The drums of the arena still thundered in the hearts of all watching, yet no one dared breathe too loud. The clash between Jin and Shenlu Feng had gone far beyond what the crowd thought possible.
Flesh met flesh, bone cracked against bone. The sound of their strikes wasn't just noise....it was rhythm, a war-song pounded into the blood of every onlooker.
Trading Blows
Jin wiped blood from his nose, the red streak mixing with the sweat running down his cheek. Across from him, Shenlu Feng stood still, expression composed but body sharp as drawn steel, blood seeping slowly down the edge of his lip.
Feng's foot slid against the stone floor ...barely a twitch, but enough. He blurred forward.
Too fast—!
Jin twisted, his body moving before his mind could decide, his forearm raised just in time. A thundering palm slammed against it, forcing him to stagger, but he answered with a short elbow strike toward Feng's temple. It missed, caught in the air as Feng's arm coiled and dragged him into a shoulder throw.
Jin crashed into the floor, the stone groaning beneath the impact.
"Submit." Feng's voice was flat as he tried to wrench Jin's arm behind his back, pressure threatening to snap the joint.
Jin's teeth clenched, his face contorted in pain, yet he laughed through it.
"Careful… you'll make me think you like me."
The crowd roared at the mockery, but Shenlu Feng didn't react. His grip only tightened. Jin twisted his body, rolling with the lock until he slipped free, his ribs screaming but his smile never fading.
---
A Shift in Pace
They rose, circling. Feng's eyes narrowed—his pace quickened again. His movements weren't just fast; they were efficient, flowing seamlessly from strike to strike. Every feint, every grab, was a trap layered into another.
Jin blocked three strikes, evaded two more, and then his guard was broken by a heel that smashed into his stomach. He coughed blood, body bending but refusing to collapse.
Too sharp. He's learning me as fast as I'm learning him.
The crowd screamed with every exchange, blood painting the floor, skin splitting open. Still, neither man retreated.
Jin's Gambit
Jin's smirk faltered for just a heartbeat as he realized his body was at its edge. His legs were trembling, every muscle crying mutiny. Yet his eyes narrowed with something else.....resolve.
One opening… that's all I need.
As Feng charged, Jin staggered back deliberately, playing weak, luring him in. His weight shifted, coiling power into his right leg. The third form of Tide Root Style, a move designed to uproot an enemy's foundation entirely—he had practiced it, but never dared unleash it full-force.
Feng's knee cracked into his face. Blood sprayed. Jin stumbled back, nearly falling. The prodigy rushed for the finishing blow.
And Jin's leg lashed out like lightning.
The impact ripped the ground, dust exploding in a wave. The crowd gasped, blinded by the haze.
When it cleared—
Shenlu Feng stood there, unmoved.
One hand pressed against Jin's chest, his knuckles sinking into flesh. The other hand held Jin's kick, effortlessly… with just one finger.
Jin's pupils shrank. What—
Then he felt it.
Not seen, but unmistakable: the distortion in the air, the oppressive heat bleeding out, the thick essence of power itself. Shenlu Feng had finally used Zin.
The Prodigy Unveiled
Feng's lips curved, not a smirk, not mockery. But acknowledgment. For the first time, he saw Jin.
Then the Zin-infused fist detonated against Jin's chest.
The world cracked. The crowd screamed as Jin's body was hurled backward, smashing against the stone floor so hard the tiles split. He rolled, blood spilling from his mouth, yet by some miracle, his body stopped just short of the boundary line.
Lord Bi'an's knuckles whitened on his cup, face stricken with dread. He whispered under his breath:
"Zin… The boy finally used Zin."
The generals leaned forward, the nobles clutched at their robes. This wasn't a match anymore, no....it was history in the making.
Ruan's hands trembled, tears at her eyes. Why are you still smiling, fool?
---
Jin's Answer
Jin coughed, forcing himself to stand. His chest burned, the Zin strike still echoing in his bones. And yet… he grinned. Blood on his teeth, mockery on his lips.
"Well, that stung… You're not much fun until you get serious, huh?"
He raised his fists, swaying slightly, and took a stance so lazy it looked insulting. His tone dropped lower, colder.
"You're fast, you're sharp, you've got fancy tricks. But me? I'm stubborn. And stubborn always ruins talent."
The crowd didn't understand his words, but they felt them, the weight, the defiance, the refusal to bend.
Shenlu Feng's face remained calm, but inside, something had shifted. His eyes gleamed, no longer indifferent but alive, hungry.
The prodigy advanced again, Zin rippling around his fists like heat waves.
Jin steadied himself, lips curling into a bloody smirk. He had no Zin, no mastery of grappling, no refined forms left to lean on. Only his body, his madness, and his will to protect the girl chained just beyond reach.
"Come on then," he muttered. "Let's see who breaks first."
The arena roared as they launched at each other again...one a prodigy of Heaven, the other a fool with no past.Each strike carrying the weight of survival, destiny, and something far greater neither yet understood.