Vo Tinh Hai stroked his beard, the gourd of wine dangling loosely from his other hand. His loud laugh echoed through the stone chamber.
"Good! You three seem to have enough spirit. Then, let's make this interesting. All of you—fight together!"
Khanh and Le Vy exchanged a quick glance, then turned toward Minh Triet, who stood at the far end of the training ground. At first, they thought it would be simple—two against one. Yet the stillness in Minh Triet's eyes gave no hint of weakness, only a faint crease in his brow whenever it landed on Khanh.
"Start!" Vo Tinh Hai bellowed, before raising the wine gourd to his lips with a grin, already drinking as if this were nothing more than a street performance.
Khanh charged first, gripping his wooden sword. Le Vy followed close behind with a bamboo staff, their movements coordinated, pressing in from both sides. But Minh Triet moved like a phantom—each step light, each turn precise. His dodges seemed almost careless, yet every strike from Khanh's sword and every swing from Vy's staff missed by mere inches.
Khanh gritted his teeth. Why does he always look at me like that? Like I'm nothing. The thought burned in him, his swings growing heavier. But the more he forced, the more off balance he became.
Then, in a flash, Minh Triet's arm hooked Khanh's wrist, twisted, and Khanh's sword went flying. A sharp kick swept his legs, sending him crashing to the ground. At the same instant, Vy's staff thrust forward, but Minh Triet tilted his body with effortless grace, grabbing the staff and spinning it to knock her aside. Both of them were sprawled in the dirt before they even realized what happened.
Vo Tinh Hai's laughter boomed again. "Hahaha! Two of you, down already? Where's that fire I saw earlier? Don't embarrass me with just one round!"
Khanh wiped the sweat from his brow, pulling himself to his feet despite the sting in his body. "Again." His voice was hoarse but resolute.
Vy stumbled up beside him, eyes narrowing. "Don't think you'll get away with that so easily."
They rushed in once more. Minh Triet's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes sharpened. This time, Khanh and Vy moved with more caution, but still, Minh Triet dismantled their rhythm. A palm strike here, a sweeping leg there—his movements carried a pressure that forced them into defense, and again they were thrown down.
Panting, Khanh clenched his fists. I can't keep losing like this. He focused inward, calling upon the heavy, earthen force within him. A dim brown aura flickered, his THO energy.
Vy noticed and quickly slipped the newly forged black wooden glasses over her face. The lenses shimmered faintly, allowing her to glimpse what lay hidden—the streams of power swirling around Khanh. She gasped softly. The aura was deep, heavy, like stone pressing against the air itself.
Khanh lifted his wooden sword with both hands, his muscles straining. The weight of his weapon, combined with the pull of his THO, gathered into a single strike. His voice rang out through the chamber:
"If you can dodge this, then try!"
In a heartbeat, Khanh vanished, the ground cracking beneath where he once stood. With THO's shift, he reappeared right before Minh Triet, his sword descending like a boulder crashing from a mountain.
Minh Triet's eyes widened faintly—then he slipped aside, his motion as smooth as flowing water. The blade smashed into the ground, splinters of stone flying.
But it was a feint. Khanh had never expected to land the strike. He was the bait.
From the side, Vy lunged, her bamboo staff driving forward like a spear. The tip grazed Minh Triet's robe, nearly striking true. Yet in the blink of an eye, the world flipped. Both Khanh and Vy found themselves slammed onto the ground, breathless, the staff clattering away.
Minh Triet stood above them, calm, barely winded. His eyes lingered on Khanh, just for an instant, the faint crease returning to his brow.
Khanh coughed, rolling onto his side. Despite the ache and the dirt, his grip on the sword tightened. Vy groaned, shaking her head. Neither of them wanted to admit defeat.
And from the sidelines, Vo Tinh Hai cheered with laughter, wine dripping from his beard. "Now that's more like it! Struggle, fall, rise again—that's the way of discipline. Hahaha! Keep at it, brats, or you'll never catch up to him!"
The clash of training echoed once more in the hall, the lesson of discipline sinking deeper with every strike and fall.