The Azure Empire could really do with more court jesters.

Stage magicians and stand-up comedians could work too, and there are probably other professions I’m overlooking, but the point is, the Empire suffers from an appalling lack of entertainment options, especially in the family friendly category. Besides playing music or reciting poetry, there’s not much else one can do to hold an audience’s attention without ample preparation, and the aforementioned activities might not even do that. It’s probably why we always end up fighting at these stupid social events, and even though I get to sit this one out, it’s still nerve-wracking to do nothing while Song risks her life in the sparring ring.

I’d introduce improvisational comedy games to the Azure Empire, but I fear for all the audiences that would turn Defiled from boredom...

Luckily, my Martial Aunt is a formidable Martial Warrior who can kick ass and take names with the best of them, and she deserves more than a smidgen of perfunctory applause. Condensing her Aura was probably the least impressive part of her accomplishments tonight, considering she just defeated eight of Central’s reputable young warriors without breaking a sweat. Were she not an Oath-Bound half-cat slave, she’d probably get a standing ovation for this phenomenal performance, but instead she gets a polite golf clap to acknowledge her entry into the Empire’s Roll of Experts at twenty-two years young, liberally sprinkled with muttered comments about good breeding and healthy stock which could have been politely Sent instead. Backhanded compliments everywhere, but Song takes it like a champ and saunters back to her table with head held high and without a hair out of place.

It sucks that I had to lead the charge just to get this minuscule amount of recognition for Song, not to mention how the crowd is only playing along because her opponent cheated and they have to give me and Akanai face. Even Nian Zu, Yuzhen, and my other allies seem less than enthused about clapping for Song, although Grandpa Du looks mighty pleased with himself. It’s a shame the Empire is so fixated on status and face. So what if Song is bound by her slave Oath? That doesn’t make her accomplishments any less impressive, but a slave’s achievements are ‘hardly worth celebrating’, which is just wrong seeing how the Empire needs all the morale-raising stories it can get. I guarantee you no one will be talking about Song’s stunning victories come tomorrow morning, but the city will be abuzz with gossip about Ken-Kitchi’s disgraceful defeat at the hands of a slave, while overlooking his attempt to Aura-cheat his way to victory. I’d call him out on it, but I’m only guessing at what happened and Wu Gam is sitting in the audience. I’d rather not have to answer any uncomfortable questions he might bring up, seeing how I pretty much did the same thing to beat him and take my title as Number One Talent in the Empire.

Honestly, I should’ve just lost and let him take the title. It’s brought me nothing but grief.

...Besides Luo-Luo, I guess. She’s alright. Okay, better than alright, and looking oh so fine in her tight, low-cut dress and long, flowing skirts, but still. My point stands. Being the first ever unaffiliated Imperial Consort sucks donkey dick.

The applause cuts short the moment Song returns to her seat, as if no one in the audience wants to risk being the last person clapping, but I continue for a little while longer until the twins stop too. Following this is a minor lull, during which Luo-Luo nudges me with her knee to spur me into action, but I have no idea what she wants me to do. To buy time, I take a bite of my peach-lotus bun and try to look real interested in what I’m eating, while inwardly reviewing what I know about banquet protocol.

Let’s see... Don’t speak while eating, don’t chew with mouth open, no elbows on table, no chopsticks stuck in bowl, don’t slurp your noodles, don’t use your hands... I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. I’m using chopsticks to eat my bun, even though it’d be easier to use my hands instead, and I’m not taking giant bites or chewing loudly either, so what’s got Luo-Luo’s panties in a twist? Does she wear panties? No, focus Rain. Get your head out of the gutter. I wish she could do more than just repeatedly nudge me with a knee, and I don’t mean in a sexual way either. Sad thing is, I can’t be seen taking instructions from her or else I’d lose face. Not only is she a servant and concubine, but she’s also a woman, which means I, as a macho warrior man, outrank her in every way possible and must therefore be the dominant person in the relationship. It’s silly that Martial Warriors would still have a male-centric viewpoint, since Chi is the great equalizer between gender disparity, but that’s how things be, so Luo-Luo has to play the part of dutiful and obedient concubine rather than the able political advisor she truly is.

Seriously though, what am I doing wrong? I should eat slower so I have time to think. That’s it, small bites. Chew thoroughly. Why is everyone watching me eat? Do I have lotus paste on my cheek or something? Was there a specific order I was supposed to eat my desserts in? Don’t look at Luo-Luo or Mom, everyone will notice and they’ll think you’re an idiot. Don’t worry, you can figure this out on your own, you got this. Wipe your lips, but be casual about it. Handkerchief is clean, so that’s a bust. Did a button come undone? Nope, collar is still uncomfortably tight, but at least I can breathe, which I’m not sure Luo-Luo can do in her skin-tight dress. My spear is still leaning against my chair, so that didn’t fall over, and there’s nothing out of place on...

Oh right! We’re publicly feuding, and since the opposition sent up the first challenger, I’m supposed to send out the next one. Doesn’t make sense if you ask me, since Song just fought eight matches and left undefeated, but that’s the game. Shit, now it looks like I’m eating slowly on purpose just to be an asshole about it. Whatever. Might as well lean into it. Damn this peach-lotus bun is good. There’s no peach in the dessert, but the white bun has a pinkish cast to it which makes it look like a peach, but really it’s just a steamed bun with lotus paste and some creamy, yolky filling. It’s kinda weird to look at, being a pinkish white bun leaking thick, golden fluid, but damn if it isn’t delicious. I need to learn how to make this. I’ll send someone to ask the chef later. It’s weird how chef isn’t a prestigious position, but probably because they’re all slaves too. No point investing money into training someone if they’re free to seek employment elsewhere.

This world sucks on so many levels...

Taking a long sip of tea to punctuate my stalling, I take a deep breath and do my best not to hem or stutter. “What a rousing series of matches.” Why am I speaking weird? Be normal. “Are there any other young heroes who’d like to...” Not take the stage, because I’m sitting on it, but er... Maybe I should just trail off and gesture at the impromptu sparring arena. Yea that’s fine. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Man, if I’m gonna be this awkward, maybe I need a drink or three to loosen up.

Coughing to hide his smirk, Fung steps out from the crowd with spear in hand and makes his way front and centre, just as we planned. “This one is Tong Da Fung, Disciple of Akanai, Young Magistrate of Shen Huo, Third Grade Warrant Officer, and twenty-three year old Expert of the Empire.”

Though we all agreed he would fight second, Fung’s opponent comes as a surprise, not because he didn’t make the list of young Central Warriors to watch out for, but because he’s technically supposed to be on my side. Striding out amidst the hushed whispers and shocked gasps of the crowd, Wu Gam bows to the Legate and offers Fung a salute, looking sharper than ever in the fashionable grey and black robes I gifted him, which contrast so well with his white-furred fox ears and tail. “Warrant Officer Third Grade, Wu Gam. Twenty-four years old.”

Dammit dude. This better not be a betrayal...

Fung’s a much better politician that I am, which isn’t saying much, but even I can tell he’s surprised by Wu Gam answering his challenge. The half-foxes have no skin in this political game, which means either they’ve chosen a side that isn’t mine or Wu Gam is here to have fun. The answer soon becomes clear as Eccentric Gam shouts, “Flirt on your own time, boys. We ain’t here to watch you two stare lovingly into each other’s eyes.”

Oh good, so Wu Gam just wanted to fight. Guess he got all excited watching Song beat the shit out of so many people he knew...

Spurred on by his Mentor and sibling, Wu Gam makes the first move and Fung responds in kind as staff meets spear in a boisterous blur. Sinking back into my seat, I watch them both trade blows and cannot for the life of me tell who’s winning. Wu Gam has the raw strength, but Fung has firm control of the tempo and seems to be matching his opponent thus far, so it could really go either way if they’re only fighting to first advantage. Not bad odds for Fung considering he’s up against one of the Hwarang, who are supposed to be Central’s best and brightest, and Wu Gam himself is a cut above the rest. Unfortunately, judging by the disapproving stares emanating from the crowd, it seems like most people think this is a poorly veiled act for Fung to improve his status, and honestly, I don’t blame them. I know Fung has the Martial chops to stand at the forefront of our generation, but like me, he has an image problem. Where I don’t fit the image of a proper young hero, Fung perfectly fits the image of a spoiled dandy, the likes of which are quietly looked down upon by actual Martial Warriors, but tolerated because of their families. The problem is, now that it’s been revealed that the Ryo Family is standing firmly in my camp, there have been whispers about how Fung’s match against Ryo Geom-Chi in Nan Ping might have been faked, which obviously isn’t true, but the truth matters little when it comes to public perception.

I should know. Maybe I should hire on a PR rep. Mother knows it’d probably be cheaper than paying Bulat’s tab so he and his friends can talk me up in bars and restaurants...

After a few minutes of steady smashing, Fung and Wu Gam appear equally matched, which does nothing to quell the whispers of foul play. Then, they kick things up a notch and their weapons sound off in a brisk symphony of violence, hammering out a speedy, reverberating rhythm as they plant their feet and unleash hell. Ten exchanges, then twenty, then forty and more, the whispers quiet as their match slowly swells in speed, volume, and intensity. Soon, it becomes clear that neither warrior is holding back as the paved floor cracks beneath their feet, but still there is no clear advantage. Their weapons cross in a clash of steel and the resulting clap sets the stage to shaking beneath my feet, only for Fung and Wu Gam to draw their weapons back for yet another clash. Again and again these two titans meet, and it occurs to me that even with my admittedly high evaluation of Fung’s skills, it’s clear I’ve sorely underestimated him.

First Mila, now Fung, how are they so physically strong? Even Song seems like she’s kicked it up a few notches on the brute strength scale, seeing how she kept knocking her opponents into the air with a single hit, so either Akanai’s been feeding her Disciples magical steroids or there’s some secret I don’t know about.

...Dammit Dad, why you gotta be such a terrible Mentor? I still love you, but c’mon man. I’m dying out here.

Then as suddenly as it started, the clash comes to an end as Wu Gam and Fung both step back. Arms heavy, brows glistening, and clothes in disarray, they pant and stare at one another as their final ringing note of battle lazily fades into nothingness. Difficult to say who moves first, but they both grin, salute, and step back before offering the Legate his expected bow, at which point the audience finally remembers to applaud for the stunning display of strength and skill they just witnessed.

I don’t miss the constant near-death encounters, but I do miss sparring with my friends every day. It’s no fun being on the outside looking in, and now Wu Gam and Fung are probably going to be BFF’s, clasping hands and walking off together with Fung’s arm over Wu Gam’s shoulder. Shut up brain. I’m not jealous. You’re jealous. No, wait... just shut up.

Whatever. Who needs bros when you have floofs? Leaning sideways to pat Ping Ping on the beak, I smile at the big girl as she rests her head on stage, blinking sleepily while also trying to keep a close eye on me and the Legate. She does not like him at all, which is weird because she usually likes everyone, even random strangers who come up to pat her on the street. Maybe she hates him because she picked up on how nervous I was that first time we all met in Nan Ping, but so long as she doesn’t attack or spit on him, I’m perfectly okay with things as they are.

Beneath the table, Luo-Luo nudges me once more and I return to my proper seated position, but this time I know what’s expected: my silence and attention. Perfect timing too, because who do I see approaching the stage but good old Gulong himself, Zian’s pitiful clansman and unworthy successor. In these last three days of frantic preparation, not once did any of us mention Situ Gulong for two reasons. First of all, Ji Yeon used to be his betrothed and he tried to leave her for dead on the front lines, which would make things awkward for him if we decided to press the issue. Secondly, he’s not exactly the cream of the crop when it comes to Martial Warriors, seeing as he has no Aura or Natal Palace to speak of at twenty three years of age. Now that’s not to say this is a bad thing, seeing as how most Martial Warriors are considered geniuses if they reach both those milestones by twenty five, but considering this is a gathering of the Empire’s best and brightest, little Gulong is more snake than dragon, and not even a local one at that.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

This is gonna be great. I wish we had popcorn, or even just corn would be great. Ohhhhh, I can make fries! I haven’t seen any potatoes, but yam fries should work too...

“A shame Fung is no longer fit to fight,” Gulong begins, addressing the crowd after offering the Legate a courtly bow. “I’d hoped to challenge him myself and put him in his place, but such is life.” Implying Fung worked with Wu Gam to avoid him. As if, but the crowd mutters in quiet agreement, because Gulong truly does look the part of Noble Young Hero, face painted and feathered up like a real Central dancer. Lip curled in a hateful sneer, he salutes me with a burning hatred in his eyes. “Perhaps Imperial Consort would permit me to play with his betrotheds instead?”

The double entendre sets the crowd to tittering as I lament Mila’s distracted condition, because I would love nothing more than to watch my beloved red-headed beauty smash Gulong’s leg bones into itty bitty pieces. “Don’t be silly, this is your big debut.” Flashing a smirk of my own in response to Gulong’s sneer, I add, “I’m sure we can find you a more suitable match, someone who isn’t already betrothed. You shouldn’t waste this chance, seeing as you no longer have a betrothed of your own. I’m sure there’s some fair maiden in the audience who would be more than happy to play with you.” Making a big show of peering out at the crowd, I ask, “Any single ladies in the crowd? The young master here would like to invite you out to play. Come on, don’t be shy. This is Situ Gulong after all, Young Patriarch of the Situ Clan, recently single and ready to go all night.” Given how I phrased things, there are no takers as anticipated, and I let the silence linger for longer than necessary. “Anyone? Don’t be fooled by his looks and inexperience, he has a really long... tongue. Shockingly long, really. First time I saw it, I just knew his future wife would be a happy woman. His father sure is, as are all the Clan Elders who endorsed him. Happy, that is, not women, though I suppose some of them could be. I don’t really know.” Choked laughter sounds from the crowd, and Gulong’s pale, powdered cheeks take on a vibrant shade of crimson as I turn to him and quietly ask, “On that note, what are your thoughts on playing with a man instead? Now, think before you answer, because beggars can’t be choosers, and we’ve already established that no women want to play with you.”

I almost feel bad for bullying the poor guy, but he makes it so easy...

It feels good to finally understand how to properly insult people in public. I was mostly goofing around since it was clear Ishin Ken-Shibu was looking to start shit, but after Luo-Luo made a big fuss about how amazing I was in the opera, I spent a bunch of time analyzing what I did and came to one simple conclusion: innuendos and allusions are the way to go. Puns work too, but I’m not great with those on account of Common being my second or third language after English. I bet ‘that’s what she said’ would go over great with this crowd though, and while it’s not as fun as outright calling Gulong an ass-licking brown-noser, implying he’s one is almost as good and far more acceptable in polite company, which is a huge plus.

Still, at least now I understand why people get so mad at me when I like... demand kowtows or say something innocuous which could also be misconstrued as a subtle insult. A direct insult must be answered for the sake of face, but in the same vein, subtle innuendo must be ignored at all cost, lest others believe you think the insinuations are true. Shit’s complicated, but I think I’m getting the hang of things.

Having ground his nose in the grisly remains of his shitty joke, I let Gulong off the hook and ask, “Are there any Warriors who would care to exchange pointers with Situ Gulong?” Since we didn’t plan on his appearance, I leave it up to others to decide who will meet him, even though I’d love to send Dastan out to slap the teeth out of Gulong’s face hole. We already pushed our luck with Song, and sending a second slave would invite derision according to Binesi, because a slave’s accomplishments are somehow less impressive than a free person’s. One slave sent to fight can be overlooked, especially since Song is Akanai’s daughter, but if we send another slave out, our enemies will whisper about how the North has no warriors of note, only slaves.

I wish I could’ve gotten seats for Dastan, Sahb, Balta, and the other survivors from Sanshu, but alas, a place in my honour guard is the best I could do. None of them seem to care much for this banquet, and appear perfectly content to watch my back, but I’ll be damned if we celebrate the heroes of Sinuji without them. I tried talking the Bannermen into coming as well, but aside from Yaruq who’s in attendance as Tenjin’s guest, Naaran who’s a part of my honour guard, and Ghurda who was invited by Nian Zu, the rest of the Bannermen claimed they were too busy for banquets, though I assume they’re lurking around outside in case things go south.

I don’t exactly know where they are or what the plan is, because Mom didn’t share it with me since ‘I can’t give away what I don’t know’. Kind of hurtful, but true.

The first person to accept Gulong’s challenge is a kid from the Lin family, and after a handful of careful exchanges, I lose interest in the match and palm a couple dried berries from my pouch instead. Pretending to watch the two mid-tier warriors trade blows, I lean on the table and rest my head on my knuckles while leaving my hand open so Pong Pong can covertly munch on the treat. The little turtle is still chillin’ on my shoulder, just like he has been all night, and much like Ping Ping, he does not like the Legate, though in this case I think I know why. The trio of old decrepit beardies are nowhere in sight, but there are two suspicious looking shadows on either side of the Legate’s palanquin. Furthermore, Pong Pong has been careful to keep my neck between him and the Legate all night, and since Pong Pong is never this careful around anyone else, I can only assume those shadows are hiding the Beardy Divinities.

I should stop calling them that. They’d probably get mad if I ever let it slip, and if history has taught me anything, it’s that I’m not very careful with what I say.

Gulong’s first match ends in a narrow victory over his Lin Clan opponent, who slinks back into the audience in low spirits with a bloodied cheek. Hardly the most thrilling of matches after what we’ve already seen, but I clap just as politely as everyone else did for Song, albeit with care since I’m still holding one of Pong Pong’s berries. The little guy’s been so stressed all night he hasn’t had much of an appetite besides eating all my shrimp and shellfish, but I didn’t really have a choice. It was either bring him along or risk leaving him behind if things went south, and while I wish I could do more to soothe Pong Pong’s nerves, I’m not exactly comfortable sitting in spitting distance of a Divinity either.

At least things are going better than expected. No one’s tried to kill me yet, or insinuated a better person should be sitting up here in my place. All they did was leave my table off the stage and ignore me for most of the night, which isn’t even high-school levels of mean. Hell, I actually prefer things this way. Idiots. As if I even want the attention...

Gulong’s next opponent is one of BoShui’s younger siblings, but I’ll be damned if I can remember his name. I’m sure he mentioned it before they started fighting, but I wasn’t really paying attention again. There’s too much to focus on, so between my good manners, proper posture, Concealed threats, and possible Divinities, I’ve no time for scrub shenanigans.

Or at least I don’t until Gulong earns his second victory of the night, once again scoring a narrow victory after an extended exchange which ends with yet another cheek injury. Same cheek too, and using a similar move as well, I think, though I’m not entirely sure. Maybe Gulong isn’t as terrible a Warrior as I thought, which makes his shitty attitude and underhanded schemes that much worse. If he’s actually talented, then why not use those talents to earn his place in the Clan instead of undercutting the competition? Whatever, from what I can tell, Zian hardly misses his Young Patriarch title, and it almost seems like he’s happier for the loss, though I have been pretty busy lately and might not be seeing the whole picture.

It turns out I wasn’t the only one who noticed Gulong’s skills, as his next challenger is none other than Big Huu himself. Or perhaps he’s upgraded to Huge Huu, because while BoShui hit a growth spurt in these last two years, Huushal has transformed himself into a demi-giant of titanic proportions who looks suitably imposing in his plain Sentinel leathers. Standing well over two meters tall, Huu’s rippling frame towers over his opponent as he makes his introduction. “Huushal, Son of Ghurda, Chakta, and Elia, twenty-three year old Third Grade Warrant Officer, and Sentinel of the People.”

Somehow not registering the massive disparity in size, reach, and sheer mass, Gulong’s disdain is clear to see. At least he’s confident, I’ll give him that. “Hmph. I remember you. You were there during the Society Contests, the oaf who rode Falling Rain’s coattails to success. I’d hoped to teach one of his women a lesson, but I suppose beating his dog will do just as well.”

Welp, guess Gulong’s gonna die now.

The two combatants take their places, and after a moment of stillness, Gulong makes the first move, bringing his longsword down in a two-handed overhead slash. Huu sidesteps the attack with ease, but doesn’t bring his giant sabre to bear, instead keeping it tucked against the back of his arm in a reversed grip as if he doesn’t intend to use it. Snarling in anger, Gulong whips his sword about in a vicious barrage of attacks, but they cut clean through empty air as Huu dances around the edge of his range. Round and round the two Warriors go, Sentinel and Noble dancing across the sparring grounds as Huu dips, ducks, dives, and dodges about while Gulong mounts an all out offence. Rage and frustration growing as his sword repeatedly fails to connect, he soon loses his sense of caution as his swings grow wild and wide, a sure sign the Young Patriarch is losing control of his actions. Rage helps in a fight, but it also makes it easy to lose focus, and the latter is vital to survival.

Gulong is decently strong, but he lacks life and death experience, which is evident as his fury overwhelms his better judgment. So fixated on striking his opponent, Gulong fails to notice the broken tiles left by Fung and Wu Gam’s exchange and slips on a loose shard. Having foreseen this as a possibility, Huu bull-rushes his opponent with a meaty shoulder check and sends the Young Patriarch crashing to the ground. The air rushes out of Gulong’s lungs as his sword clatters across the tiles, and even before Huu rests his sabre gently beside his opponent’s neck, it’s clear to everyone that this was a decidedly one-sided match. “Balance,” Huu enunciates, once he’s sure Gulong is paying attention. “It is a simple concept, yet so difficult to grasp, for the Mother left us no tools to discern where Balance truly lies. How does one find the midpoint between calm and anger? Love and hate? Joy and sorrow? No one can say for sure, because no two people are ever the same. There are Warriors who stride into battle as cold and calm as a frozen lake, while others fight with a raging heat burning from within their chest. Both retain Balance, but it is easy to see they are different states of Balance. Curious, is it not?” Removing his saber from Gulong’s neck, Huu hefts the blade onto his shoulder and turns to leave. “I suggest you seek out an alternative state of Balance, before you draw too close to the fire and burn yourself.”

If anyone can spot an at-risk Defilement, it’d probably be Huu, but Gulong doesn’t take the warning well. He doesn’t say anything, but the hatred in his eyes is clear as day, for he sees this as utter humiliation rather than the sound advice based on personal experience that it actually is. Granted, many others would also see things the same way, but I suppose Huu felt it necessary to chide Gulong in public instead of offering him a friendly Sending. Then again, fuck Gulong and fuck his dad too, though judging from their similar stares of seething fury, it seems like Huu has just become the Situ Clan’s public enemy number one.

It’s fine. We can handle them. I hope the Situ Patriarch does make a move, so Ghurda can put him in his place. Then Nian Zu can take over and we can finally bury the hatchet with the Society of Heaven and Earth. Wouldn’t that be something...

Still not quite done, Huu spars with a few more opponents and wins without using his saber before calling Dienne out for a match. The Southern Number One Talent graciously accepts, striding out to the floor in his shimmering, multi-coloured carapace armor, for the first time tonight, Huu takes his stance and readies his weapon for the match. A stance which mirrors Dienne’s own, the same one he displayed to great effect during the Grand Conference. Weapon held low in both hands with the tip angled and pointed back, it’s a flexible posture which allows for a wide range of movements including several powerful slashes, and both men settle in for a silent duel of minds. It’s not about who makes the first move, but rather who makes the first mistake as Huu and Dienne posture and feint while barely moving more than a centimetre at a time. The first blow will set the tone of the rest of the match, if not outright end it, so they’re each seeking out every advantage they can before that initial exchange.

Huu inches his back foot forward, and Dienne responds by dropping one shoulder. Both men reset, and Dienne shifts his weight forward while Huu alters his grip so his saber is at a forty-five degree angle instead of seventy five degrees. Reset. Narrowed posture is countered by straightened posture, lowered knees thwarted by loosened grip. Back and forth the two men shift, and while a layman might find it boring and fidgety, I can barely remember to breathe as I parse through the myriad of Movements the two Warriors allude to and discard with every micro-movement and reposition. Hanging Branch matched with Darting Fang, Standing Fury with Rending Fang, Pierce the Horizon with Lumbering Gait, Huu and Dienne rattle through their paired Movements at breakneck speeds and I follow along every step of the way. This is a dance of a different sort, one played out in the minds of Martial Warriors with eyes to see it, and I can scarcely bring myself to blink for fear of missing even a single exchange.

There is no warning before the blades meet, but I anticipated it nonetheless, jaw clenched and ears covered as the thunderous crash and shrill shriek of metal on metal echos through the banquet hall. Luo-Luo starts in her seat beside me while the twins cringe and cower into Alsantset’s distracted embrace, and even Ping Ping lifts her head to see what all the fuss is about, but the match is already over. So fast I didn’t even see a blur, all my eyes could catch was a hint of motions and both men had finished shifting positions, but I piece things together solely on how they were standing before either one made a move.

Arm extended in a full swing, Huu holds his sabre high in the air after an attempt to part Dienne’s head from his shoulders using Wolf Form, Twisting Snap, an arcing diagonal slash which, in this case, started low and ended high. The dusky Southerner saw this coming and countered with Raising the Winds to parry Huu’s powerful swing and force the saber safely overhead. In the same motion, Dienne turned his parry into an attack and brought his giant scimitar straight towards Huu’s abdomen and lower chest, where its wicked edge currently rests. Had Dienne followed through, Huu would be lying in a puddle of his own organs after having all but thrown himself onto his opponents blade, all thanks to the Southerner’s perfect control over not only his own strength, but Huu’s as well.

On the surface, it just looks like Huu swung and Dienne ducked, but this was a victory won through a difference of mere millimetres. Catch the attack at the wrong angle or move a hair too slow, and Huu could have easily smashed through the parry and won the day, but unlike Gulong, Dienne is both talented and experienced in the ways of war. After all of a heartbeat, both men return to their starting positions and put their weapons away, only to exchange a silent salute before retreating from the stage.

Dammit, first Fung and Wu Gam, now Huu and Dienne. That’s tried and true bromance right there, a bond forged in the heat of battle. Next I bet Zian and BoShui fight and become best friends too, assuming they already aren’t, all while I sit here on stage and twiddle my thumbs. This sucks. I wanna be healthy again, before I lose all my best bros...

Well... At least I’ll always have Dastan, so that’s... something, I guess.

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