Yang Ru stood across a sandy arena from his opponent, the arrogant young master who had since been introduced as Pan Jiang.

The first hint of fall was in the air, and the sun was straight enough above not to get in either of the boy’s eyes. It was a good day to fight.

Yang Ru once again pondered how far he’d come in such a short period of time. In less than half a year, he’d advanced more than halfway through the first major realm of cultivation. Of course, only part of that success was due to his apparently immense talent. His master had supplied both a superior cultivation technique and a pill that propelled Yang Ru from barely reaching the third minor realm to midway to the fifth in a single day.

Still, his master was obviously proud of his progress, and the upcoming exchange of pointers was his next learning opportunity.

He would not let his master down.

Yang Ru almost barked out a chuckle. If the kid he was a year ago had been told he’d be facing a fight against a cultivator and his biggest concern was not meeting expectations to win, he never would have believed it.

Yet there he was.

Pan Jiang flexed the wrist that had been broken yesterday, suffering no obvious discomfort from the movement. He sneered across the field. “There’s no one to protect you today.”

“Nor you.”

The guy snarled, and Yang Ru tried not to shake his head. So easily riled.

An unfamiliar, green-robed cultivator entered the arena. Master had said that a sect elder would oversee the duel, so Yang Ru was not surprised.

The man stepped between the two combatants. “The rules for this contest as agreed to by your respective masters are as follows. Contestants are to fight with one hundred percent of their abilities as if the stakes were death. The surrounding arrays will absorb every blow just prior to impact and transmit the feeling that you would have experienced had the blow landed. You will feel the pain associated with the strikes fully but none of the physical effects. There will be no blood, and you will not die even to a strike that would have decapitated you or went straight through your heart. The duel ends when one contestant has received an amount of force the arrays deem to be lethal. All pain inflicted by the arrays will disappear from both contestants as soon as the fight ends. The loser will present his primary weapon to the winner, who will gain ownership of it.”

He paused to look at each of the contestants in turn. “Understood?”

Yang Ru cupped his hands toward the elder and bowed as his master had instructed him. Pan Jiang did the same.

The man gave an acknowledging nod. “Begin in three … two … one … go!”

Yang Ru had wanted to simply charge his opponent like he had against the cultivator gang, but his master thought it was a bad idea. For one, there was no darkness to hide such a headlong rush. More importantly though, while Yang Ru held an advantage in speed, he lacked in agility. It would be too easy for Pan Jiang simply to sidestep the attack.

“Besides,” his master had said the previous evening, “I want to see a direct comparison of your spear technique against his sword moves. It will be instructive for both of us.”

So, Yang Ru held his position, waiting for his opponent to make the first move.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Seeing him motionless seemed to enrage Pan Jiang even more.

“You don’t talk,” the arrogant fool yelled. “You don’t move. What kind of cultivator are you?”

Yang Ru did something that felt really silly but that his master really wanted him to do. He stuck his arm out toward his opponent, palm facing himself, and flicked his four fingers toward himself three times.

Apparently, the gesture had some kind of meaning where Master came from.

It certainly worked to further enrage Pan Jiang, who yelled like an idiot before lifting his sword above his head with both hands and charging. Yang Ru didn’t think there was any actual technique involved in the move. It sure didn’t look like it, anyway.

Pan Jiang sprinted across the sand, slowed by his feet sinking slightly with each step. A little bit of qi applied to the balls of his feet would have solved that issue, but the boy was either too enraged to think of it or not experienced enough in internal qi manipulation to do so without burning too much of his reserves.

Perhaps both.

He finally reached within sword range and swung downward with full force. Did he really expect that to work? Like Yang Ru could possibly be caught off guard by an attack that he literally saw coming from across the arena.

In making such an aggressive, predictable assault, the idiot had left himself defenseless. Instead of ending the contest immediately by stabbing him through the heart, Yang Ru simply deflected the blade with a contemptuous sweep of the spear.

Off balance from the missed blow, Pan Jiang again left himself wide open. Yang Ru literally had time to think about whether a strike through the heart or the throat would be more quickly lethal while the idiot gathered himself.

At least with the opening salvo easily countered, the fight could start in earnest.

Nope.

Pan Jiang lunged forward with an angry thrust that contained all power and no finesse.

The correct response was a dodge down and to the side followed by stabbing up through the stomach to reach the heart, but Yang Ru simply swept that attack aside just as easily as the first one.

The only bright side was that Pan Jiang didn’t leave himself nearly as open as he settled into a stance once again.

“Three times,” Yang Ru said.

“What?”

“That’s how many times I’ve actively chosen not to kill you so far.”

Pan Jiang narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking the factual statement to be a boast. He again made a wild, uncontrolled swing with the blade.

Yang Ru stabbed just to the left of the idiot’s heart, easing back on the thrust so as not to cause too much pain. He wanted his opponent to be able to continue effectively. Well, as effectively as was possible given the apparent lack of skill.

The blow was little more than a slight tap, really. Yang Ru had taken blows many times worse from the blunt end of his master’s spear.

In contrast to the relative lack of severity of the strike, Pan Jiang’s reaction was extreme. Acting like he’d never before been touched in anger, he fell to the ground clutching his chest.

“Get up,” Yang Ru said.

“I don’t understand. How can you be so much better than me?”

“You’re swinging your sword like a child. Hasn’t your sect taught you a technique?”

“I’ve never needed to use one. Everyone I’ve fought has been defeated by a few basic moves, most on the first strike.”

Yang Ru was beginning to understand why his master didn’t particularly venerate other sects. If the child lying on the ground before him was an example of what kind of fighter they produced, he didn’t have much respect for them, either.

“Surely you were taught the proper use of your weapon at least?” Yang Ru said.

Pan Jiang nodded pitifully.

“Maybe now is a good time for you to start trying to apply those lessons, huh?” Yang Ru said.

“Why? You clearly could have ended this already. Why give me the chance?”

“Master wants to see us fight to judge my skill against yours. I will not disappoint my master because you are too inept to give me a challenge.”

Groaning, Pan Jiang stood and finally took up what appeared to be a proper stance. What followed was not pretty. The kid tried to use his blade as it was meant to be employed, but his skill was simply lacking.

Many exchanges took place with him attacking and Yang Ru defending, countering each blow easily and returning a light tap. Or attempting to. There were a few strikes the Poison Claw Sect member managed to dodge by using a technique.

Eventually, Pan Jiang was left sweating profusely and breathing raggedly. He gave a bow meant for use by an inferior cultivator to his better. “This one apologizes. This one does not have the skill to compete with the Esteemed Disciple. End it.”

Yang Ru glanced up into the stands and briefly met his master’s eyes. Upon receiving a nod, he didn’t hesitate. He thrust the spear directly toward his opponent’s heart, ending the fight quickly and mercifully.