Qianlong whirled, senses screaming, sword raised. Every instinct told him the fox had returned before he could even blink.
Air whispered across his ears, carrying nothing—yet the weight of the predator was unmistakable. He shifted on the scorched stone, boots scraping debris as his muscles coiled like drawn springs.
Then—a streak of black.
The spear slammed toward him from above, moving so fast it seemed to bend the light around it.
Qianlong reacted instantly, spinning under the strike. Sparks flew where steel met spirit, the reverberation echoing through the courtyard like rolling thunder. His cloak tore along one edge, whipping around him as the spear carved past.
"Impossible… its speed!" he hissed through clenched teeth. It's so fast.
But there was no time for fear—only action.
He leapt backward, letting his sword arc in a counterstrike. The blade glowed blue, runes pulsing with energy.
The crescent of light collided with the spear midair. A shockwave rattled the surrounding stone, sending fragments of rubble flying. The fox twisted with unnerving grace, redirecting the spear in a smooth, fluid motion—like water flowing around a rock.
Qianlong barely avoided the redirected tip. Landing on one knee, he planted the sword in the stone, sending a pulse of qi through the courtyard. Tiles cracked beneath the surge of power.
The fox crouched low, claws scraping stone, tail flicking. Its turquoise eyes gleamed with quiet amusement.
"Predictable…" it murmured.
You better be worth it, it thought. I already consumed a Wind Talisman—your storage pouch better have something even better in it.
Before Qianlong could recover, the spear shot forward again—this time a blur, almost invisible, striking at angles he could barely read. He parried, sparks spraying over his face, scorching his robes. Each block sent vibrations up his arms; each strike threatened to tear him apart.
He realized something critical: this wasn't just a duel—it was a test of endurance. Precision, timing, raw reflexes. One mistake, one lapse in perception, and death would be instant.
Qianlong's mind raced. He needed distance. He needed leverage. A step forward, a feint, a twist of qi along his blade.
"Azure Dragon Sword Art!"
A surge of light erupted from the sword, spiraling upward in a twisting column of energy.
The fox leapt, spear spinning to intercept, and for a heartbeat they collided in midair.
Stone cracked. Dust rose. The shockwave threw Qianlong backward, sliding along broken tiles. Sparks rained down as the blade clanged against the spear, the sheer force pushing both to their limits.
The fox landed lightly, as though gravity were merely a suggestion. Tail flicking, it studied Qianlong like a scientist observing an experiment.
A trickle of blood rolled down its muzzle, but its tongue flicked out, licking it away. Didn't think I'd get injured even after blocking that… should've used another Talisman instead of saving them.
"Better," it said softly. "But still… hesitant. You fight like someone afraid to break a favorite toy."
Qianlong spat blood, jaw clenched. Rage flared, but he forced it into focus. His sword hummed with energy, runes pulsing brighter.
"You think this is a game? I will end this!"
He surged forward, qi trailing like lightning, sword cutting through the night with blinding speed. The fox pivoted, spear spinning defensively, but Qianlong's strikes came in a furious storm—slashes, thrusts, arcs, spirals—each one sharper than the last.
The courtyard became a symphony of destruction: sparks, fractures, scorched stone, the roar of clashing energy.
Still—the fox smiled faintly, weaving around each attack, absorbing force with uncanny precision. Its counterstrikes were subtle, nearly invisible, aimed at openings only it could perceive.
One of Qianlong's blows grazed its shoulder—a shallow scorch along pristine white fur. The fox paused for a heartbeat, tilting its head.
"Finally… a hit."
Qianlong felt hope surge. He pressed forward, spirit blazing, qi roaring, gathering everything he had left.
"Heaven-Binding Final Strike!"
The blade erupted with blinding light. Energy rippled outward in a dome that shattered the air. Stones levitated, wind screamed, tiles disintegrated into dust. Every ounce of his cultivation poured into the single strike.
The fox's spear moved instantly, the black tip aligning perfectly with the descending blade. The impact created a shockwave that shook the foundations of the courtyard.
They locked—light pressing down, shadow pushing up. Their breaths came ragged, every muscle taut, every sense stretched to the edge. Sparks, smoke, and energy swirled around them in a vortex of raw power.
Then, in a small, almost imperceptible motion, the fox activated a barrier. It didn't even flinch. Its spear slid along the sword's edge, redirecting the energy in a spiral that tore away chunks of stone.
Qianlong barely held his ground, knees scraping stone, sword trembling. He realized—this fight would not be won by strength alone. Only timing, precision, and understanding the fox's rhythm would save him.
The fox tilted its head, turquoise eyes gleaming with calm amusement.
Lucky I didn't hold back another Talisman, it thought. If I had, that might've seriously wounded me. He's going all out to kill me… If this keeps up, he'll burn through his spirit energy soon enough.
"Enough playing…" it murmured. "Your turn to dance."
It launched forward, spear flashing like a black comet straight toward Qianlong's chest.
Qianlong snapped his sword up in a desperate guard. Steel met shadow with an explosive clash. The impact jarred his arm to the bone, but he held, twisting to redirect the force.
The fox pressed the assault, spear whirling in tight, lethal arcs—thrusts at his throat, hooks to his ribs, sweeps targeting his balance. Qianlong countered with narrow blocks, quick deflections, razor-thin evasions.
Sparks spilled like falling stars.
The fox blurred forward—too fast, too close—appearing before him with a claw already arcing toward his head. Qianlong shifted just in time, the talons slicing a line across his cheek. Blood welled as the claw smashed into the ground, leaving deep gouges across the stone.
"Faster," the fox murmured as its spear spun in a blur. "If you can't keep up, you die."
Qianlong gritted his teeth, parrying a downward chop and pressing forward. His sword flared with qi, tracing brilliant streaks in the air as they exchanged a rapid sequence of blows—ten, twenty, thirty in the span of a heartbeat.
Each clash felt like colliding with a thunderbolt.
The fox twisted, letting Qianlong's blade slide past its shoulder, countering with a sweeping paw. CLANG—its claws were stopped by Qianlong's blade. He pivoted, slicing upward, forcing the fox back half a step.
A line of blood trickled down Qianlong's cheek. Another dripped from the fox's forearm.
For a moment, they stood evenly matched—breaths harsh, energy crackling between them.
Then—
Both froze.
Not from exhaustion.
Not from fear.
But because something brushed against their senses.
Qianlong's pupils contracted.
The fox's ears went rigid, its tail lowering as instinct seized it.
A pressure—heavy, ancient, suffocating—rolled across the courtyard like the first tremor of an approaching storm. The air thickened. The ground hummed. Wind howled without moving.
Their weapons remained locked, but neither pushed forward.
Both turned their heads slightly, trying to pinpoint the disturbance.