The sharp crack of their final impact still hung in the air when a new sound cut through the silence: slow, deliberate clapping. The Immortal Saint stood at the courtyard's edge, his ordinary face illuminated by a profound, approving light.
"A fine display," his voice carried, rich with meaning. "The first true spar between my disciples. It was not a brawl; it was a dialogue. And it was… enlightening."
He stepped onto the training ground, his presence instantly shifting from observer to master architect, ready to refine his two masterpieces.
