The black chalk of the circle seemed to vibrate, as if it held something alive.
Yun Lue took one step, then another. The floor was cold under her bare feet. Her breath formed a cloud in the freezing air of the underground. The boy with the bone dagger stared at her in silence.
But she was no longer looking at him.
She barely heard the sounds around her. The crowd whispered, jeered, placed bets. All of it… was background noise.
— I'm not like them.
I'm not a brute.
I'm not a toy.
She remembered the days in the streets of the lower city. What the adults said about her. What they did to children who dared speak too loud. Too proud.
— I'm here now. In this circle. Because I chose to be.
She thought of Hei Tian. Of his always-calm gaze. Of Mu Liang, always smiling, always ready to fight. They didn't see her as a weakness to be protected. Sometimes they followed her. Often, they listened.
— If I fall now… I fall back into that world I came from. The one where running was all I had.
She clenched her fists.
Yun Lue's footsteps echoed in the pit like those of a tightrope walker on a wire. Around her, the murmurs faded little by little, replaced by an older, denser tension. A deep, invisible pulse beat through the stone, through the ground, through her own breath.
The opponent stepped forward without a word. He was taller, twice as broad at the shoulders, bare-chested, his skin marked by old scars. In his hand, a dagger made of polished bone, glistening with moisture. He didn't look cruel. He didn't look human. Just… hollow. Empty.
The referee raised one hand.
A heartbeat.
He lowered it.
The opponent lunged.
Yun Lue dodged with a smooth step, barely a breath to the side. The blade hissed just centimeters from her cheek, slicing the air. She didn't strike — not yet. She waited. She read.
Second attack, lower this time, a sweeping kick — she jumped, light, rolled on the ground, and stood again without pause.
The circle wasn't large, but it was alive. She could feel it now. Every stone seemed to be watching. Every breath echoed like a warning.
He's stronger. But he's slow. Predictable.
A thought crossed her mind. This wasn't just a fight. It was a trial — and the circle itself, the torches, the silence… it all felt like a hidden will, a sleeping awareness.
The boy attacked again, fiercely. Yun Lue barely blocked it with her forearm. The blade tore her sleeve, traced a red line. She gritted her teeth — but her eyes lit up.
He aims at the same spot, again. Always the same angle. He's not thinking.
She slipped under his arm, struck the back of his knee with her palm.
The impact made him stagger. He growled, spun around — but she was already gone. Rolling behind him, rising silently to his back.
She didn't need to beat him.
She needed to endure.
One breath. Two. Three.
The dagger sliced the air again. This time, she ducked so low her hair brushed the black earth. She rose, fist extended. Her punch landed just below his collarbone.
A muffled cry. The opponent fell back, reeling.
A strange heat flowed through her arm. Her own blood? No… something else.
A rhythm.
An invisible pulse.
From the shadows, Hei Tian didn't blink.
He watched Yun Lue not as a worried companion, but like someone watching a flickering flame in a world of mist. He wasn't watching the movements — but the breath between them. Not the pain — but what it awakened.
She's not afraid. Not like the others.
His eyes lingered on the opponent. He wasn't just physically stronger. He had been conditioned. That blank stare, that posture, that mindless precision… This wasn't a boy. He was a tool. Someone trained him to kill without thought. Why, in a children's tournament?
The token hidden in his sleeve vibrated faintly.
He lowered his gaze slightly.
Something here is listening.
He spotted other spectators, hidden in the shadows. A veiled woman, arms crossed, barely older than a novice. A one-eyed old man with ink-stained fingers. A child sitting alone, a black blindfold over his eyes. Each of them wore a mask — evaluators.
And they were all watching Yun Lue.
They're watching her style… They want to know what she's protecting. What she won't let go of.
Another thought passed through him. A chilling certainty.
This tournament… it's not to pick the strongest. It's to find those who don't break at the edge of fear.
Yun Lue had just struck. Her fist had found an opening. Hei Tian felt, for a moment, the silence twist.
They've just noticed her.
And him? Was he still invisible?
He closed his hand gently over the token.
Soon.
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