Long reach. Better cultivation. Sense of the ji and refined killing intent. Wu Ying stared at his opponent, mentally judging his options before he sighed.
“I concede.”
Silence spread the moment everyone realized what Wu Ying had said. His opponent’s hand slackened slightly, even more so when Wu Ying sheathed his sword and turned to the referee.
“That’s allowed, yes?” Wu Ying said.
“Yes. It’s highly unusual,” the referee said, turning her head back to the opponent. “But it’s acceptable. Are you sure?”
“I already said it, haven’t I?” Wu Ying said.
“Then I declare this fight over. Please return to your original group for details of your next fight.”
Wu Ying bowed to the referee, ignoring the derisive comments that had erupted when everyone realized he was serious. As he walked away, Wu Ying rotated his neck to loosen tight muscles. One win, one loss. Not good, but it could be worse.
“Hey.”
“Yes?” Wu Ying turned, seeing his former opponent trotting over to him.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I was going to lose anyway. You had better reach, as good—if not better—form than me. And better cultivation.”
“There is no guarantee in combat. In a fight, anyone can win!” His opponent snapped the words, clutching his weapon tightly. “One should never give up in combat!”
“But this wasn’t a fight, was it?” Wu Ying said, fixing his gaze on his opponent. “This was just a sparring match. And after this, we have three more battles. If I fought you all-out, win or lose, I’d be even more injured. I can’t always sacrifice my body for a point or else I’ll lose completely. In a real fight, you must risk it all to win, but this isn’t a real fight. I had little chance of winning, so I’d rather give up and save my strength for the next match.”
His opponent fell silent, staring at Wu Ying, gauging his words and weighing the look in his eyes. After a moment, he grinned. “You have seen real battles, haven’t you?”
Wu Ying nodded dumbly while the man turned and waved goodbye.
“Fight well. Do not let yourself leave the sect, for we need those whose swords have tasted blood!”
“Sure…” Wu Ying said doubtfully, shaking his head as he walked off.
Army brats were truly strange sometimes. But it was better for them to be friends than enemies.
On his way back, Wu Ying realized he was done earlier than normal. As he craned his head around, he spotted Tou He walking into the ring, staff held over his shoulder. The ex-monk was smiling at his dual-wielding sabre opponent, saying something Wu Ying could not catch. Rather than miss the fight, Wu Ying moved toward that group, curiosity aroused.
After the attendant called for the fight to begin, Tou He’s opponent charged forward. The ex-monk swung his staff in defense, using both ends of the weapon to occupy his opponent’s weapons. The ex-monk rarely shifted his feet, only occasionally moving to a better position as he fought. Wu Ying knew, from previous experience, that that was a hallmark of Tou He’s style—the Mountain Resides. An immovable defense that required little footwork changes, but extremely flexible hands and arms as the staff swirled in defense all around him. No surprise that Tou He had reached the Sense of the staff. In fact, Wu Ying believed that Tou He might already be on the precipice of reaching the Heart.
But just as impressive was the way his opponent moved. To have achieved the Sense with not just one hand but both hands, and to be able to wield both weapons with equal familiarity, was stunning.
In moments, the battle between the pair of outer sect members had drawn the attention of everyone nearby. A quick look around showed Wu Ying that even the Elders were pointing and watching the fight as the pair continued to fight at a stalemate. Again and again, the dual-wielding cultivator threw himself at Tou He, only for his attacks to bounce off the staff, and eventually, his momentum was robbed of all strength. At that point, he jumped back, barely avoiding a return strike.
“Go, Tou He!” Wu Ying cheered softly.
But something nagged him. Well, beyond the placid way Tou He took the entire thing, barely bothering to do more than counter once in a while. It took Wu Ying one more pass before he realized what it was.
Tou He’s staff had begun to chip and scar. Even when Tou He was blocking by pushing away the incoming edges, it was insufficient to entirely rob the attacks of their momentum and edge. Each block weakened his staff. As the sword-wielding cultivator rushed in once again, the staff finally gave way, shattering in the middle. Tou He swayed aside, dodging the adjusted blow, and hopped backward, staring at the two pieces of his staff with pursed lips.
“Give up,” his opponent said, raising his swords as he waited for Tou He’s confirmation of his defeat.
“If you dare, I’ll have you kicked out myself!” a loud voice cut through the square before Tou He could speak.
All eyes were drawn to an older woman, hunched over and leaning against her walking stick as she glared at Tou He.
“Yes, Elder,” Tou He said, bowing slightly to her.
His movement took his immediate gaze off his opponent, who jumped forward to finish the attack. Almost contemptuously, Tou He raised one piece of his broken staff to block the attack, swirling the blade around and locking it with his elbow and stick before he shoved forward, trapping his opponent.
Spinning around his opponent, Tou He pulled his opponent off balance while dodging a missed cut. Then, with his body nearly parallel to his opponent, Tou He smacked his opponent across the temple with the other piece of his staff. Soundlessly, his opponent fell to the ground, the precisely placed attack dropping him.
“Winner, Tou He!”
Wu Ying sighed, shaking his head as Tou He looked embarrassed at his sudden win. After all this time, Wu Ying knew that letting Tou He have the time to grasp your timing and tactics was a bad idea. The damn prodigy just built up a mental library of your attacks then used it against you.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give up?” Wu Ying asked as he batted aside the spear thrust with ease.
When his opponent stabbed forward again, Wu Ying grabbed the body of the spear, holding it still. As hard as the other cultivator strained, he wasn’t able to remove it from Wu Ying’s grip.
“No! I won’t… fail!” Straining, the cultivator kept on yanking on the spear.
“You’ve barely even improved your cultivation in the time we’ve been here,” Wu Ying said then twisted his body, rotating from his hip as he pulled his opponent toward him before slamming the hilt of his sword into the cultivator’s face. The blow—tightly controlled—sent his opponent staggering back, holding his broken nose. “You haven’t even learned to use your hips. What the hell were you thinking?”
The foppish cultivator moaned, holding his nose. When Wu Ying looked at the referee, she looked between the pair before she nodded.
“Wu Ying is the winner!”
“Thank you,” Wu Ying said before tossing down the spear and walking away.
Yeesh. And that man had managed to win a single fight. Who was poor enough to lose to him?
His next opponent was a fellow jian-user. Wu Ying exhaled as he drew his weapon and fell into his stance. This should be interesting. With one loss and two wins, the individual in front of him was overall considered better than average. Certainly not a complete loser. After so many fights, those who had won more than one would normally be better than normal. Though none were as stellar as those few who had only victories.
“Wu Ying. Long family style,” the swordsman in front of him said, twirling the jian absently. “I have always wanted to test out your family’s style. It was once considered one of the five great styles of Shen. Too bad your family never amounted to much.”
Wu Ying’s teeth ground together, the insult stabbing deep into his pride. While the progenitor of their style had been a great martial artist, it was true that few of his descendants had ever reached the same heights. Worse, because there were often large gaps between each notable ancestor, his family had slowly fallen further and further till they became nothing but farmers. Even then, they still kept the style, trained in it.