After four fights, Wu Ying had a clear understanding of the significant difference in skill shown among the remainder members. Through luck or stubbornness, a portion of those who stood in the courtyard were from the bottom ten percent, and it showed in their martial styles. Few lasted more than a few blows against the upper ten percent, those who had stayed in hopes of showcasing their talent to the Inner Sect Elder.
“Wu Ying. Yin Tse.”
Wu Ying shook his head free from his thoughts and walked into the middle of the ring, turning his head to look at his opponent. He frowned a bit, noting the slight female before him who wielded a heavy, three-ringed dao[29].
Clasping his hands, Wu Ying bowed to Yin Tse, who followed suit. At the attendant’s signal, the pair readied themselves. The small girl took a modified back-weighted stance with the sabre held overhead threateningly. Wu Ying cocked his head to the side as he drew his own sword, tempted to drag out the fight, as that particular pose was tiring on one’s arms. Then again, she seemed to be at least Body Cleansing 9, maybe even 10. That would give the slim lady much greater strength than what was directly apparent.
All the while, Wu Ying was circling the dao-wielder, staying just outside of her range. Other than slight shifts in her position to keep Wu Ying lined up, the young lady seemed content to wait.
“Boring!”
“No stalling. We have a lot of fights to get through today. If you two do not begin being active, I will rule this a loss on both your sides,” the referee snapped, growing tired of the two.
“Damn it,” Wu Ying cursed.
Wu Ying’s momentary distraction provided the female cultivator an opening, which she took by exploding forward. Her sword stayed still until the last moment before it swirled, cutting down so fast that it left sword mirages in Wu Ying’s eyes. The technique of sword mirages was derived not only from the movement speed of the sword but also the angles, with each cut in a pre-determined order to create a false impression of a net of unbreakable attacks. Eyes wide, Wu Ying could only hold up his sword and launch a series of blocks in an attempt to avoid being struck.
The clash of jian and dao, of sword and sabre rang through the courtyard in a rising crescendo. By the third strike, Wu Ying’s hand was trembling, the shock of blocking the heavy weapon passing through to his hand. The fourth strike sneaked past Wu Ying’s desperate defense, leaving a shallow wound on his arm. The fifth, blocked, the sixth missed. On and on, the young cultivator’s attacks built up, growing stronger with every moment. Of particular concern was that, unlike him, his opponent had chosen not to use a blunted weapon, instead relying on her technique to ensure she did not kill.
Realizing the peril he was in, Wu Ying threw himself forward into the attack. It was not a risk he would have taken before his recent adventures, but now, he understood—there was no holding back within a fight. It was either win or die. In the center of the storm, blood flowed, but Wu Ying entered within the range of her attacks even as he covered his vitals. As suddenly as the storm of sabres had erupted, it ended.
For a moment, the entire group stared at the tableau before them. In one hand, Wu Ying held the cultivator’s arm, stopping her sabre from moving. The other pressed his jian against her lower body, ready to disembowel her.
“Winner—Wu Ying,” the referee intoned flatly.
Seeing the cultivator relax, Wu Ying let go of her hand and stepped backward, exiting her reach before he returned her bow.
“Thank you for your guidance,” the pair recited the ritual words before they moved aside, allowing another pair to take part.
“You scared me on that one,” Tou He said as he pulled bandages from his waist pouch. “Are you going to be able to continue?”
“Yes. It’s just surface wounds mostly,” Wu Ying said. Mostly. One cut along his side had gotten deep enough to tear up some muscles.
Breathing slowly, Wu Ying circulated his chi to speed up the healing process and stem the bleeding while he watched the other fights. A healing pill went into his mouth too, as he worked to reduce the damage. After his experience fighting the sabre-wielder, Wu Ying could only be certain of one thing—winning wouldn’t be easy.
“Wu Ying, go to group three.”
Standing, Wu Ying nodded to the referee before he took off for his assigned group. There, he had the chance to watch another two battles. In particular, the second battle was an eye-opener.
The combatants were a jian-wielder and axe-wielder, both of them in the Energy Gathering stage. As they fought, they flashed from one corner of the ring to another, each attack so sharp and crisp that it raised a wind. Yet for all their speed, Wu Ying was surprised when, seemingly by an unspoken command, the pair began to truly fight.
First came soaring pressure as the pair released the locks around their dantians. Their opened Energy Meridians thrummed with power as the pair pushed the newly released chi into the meridians, giving themselves greater strength and speed. The increased pressure was, of course, a side-effect of the increased flow of chi. Part of Wu Ying was somewhat amused, seeing the sudden increase in pressure not so much an intimidation tactic but a failure in cultivation. But…
Next came the dome. The referee, seeing the upcoming fight, raised her hands, forming a clear dome between the spectators and the fighters. Not a moment too soon, for the pair threw themselves at each other, blades of compressed chi erupting from the ends of their bladed weapons as they fought, torn apart only by the strikes of their opposition. Yet for all the fury of the fight, it did not last long. The pair exhausted their chi stores within seconds, leaving one cultivator to stare at the axe blade hovering over his face.
As the pair staggered off to rest and gather more chi and the cultivators digested the fight, Wu Ying was called into the now-empty circle. This time, Wu Ying’s opponent was a ji-wielder. The ji was a common polearm weapon that had a spear tip and an axe blade at its end. Like the spear, it was a popular weapon for commoners—mostly because it was also a common weapon in the army. In fact, entire regiments were made up of ji-wielders as an effective counter to heavily armed and armored swordsmen or the occasional particularly stubborn spear regiment.
“Ready?”
The pair gave a nod to the referee, having already paid their respects to their opponent. Wu Ying stepped back, giving himself more room, rather than hang just outside the longer weapon’s reach as he assessed his opponent.
Probably a military brat, part-scholar, part-soldier. Broad shoulders that wielded the weapon as though he was born to it. Another who had gained Sense of the weapon. Strong, fast, perceptive, with a subdued killing intent. This was someone who had done more than fight in the sparring ring. Face tight, Wu Ying darted in with his sword held upward, ready to block.
The ji stabbed out quickly, only to be deflected by the dragon’s greeting to the rising sun. As Wu Ying took another step in, his opponent drew the blade back toward his body, twisting the ji around and swinging the axe head. A cross-body block—covering the clouds with the tail—protected Wu Ying from the attack, but sent him skittering backward as he absorbed the shock.
In seconds, Wu Ying was back on the outskirts of his opponent’s range. A clash of ji and jian occurred as his opponent pushed his advantage, the weapon darting forward like a swallow. Wu Ying’s breathing quickened, his wrist twisting and curling continuously as he fought to regain the battle’s momentum.
“Now.” Wu Ying darted down using the cat stretching in the morning, letting the blade skim right above his head. He recovered using dragon steps, attempting to close the distance, but was smashed aside by the haft of the ji, sent sprawling to the ground.
As Wu Ying rolled back up, the ji-wielder recovered from his own hasty retreat and defense.