A hush fell over the crowd as Duō Yī stepped onto Platform Three. His pale, almost ethereal complexion seemed to glow under the sunlight, his lean frame shrouded in white and blue robes that moved with the breeze. His snow-white hair was a stark contrast to the more conventional colors of his clan. Born with a weak physique and a fractured soul, Duō Yī's body had always been fragile, a shell that belied the fierce spirit within. Those piercing blue eyes, clear as the summer sky, scanned the platform with a calm intensity that unsettled even the seasoned elders watching from above.
Across from him, Duō Méi stood, her stance full of poise and confidence. Her raven-black hair flowed down her back like a dark waterfall, framing her beautiful yet sharp features. She exuded a quiet fierceness, and her piercing blue eyes, so similar to Yī's yet so different in temperament, sparkled with anticipation. Her crimson robe hugged her figure, enhancing her natural elegance but betraying the deadly intent beneath.
Whispers filled the crowd.
"Duō Méi has this in the bag," one young man murmured, admiration clear in his voice.
"Did Duō Yī just get lucky against Zhì?" another doubted, glancing nervously at Yī's slender frame.
Still, a few held their breath, captivated by the eerie elegance that Duō Yī projected. There was something unsettling, something hidden within him that drew attention, albeit reluctantly, from even the most skeptical onlookers.
Elder Lǐ raised his hand, signaling the start. "Let the battle… begin!"
Duō Méi's form was a blur as she lunged forward, her crystal-tipped rapier slicing through the air with deadly precision. SWISH! SWISH! She moved faster than the eye could follow, her speed blinding. But Duō Yī, wielding his pristine white staff, met her advance with calculated ease. Each strike from Méi's rapier was redirected by a subtle twist of his wrist, his staff flowing through intricate motions like an extension of his arm.
CLANG! CLANG!
The ringing of steel against wood echoed across the grounds. Méi's expression shifted to one of frustration as her blade failed to find a single opening. Yī's movements were not only efficient but impossibly smooth, reminiscent of a deadly dance. He wove around her strikes, deflecting them at angles that left her overextended, forcing her to retreat before she could regain control.
Duō Yī's experience in Eskrima shone through each movement. His body shifted effortlessly, conserving energy while turning Méi's speed into a liability. A flicker of understanding crossed Méi's face as she reset her stance, her rapier gleaming.
"Your defense is impeccable," she conceded, her tone cool but respectful. "But I wonder if you can keep up."
Without warning, she unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one faster than the last. SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! Her rapier cut through the air in dazzling arcs, a web of glistening steel. Yī's staff twirled in response, meeting her rapier at every angle. But this time, the force of her blows pressed him backward.
A murmur rippled through the audience. "Look at her go! Yī might be in over his head this time."
"He can't keep up with her speed!" someone else added.
Duō Yī's eyes narrowed, recognizing the subtle shift in Méi's tactics. She was trying to overwhelm him with sheer speed, to force a mistake. But he wasn't one to yield easily. Drawing from his years of experience as an assassin in his past life, he adjusted his grip, switching from Eskrima to an even deadlier technique: Bōjutsu. His staff spun faster, becoming a blur as he used both ends in rapid, circular strikes that neutralized Méi's speed advantage.
THUNK! THUNK!
The staff's movements became more aggressive, creating a relentless rhythm that forced Méi onto the defensive. Her rapier struggled to keep up, each impact reverberating up her arm, breaking her momentum. Yī pressed the attack, his staff sweeping low, then high, then striking from unexpected angles. WHOOOSH! WHOOOSH! Méi barely managed to parry each blow, her face lined with frustration.
"Where did he learn to fight like that?" an elder whispered, astonished.
Another elder nodded thoughtfully. "He's changed. This isn't the same Duō Yī we remember."
Yet, despite the strain, Méi held her ground. With a fierce cry, she leapt into the air, her rapier tracing an arc of glimmering Qi. SWISH! She came down in a deadly plunge aimed straight at Yī's heart.
Yī sidestepped, his staff spinning to deflect the blow with a calculated strike. TING! Sparks flew as their weapons clashed. But before he could retaliate, Méi's foot lashed out in a Qi-infused kick, catching him by surprise.
CRACK!
The impact forced Yī back a step, his grip tightening on his staff as he regained his footing. The crowd gasped, some cheering Méi's prowess, others watching Yī with cautious hope.
"Is that all you've got, Duō Yī?" Méi taunted, a faint smile on her lips as she steadied herself, her breathing only slightly strained. "Or did you get lucky with Zhì?"
Duō Yī's eyes flickered, but he remained calm. "I don't need luck, Duō Méi," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with an unshakable confidence.
Their weapons clashed again in a series of blinding exchanges. Méi's rapier was a blur, her speed seemingly unbound, while Yī's staff danced in precise, almost mathematical counters. His strikes shifted from defense to offense seamlessly, catching Méi off guard with each fluid movement.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The crowd leaned in, captivated by the rhythm of their duel, unable to predict who would come out on top.
But Méi wasn't done. Her rapier began to glow, shimmering with icy Qi as she activated her Crystal Frost technique. Each strike now carried a chilling energy, slowing Yī's movements as her aura grew colder.
WHOOOSH!
A chilling mist filled the air, and Yī's body began to feel the effects, his limbs growing heavy. Méi's strikes were sharper now, her confidence returning.
"He's slowing down!" someone in the crowd called out, their voice filled with excitement.
"Maybe he really was just lucky!"
But Duō Yī wasn't about to surrender. Summoning every ounce of his assassin training, he adjusted his breathing, focusing on conserving his energy. He watched for Méi's slightest hesitation, waiting for a break in her technique. Then, as she struck again, he dodged and countered with a devastatingly swift thrust of his staff, landing a solid blow to her ribs.
WHAM!
Méi gasped, stumbling back, the shock evident on her face. Her rapier wavered as she struggled to regain her balance, the cold mist dissipating around her.
"Just… luck, was it?" Yī asked softly, his voice edged with an intensity that sent chills through the crowd.
Méi gritted her teeth, her eyes blazing with determination. She launched herself forward in a last, desperate attack, her rapier flashing in a final attempt to break through his defenses.
But Yī was ready. He sidestepped, catching her momentum, and pivoted his staff, striking her wrist in a calculated motion that disarmed her. Her rapier clattered to the ground, and with a fluid twist, he brought the tip of his staff to rest just inches from her throat.
A silence fell over the platform. Méi's face was a mixture of disbelief and respect as she met Yī's gaze. She nodded, acknowledging her defeat.
In the crowd, murmurs of astonishment rippled. "He actually won…again."
"Maybe it wasn't luck after all."
Elder Lǐ's voice cut through the whispers. "The winner of Platform Three… Duō Yī!"
Yī stepped back, lowering his staff, his breathing steady despite the taxing fight. As he left the platform, his gaze met his father's, a fleeting expression of pride crossing his father's face before it vanished. He walked away in silence, leaving behind a stunned crowd, his white hair gleaming under the sunlight.