“Smart,” Lin Tsui said. “Most people try to emphasize their strengths without ever shoring up their weaknesses.”
“Thank you.”
Wu Ying stopped moving for a second then shifted direction, trying to cut the circle of Lin Tsui’s defense. Once again, Wu Ying failed, his quick tip cut easily deflected. However, rather than springing forward, Lin Tsui waited. For the next few minutes, the pair feinted and parried. Occasionally one or the other would step in to attempt a more significant attack. Those attempts were ineffective at everything but exhausting the pair.
Around them, Wu Ying idly noted that the other fights had finished. Some of the other contestants had chosen to pick on one of the winners, leaving only a few contestants waiting. Most of those had gathered around his combat stage, eyeing the pair of them.
“How do you expect to win, injured as you are?” Lin Tsui said.
Wu Ying stood just outside of his lunge distance, catching his breath and circulating his chi to slowly fix his injuries. Wu Ying dared not send too much of his chi in case he was interrupted, but even a little was helping dull the pain.
“It’s impressive enough that someone with such a low cultivation level has come so far, but you cannot expect to win. I am at least a half-dozen levels higher than you.”
Wu Ying frowned, his exhausted mind unable to understand why Lin Tsui would think there was such a large discrepancy. Sure, he was at Body Cleansing 8, but Lin Tsui himself was only at 11. Maybe 12. There were no levels after that—not without entering Energy Storage. And if he had managed to achieve that, this fight would have been over.
As the pair completed another tired pass, Wu Ying realized the reason. Even if he was cultivating, drawing energy into his body and passing it through weary muscles to give himself strength and speed, to heal and clear fatigue, his strengthened aura was hiding his cultivation. It was likely that the added stress of cultivating and fighting had increased the amount that leaked, giving Lin Tsui a slightly better idea—but not enough.
Could he use that? Wu Ying landed lightly from a skip to the side, swinging his sword in a cut then reversing the rebound to threaten his opponent. As he retreated, Wu Ying felt his thigh want to give out, exhaustion and injuries catching up to him. Except this time, on instinct, Wu Ying let himself collapse.
As if he had been waiting, Lin Tsui exploded forward. Even the injured ankle no longer seemed to impair his movement. Wu Ying found Lin Tsui bearing down on his collapsed form, the lead tong fa sweeping toward his head and the other held low and close, ready to block his sword. Except this time around, Wu Ying ignored his jian, dropping it to catch Lin Tsui’s arms. While the other cultivator might be stronger and faster due to his cultivation, the unexpected change caught Lin Tsui by surprise. Even more so when Wu Ying used Lin Tsui’s momentum to roll the both of them backward and pinned his opponent.
For a brief second, Wu Ying realized he had not thought of what to do next. He had Lin Tsui pinned cross-body, hands on both arms, a throbbing in his shoulders from a slipped block. But with both hands busy holding his opponent down, Wu Ying had no other weapons. For a second, Wu Ying paused. Then recollections of rolling around in the dirt, fighting and wrestling with his friends in the village, came back.
Wu Ying reared back and slammed his forehead into the surprised nobleman’s face, making blood burst from a broken nose. His head throbbed a little from the sudden impact, but it didn’t stop Wu Ying from repeating the attack. And again. And once more, before the referee pulled him away, the weakly struggling noble covered in blood.
“What was that?” the referee snarled, pointing at the injured noble.
“Winning,” Wu Ying replied blearily, offering the referee a half-smile as he tottered on his feet.
When the referee growled, Wu Ying could only shrug and wipe at the blood on his face. Thankfully, none of the cuts he had gained were wide or bleeding too freely, unlike the smashed lips, nose, and orbital bone of his opponent. After the referee called the fight, Wu Ying moved aside, and the cultivators took his opponent off the stage.
“That was different,” Tou He said to his friend, handing Wu Ying a waterskin. “A bit less sophisticated than your usual style.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Wu Ying said, splashing water onto a cloth to finish cleaning his injuries. He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to breathe around the pain of his ribs even as he channeled his chi through his body. Even with its aid, the bone-deep weariness in his body was making him sway slightly. “Did you lose?”
“Won actually,” Tou He said with a grimace. “I was told I had to fight. Then my opponent tried to cut me up when I tried to give up. Ended up accidentally beating him.”
“You accidentally beat your opponent.”
“Yes.”
“I hate you,” Wu Ying said without heat. He was too tired to deal with the damn ex-monk.
As the stage was cleared and the blood hastily washed off, Wu Ying spotted Yin Xue already waiting on the stage, eager to begin. He was pushing the attendants to move faster, intending to give Wu Ying as little of a break as possible.
“Don’t lose. I don’t want to be the only one in the inner sect,” Tou He said to Wu Ying as the referee gestured for the cultivator to take his place.
“Because that’s what I’m worried about,” Wu Ying said, rolling his eyes as his friend. Still, the words brought a slight smile to his face and took his attention away from the upcoming fight. A good enough result.
As he limped toward his spot, Wu Ying cast one last glance about the courtyard. As the sun set, the courtyard was basked in a pinkish-red glow, creating a slightly surreal view as the attention of the Elders and waiting cultivators turned to his stage. Not that there were many cultivators left—only the most bored or curious still stayed. The rest had left at some point, their interest guttering out like the sunset. After all, the upcoming battle had little to do with them.
Drawing another pain-filled breath, Wu Ying considered his options as he stared at Yin Xue, who smirked right back. Wu Ying was tired, injured, and of lower cultivation than the noble. His opponent had had time to rest, to study his moves, and to plan his attack. This fight should be over in a second.
“Are you both ready?”
The referee’s voice cut through Wu Ying’s exhaustion, pulling his attention back to his situation. Drawing his sword, Wu Ying nodded to the referee. As Yin Xue had already offered his acknowledgement, the battle began almost immediately.
Rather than waiting for Wu Ying to settle into a distance battle, Yin Xue exploded forward, crossing the distance between the pair. Wu Ying’s breath hastened, his perception of time slowing as adrenaline and chi coursed through his body, jolting him awake. In the time-dilated moment, Wu Ying found himself with all the time in the world to spot the sneer, the rabid craving to inflict pain in Yin Xue’s eyes as he thrust his weapon forward. Wu Ying had all the time to note that the tip was aimed at his heart, but the hand behind it was already angling higher.
A feint for his heart.
Immediately, Wu Ying understood. Yin Xue expected Wu Ying to use dragon stretches in the morning to avoid the blow. It was Wu Ying’s—the Long family’s—response to a sudden charge, dropping the body beneath the attack while offering their own sword for sheathing in their opponent’s body. It was the ingrained response.
In the moment of clarity, Wu Ying saw this all and something shifted in him. He understood, and because he understood, he could act. Rather than dragon stretches, Wu Ying took a drop step to the side, a precursor to the kick that came in under Yin Xue’s already dropping tip. Falling rocks in a rainstorm.