Chapter 78 | Han Zhihao’s Second Step

Han Zhihao was still looking at him.

Xu Tianlong looked back.

Between them, workers crossed the east platform with stiff brooms and flat scrapers, clearing dust from the last bout. The late-afternoon sun had dropped far enough to throw the north rail’s shadow across part of the stone, but not far enough to cool it.

Behind him, Lin and Qing’er returned through the low gate without another word about the cut. Lin took her place behind the north-west rail beside Feng and Ruoxue. Qing’er’s eyes paused once on the blood mark at Xu’s upper arm, then lifted to his face.

Xu rolled the shoulder.

The cut still stung. Barely.

Warmth from Regeneration sat beneath the skin, slow and steady. It hadn’t erased the torn sleeve or the blood on it. That was fine.

His Qi Sea mattered more.

It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t fresh either.

A clerk waved from the east platform. "Finalists. Move."

Xu stepped toward the staging lane.

Lin’s gaze stayed on him until the rail passed out of his peripheral vision.

Across the stone, Han was already waiting.

The formation plate strapped to Han’s left forearm looked nothing like Duan’s. Matte dark steel hugged the arm from wrist to below the elbow, broken by 4 pale stone insets. No blade hung at Han’s waist. His right hand was empty.

That hand bothered Xu more than a sword would have.

The judge checked the plate, then the clerk’s mark.

"Declared. Unchanged."

Han gave a small nod.

Xu stopped at the west opening mark. His sword remained at his left hip.

Han’s eyes went to the torn sleeve, then back to Xu’s face.

"Duan made you work."

"He tried."

"Yeah."

That was all Han gave him.

Xu drew. Steel cleared the sheath and angled low from his right hand.

The judge lifted his arm.

GONG!

Han moved before the sound died.

Qi entered the plate.

The first pale inset darkened.

A broad line across the stone went dull from north-west to south-east. Dust flattened against it as if a heavy board had dropped over the platform.

Xu’s front foot stopped short.

Han came from the east with his right palm already chambered near his ribs.

Xu shifted south.

Han shifted north.

He wasn’t chasing. He was closing the side.

The south-east diagonal opened.

Xu took it.

The second inset clicked.

thum!

Pressure slammed down beneath Xu’s planted right foot.

His sandal didn’t stick. His leg did.

The sudden load bent his knee before he could pull the foot free.

’Second line.’

His hips were already turning out of the first trap.

Han’s palm arrived inside that turn.

Xu twisted his sword-side shoulder and torso.

thud!

The strike caught his right lower ribs instead of the center of his chest.

Pain punched the breath out of him.

Qi came with it.

Dense. Heavier. Above his own.

Xu let the force turn him rather than taking it square. His right foot tore free as the pressure line faded, and he slid south-west with his sword between them.

A deep ache spread under his ribs.

Then Regeneration answered.

Warmth gathered through the bruised muscle. The pain stayed, but the tightness around it began to loosen.

Han didn’t rush after him.

He reset on the eastern side, shoulders loose.

"You recover fast."

Xu drew a controlled breath. "You hit light."

Han’s mouth shifted by a hair.

Then he came again.

The palm led. The plate followed.

Xu met him with steel, but Han’s forearm never entered the sword line long enough to be cut. He checked the flat, slipped outside the edge, and drove his right palm toward Xu’s sternum.

Xu gave ground.

The plate inset darkened.

Stone dulled beneath his retreat.

Xu cut sideways before the pressure finished forming.

Han followed with short, economical steps that kept Xu from settling.

The difference from Duan was immediate. Even before the plate moved, Han’s shoulders and palm kept narrowing Xu’s options. The pressure line only closed what was left.

’Then stop answering the plate first.’

Xu changed the question.

Qi moved through him.

Lunar Veil Clone peeled away from his motion in a wash of pale moonlight.

The duplicate broke north, carrying his shape and qi signature with it.

Han’s eyes snapped toward it.

His right shoulder followed.

The turn bought him a brief opening.

Xu stayed south-west and cut his sword across his body.

Qi compressed along the blade.

Cold gathered at the edge.

Frost Moon Slash left the sword in a pale crescent.

Rime flashed across the air behind it.

Han’s palm punched through the clone first.

The duplicate burst apart under the pressure.

The frost crescent was already there.

Han stepped back.

Only 1 step.

The crescent crossed the space where his chest had been and shattered into frost against the far stone.

A hiss ran through the nearest spectators.

Han looked at the fading mist, then at Xu.

"That clone still breaks easy."

Xu lowered the sword point. "Still made you move."

Han exhaled through his nose, almost laughing.

Then his expression settled.

The next exchange started harder.

Xu felt his Qi Sea tighten when he reinforced the sword. The reserve answered, but slower than it had before the semifinal. Tireless Genesis Engine kept his breathing level and the ordinary burn out of his legs. Every reinforcement still pulled qi from the shrinking reserve.

Han gave him no time to settle. His pressure rose.

Palm met sword flat.

clang!

Xu’s wrist jolted.

Han’s left plate came across outside the blade and another pale inset darkened.

A second broad line pressed into the stone, this time running south-west to north-east.

Han shifted south.

North-east opened.

Xu saw it.

The easy answer.

The same kind of answer that had put a palm into his ribs.

He didn’t take it.

Xu planted.

The active line pressed downward through his leg.

Pain climbed from his ankle into his thigh. His breathing stayed even, but that didn’t make the pressure lighter.

Han’s eyes narrowed.

Xu stayed where he was.

’Come on.’

Han came.

His right palm drove toward Xu’s center.

At the same time, the plate pulsed.

The next inset darkened before their attacks met.

Xu saw the next line surface north-east, across the recovery diagonal he’d refused.

’There.’

The delayed line was already rising.

Xu didn’t move.

His sword stayed low in his right hand.

His left fist closed.

Qi reinforced bone and flesh.

Iron Bone Fist met Han’s palm head-on.

bang!

The impact hammered through Xu’s arm.

His fist drove back toward his shoulder. The old cut high on that arm pulled hard enough to burn, and his planted leg sank deeper under the formation’s pressure.

Han’s palm stopped too.

For 1 instant, neither attack crossed the other.

Then the force broke apart.

Xu’s left foot scraped back slightly.

Han’s sleeve snapped as he withdrew his palm.

The empty north-east pressure line was still fading.

Xu looked at it.

Then at Han’s plate.

The empty line told Xu enough.

’He picked it before I moved.’

Han’s stance had herded him toward it.

The silver chime rang inside Xu’s mind.

[Ding!]

[Massive Combat Amplification Detected]

[Amplification x7 Applied]

[Cultivation Progress Accelerated]

The panel vanished almost as soon as it appeared.

Xu moved.

This time there was no tiny correction between what he saw and what his body did. Qi reached his hips, sword arm, and planted foot in the same beat as his weight shifted.

Han’s eyes sharpened.

Xu entered before another pressure line could settle between them.

Steel kissed Han’s left plate and slid away.

Han’s right palm cut across Xu’s guard.

Xu turned with it.

The bruise under his ribs complained. He ignored it.

A palm skimmed past his jaw.

His sword answered low.

Han checked the wrist line with the plate.

clang!

Xu pulled back before the steel could be trapped against the forearm guard.

Han advanced.

They crossed into the western side in 3 fast exchanges, too close for another clean Frost Moon Slash.

So he stayed in front of Han. Sword and palm flashed between them while the plate crowded his wrist whenever the blade came too close. The crowd blurred into noise.

None of the insets lit during those exchanges. Han’s palm pressure came straight through Xu’s guard, each strike backed by qi and almost no wasted movement. Xu answered with sword angles, short body turns, and only enough reinforcement to keep the difference from becoming decisive.

His Qi Sea tightened again. This wasn’t the hollow pull of depletion. Every exchange drove the circulation harder through a structure already packed close to its limit.

Han stepped in from the east.

His left forearm caught outside Xu’s right wrist line and shoved the sword away from center.

Xu’s left foot was forward now, his right foot set slightly behind. He was just west of center.

No clean retreat.

Han’s right palm drove toward his sternum.

Xu gathered qi to answer.

The circulation surged and slammed to a halt. A hard boundary drove back through his Qi Sea.

Xu’s breath hitched.

Pressure swelled behind the barrier, sudden and violent, as if every exchange of the final had arrived at the same point inside him at once.

’Now?’

Han’s palm was still coming.