"So-so, I suppose." Wei Zhao was unimpressed. True, his current strength was no match for Bing Wushuang's, but one had to remember that his true body was at the early Xuan Sheng stage—a force comparable to a heavyweight expert. Bing Wushuang might be a late-stage Golden Core, but even a late-stage Nascent Soul would not have stirred the slightest fear in him; it would only have made him all the more determined to take the man into his service.

"Then how do you plan to lure him over? Send Qin Yuanming? Or Canlong? I don't fancy the odds on either." Lin Dongfang frowned slightly. Though he had crossed blades with Bing Wushuang only once, in the briefest of exchanges, that was enough to show him the man was no ordinary opponent—nothing at all like Jing Yueming or Canlong. To simply draw him over out of thin air was impossible.

"Neither," Wei Zhao shook his head.

"Then we go to his door ourselves?" Lin Dongfang asked, startled.

"That's even worse. We'd stand out too much on any other island—we'd be spotted for certain." Wei Zhao shook his head again. After the business before, he and Lin Dongfang had both become famous; every move they made drew attention. And a thing like this lived or died on secrecy. If the Center's people caught wind of it, all their efforts would be wasted.

"Not this way, not that way—you think of something yourself, kid." Lin Dongfang pursed his lips.

"Don't worry, I've already thought of a way. But I'll need you to write a letter, old sir." Wei Zhao smiled.

"What letter?" Lin Dongfang asked.

"A letter of challenge." Wei Zhao smiled faintly. Bing Wushuang might seem emotionless, but he was certainly the sort of man who was proud to the bone—and a man like that would never let any defeat go unavenged. His crushing loss to Lin Dongfang was a humiliation he was bound to wipe away. Especially now that his strength had been utterly transformed, he must dream day and night of washing away that shame; he simply had never found the right occasion—or, more precisely, could never quite bring himself to take the plunge.

Wei Zhao was confident that once Lin Dongfang's letter of challenge arrived, Bing Wushuang would cast aside every misgiving and come to fight. After all, from the other man's point of view, he must be utterly certain of himself; all he lacked was an opening.

"Clever boy—you've got a real knack for reading people." Lin Dongfang grasped his meaning at once, and immediately called for brush and paper. His brush flew like a dragon and a snake, and he wrote four large characters: *Not Convinced? Fight Again!*

Wei Zhao picked it up and studied it this way and that for a good long while, then finally sighed: "These characters... are seriously ugly!"

"You're asking for a beating, kid! This is my imitation of a master's hand—you've got no eye for it!" Lin Dongfang cursed.

"They're just ugly, that's all. Compared with what I saw on Yunjie Island, they're still a hundred thousand miles off. That's a true master's work; yours is simply painful to look at. Best write less in future, so you don't make a laughingstock of yourself." Wei Zhao said with a perfectly straight face. He meant Shangguan Tianxia, of course—the finest calligrapher on Yunjie Island by a wide margin, a man no ordinary hand could hope to match.

Lin Dongfang was furious, but before he could raise a hand, Wei Zhao had already vanished without a trace. He could only mutter resentfully: "Is it really that ugly? Surely not..."

Wei Zhao would not deliver the letter in person—that would only draw attention—and of course he could not send Qin Yuanming or the others either, since that would easily rouse Bing Wushuang's suspicions. So he casually picked a disciple of North Island to carry it for him. After all, he was the martial-uncle before whom even Xin Yi'an bowed and scraped; it was a matter of a single word.

Just as Wei Zhao had expected, when Bing Wushuang received this letter of challenge—four characters and no signature—he hesitated not at all, and came straight to their door.

Within a radius of several li there was no one else about—only Lin Dongfang, Wei Zhao, and Bing Wushuang.

"I never thought you would send me a letter of challenge." Bing Wushuang did not so much as glance at Wei Zhao, walking straight toward Lin Dongfang. In his eyes, this was the only worthy foe. Defeated in a single exchange back when he was early-stage Golden Core, he had since been utterly transformed, and he was naturally determined to wipe away that shame.

"Hold on," Wei Zhao suddenly stretched out a hand to bar his way.

"What?" Bing Wushuang frowned at Wei Zhao. He was itching to cross blades with Lin Dongfang; everything else was an obstacle in his path.

"I've got nothing better to do. How about you play with me first?" Wei Zhao grinned.

"You?" Disdain was written plainly across Bing Wushuang's face. Never mind that he was now a late-stage Golden Core expert—even back when he was only early-stage Golden Core, he had never truly regarded Wei Zhao as anything worth his notice. Wei Zhao's power on paper was, after all, merely consummate Foundation Establishment.

"Overreaching myself, is that it?" Wei Zhao took it not the least to heart. He knew very well that with his present strength he could not possibly be Bing Wushuang's match. To pit consummate Foundation Establishment against late-stage Golden Core—his original body might once have managed it, but this spirit-body of his made it unrealistic. Still, all this time stuck at consummate Foundation Establishment had not been wasted; this was just the occasion to try out an ability he had recently mastered.

"What do you think." Bing Wushuang still showed no intention of striking, but his signature ruthless ice-force billowed out—tens, even a hundred times stronger than before. Against pressure that heavy, even a consummate Foundation Establishment expert would find it hard to hold his ground.

Yet Wei Zhao remained utterly unmoved, not the slightest trace of discomfort on his face. He spread his hands with perfect composure: "So? Does this count as having begun?"

Bing Wushuang was struck dumb. How could he have guessed that Wei Zhao's true body was a force comparable to a heavyweight expert? The ruthless ice-force was a special aura fused with true qi, but in the end it was still an aura—and to try to crush a freak like Wei Zhao with aura alone was beyond even a heavyweight expert, let alone a mere late-stage Golden Core. He might as well have gone to bed.

"Interesting. Then I'll play with you." A strange light flickered in Bing Wushuang's eyes, and with a shift of his body he struck at Wei Zhao. His speed was already first-rate among experts of his level—but to his surprise, Wei Zhao was far faster still. Even at full burst, he could never catch so much as the hem of Wei Zhao's garment.

"So this is all you've got?" Wei Zhao could not help feeling a little disappointed. Bing Wushuang had an air about him, and Wei Zhao had assumed he would at least be an expert who made his eyes light up. To his surprise, the man was nothing more than this.

"Stop looking down on me!" Bing Wushuang's face could not hold its composure any longer.