The remainder of the round features similar intensity and fabulous displays of skill, and while I continue watching, Jingyi wanders off to acquire some snacks. Upon her return, Jingyi offers me some steamed buns and a few other cheap, yet filling finger foods that are perfect for sharing without making a huge mess.
“Did I miss anything good?”
“A couple interesting or unique moves that were flashy enough for you to appreciate, but the most noteworthy thing was Liu Gongming destroying another opponent before they had a chance to act,” I fill my maid in on the basics while plucking a mixed-berry jelly cake shaped like a flower off the tray. “He is definitely going to be in the finals at this rate.”
“Who do you think he’ll be up against?”
I nibble on the tart-flavored cake and hem-and-haw over the options. “Han Zhiran, probably.”
“Really? Maybe he will win!”
“Hmm… I’m not sure. It’s also not guaranteed. He’ll have to fight Zhang Qinghu in the semifinals, and he has been doing pretty well.”
“Oh… They’ll fight in the next round?”
“Yeah, right after this match.”
With Ban Shuyi out of the tournament, I reluctantly find myself investing more in Han Zhiran than I’d like to admit. Despite his goofy introduction, he has proven a formidable fighter with exceptional reflexes and a decent grasp of strategy. After initially comparing myself to Ban Shuyi, I idly wonder about how I’d fare in a match against Zhiran. Despite training with the renowned Master Li for years, I’ve never fought an actual opponent, so I can’t envision anything other than a hasty defeat.
‘The next match against Zhang Qinghu will be the proof for Zhiran and his chances of victory in the finals. He managed to defeat Shuyi, and I can’t help but see her as the stronger fighter, so if he can also defeat Qinghu, then he deserves the win. However, Qinghu’s style is strange, and a mere tap from his fingers has dealt significant damage to his previous opponents. He also fights with impeccable precision, so Zhiran will need to exercise caution.’
I lazily cross my legs and rub my thumb across my lips to clear any crumbs or lingering jelly and eye another treat, but resist the temptation. To distract myself from the jelly tart’s siren call, I continue my mental analysis of the fighters and lick my thumb clean with one quick pass of my tongue. The memories of the simple, yet refreshing flavors cause turbulence in my will to resist, so Jingyi snatching up the last pastry works in my favor.
‘Qinghu’s previous matches were really one-sided. Despite taking time to defeat his opponents, he left them all in really rough shape. On top of that, he sustained no damage to speak of, so it felt like he was toying with them. Is he really strong, or just cunning?’
As the preceding match ends and the next fighters emerge, I shift uneasily. “I’m not sure how I feel about this match-up.”
“What do you mean, my lady?”
“Ban Shuyi is incredible, but Zhiran defeated her. Zhang Qinghu has shown exceptional skill, but definitely less than her. Despite that, he’s still in the tournament, and he’s done more damage to his opponents than anyone else. None of them have walked out on their own, so it’s abundantly clear that he is a vicious fighter, but I wonder if he has any weird techniques up his sleeves.”
“You mean like Ban Shuyi’s palm strikes?”
“Oh? You noticed that?” I raise a brow and side-eye Jingyi. “But yes, just like Jingyi’s palm strikes. I’m not sure how she does it, but I’m positive it is the Inner Force that Master Li has told me about in the past.”
“If it is something that you don’t know about, then it must be really weird!”
“Heh… well, we’ll see if he can do the same or if it is some other trick.”
The two fighters, Zhiran and Qinghu, face off in the arena and wait for the signal to begin. Han Zhiran, true to his nature, seems excited for the battle to begin. Any lingering injuries from his previous fights are inconsequential enough, and he seems fresh and rested despite just fighting a short while ago. On the other hand, Zhang Qinghu stands in stark contrast with his relaxed, almost bored demeanor.
‘That cocky attitude has no place in this level of the tournament. I hope Zhiran knocks you out right away!’
The fight begins and Qinghu is immediately on the defensive, backpedaling while Zhiran batters him with a whip-like punch that would knockout most lesser opponents. Zhiran continues to press his attack, taunting Qinghu with a few more of his style’s signature long-range punches, but Qinghu weaves around them and keeps just out of reach. However, he blatantly sneers at Zhiran, so he is undeniably getting under his skin.
Zhiran switches his style slightly and tests a mighty straight punch, but Qinghu neatly sidesteps it. While he dodges, Qinghu latches onto Zhiran’s wrist like a snake striking its prey. There is zero hesitation as he pulls Zhiran towards him and shows the initial motions of a shoulder throw. Unfortunately for Qinghu, it is bait!
The swarthy boxer surges forward and hammers Qinghu’s jaw with his free elbow, whipping the other boy’s head around with explosive force. The sudden blow dazes Qinghu and he can’t help but stumble back a step or two while he reorients himself. His battered senses delay him too much, and Zhiran hits Qinghu with a tooth-busting right hook. Qinghu reels again, and Zhiran shows no signs of relenting.
While Qinghu stumbles back, Han Zhiran drives his fist square into Qinghu’s gut, driving the air out of him and even lifting him onto his toes for a moment. The devastating combo concludes with a truly powerful kick, sending Qinhu flying backwards and onto the ground where he lay, coughing for air, much like Shuyi in the previous match.
“Is… is it over already?” Jingyi asks.
“Not yet.”
‘He’s down, but unlike Shuyi, he seems able to get back up. That punch wasn’t quite the same as before.’
Qinghu struggles to his feet, confirming my suspicions, and Zhiran waits, patiently, and politely. However, the delay in the action isn’t just sportsmanlike behavior, but a necessity; Han Zhiran is investigating his wrist, but if there was anything to find, it eludes him because he shakes it off and returns to his fighting stance.
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Han Zhiran asks a question, and two fighters exchange a few brief words before continuing. Both close at full speed and Zhiran throws out another right hook as a blatant feint in order to draw Qinghu in, and it seems to work. His opponent ducks beneath his arm and Zhiran launches his follow-up with his other fist, but swings suspiciously wide. Zhiran’s confusion swiftly shifts into a grimace as Qinghi applies two finger strikes to his abdomen.
Finger strikes are an advanced technique that I never practice. They are dangerous to use, and without mastery, do little damage to the target. From my limited knowledge, they are commonly used in conjunction with unique techniques or Inner Force. Neither strike looks particularly powerful, but the damage that Zhiran sustains is anything but minor.
Zhiran hastily steps back while kicking at his opponent with a wide, sweeping motion, but Qinghu blocks using both forearms. Fortunately, he forces Qinghu back and Zhiran receives the respite he desperately needs.
Qinghu makes another comment, probably taunting Zhiran considering his snarky expression. Whether it works or not, Zhiran strides forward, intending to engage Qinghu again, but struggles while raising his arm. Something is very wrong with his sluggish movements, and he is aware of it. The confusion and disruption gives Qinghu the opening he needs and he capitalizes on it by driving his fingers into the side of Han Zhiran’s neck.
I can’t tell what the significance of the attack is, but as soon as Qinghu makes contact, Han Zhiran tenses up as if every muscle in his body pulled taut. It lasts for no more than the blink of an eye, but that is long enough for Qinghu to deliver a crushing kick to the side of Han Zhiran’s head. The crowd roars, and the mighty Han Zhiran falls. Despite his early momentum, he is soundly defeated in the end.
‘W-what just happened?’
I feel a sudden shift in the venue’s atmosphere, but it isn’t the shock of Zhiran’s sudden and upsetting defeat. I didn’t expect it, and watching the fight between the two had me believing, from the onset, that Han Zhiran was destined to be the victor, but seeing him fall caught me off guard. I truly believe that others felt the same, but the sensation creeping up from beneath is a mix of anxiety, fear, and dread — not confusion.
‘It doesn’t feel right. Why do I feel like… I’m in danger?’
I notice a subtle tremble in my fingers, so I curl them into fists and clutch at my skirts. Fear, and even worse, dread, are foreign to someone like me who has lived cooped up their entire life. I’ve never had a reason to be afraid, and anytime I was, it stemmed from natural fears, such as the dark. With that in mind, I began to brush off the worry as something frivolous. However, I notice the guard to my left move his hand to the hilt of his saber and clutch it tightly.
‘It's not just me!’
The crowd simmers to a subtle whisper and soon falls completely silent. Under normal circumstances, calming such a mass of people is a serious task that could easily take a handful of minutes. Even then, there’d be whispers aplenty. However, over the course of two breaths, the entire place fell into an eerie silence.
A shiver runs up my spine and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as a truly immense man drops down from the stone viewing area across from me. My finger nails dig into my palms, causing intense discomfort even through the silks, and I realize that this man is the cause of my concern.
The man rises to his full height and locks eyes on his target — Qinghu. The victor stands over his fallen foe, reveling in his victory, but even he begins to realize something is amiss. As Qinghu starts to turn, the strange man, exuding a powerful sense of doom, lifts his foot to take a step and then vanishes. No, not quite vanishes, he just moves too fast for me to see. The only reason I know he didn’t cross the distance with one step is the dust scattering from the path he took to get to Zhang Qinghu.
The young man whirls around to face the monster, but it is too late. A hand larger than any I’ve seen before closes around Qinghu’s skull and hoists him up with the same ease I’d pick up a straw doll.
Overcome by panic, Qinhu attacks in a frenzy. He cannot see, but he knows where his attacker’s arm is, and lashes out accordingly. It proves futile. His fingers connect with the monster’s arm and snap and shatter into disgusting angles. Blood spurts from open wounds as broken bones tear through Qinghu’s flesh, but it is not half as unsettling as his shrieks of terror.
‘Being that close to that monster has to be horrifying. I’m so far away, yet even so, I can’t help but despair.’
“The rules were clear,” the man roars so loudly that I wince and reflexively shy away. “This is a tournament of skill and courage.”
He raises Qinghu higher and sneers. “To use a hidden weapon laced with poison is a cowardly act. To cheat is to dishonor yourself! And if you have no honor… you are better off dead…”
‘W-wait, what!? He’s going to kill him!?’
Right then Jingyi bolts to her feet and grabs the railing with both hands. “No! Put him down!”
The monster of a man looks like he took a spear through the back as Jingyi shouts at him, but he drops Qinghu into a heap at his feet without hesitation. He then immediately locks eyes on Jingyi. It is no longer me who feels fear, but judging by his expression, this old monster does. I take a deep breath and release my clenched fists, feeling thankful that I didn’t start bleeding all over my skirt. At the same time, the man uses his incredible speed to dash over to Jingyi.
“Jing’er! You didn’t tell me you’d be here…”
He practically coos.
‘This guy… Why is he talking like that?’
“No! Do not try and sweet talk your way out of this!” Jingyi stomps her foot for emphasis. “You can’t just go around killing people. We have talked about this, and you promised!”
The immense man immediately deflates, shrinking away from Jingyi’s ire. He raises his hands and bows his head to ask for forgiveness. “I know! I am so sorry, my sweet Jing’er, but… your papa got caught up in the moment… I wasn’t actually going to kill him…”
Jingyi tips her head and widens her eyes to scowl at him like a mother silently commanding a toddler to stop eating something he isn’t supposed to when she is too far away to intervene personally. “Don’t lie to me. You know what you were going to do.”
“But—”
“No!” Jingyi interrupts him and points to the other side of the arena where he came from. “Go back into your box and stay there. You had better hope I don’t tell mother about this or you will be in big trouble.”
Jingyi’s father looks like he wants to protest and beg for forgiveness but thinks better of it. Instead, he makes some cute lovey-kissy pantomimes in stark contrast with his appearance, and then retreats without further fuss.
Jingyi pinches at the bridge of her nose and sits down with a huff.
“What was that?” I ask, astonished, and frankly, baffled.
“Just my dad… the man who traded his brains for more muscle. He is going to be in so much trouble when he gets home tonight.”
I just smile.
‘Apparently, I am not the only one with weird parents.’ I look at Jingyi with no shortage of curiosity. ‘And I had no idea you could be so feisty.’
While Jingyi’s father got a dressing down from his surprisingly strict daughter, the arena’s staff attended to the two fighters. Han Zhiran is taken away for medical attention without delay, and Zhang Qinghu, who has had the life scared out of him, follows shortly after. As soon as the scene is cleared and cleaned up, the announcer returns.
“Ahem! Well, we do apologize for that, but thanks to Master Xiang we were able to confirm that Zhang Qinghu did, indeed, use hidden weapons and a paralyzing poison. While Han Zhiran will claim victory by default, we are uncertain about his recovery time, so we will work on a solution in the meantime. That being said, let’s continue to the next match!”