Qiang converged his blades into a cross shaped wall between Si's seemingly ordinary punch and his chest. He himself was startled by the instinctive urge to defend against what appeared to be nothing more than a simple strike. Yet the instant Si's fist collided with his sabers, he understood why his senses had screamed in warning.
Gravebreaker Fist!
Bang!
Qiang was sent skidding back several zhang before driving his sabers into the earth to disperse the force. For the first time, the man who growled and howled like a beast revealed a distinctly human expression.
It was genuine shock.
Never before had he encountered someone capable of overpowering him in a frontal clash. Worse still, the one who achieved this possessed a lower cultivation base.
It was inconceivable.
Gritting his teeth, Qiang drew all three sabers and assumed that strange, animalistic posture. Two blades were held low and wide, the third tucked beneath his arm. The arena fell into suffocating silence as the onlookers stared at the unfamiliar stance in confusion. It was clearly their first time witnessing it.
Si finally halted his advance and settled into a fighting stance. He understood better than anyone how dangerous this technique was.
At first glance, it seemed crude. In truth, it was a predatory formation crafted to collapse space itself.
'Three Fangs Devouring The Sun… I thought I would never see the day this technique dominates the battlefield again…'
The technique unfolded in three phases.
The first fang disrupted. A sudden horizontal slash intended not to kill, but to force a reaction and shatter stance.
The second fang penetrated. A vertical or diagonal strike designed to punish whatever adjustment the opponent had just made.
The third fang executed. A delayed, nearly invisible thrust or backhand slash from an unexpected angle, often launched from beneath the arm or following a twisting pivot.
Its terror did not lie in speed alone, but in layering. The strikes were not chaotic simultaneity. They were staggered with ruthless precision, trapping the opponent in a collapsing sequence. Block one cleanly and the second was already descending. Evade and the third adjusted mid motion.
The more Qiang repeated it, the more variations he introduced. Over time, it became impossible to distinguish which fang was lethal and which was bait.
In his previous life, fighting rashly against this technique had nearly cost Si his head. If not for his nearly indestructible skeleton at the time, he would have perished beneath it.
Thankfully, that experience would serve him now.
Bam!
Si burst into a full sprint, and the crowd erupted as they watched him close the distance with startling speed. Qiang remained motionless, like a statue awaiting sacrifice, until Si entered his range.
Swish!
A blade flashed toward the center of Si's chest, forcing him to halt abruptly and sidestep left. The moment he shifted, another saber carved toward his waist from the left, while from the right a third blade swept toward his neck.
He found himself engulfed in intersecting arcs of steel. It felt as though he had stepped into a shifting labyrinth with no clear escape.
Hmph!
Qiang's sabers sliced through empty air. His eyes widened as Si spun rapidly, ducking beneath the strike aimed at his neck while rising above the slash at his waist in one fluid motion. The display of agility was jarring, especially from someone who had presented himself as rigid and direct.
Pa!
Midair, Si seized Qiang's clothing and yanked him forward into a vicious headbutt against the nose.
Bam!
Qiang's vision blurred as blood flooded his nostrils. One moment he stood upright. The next, he was slammed to the ground, both arms trapped, the back of his neck bent over Si's shoulder at an angle that promised ruin with the slightest added force.
The secret to breaking Qiang's technique is stopping him from gaining momentum. Only prevention can stop him. If he were to enter a rhythm with that technique, even Si would be forced to run for his life if he wishes to survive. In his first life he made that mistake and nearly lost his head, this time things are different.
"Yield…"
Si's voice was cold, steady, and commanding. It carried effortlessly to the edges of the central training ground. Silence engulfed the arena like a graveyard as all stared at the two figures locked in a submission hold so tight even a beast could not break it.
They watched Tengen Qiang kick and thrash violently. The more he struggled, the tighter the restraint became. True to his feral nature, he continued to fight, growling and hissing until foam gathered at his lips and consciousness finally abandoned him at the center of the arena.
Si rose to his feet, leaving Qiang unconscious at his feet. He turned to meet Weijie's stunned gaze, cupped his fists, and offered a small, respectful bow.
Only after several seconds, when the reality of what had transpired settled into the minds of the spectators, did the training ground erupt into thunderous cheers. By defeating Tengen Qiang, Si had not only secured the position of squad leader, he had spared a squad in the Death Banner Battalion from marching to war under the command of a monster.
A youth had tamed a beast.
That day, 9pm.
Lady Lian sat before a large mirror etched into the stone wall, dressed in her night robes as maids combed her hair. In the corner of the chamber stood Yan Cheng, observing with a vigilant gaze.
Knock! Knock!
"Ooh, it's here…" Lady Lian turned toward the door, her voice brimming with excitement.
The door swung open and a maid hurried in, carrying a dagger with an exquisite black wolf hilt. A hollow ring was embedded into the guard where a finger could slip through. Even the sheath was crafted with care, matching the hilt in elegance and quality.
Lady Lian examined the weapon closely. When she unsheathed it, she revealed a slightly curved blade that hooked subtly at the tip. The word Brave was carved into the steel. She traced each letter delicately before sliding the dagger back into its sheath.
"Maybe I'll write a little letter along with my gift." Lady Lian pressed the dagger against her ample chest, her eyes dreamy.
One might think she was a young maiden preparing her first present for her first love.
"My lady, that's a wonderful blade." Yan Cheng approached with careful steps.
"I know right? It's a weapon fit for a prodigy." She smiled with satisfaction.
"I'm sure the young slave will cherish this gift for the rest of his life."
Xia's words made Yan Cheng's left eye twitch. His gaze shifted sharply toward her.
"Slave?" Yan Cheng asked.
Xia cast him a frigid glance, the kind that clearly said he was unwelcome. Yet she understood that silence now would only invite punishment later.
"The grave lover slave joined the Death Banner Battalion and defeated Tengen Qiang barehanded, becoming the thirtieth squad leader on his first day. Madam was impressed and decided to reward him with a dagger since he carries no weapon."
Buzz!
Yan Cheng froze as conflicting emotions crashed into him. Hatred and fear warred within his chest.
Everyone knew of Tengen Qiang, the slave who had slain the Jinshan expert. It was widely acknowledged that one Jinshan warrior equaled three from Yunhe. The casualty reports from the battlefield this year had proven it repeatedly. If Si could defeat the man who had defeated a Jinshan warrior, did Yan Cheng truly stand a chance?
Unbeknownst to Si, his actions had planted a seed of fear in Yan Cheng's heart, one that had not existed in the previous life. It was that absence of fear that had once driven Yan Cheng to challenge him recklessly. Through that challenge, he had gained clan wide recognition and Lady Lian's favor, which spared him from many suicidal assignments within the Death Banner Battalion. That fortune had allowed him to survive long enough to reach the realm where he could begin cultivating the primary techniques of his Supreme Art of Death legacy.
Now, with wariness restraining him and direct confrontation unthinkable, Yan Cheng's path in this timeline was poised to diverge drastically in ways even the divine general of death could not foresee.