The gong thundered.
The ring vibrated as if struck by a god's hammer, and silence swept through the stands. No more stipulations. No more careful counting of strikes or locked holds. One rule. One condition. Knock your opponent out cold.
Shenlu Feng stood like a blade half-drawn from its scabbard, his chest rising steady, his gaze flat and impenetrable as ever. But there was something new in it now an acknowledgment. For the first time, his eyes were on Jin and not simply through him.
Jin's lips twitched into a faint smirk. His body screamed with bruises, with welts from submissions and strikes. But pain was a flavor he could tolerate. What weighed on him wasn't injury it was the effort. The restraint. He hated this part. Having to dip into that ocean of power but still leash himself, still measure every strike, every breath, because if he let too much slip, the fight would end in a way he didn't want.
The crowd buzzed like a storm contained in a jar. Nobles leaned forward. Generals whispered wagers. And up on the high platform, Lord Bi'an's sharp eyes slid toward the Clan Leader.
The Clan Leader's face was composed, but smiling. A faint, deliberate smile. Watching his son bleed, sweat, and struggle? What father smiled at that? Unless… he knew. Unless Shenlu Feng wasn't here to simply win, but to awaken something.
The gong's echo died.
They moved.
Shenlu Feng was a blur of violence. His body bent and snapped like a whip, closing distance in a flash. The first blow was not a jab, nor a probing strike it was a hammerfist aimed at Jin's jaw with enough force to rattle teeth loose. Jin pivoted, catching the edge of the strike on his forearm, bone-on-bone, and his grin widened through clenched teeth.
"Good," Jin muttered under his breath, voice cold, measured, lacking the playful tone that once filled the ring.
The counter was immediate a low kick to Shenlu Feng's thigh, a chopping strike aimed at the muscle, not the bone. Shenlu barely shifted, absorbed the blow, and retaliated with a spinning elbow that cut across the air like a guillotine. Jin ducked under, came in tight, and slammed his forehead toward Feng's nose only for the prodigy to twist, forearm locking around Jin's neck, dragging him into a brutal clinch.
The sound was ugly thuds of body on body, knees driving into ribs, elbows hammering shoulders. Jin absorbed, deflected, but each strike was heavier than before. Shenlu Feng's reputation wasn't exaggeration. He was a storm given human form, and his grappling wasn't clean anymore it was violent. He wanted blood.
Jin's laughter bubbled out not mocking, but clinical, dissecting.
"You're faster when you're angry… but sloppy here."
His hand darted up, thumb stabbing toward the gap under Feng's ribs. A sharp jab, dirty, precise. Shenlu grunted, grip faltering, and Jin slipped free, spinning out and snapping a backhand across Feng's cheek. The crack echoed.
The crowd roared.
For the first time, Shenlu Feng's lips parted, curling not in rage, but in a grin. Thin. Sharp. Dangerous.
---
Blows rained like thunderclaps. Shenlu's fists blurred, his legs lashed like steel cords. Jin responded not with equal speed, but with timing. Slipping past a punch only to tilt his head and whisper coldly:
"Too high."
Rolling under a kick, his palm smacking Feng's calf:
"Too slow."
Parrying a strike with the back of his hand:
"Better. Almost."
Each word carried weight, not just taunts but clinical observations, delivered with the detachment of a surgeon dissecting flesh. The crowd didn't understand but Shenlu did. And with every phrase, his grin widened.
From the stands, Lord Bi'an's jaw tightened. He turned again to the Clan Leader.
"Your son… he is enjoying this?"
The Clan Leader's smile only deepened, eyes never leaving the ring.
"No. He has found someone who sees him."
---
The fight escalated into savagery. Shenlu lunged, catching Jin's wrist mid-punch, yanking him forward and ramming a knee up into his gut. Air rushed from Jin's lungs, but instead of folding, he latched onto Feng's arm, twisting, dragging the prodigy down with him. They slammed into the mat, rolling, fists and elbows cracking against ribs and faces.
Blood stained the floor.
The crowd screamed themselves hoarse, unable to process who held the advantage. One moment Shenlu Feng was on top, raining blows. The next, Jin twisted like a snake, reversing, smashing his fist down, only to be flipped again in a violent scramble.
Jin's smirk faded back into that cold mask the empty gaze that froze even hardened soldiers. His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper only Shenlu could hear as they locked arms, muscles straining like steel cables.
"You're enjoying this too much… dangerous habit."
Shenlu's grin widened, eyes gleaming for the first time, no longer neutral. His teeth bared in savage delight.
"And you… are still holding back."
Their foreheads collided with a brutal crack, both men staggering back, blood trickling down their faces. Neither fell.
The crowd went mad.
And high above, the Clan Leader's smile turned sharper.
The bout raged on, brutality layered upon precision, violence answered with cold calculation. Shenlu Feng unleashed the ferocity of a prodigy tested by war. Jin, mocking and clinical, adapted strike by strike, dissecting even as he bled. Neither looked ready to fall. Neither wanted to.
And as the round pressed on, it was clear this was no longer just a fight for victory.
It was recognition.
It was acknowledgment.
It was two predators baring their fangs at last.
Interlude : Behind the Smiles
The thunder of fists and roar of the crowd carried through the open pavilion, but Lord Bi'an heard little of it. His eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his seat, each strike from the arena feeding the growing irritation boiling in his chest.
At last, he snapped his gaze toward the man beside him, the Clan Leader .
"You dare smile while your own son bleeds?" Bi'an's voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the crowd. "Is this amusement to you? I see that boy below, bloodied, locked in savage struggle against that wretched brat and yet you grin as though watching a festival play."
The Clan Leader did not turn his head. His hands were folded calmly in his lap, his expression composed, detached, but the small curve of his lips remained. A smile unshaken by violence.
Lord Bi'an leaned closer, voice low, dangerous.
"Tell me, what angle are you reaching for? Why put your prodigy,your own son in this? Do you seek to humiliate him? Or is there some deeper ploy? Why is Shenlu Feng smirking like a demon child? Why do you smile as if this outcome was written long before today?"
For a moment, silence. Only the cheers of the spectators, the cracking of bone against bone below.
Then, the Clan Leader spoke, voice steady, resonant, like a teacher delivering lessons.
"Lord Bi'an, you see only fists and blood. You see only the surface of this duel. But this battle is not about victory or defeat."
Bi'an scoffed. "Not about victory? Then tell me, what is it about? Why risk tarnishing the reputation of your heir? Why expose him to that unstable fool?"
The Clan Leader finally turned, eyes meeting Bi'an's with cool detachment.
"Because a prodigy untested is no prodigy at all. My son's talents are vast, yes. He has shattered records, reached Master at an age when others still stumble. But his heart?" He paused, gaze drifting back to the ring where Shenlu Feng's grin widened with every exchange. "…His heart has always been too still. Too silent."
Bi'an's brows furrowed. "And so you smile while that silence breaks?"
The Clan Leader's eyes gleamed faintly.
"Do you not see? This boy...this Jin...he is no ordinary opponent. He strips pretense. He mocks even as he bleeds. He draws out seriousness from others by sheer inevitability. Feng does not smirk for amusement...he smirks because at last, someone has forced him to move. To feel."
Bi'an slammed a fist against his armrest, voice harsh.
"Feelings? Do not speak to me of feelings! This is a tournament of strength, of supremacy! Your golden prodigy is being made into spectacle, his perfect reputation scratched in the mud by a fool who dances and jeers! And you—" He leaned forward, eyes flashing. "You are smiling. Why?"
The Clan Leader's lips curved higher, calm yet cutting.
"Because the golden secret of this Clan, Lord Bi'an, is not only technique. It is not speed, nor rank, nor talent measured by the masses. It is will. It is awakening. And my son is awakening now, before your very eyes. This battle—" He gestured toward the arena, where blood and sweat dripped freely. "—is the crucible. Jin forces him to bare his fangs. That smirk you despise? It is the proof."
Bi'an's breath came heavy, anger simmering beneath his skin. "So you risk everything for an awakening."
The Clan Leader inclined his head, serene.
"No. I smile because the risk is already paying itself in gold. Look closely, Bi'an. This is not a battle for a title. This is the forging of a weapon."
As the words left his mouth, the roar of the crowd surged the sound of another violent exchange.
Lord Bi'an turned back toward the ring, jaw clenched. And though rage still burned in him, a sliver of unease crept into his heart.
Because deep down, he wondered if the Clan Leader was right.