The Sun was shining high, slowly inching closer to its apex in a pure blue sky. There was a light breeze, refreshing the hot air of the fifth month. A lonely bird was making its song heard.

  The arena was silent, the people still.

  Chang Heng breathed in.

  Elder Rong was calmly walking to her seat, and no one dared break the silence, attract her attention, the weight of her aura on full display.

  He felt… good. His belly was sated, the meats and fruits filled with Qi left him reinvigorated. Despite the troubles of the night, the time spent with his ancestor had calmed his mind. He knew he was loved and that his parents would be safe.

  The energies inside him flowed freely, slow but unimpeded, and those around felt slightly easier to grasp than usual.

  He breathed out.

  In the lowest ring of seats were, with him, the other seven contestants. Personally, he knew only one, Xin, but had heard the names of the families of some of the others. Three of Cultivators, of which one was affiliated to the Black Fist Sect, and another to the Sturdy Palace, the third was autonomous. Another name was of blacksmiths, and one of merchants. One he had never heard of.

  Xin had no family to speak of.

  Breathe in.

  She would be his first fight of the day. Two more would happen before theirs, so he had some time left. Looking at her, she wore the same robes as the day before: colourful, gaudy, but poor in quality and with small, hastily sewn patches left from her tumblings.

  The City Lord began his speech, welcoming all of them to another chance to prove themselves, and thanked the spectators for their support of the boys and girls.

  Breathe out.

  The rest of the speech, he ignored.

  All his focus was on the feeling from the day before, the one that let him use an incomplete, broken Technique. It was more distant, but also closer, the memory of his parents’ intrusion helping him.

  The chanting and shouting of the audience began. It was much louder than the day before, and all the seats were occupied, to the point that many stood by the railings or sat on the stairs

  The first fight began. It was short, but fierce, won by a young woman blessed in both beauty and martial skill. At least, he thought. He couldn’t claim to be a good judge of either. But she did seem quite a good fighter, and her being from the lone Cultivator clan meant she had probably been trained for a long time. Her poor opponent stood no chance.

  He tossed a look at Xin, anxiety growing as their fight was coming closer. He didn’t want to do it, but he’d have to show her no mercy. She had seemed quite the nice person the day before, and was somehow attracted to him, but another win or two would guarantee him treasures that could help treat his illness.

  She was smiling, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

  The second fight came, and it lasted a bit longer, the blacksmith kid winning against the Sturdy Palace one. Their bout had been more similar to a challenge of strength than anything, and they were likely the most physically gifted young men out of the almost forty contestants that year.

  Finally, his name was shouted by the referee and announcer.

  “On one side of the arena, we have… CHANG HENG! Let him hear your support!” As always, the man took a second for the clapping to start and fade. “Lots of expectations were put on him, and despite his unorthodox fighting style, he has more than met them! Having taken a hit from a Cultivator two years his senior right after a more-than-an-hour-long fight with the young prodigy of the Black Fist Sect, he is clearly the defence specialist of this year’s tournament! Will his bones hold against his opponent, or will they finally snap?”

  The last comment was ominous, but he still walked to his place, trying to slow his heart. He bowed to the referee, this time slightly less awkward, and received a respectful nod back.

  “On the opposite side, behold the future jade beauty of our city, a flower that will soon blossom into a true fairy! Don’t shout her name, sing it! Entering the arena, we have… XIN!” This time, it took a while longer for the audience to calm down. The growing pressure of a bored Elder Rong surely helped speed the process. “Her looks may seem the main allure, but we’ve seen what she’s capable of! She won match after match in the preliminaries with ease, and her fiery nature was more than enough to break through the rest of the opponents! We’ll soon witness if this unstoppable spear can destroy the unbreakable shield, so let’s get into it!”

  As the man talked, Xin calmly walked to her starting point. She smiled and waved at the roaring audience, and even Chang Heng couldn’t help but be captivated by her.

  “Begin!”

  Still calm, she walked up to him. Against her previous opponents, she had been feral in her attack, just like his opponents had been. This slow approach, absent of any guard or stance, eyes cold, was new to him. Still, he raised his fists in front of himself.

  Her first attack wasn’t particularly fast or aggressive. It was just… a slap. On his shoulder. As always happened, barely faster than what he could respond to, but weaker than anything he had received until that point, and yet, it hurt a lot more than a lot of those.

  What is going on? She didn’t fight like this the other time.

  He stepped back, and with a cold expression, she followed. Another slap, on his side, then a third, then a finger thrust. None of the hits’ impact was worthy of attention, and yet the pain came, again and again. Her attack was slow and methodical, but her skill was lacking, and yet, he couldn’t fully parry any of the attacks.

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  Arm, shoulder, leg, hip, side, chest, once or twice even his back was her target, never the same, but she felt… predictable. Seeing her arm move, he knew where it would go. It was telegraphed, easy to see, at least compared to his previous opponents. And yet he could never fully defend himself, and the pain came.

  She never overextended herself, or put much energy into her attacks, or even just took risks to land better hits. She was biding her time for something, that was obvious.

  Is this what it feels like to go against me? Heavens, I hate it!

  The minutes passed, the pain spread more and more, and he still couldn’t defend himself properly.

  What am I missing? I’ve seen her attacks more than enough to somewhat improve, but I don’t! Another thrust in his leg. He could feel it bleeding, some air slipping through his trousers on the wounded flesh. Why? Why?! Why do her hands almost disappear between one move and another?!

  When his mind went for that question, the answer was pathetically simple. He just needed a second to test his theory, nothing more, so he gave himself that. A feint for a desperate tackle, the moment her eyes switched from thinking coldness to surprise enough to just shove her away, having witnessed her grappling, even if he gained bleeding gashes on his sleeves and arms. But he had understood, in the brief moment she was not attacking.

  It’s true! The pointlessly gaudy clothes, she’s using them to hide her hands!

  That explained how she kept slipping through his defence, as he couldn’t gauge her movements as well as he thought. The next question was how she was hurting him more than the power she used should have, but the answer came sooner this time.

  Knowing how she hid her attacks, his priority switched to getting a hold of her sleeves and ripping them off. The opportunities were many, and he soon managed to, fully revealing her hands and forearms.

  Nails! She’s using nails! Against me!

  “You- Xin- You’re- You’ve been scratching me this whole time?! Wha-” Chang Heng couldn’t find the expletives to convey how absurd the situation was, but she was doing a good job at hurting his pride more than needed.

  Heavens forsaken nails! Nails!

  “I’m sorry… Heng. I want to win. You’re a tough nut to crack, so pride be damned, I will fight however I need to if it means I can win one more time. Sorry for your ego, but it comes second right now.”

  There was something else other than coldness in her eyes in that moment; desperation, anger, envy, even fear. But there was no hint she’d back down.

  The fight resumed.

  She wasn’t hiding her strategy anymore, and her sharp nails, enhanced by some Technique, freely tore through his clothes, skin and muscles alike. The cuts were shallow, his Vitality constantly working on patching them up, and both knew he would soon be starting to learn her movements.

  So, she danced around him, her feet barely moving the dust on the ground as she formed spirals around him, leaving trails of red.

  Why was she acting so cute yesterday? Was it all a ruse? A way to toy with me, or gather information, or what? Does it even matter, now?! I am bleeding out, why should I care about her fake feelings anyway?! She played with me, so be it! We are opponents, are we not?! I’M SUPPOSED TO HIT BACK, RIGHT?! THEN I’LL HIT GOOD!

  It hurts! He thought, and yet used his body as bait.

  Learn some habit, grab her, and knock her teeth off! Easy! Just like he had learned in practice, so in a true fight!

  Nails! Am I a joke to her?! I’ll prove her wrong!

  Then the right moments came: her nails, lodged deep in his thigh. Whilst the scratches could be done in a fluid move, she had to stop and pull back, giving him a chance to hold her wrist firmly. His punch came, and her lips bled. She kicked back, and he almost lost his grip on her. Almost.

  He punched the same arm he was holding, leaving the red mark of an incoming bruise, and her whole body folded around him, junctures bending more than they should to get him in some kind of choke. He had seen one of her fights and didn’t waste time letting go of her wrist and creating some distance, as she fell on the ground and quickly rolled away.

  She rose to her feet in an instant. Her gaudy clothes were torn, the pinks and reds stained with the brown dirt and sand of the arena, deeper shades of red on her chin.

  She spat red on the side and cleaned her mouth with a piece of fabric that, by that point, was just a rag. The blood had already stopped coming out of her lip. There was no red on her arm.

  “Don’t worry, Heng. I’m good at taking hits.” Her eyes were angry, but her tone was just… dead.

  Their bout began once again.

  She can heal fast.

  More exchanges followed; with a well-timed [Three Layers Defence], her nails shattered on impact. They grew back moments later, this time in beautiful green colours, instead of the pink and red that so defined her.

  Those nails… a different Technique.

  Chang Heng lost more blood, his shirt torn to shreds.

  She danced with him, making him move as she wanted, but it was not a martial art. Just plain, simple mortal dancing, repurposed. With impossible twists, she got a good hold on him this time and scratched as much as she could before she was thrown away.

  A third Technique. The first is probably her Cultivation one. She’s supposed to be poor, how many can she have?

  More cuts, more blood lost.

  She went behind him, so his hand tried to reach, only to find itself bound by a piece of fabric from the same shirt he had lost just a bit earlier. He pushed with Qi, and for an instant, the knot held.

  How long had this been going on? Minutes? How many? An hour? More? I can’t tell. I’m getting hazy.

  At some point, both of them had almost stopped moving. Their dance was a slow one. Romantic, his weakening head said.

  Who is she, truly?

  His mind wandered.

  Looking at her, she was beautiful. Her eyes were a vibrant blue, deep. Her lipstick was stained, but her mouth remained perfect, mature more than she was. Her arms were slender, the skin soft. The sweat and dirt only added to her charm, making her closer to a human than a fairy. She was one year younger than him, but unlike him, was clearly going to become a true stunner.

  He was suddenly looking from below.

  From that angulation, he could finally look at her body without shame for what her torn clothes showed. He didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to, but he liked it that way. She was not supposed to be visible to just anyone who tried to look.

  But she was. Many people had been shameless in her presence. He knew, because he understood who she was. Not that she had ever hidden it, anyway.

  The referee called his loss with a panicking voice that he didn’t hear.

  She’s a prostitute.

  Chang Heng passed out.

  Poor Xin.