Zhenya gripped his weapon tightly, exhaling slowly. Around him the crowd's cheering felt distant; he was in the zone. This match was his way of proving to the family that anyone with the resources of the main family could become strong.
Some part of him wanted to hate the main family, to let anger fuel his movements in the coming fight. But hate was a luxury branch family members couldn't afford. One wrong move, one display of disrespect, and they would be punished harshly and would also give the main family a reason to keep suppressing them. He needed to be better than that. Smarter.
The patriarch's eyes were on both of them now, assessing. Zhenya loosened his shoulders. Let Xinyi have his arrogance. Let him believe branch family members could never stand as equals. That assumption would be his downfall.
"Begin!" The patriarch's voice cut through the air like thunder.
Xinyi charged forward immediately, just as Zhenya expected. His opponent's blade traced a brilliant arc through the air aimed straight for Zhenya's right arm.
Zhenya sidestepped it gracefully, dodging Xinyi's strike. But Xinyi didn't give him any breathing room; in one smooth movement, he changed his sword's direction, aiming it directly at Zhenya's back.
However, Zhenya had already adjusted his stance, adopting a more cautious approach to gauge Xinyi's skill before committing to a counterattack.
Parrying Xinyi's strike easily, he used the impact to open some distance between himself and Xinyi.
Xinyi looked at Zhenya suspiciously; when the swords clashed just now, he felt like he hit a rock. 'How can he be so strong? Is he cultivating a special technique?' he reflected.
Not charging in blindly anymore, he also opted for a more cautious approach; he could absolutely not lose this match after all the preparation his grandfather had made.
As they were walking in a circle sizing each other up, Zhenya charged in, thrusting his sword straight at Xinyi's right arm.
Xinyi deflected the strike but felt his arm numb a little. The impact was so strong, "What the hell are you?" he asked exasperated.
"Who knows?" Zhenya replied nonchalantly, his full focus on the battle.
Xinyi gritted his teeth; he wasn't planning to use techniques, as that would be below him, but after exchanging some blows with Zhenya, he felt threatened.
His moves were sharp, his body was strong, and he was calm. He felt threatened. "You did good, Zhenya. Even forcing me to use the techniques I learned, you can be satisfied with your loss."
Zhenya gazed at Xinyi with a mix of suspicion and wariness, as if trying to discern whether his words were genuine or merely a ploy.
His instincts screamed a warning as Xinyi's stance shifted; Zhenya, in response, also shifted his stance to prepare for whatever Xinyi would do.
Then he charged straight at Zhenya, many times faster than his first strike. He executed an overhead slash, his blade moving in an arc. Zhenya couldn't dodge; he could only brace for impact.
Holding his sword above his head, he tensed every muscle in his body, bracing for the impact with unwavering focus. Xinyi had a mocking expression on his face.
Then the swords made contact, and the sound of metal clashing echoed through the training ground. The crowd holding its breath.
Zhenya felt his head spin, his arms numbing from the impact, biting on his tongue to not fall over. He jumped backwards, creating some distance to not give Xinyi a chance to follow up.
But when he took a closer look at Xinyi, he was relieved to see that he wasn't doing any better; he was sweating profusely and even almost dropped his sword.
Zhenya was glad he had focused on improving his body cultivation; otherwise, that strike would have definitely injured him.
While Zhenya was regaining his composure, Xinyi was in disbelief. 'How is that possible? That was a full powered strike of mine,' he thought, but then a sudden realization struck him, 'don't tell me he's a body cultivator?'
Looking at Zhenya suspiciously, Xinyi steadied his nerves, going over what his grandfather had taught him about body cultivators. They focus on training their body, so when fighting one, you should always attack fast and light to not give them a chance to use that strength.
While they were regaining their bearings, the patriarch and elders present also had the same assumptions as Xinyi. How else would a ten-year-old block a full-powered technique of a sixteen-year-old, even though his realm had been limited to the third layer of the body tempering realm? He can still use all his techniques, although they will be weaker.
'This little guy is getting more and more interesting,' mused the patriarch. 'Maybe he can even beat Xinyi; now I'm looking forward to how this battle will finish,' a grin appearing on the patriarch's face.
Xinyi shifted into another stance. "You have done well; now I will finish this with my next move," saying that, his earlier bravado vanished. He was now taking this match seriously and saw Zhenya as an actual opponent and not just another stepping stone.
Zhenya gazed at Xinyi's stance; this looked more like a movement technique than an offensive technique. theorized Zhenya, 'I'll try the illusory flow art; it's the only thing I can do against that,' he muttered.
Clearing his mind, he tried to not think of anything; he kept repeating a sentence in his mind. 'unpredictable like an illusion.' This was the core concept of the illusory flow art. And even though he hadn't fully grasped it, he felt like, under the immense pressure, he might finally break through and truly grasp its essence.