Xiang Yu's heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of the murmuring crowd. He had accepted the duel.
"Choose your weapon," Mei said, her voice devoid of mockery. It was a simple statement of fact, which almost made it worse. She was treating this seriously.
Xiang Yu turned to the tall wooden rack at the edge of the training grounds. It was filled with an assortment of weapons: gleaming swords, heavy sabers, sharp daggers, and sturdy-looking staves. His eyes scanned them, but none of them felt right.
The swords felt too technical, the daggers too close-quarters.
Then he saw it. A simple wooden spear, nearly seven feet long, with a polished, leaf-shaped steel tip. It wasn't flashy, but it had one undeniable advantage: reach.
If I just need to survive, distance is my best friend, he thought, a flicker of strategy igniting in his panicked mind. He didn't know the first thing about spear techniques, but he knew how to point a sharp stick at something he didn't want getting near him.
Plus, he just… liked it. It felt classic, heroic, even if the one wielding it was anything but.
He hefted the spear. It was heavier than he expected, and he fumbled with the balance for a moment. A ripple of snickers spread through the watching disciples.
"Look at him, grabbing the longest weapon," one of them whispered loudly. "Trying to make up for his shortcomings?"
"He'll probably trip over it before Mei even touches him."
Xiang Yu's cheeks burned, but he forced himself to ignore them. He turned back to Mei, trying to mimic the stances he'd seen others take.
He held the spear in a two-handed grip, the tip aimed uncertainly at her.
Mei, by contrast, stood empty-handed. She simply raised her palms, her fingers slightly curled, in a stance that looked both relaxed and ready.
She was in the first layer of the Qi Condensation realm. It was the very bottom rung of the cultivation ladder, but it was infinitely higher than his "Null" status.
A single wisp of her spiritual Qi could shatter his bones.
"I will not use my Qi," she stated, as if reading his mind. "This is a test of fundamentals. Ready?"
Xiang Yu gave a stiff nod, his knuckles white on the spear shaft. He wasn't ready. He would never be ready. But the clock was ticking.
Mei moved.
She didn't charge. She flowed. Her feet glided across the stone plaza, and in a blink, she had closed half the distance between them. H
er hands, which had been relaxed, became a blur of motion. It wasn't a punch or a chop, but something more elegant, like a dance of fluttering leaves in the wind.
This was her hand art, the "Fluttering Willow Hand."
Xiang Yu panicked. He did the only thing he could think of: he jabbed the spear forward. It was a clumsy, desperate thrust, easily dodged.
Mei sidestepped, and one of her "fluttering" hands tapped the spear shaft. The force, though devoid of Qi, was sharp and precise, sending a jarring vibration up his arms and nearly making him drop the weapon.
So fast!
He stumbled back, using the spear's length to create space again. He had no technique, no skill. All he had was a seven-foot pole and a desperate will to last sixty seconds.
"Is that all you can do? Poke from a distance?" someone from the crowd jeered.
Mei didn't press the attack immediately. She circled him, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. She was a predator toying with her prey, looking for the perfect opening.
Xiang Yu's mind was a frantic mess, trying to count the seconds while simultaneously keeping the tip of that spear between himself and her.
Ten seconds… He parried another tap from her hand, the impact stinging his palms.
Twenty seconds… He swung the spear in a wide, horizontal arc, forcing her to back away. The move was crude and left him wide open, but it bought him a precious moment.
Thirty seconds… His arms were starting to burn. The spear felt like it was made of lead. His breathing was ragged. Mei's movements were still effortless, a stark contrast to his clumsy desperation.
She was getting closer, her hand arts deflecting his spear with increasing ease, testing his grip, his balance.
Forty-five seconds… She saw her chance. Xiang Yu overextended on a jab, and she flowed inside his guard like water.
Her palm struck his shoulder. It wasn't a powerful blow, but it was perfectly placed. A jolt of pain shot through him, and his left arm went numb. He cried out, stumbling back, holding the spear one-handed.
The crowd roared with laughter. He was done for.
Fifty-five seconds… Mei moved in for the finishing blow, her hand aimed at the center of his chest to push him out of the ring. He was off-balance, his arm was useless, and his mind was screaming.
Fifty-eight… fifty-nine…
Just as her palm was about to connect, a faint, almost imperceptible ding echoed in the depths of his mind. A new line of text flashed on his invisible system screen.
[Physical Power x2!]
A sudden, explosive surge of energy flooded his body. It wasn't spiritual Qi; it was raw, physical might. The spear, which had felt impossibly heavy, suddenly seemed as light as a feather.
The burning in his muscles vanished, replaced by a vibrant strength he had never felt before.
Mei's palm connected with his chest. She expected him to fly backward.
He didn't move an inch.
Her eyes widened in shock. It felt like she had just slapped a stone wall.
Before she could react, Xiang Yu let out a roar—a mix of pain, fear, and exhilarating triumph. With his one good arm, he swung the spear. It wasn't a technique. It was a crude, powerful sweep, a blur of wood and steel powered by his newly doubled strength.
WHOOSH!
The wind from the spear's passage was so strong it whipped Mei's hair across her face. She abandoned her attack, her instincts screaming danger, and threw herself backward, tumbling gracefully to avoid the devastating blow.
Silence fell over the training ground. The laughter died in the disciples' throats, replaced by gasps of disbelief.
Xiang Yu stood there, breathing heavily, the spear held in one hand. He felt incredible. His body was thrumming with power. He could feel every muscle fiber, taut and ready.
"What…?" Mei whispered, pushing herself to her feet, her composure finally broken. "How…?"
Xiang Yu didn't have an answer. He just grinned, a wild, crazed grin. It worked. It actually worked!
He charged.
His movements were still clumsy, his footwork a mess. He was a novice swinging a stick.
But now, he was a novice with the strength of two men. Every jab, every swing, carried a weight that it hadn't before. The spear whistled through the air, forcing Mei onto the defensive.
Clang!
She deflected a thrust with the side of her hand, but this time, she grunted and shook her fingers, a pained expression on her face. His raw power was overwhelming her technique.
But Mei was a true disciple. Panicked for only a moment, her mind was already adapting. She stopped trying to meet his blows head-on. She saw him for what he was: a brute with newfound strength but zero skill.
He lunged forward, putting all his power into a single, decisive thrust aimed at her center. It was a rookie mistake.
Mei didn't retreat. She swayed to the side, letting the spear tip rush past her cheek. As the long shaft went by, her hand shot out, not to block it, but to hook around it.
With a sharp twist of her body and a pull on the spear, she used his own momentum against him.
Xiang Yu felt the world tilt. His feet left the ground, and he was sent flying forward, landing in a heap on the stone tiles with a loud thud. The spear clattered to the ground beside him.
The duel was over.
He lay there, winded and bruised, staring at the sky. He had lost.
But as he lay there, he could still feel the residual power coursing through his veins. The other disciples were silent, staring at him not with mockery, but with confusion and a hint of fear. Lin rushed to his side, his face a mixture of worry and awe.
Mei stood over him, her chest rising and falling. "You… you got stronger," she said, her voice filled with bewilderment. "Midway through the fight. Your physical strength suddenly exploded."
Xiang Yu just looked up at her and started to laugh. It was a genuine, joyous laugh.