In the bleachers, Christina was impressed as she watched the young woman go over the fallen form of her opponent, placing her hand below his chin, with the side of her palm facing his neck.
A more careful look showed that the last bit of distance she left between her hand and the neck was occupied by a thin layer of wind shaped like a blade. It might have failed to penetrate any defense the man could have put up, but with his brain too rattled to even think, he was at the mercy of what could cut through his skin and slit his carotid.
The instructor intervened to conclude the fight, and the young man was taken to the side, where he would rest after coming back to his senses.
As for the victorious young woman, she stood in place, her chest heaving and pulling inappropriate glances.
