The courtyard still buzzed long after Zhang Liang stumbled off the platform.
"Mo Xuanyu… actually won."
"That parry at the end—clean as silk."
"Impossible. He must have gotten lucky."
"Then why didn't luck ever save him before?"
Joshua ignored it all, sword balanced neatly at his side. He walked with the same calm steps as before, neither gloating nor cowed.
Lucian, however, basked shamelessly in the uproar.
"Told you all!" He spread his arms wide, grin blinding. "Bet on Mo Xuanyu, win your pride back later!"
A disciple muttered, "Senior Brother Lucian… what are you even doing?"
Lucian winked. "Enjoying the show." His gaze flicked sideways, following Joshua's retreating figure. "…And backing the right horse."
The instructor's voice boomed again, calling the next matches.
"Second round: Mo Xuanyu versus Lin Fei."
The crowd shifted.
"Lin Fei… careful with the sword, steady in footwork."
"Not flashy, but reliable. He's been in the top ten for years."
"Mo Xuanyu's luck ends here."
Lucian tilted his head, golden eyes amused. "Oho. A cautious one."
Joshua stepped back onto the platform, calm as before. Across from him stood Lin Fei — tall, lean, blade in hand. He didn't sneer, didn't jeer. His eyes were sharp, watchful.
"You surprised everyone," Lin Fei said evenly. "I won't underestimate you."
Joshua inclined his head slightly. "…Good."
Lucian shouted from below, "Careful, Ghost! He appears to genuinely understand how to think. Those are the dangerous ones!"
Lin Fei almost smiled. Joshua's expression didn't change.
The instructor raised his hand. "Begin."
Lin Fei didn't rush. His first strike was clean, precise, testing — a downward cut aimed at Joshua's shoulder.
Joshua parried, redirecting with minimal force. Their blades locked briefly.
The crowd leaned in.
Not brute force. Not a reckless charge. This was skill versus skill.
Lin Fei's eyes narrowed faintly. "You're not trash."
Joshua's gaze stayed flat, cold. "…You'll find out."
They broke apart, circling.
Lucian leaned forward over the railing, grinning like a man watching fireworks. "Oh, this is better. No bullying, no clowning—just two blades talking. Perfect!"
The second exchange came sharper. Lin Fei pressed with a flurry of small strikes, light and quick, testing Joshua's defences from different angles.
Joshua moved with calm precision, parrying, deflecting, stepping aside when necessary. His body wasn't fast, but his timing was ruthless.
Each tap of wood echoed like a heartbeat in the courtyard.
The disciples whispered. "He's holding up. Against Lin Fei, of all people."
"No… he's more than holding. He's reading him."
Joshua's eyes glinted faintly, cold and sharp, as if every movement was already mapped in his head.
Lucian clapped loudly, ignoring the instructor's glare. "Yes! Dance with him, Ghost! Make him sweat!"
The pace quickened. Lin Fei struck harder, driving Joshua back toward the edge of the platform. The crowd held its breath, waiting for the inevitable fall.
Joshua's blade lifted, deflecting a thrust, but his foot skidded half an inch against the stone's edge.
Lucian's grin sharpened. "Don't you dare fall. Not when I'm betting my reputation."
Joshua's lashes lowered, his grip tightening. The faint ache in his chest pulsed again.
[Ding!]
[System notice: Warning — vessel's stamina nearing limit.]
[Survival tip: Use opponent's rhythm. Redirect force.]
Joshua's voice was soft, almost a whisper only he could hear. "…I know."
He shifted his stance, blade lowering slightly—waiting, waiting.
Lin Fei advanced cautiously and steadily.
The fight had only just begun.