The air grew heavy.
The mist seemed pressed down by something unseen, slowly sinking toward the ground.
The Black Warrior tightened his bracers.
This time, his face turned grave. He acknowledged the boy before him. There was even a flicker of fear in his eyes.
In the next instant, as if to drive away that sudden fear, he threw back his head. A wild, beastlike roar burst from deep within his chest.
Wei felt his eardrums shudder.
His vision wavered.
His sense of balance cracked, just slightly.
In that moment, he understood.
This was the gap in skill.
The gap in experience.
And more than that, the gap in rank.
His chest seemed to collapse inward.
His breathing was cut off completely.
It was not pain.
It was emptiness.
He tried to inhale.
Nothing came in.
His lungs felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around them.
Waves of dizziness surged over him, impossible to suppress.
He was afraid he might black out at any second.
Dad, I still am not good enough, he complained inwardly.
From somewhere far away came a blurred, torn shout.
"Wei!"
He was not sure whether he had truly heard it.
But the cry made him bite down hard on his lip.
The sharp pain cleared his mind.
Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter.
He remembered something his father once said.
In a man's life, there must be at least one moment
when he draws his blade
knowing full well he cannot win.
Wei could not help muttering in his heart, The old man sure made it sound easy. If he saw me now, barely able to breathe, he would probably laugh himself to death.
But this must be what he meant.
'Then I will stand straight, no matter what.'
Facing the Black Warrior, Wei assumed the opening stance of a finishing strike.
Though his chest hurt so badly he could hardly breathe, his mouth did not rest.
"Bastard, get ready to witness my ultimate move. Mutual destruction. Once I use it, even if you do not die, you will lose a layer of skin."
He struck that peculiar stance.
Then he pushed off the ground.
His father's words drifted through his mind.
The first time your enemy truly respects you
is when you are at your sharpest.
He lowered his body and closed in, almost brushing the ground as he circled the Black Warrior.
He moved so fast he was running on instinct alone.
He was searching for the perfect moment to strike.
In that instant, the world became simple.
I am coming.
He knew clearly that once he stepped forward, there would be no turning back.
For the first time, the Black Warrior grew truly serious.
One knee touched the ground.
The other leg bent in a low half crouch.
The posture was low, yet as steady as iron driven into the earth.
His fists clenched.
His bracers tightened inward.
A textbook defensive stance.
The posture of a killer.
He was confident.
In his view, the boy before him, that face both youthful and resolute, had likely overlooked one thing.
On the arm he had slightly drawn back, there was still a silver bracer.
Hidden inside it was a sleeve arrow, ready to spring out at any moment.
All it would take was an instant.
A soft click.
A flash of silver.
The arrow would shoot out at a vicious angle, pierce through the boy's eye socket, and drive straight into his brain, turning that pale, warm matter into a soft mess.
At the thought, the Black Warrior unconsciously licked his cracked lips.
"Young man," he said in a low, composed voice,
"to force me to face you seriously, you have already won."
At least, he had earned a respectable death.
He was ready now,
to receive the boy's next move,
a strike made at the cost of his life.
Beyond the narrow log bridge,
the two girls barely dared to breathe.
Little Butterfly clutched Chun's sleeve so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Chun's eyes were locked on Wei.
She saw the boy lower his body,
moving so fast he was almost skimming the ground,
like an arrow drawn to its limit.
Sharp.
Brilliant.
The next instant—
At the farthest possible distance from the Black Warrior,
Wei suddenly twisted his body.
A clean turn.
A dip of the waist.
A sprint.
He ran.
Fast, as if someone had set his back on fire.
No hesitation.
No glance behind.
In Wei's world, only one word remained.
Run.
His target was clear.
The narrow hanging bridge.
"So long, sucker!"
The smug, utterly shameless shout rode the night wind,
delivered clearly into the Black Warrior's ears.
The Black Warrior froze.
Not for half a breath.
Not for one breath.
For three full breaths.
It was not that he could not react.
It was that he could not believe it.
Could not believe that in a duel he had finally chosen to take seriously,
someone would simply turn and run.
"Co wardly wretch!"
The roar thundered through the night,
shaking even the distant trees.
It was not the anger of being deceived.
It was the anger of being desecrated.
A duel that should have been faced with one's life
had been trampled into the mud
by a retreating back.
Wei did not stop.
He sprinted toward the bridge, his heart pounding so violently it felt ready to burst, yet at the corner of his mouth there trembled a smile, so tight it almost looked like he was about to cry.
A warrior's honor?
To hell with that.
If you are alive, there is always another round.
Beneath the bridge, mist was rising.
Not boiling.
But slowly, steadily,
as if something below were breathing.
Cold crept up along the planks,
clinging to ankles, to calves,
and higher still,
pressing against the eyes.
Wei's world began to blur.
He lifted a hand and slashed through the air.
The mist split apart, only to seal again at once.
His arm left behind a short, clumsy afterimage in the gray-white haze.
He made a sharp gesture.
Too fast.
Too urgent.
Chun narrowed her eyes.
She saw the motion, but could not understand it.
Her hunting blade lifted slightly, then stopped,
hanging in midair, unsure where to point.
Wei's gaze passed over them.
Past the mist.
And then it struck something.
It had not suddenly appeared.
The fog had merely released it, little by little.
No footsteps.
No movement.
Yet it was standing there.
As if it had always been there.
Wei's heart clenched violently.
Blood rushed to his head, then drained away in the next instant.
"No—"
The word caught in his throat.
A gust of mountain wind tore in from the side,
ripping open a corner of the mist.
Just that corner.
The thing behind the two girls
was revealed in full.
Black leather armor swallowed the moonlight.
Its outline was blurred, yet unnervingly solid.
Only the long topknot at the crown of its head
swayed gently in the wind,
like a living shadow.
Wei's mind went blank for a heartbeat.
Distance.
Speed.
Possibility.
He judged on instinct.
Maybe there was still time.
He spun and charged off the bridge,
cold air ripping into his lungs as if tearing them open.
"Chun!"
The shout had barely left his mouth
before the surging fog and swirling mountain wind crushed and shredded it.
It seemed to strike an invisible net,
struggle once,
and then
vanish.