack the glass, then curse under his breath and reach out to rip it off.

“What is it?” He took one look at the flyer and arched a brow. “Hm—?”

Quickly, he twisted around and handed it to Bai Xiang. “This one’s about you.”

Bai Xiang gave it a glance. On it, Liu Mengqing wore a qipao, her thighs rounded in black stockings; she’d even added a side garter under the hem, just visible through the qipao’s slit.

One arm cradled a long sword in its scabbard; the other held a long cigarette holder. Chin lifted, she breathed smoke; the look she cast over was full of arrogance.

Below were titles like [Big Showdown!] and [Life‑and‑Death Stakes!]. Only in small print at the bottom did it explain in detail—pretty much laying out tomorrow’s Sword Dao match and the whole grudge between the Shenming Dojo and the Chengfeng Dojo.

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“What is this?”

Squinting at the row of sponsor logos across the top, Bai Xiang frowned; her tone had already gone cool.

“The book.” Huang Qian was used to it. “Sword matches aren’t common, and Chilong’s a small place; sometimes you don’t see one all year. Of course they’re going to hype it up.”

“Then why is Star Tower Group on the sponsor list.”

“That’s perfectly—what did you say?”

With a screech, Huang Qian stomped the brakes on reflex and whipped around, eyes wide. “Star Tower Group?”

“Right.” Bai Xiang pointed at a “collar‑logo” on the flyer. “This—I’ve seen the ads. It’s called ‘Black Collar Co.’ That’s a Star Tower subsidiary, isn’t it?”

Horns beeped behind them. Huang Qian glanced back to see Cao Chuan through two panes of glass, pointing and mouthing fast.

He collected himself, stepped on the gas, and after a while spoke again. “Then something’s off here…”

They’d only gone a few dozen meters when, following the traffic, they reached a crossroads. On the gateway’s vertical billboard across the way, an ad was blaring—and it was promoting tomorrow’s match too.

“Not normal…” Huang Qian stared at the big screen, shaking his head. “Really not normal…”

Sword bouts with open books were normal enough. But the usual participants were, well—every class had them—but when it came to sponsors, most had to tie into cultivation.

Like advertising: if it’s a sports event, naturally you see apparel, shoes, food, energy drinks. In the gray zones, undetectable “special” meds—names that only circulate in small circles.

Likewise, sponsors for sword bouts are usually wellness tonics—pharma companies, gear makers, clothing brands.

At most throw in some cosmetics and shampoo.

You practically never see tech firms like Star Tower Group and Black Collar Co. get involved.

For a simple reason—no angle to pitch.

Sure, some people bring powered shoes, cybernetic limbs, even biotech modifications into the ring—but the biggest problem is public opinion doesn’t accept it.

Play it that way and the audience sees it as defiling the Sword Dao.

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Win and it’s dishonorable; lose and you’re disgraced.

No way it’s worth it. So tech companies don’t do it; they usually aim at other competitive circuits.

“How can they run ads like this?”

Behind them, Cao Chuan had seen the big screen too, and his brows pinched tight.

It had gone citywide—was there any need to blow it up this big?

But in the next instant, Huang Qian and Cao Chuan both gaped, staring dumbfounded at the figures appearing on the big screen.

Chilong Circuit Watchman Xu Zhe.

Chilong Circuit Chief Inspector Zhang Daoming.

Even State Governor Fang Xiaochun! And the Sword Dao Association’s Qizhou Branch President, Tao Xingxuan!

Never mind Chilong—this was half of Qizhou’s political heft showing up to back it?

No, on what grounds?

“Beep‑beep‑beep—”

Once inside the city, the signal was fine; everyone’s phones began to shriek.

Bai Xiang watched Huang Qian driving while uh‑huh, yes‑yes‑yes‑ing into the phone; his foot pressed the gas harder and harder, as if he needed to vent some anger.

“Screech—”

At last the jeep pulled to the curb. He let Bai Xiang out by the gutter; behind her rose the long stairs of the Shenming Dojo.

“Sorry I can’t go up with you,” Huang Qian shook his head. “But don’t worry—I’ll report what you did and the credit you deserve, exactly.”

He drove off. Then Cao Chuan rolled up, window down, shades on his face, looking cool.

“Bad news,” he said.

“Tomorrow’s duel is probably being pushed by other forces.”

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Bai Xiang narrowed her eyes. “Qingya Sword Dao?”

Blowing it up like this only seemed to favor Liu Mengqing on the surface. With the promo this over the top—likely to spill across the whole south—of course she suspected Qingya Sword Dao was helping Liu Mengqing.

“No.” Cao Chuan shook his head. “Much worse than Qingya.”

“The ‘technology faction’!”

Xu Xi suddenly poked half her head out from the back seat, calling to Bai Xiang in a panic.

“It must be those ministers taking foreign money, pushing it from the shadows, wuwuwuwu—”

She didn’t finish. Cao Chuan clapped a hand over her mouth. While holding Xu Xi down, the man in shades told Bai Xiang to go rest first and said he’d be in touch later.

Bai Xiang watched them drive off, then noticed quite a few people on the sidewalk staring at her.

Hm…?

She blinked.

Maybe they hadn’t dared approach with the army jeeps just now—but why did it feel like there were far more people here than usual…

Granted, she wore a torn skintight combat suit with a long sword on her back, the very picture of someone just back from the wilds.

But how long had she been out of the car?

Even before that, the foot traffic here hadn’t felt normal.

“Excuse me, miss?”

A girl—at most fifth or sixth grade—came up with a backpack. “Are you a disciple of the Shenming Dojo?”

“I am.”

Bai Xiang hadn’t planned to hide it. “What is it?”

Whoosh! As if a switch had been flipped, several people with recorders popped out of the crowd and closed in.

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“White hair, gold eyes… are you Bai Xiang, chief disciple of the Shenming Dojo?”

“Quite a few disciples of Chengfeng Sword Dao have publicly accused you of bullying the weak. What do you say to that?”

“Chengfeng’s Jiang Haojing says you used improper means to surpass her in cultivation and defeat her. Is that correct?”

Voices over voices, a muddle of questions.

A barrage of queries pelted Bai Xiang, and her brow knit on its own. She only wanted to get out of here fast.

She started up the steps, but reporters kept pace at her side.

“At seventeen you’ve already entered the Dao and can be called a Sword Dao seed. May we ask about your future school preferences?”

A bespectacled female reporter watched Bai Xiang with high excitement.

She had a strong hunch there was big news on this girl.

“Word is that, like many, you idolize last year’s national top scorer, Chai Xuan. Do you want to replicate your idol’s path and charge hard in next year’s Big Exam?”

Smack!

Bai Xiang stopped short.

“Chai Xuan…?”

All the reporters heard her low murmur.

“Last year, across all Great Yu, they publicly claimed three hundred thousand Sword‑Track students.”

She half turned, meeting the cameras from above.

“With that many, and they let a piece of trash take the top spot…”

“Then they’re worse than trash—and it makes you doubt the real numbers.”