The sun had dipped lower, casting warm, amber light over Platform Two as Duō Líng strode to his place. The crowd, already buzzing with excitement, grew even louder at the sight of the towering young warrior. At 17, Líng's immense build, honed through years of concentrated training, made him appear as if he were a seasoned man in his early 30s. His chiseled physique and towering 6'8" frame gave him a daunting presence, every muscle like tempered steel—strengthened through painstaking body conditioning and bolstered with potent qi and rare pills.
Duō Xuān, his opponent, stepped forward, drawing gasps and delighted murmurs from the audience. Dressed in flowing black robes that accentuated his lean, athletic form, Xuān possessed a look that captivated all. His skin was fair, and his angular face was graced with striking, sapphire-blue eyes that caught the light with an almost piercing glint. His hair, a cascade of raven-black, fell just above his shoulders. While he stood several inches shorter than Líng, his balanced build and steady poise suggested a level of refinement that was rare even among the Duō Clan descendants.
A murmur rippled through the crowd as girls clutched at each other, giggling with unabashed admiration for Xuān.
"Duō Xuān! He's so... graceful!" one whispered, her cheeks flushed.
"He'll win for sure! Did you see the way he handled his last match? Like poetry in motion!" swooned another.
"Duō Líng may be strong," one called out confidently, "but Xuān's elegance can cut right through that brute force!"
"Xuān!" a voice rang out from the back. "I'll marry you if you win!"
A subtle smirk played on Xuān's lips as he heard the girls' fervent declarations, though his gaze remained locked on Líng, whose stoic expression had not shifted in the slightest.
Elder Lǐ raised his hand, and the grounds fell silent, anticipation thickening the air.
"The next match on Platform Two—Duō Líng versus Duō Xuān. Begin!"
CLANG!
Líng wasted no time, charging forward with the power of a raging bull. His right fist swung like a boulder hurtling down a mountainside, aimed straight for Xuān's chest. But in one smooth movement, Xuān sidestepped, his figure slipping through the air like a wisp of shadow. His sword gleamed, moving with him as he pivoted to strike.
SWISH!
The sword arced towards Líng's side, but the impact was far from what Xuān had expected. His blade barely scraped through Líng's robe, grazing his skin without even drawing blood.
Líng's lips curled into a faint, almost amused grin.
"My training wasn't for show."
Xuān's brow furrowed.
"Let's see how that endurance holds."
With that, he leapt back, his sword spinning into a defensive stance, its edge shimmering with a subtle blue aura. His eyes narrowed, every muscle coiled, waiting for Líng's next move.
The ground shook as Líng charged again, this time even faster. Xuān's blade swung forward with a speed that left faint afterimages in the air, but each time, his strikes met the impenetrable surface of Líng's skin, as if hacking away at stone.
Blow after blow, Xuān's strikes grew faster, dancing around Líng, who retaliated with hammering fists and thunderous kicks that split the air around them.
CLANG! SWISH! THUD!
The crowd gasped as each attack thundered through the battleground. Xuān's sword strikes, though precise and relentless, seemed to have little effect against Líng's nearly impervious defenses. Every time Xuān landed a blow, Líng absorbed it with little more than a grunt, countering with devastating strikes that Xuān barely avoided.
A flicker of worry crossed Xuān's face as he sensed his energy waning. In a brief pause, he breathed heavily, his brow damp with sweat. But the murmurs and cheers of the crowd urged him on, and he found renewed strength in their voices.
Xuān's eyes darted toward Líng's legs. He tightened his grip on his sword, a new plan forming. Moving quickly, he lunged forward, feinting a strike to Líng's upper body but, at the last second, diving low, sweeping his blade across the back of Líng's knee.
SLASH!
Líng staggered, caught off guard as pain lanced through his leg. Xuān wasted no time, shifting his grip and, in one fluid motion, thrusting his sword toward Líng's chest.
WHOOSH
Líng managed to twist his body, and Xuān's blade missed its mark by a hair's breadth. The near miss seemed to ignite something within Líng, who turned back to Xuān, his expression hardening with fury.
"Enough dancing around, Xuān!" Líng's deep voice boomed, and he moved with renewed ferocity. His fists pummeled toward Xuān in a relentless barrage, forcing Xuān to step back repeatedly, barely blocking each blow.
THUD! SMASH! CRACK!
With every step backward, Xuān realized how close he was to the edge of the platform. But just as his foot touched the edge, he sprang up, twisting mid-air, his sword glinting as it sliced toward Líng's exposed side.
SLASH!
The blade connected, a thin line of blood finally appearing on Líng's arm. The crowd roared, caught up in the tension.
Líng gritted his teeth, glaring at Xuān with newfound respect and barely restrained anger.
"You think that'll change anything?"
Xuān's gaze remained calm, though he was visibly drained.
"Perhaps not, but every advantage counts."
Seizing on Líng's mounting frustration, Xuān began moving again, his steps light and his blade quicker than before. He danced around Líng's strikes, each movement calculated to exploit the smallest openings, wearing down the towering warrior bit by bit.
At last, Xuān spotted his chance. With one final, graceful motion, he lunged forward, his sword aimed directly for Líng's chest.
The blade met its mark.
CLANG!
Líng's defenses finally gave way, and the blow landed cleanly, forcing him to his knees. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. Among them, a group of Xuān's admirers waved handkerchiefs, some even calling out love confessions.
"I love you, Xuān!"
"Marry me!"
Duō Líng rose slowly, his breathing labored, his face a mask of simmering anger.
"You got lucky."
Xuān's expression softened, though he remained cautious.
"Luck... and a bit of skill, perhaps."
For a moment, the two stared each other down, the tension thick between them. Then, slowly, Líng exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he gave a reluctant nod.
"You fought well. You won this one."
Xuān extended a hand, and after a pause, Líng accepted it, gripping firmly. Though the hint of anger still lingered in Líng's eyes, there was an unspoken respect between them.
The crowd watched as the two warriors stood side by side, each silently acknowledging the other's strength. For a brief moment, all of the cheers, the rivalry, the triumph, and the defeat were held in balance between them—a testament to the honor and resilience that defined the Duō Clan.