Chương 319: Truths and Lies (V)

Xi Zhao lazily escorted Dai Xiu with his eyes as she went up to the stands and sat down, while her opponent lay passed out on the stone floor still, only scooped up by a couple of cloaked figures a few moments later. He turned his attention to the man standing opposite of him--he was short, a good two heads shorter than Xi Zhao despite looking at least twice his age. A lean build concealed within loose, brown robes and a face hidden behind long, overgrown black hair.

The man held a pair of daggers in his hands, tucked into the sleeves that went over about ten inches past the tips of his fingers, with an extremely vague trace of Qi that surprised Xi Zhao quite a bit--he'd only met one other person, Senior Brother Tao, who could conceal his Qi that well. Xi Zhao pulled down his hand and grabbed the handle of the sword, feeling the stir of Qi.

"Whoa, whoa, careful there," the short man spoke in a dubiously deep tone. It was forced, even Xi Zhao could tell, as his voice cracked so frequently it sounded like someone was tearing a sheet of paper every few seconds.

"You don't want to annihilate the entire arena, no? Can your Master even afford to pay back the fees?"

"... oh?" Xi Zhao arched his brow slightly, curious as to where this was going.

"Do you propose we thumb-wrestle, then?"

"Heh. Not quite. How about a bet? We compete in martial arts, not Qi."

"Why would I?"

"Because you're a man?"

"I'm not a man; I'm a boy, still."

"... because you get to show off your martial arts?"

"The best way for me to show off is to split you down the middle... with my Qi."

"Are you screwing with me, boy?!" the man growled, his grip on daggers tightening.

"If you want to be petty, I have the teachings to match it." Xi Zhao shrugged, though his hand never left the handle of the sword; he didn't trust anyone here. Though he was nowhere near as clever as his Master, even he could discern that their opponents weren't selected at random. Dai Xiu's, for instance, used a whip, a weapon his Senior Sister struggled against as it was one of finesse and distance. It was just that the woman was nowhere near good enough, and she faltered.

Similarly, Xi Zhao struggled with speedy cultivators--in a direct collision, he was stronger than anyone in his group, save for Senior Brother Tao. The issue was that they, too, knew that, so they avoided it. The attack, no matter how strong, was useless if the opponent avoided it--and by all measures, the man in front of him was well-versed in movement-based arts. All this talk about not using Qi was likely just some throwaway pettiness rather than a tactic. But it didn't matter.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Just like how Dai Xiu overcame her own 'weakness', he would, too.

"You are all beyond arrogant, it seems," the man said with a sneer.

"Quite a reflection on that Master of yours." He expected it and remained relatively calm--at least compared to Dai Xiu. Rather, he knew well enough everyone--not just these people here, but many in the future, too--would target precisely that, their Master. After all, nobody knew their Master as well as they did; on the surface, the man appeared wholly unimpressive. Of course, if the world knew the tenth of his Master's capabilities, they'd all be on their knees, begging him to take them in.

What worth, then, was getting agitated?

"What? No clever quip like your Junior Sister? It looks like she may surpass you."

"She's not my Junior Sister," Xi Zhao said, pouring Qi into his fingers.

"No?"

"She's my Senior Sister."

"What--" He drew the sword, though he didn't pour nearly as much Qi as he usually did. Even if he didn't care about damaging the arena, he did care about his Master's instruction--this was a duel, and he ought to treat it as such. It was his test, Xi Zhao realized, since he didn't really know how to duel. Even when sparring with others, he would still try and 'kill' them, never holding back. This was a test, a test to see how well he can control a sword without pouring everything into a singular attack.

A metallic clank echoed out violently as he slashed, an array of sword qi shooting forward like a star; the man, though surprised, turned into a blur and dodged, crossing the distance between the two of them in the blink of an eye and stabbing with both daggers at the same time. Xi Zhao pulled back and swung down, deflecting, all while placing shadows around the arena.

The short man, bounced from the recoil of the strike, rolled midair and seemed to step on something as he propelled himself down at Xi Zhao from above. Two daggers adjoined, crimson-colored energy bleeding off their edges and spiraling backwards like a burning arrowhead. Rather than dodging, Xi Zhao swung upward; it wasn't a martial art or a special attack, but the most basic swing in which he coated the blade with sword qi.

The clash was rather violent, resulting in his arms shaking and quite a few blood vessels popping, blood pouring out. The sheer quantity of Qi crashed into him like the wind, pushing him back a good ten yards as he skidded across the stone, leaving a slight indentation of a trail. The man somersaulted backwards, seemingly dispersing all energy and appearing entirely unharmed as he landed on the ground like a leaf to a thunderous cheer.

Xi Zhao glanced at his arm and saw it coated in red, but, in truth, all the vessels had already healed--even if he hadn't reached the initial mastery in the Surging Spirit Art, what he did understand was more than enough to heal the shallow wounds like this. Smiling faintly and blocking out the noise, he took a deep breath and settled himself into position, grasping the handle with both his hands and pulling back, angling like an arrow pulled back on a bow.

Qi shuddered through his toes, and he executed Shadow Steps, appearing right next to the man and immediately stabbing forth with the blade; the latter seemed extremely shocked, just barely managing to dodge sideways as the sword cut against his side, forming a gash over his ribs. Blood sprayed out, and Xi Zhao followed its trail. Each swing was methodical and deliberate, slow yet quick, as he suffused the bits of Temporal Law within them--the short man would block, only for the strike to not come.

The moment his daggers would untwist, the sword would descend. One by one, nicks and gashes began to pile on, and, unlike Xi Zhao, who had an art to close them up, the man evidently did not. His expression began to distort as his movement turned sluggish, though Xi Zhao matched it--as that was all this was about: the control. He slowed down the blade and then sped it up and mixed and matched the best he could.

The roaring cheers quieted, the Qi itself became discombobulated, and the man was soon gasping, his knees pressed into the pool of his own blood beneath him, daggers strewn to the side.

"I, I surrender..." he mumbled unwillingly, and Xi Zhao stopped the descent of the sword an inch from the man's forehead. He held it there for a second before drawing it back and putting it away into the scabbard. Under the deafening silence, he looked over to the stands where Dai Xiu was and walked over, only for her voice to break the silence.

"I was one minute and thirty-six seconds faster than you."

"..." he smiled at her grin, feeling the Qi within him continuing to stir. Before the competition was over, he would reach, at minimum, the Peak of Foundation Establishment. He felt it in his bones.