The first few matches are underway soon enough, and while the fighters are skilled and put on a good show, I don’t find myself truly invested until the third match. The extremely odd boy, Han Zhiran, strides towards the center of the arena exuding extreme confidence, and that just reignites my curiosity about his skills. Will he be able to win, not only this fight, but the entire tournament?

“This fierce battle between rival schools will showcase the talents of Liu Heng, representing the Twin Crescent Divided Palm,” the announcer calls out while gesturing at Han Zhiran’s unassuming opponent. “And Han Zhiran of the Arhat’s Long-fist! May the worthy claim victory! Fight!”

“Do you think he will win, my lady?”

I have to think for a moment.

‘From what I’ve learned, the Arhat’s Long-fist is an explosive style with a lot of forward movement and powerful attacks. It seeks to maintain momentum, but that aggression demands incredible stamina. The Twin Crescent Divided Palm is a very balanced style with an equal emphasis on offense and defense, but the sweeping motions it is known for might be too slow to keep up with the Arhat’s Long-fist.’

I examine the two fighters with a critical eye. Zhiran’s tall body and long, lanky limbs are ideally suited to his style, and considering his exceptional confidence and boastful promise, I assume he is well-trained. By contrast, Liu Heng is remarkably normal, and shows some hints of nervousness here and there. Just based on how the two boys carry themselves, I suspect Han Zhiran possesses an advantage.

“Master Li would probably be a better judge than me, but I’ll guess that Han Zhiran will win this one.”

“Oh?” Jingyi seems puzzled, but she lacks any martial training to draw a similar conclusion.

I return my focus to the arena as the fight begins with Zhiran taking the initiative. He starts testing Liu Heng with a few punches while keeping the other boy at the limit of his reach. It is fascinating to watch him bait Liu Heng by throwing a whip-like punch and fully leaning into it in order to extend his reach even more. Though it looks a bit goofy, anytime Liu Heng attempts to capitulate on the blatantly unbalanced Zhiran, he is met with a blow from the opposite side while Zhiran resets and tries again.

“If Liu Heng wants to win, he needs to find a way to put Han Zhiran on defense,” I gesture in their direction for emphasis. “Right now, Zhiran has full control, and even though he’s not doing any real damage, if Liu Heng tries to take advantage of those fake openings, Zhiran punishes him.”

“I see!” Jingyi smiles but she is only half-listening. “It seems you have been paying attention in your lessons. Does that mean Liu Heng will lose because he can’t get close?”

“Don’t tease me,” I scold her with a playful tone, knowing full well what she is up to. “But yes, if things keep going like they are, Liu Heng should lose.”

As I expected, the momentum in the fight shifts. Han Zhiran moves on from tempting his opponent with repeated feints, which begins with his next long-range punch and a distinct change to his footwork. Rather than leaning into it like before, he fully steps forward and commits to the punch. Liu Heng, trained by repeated feints, falls for it. He ducks the swing as he has done before, and sways forward to deliver a palm strike to Zhiran’s mid-section, but he misjudges, and by the time he actually connects, Han Zhiran is too close. The force from his blow had been greatly reduced by their positioning.

In contrast, Han Zhiran drives his left fist into Liu Heng’s diaphragm, blasting the air from his lungs and forcing him to back-peddle right into his ideal range. A solid right hook lands firmly on Liu Heng’s jaw and he stumbles to the side, dazed and disoriented. Despite the power in Zhiran’s punch, he manages to remain upright. Nevertheless, true to his style, Han Zhiran gives his opponent no time to rest.

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Right-left-right!

Three blows chain together in a series of battering strikes that devastate Liu Heng’s soft mid-section. The poor boy coughs blood onto the ground, and before he can collect his wits, a mighty haymaker impacts his chin. Liu Heng half-spins, topples to the ground, bounces painfully on the hard floor, and then lies still. The powerful strike from Han Zhiran renders him unconscious just like that.

‘Liu Heng never stood a chance considering the gulf of skill between them. A more experienced fighter wouldn’t have let himself be controlled by those repeated feints, but even then, Han Zhiran’s movements were exceptional. Maybe he does have a chance…’

“You were right, my lady, he did win!”

I puff up with pride.

“Liu Heng is several years of training behind by the way it looks. He was out of his league from the beginning, but that is just part of the tournament. From what I can tell, there is no real restriction against skill mismatches like that.”

“Very impressive, my lady! You are so wise.”

“Are you teasing me again?”

Jingyi directs her attention towards Han Zhiran in order to avoid further scrutiny, and the boy waves in our direction. Upon seeing him, I return the gesture with a half-hearted wave of my own. I can only imagine it’ll be more troublesome to ignore him completely.

“He really is serious about you.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not.”

The next match of interest comes up soon enough.

“Our next match-up is between Han Ji, practicing the Arhat’s Long-fist,” the announcer calls particular emphasis to his name, clearly an attempt to link him to Han Zhiran who won a few matches earlier. “And his opponent, Ban Shuyi, who represents the Heart-guarding Palm! May the worthy claim victory! Fight!”

Ban Shuyi’s style, the Heart-guarding Palm, is an older, well-established Tai Chi style with a small number of mostly-women practitioners like us. Her bearing is calm and relaxed, but her intense expression reveals an impressive degree of focus. Like Han Zhiran, Ban Shuyi has exceptional confidence, and as she adopts her fighting stance, it becomes clear that she is no rookie. Ban Shuyi is here to win.

“This Han Ji is from the same school as Han Zhiran. Do you think the girl has any chance to win?” Jingyi asks.

“Han Zhiran was better than I expected, but Han Ji isn’t him,” I answer while scrutinizing Han Ji’s every move. “He seems skilled enough, but there’s something about his opponent that gives me doubts.”

“Like what?”

“She has something to prove.”

‘And if I’m right about her, she has a good chance to win this fight. The heart-guarding palm keeps a single hand front and center for defense, hence the name, and emphasizes a strong defense with powerful counters. If Han Ji isn’t careful, he’ll discover that only one hand guards the heart. The other crushes the opponent!’

Unlike Han Zhiran, who felt his opponent out first, Han Ji goes on the offensive immediately. The fight begins with his explosive forward surge, seeking to close distance as quickly as possible and to restrict Ban Shuyi’s options. He opens with a powerful punch that rivals Han Zhiran’s final strike and will undoubtedly do extensive damage if it lands.

Ban Shuyi reacts in the blink of an eye.

She ducks his punch, which he seems to anticipate, but despite Han Ji adjusting to press the attack, Ban Shuyi comes to an immediate halt. She rotates her entire body on one foot, gracefully and swiftly committing to a devastating heel kick. Han Ji’s forward momentum carries him headlong into her powerful blow, head snapping back as the bottom of her foot collides with his vulnerable face.

Her pivot foot leaves the ground as Shuyi drives her heel in and pushes off, using his face as a springboard to launch herself backwards. As she soars through the air, Han Ji flops down and lands hard on the back of his head, hard enough that his entire body folds in half and his toes tap the ground above his shoulders.

While Ban Shuyi resets her fighting stance, it becomes abundantly clear that one blow is all it took to end that fight. The stunned crowd roars as Han Ji slumps into an ignominious pile of awkwardly placed limbs and his opponent bows respectfully over him.

“I… did not expect that.”

“I expected more palm, from… a palm style,” Jingyi agrees while pantomiming a simple palm strike.

“Heh… indeed. However, it seems my interest is not misplaced. Whether she planned for that, or reacted in the moment, Ban Shuyi is a powerful fighter who could win this tournament.”