Biting the Bait

# Biting the Bait

On the fighting platform, Zhao Hao's opponent was Zhao Kun.

Zhao Kun wielded a pair of black-iron hatchets. He had won all three of his bouts yesterday, and his strikes were vicious.

The two stood facing each other.

"I heard you had an easy time winning yesterday," Zhao Kun said in a hoarse voice. "Too bad you ran into me today."

Zhao Hao said nothing. He slowly drew his long sword.

The blade was slender and long, gleaming with a cold, blue-gray light.

"Quit putting on airs." Zhao Kun spat. "I've seen plenty of people like you. All fancy footwork on the platform, but the moment you see blood, your legs go soft."

He hadn't finished speaking.

Zhao Hao moved.

He didn't attack. Instead, he retreated half a step, lowering his sword tip toward the ground, almost as if surrendering the initiative.

Zhao Kun froze for a moment, then grinned. "Scared already?"

Jeers rose from below the platform.

Zhao Hao acted as if he hadn't heard them. He looked up at Zhao Kun and suddenly said:

"Your mother washes clothes on West Street, right?"

Zhao Kun's smile stiffened.

"Your father died young. You started running with dockside gangs when you were ten. At thirteen, you broke your first man's leg. At fifteen, you stabbed someone three times over territory and nearly got thrown into the river."

Zhao Hao spoke unhurriedly, every word clear. "Later, a distant uncle from a collateral branch of the Zhao Family decided you were vicious enough, pulled you out, and got you into the clan school."

The crowd fell silent.

Zhao Kun's face flushed red, then turned livid. The veins bulged on the back of the hand gripping his hatchet.

"You..." His hoarse voice rasped from his throat. "You're asking to die!"

"Was I wrong?" Zhao Hao cut him off.

"I'll kill you!!!"

Zhao Kun completely lost it.

He crossed his hatchets and charged at Zhao Hao like a raging bear! The wind howled around his blades as every strike went for a vital point!

This wasn't a sparring match.

This was murder.

Zhao Hao still didn't seize the initiative. His footwork shifted and changed as he slipped through the shadows of the hatchets, occasionally darting in with his sword to intercept Zhao Kun at the moments when it was hardest for him to exert his strength.

"See?" Zhao Hao's voice rang out in the gaps between clashing weapons. "No matter how you swing, you're still using the same tricks you picked up in dockside brawls. You're vicious enough, but... you're not fit for the stage."

"Shut up! Shut up!!!"

Zhao Kun's eyes turned bloodshot, and his attacks grew more and more ferocious. Zhao Hao ducked under a sweeping strike from his right hatchet, but the left shot upward like a venomous snake, stabbing straight toward Zhao Hao's lower abdomen!

The strike was too fast, too vicious.

At last, Zhao Hao stopped retreating.

His sword quivered. He neither parried nor blocked, letting the hatchet's tip graze his waist—tearing his clothes and splitting his skin. Blood welled up at once.

At the same time, his sword darted toward Zhao Kun's throat like a streak of gray light.

Zhao Kun jerked his head aside in alarm. The sword tip skimmed past his neck, drawing a line of blood.

The two passed each other.

Blood poured from Zhao Hao's waist, and his face paled. But the hand gripping his sword was steady as a rock. A drop of blood slowly fell from its tip.

Zhao Kun touched his neck, his hand coming away bright red. He stared at Zhao Hao, chest heaving, murderous intent blazing in his eyes.

"I'm going to... butcher you..."

He growled and charged again.

This time, neither man held back. Hatchet shadows and sword light tangled together, the clang of metal on metal coming as thick and fast as a downpour. Blood sprayed again and again.

Not a sound came from the crowd below.

Everyone held their breath.

Li Tui stood at the edge of the crowd, his chest tight.

The fleshy growth throbbed wildly.

It was no longer feeding on blood and qi alone. It was devouring the blazing Killing Intent that burst forth as the two men fought for their lives on the platform.

The growth greedily swallowed this nourishment, transforming it into a scalding, violent torrent that surged back into Li Tui's meridians.

Agony.

"Clang!!!"

A deafening crash erupted on the platform.

Zhao Kun's left hatchet flew from his hand, while Zhao Hao's sword pinned his right hatchet in place. The two strained against each other, their faces contorted.

Zhao Hao suddenly eased his pressure and shifted aside.

Zhao Kun couldn't stop in time and stumbled forward.

A sword tip emerged from his lower back.

Zhao Kun went rigid. He looked down at the bloodied sword tip protruding from his chest, then slowly turned around.

Zhao Hao pulled out his sword and stepped back.

Blood gushed like a spring.

Zhao Kun swayed, then crashed to his knees. Bracing himself on both hands, he vomited up mouthfuls of bloody foam.

The black-robed deacon froze for a moment before calling out, "Zhao Hao wins!"

The crowd was silent for a moment, then erupted into a roar of commotion.

Zhao Hao didn't even glance at Zhao Kun on the ground. He returned his sword to its sheath. The wound at his waist was deep enough to expose bone, and blood trickled down his trouser leg, leaving bloody footprints with every step. Yet his back remained ramrod straight, his face utterly expressionless.

While everyone's attention was on the platform, Li Tui endured the pain raging through his meridians and retreated into the shadow of a corridor pillar.

Now.

He closed his eyes and deliberately relaxed his suppression.

At the scent of blood, the violent aura from the fleshy growth could barely be contained. Now it seeped out faintly, like a spark suddenly struck in the dark.

For just an instant.

Almost at the same time, a cold, clammy gaze, thick with greed, swept over from the shadows of a distant loft.

It felt tangible, pinning Li Tui in place.

But it lasted only a breath.

A patrol of guards happened to pass nearby, the scrape of their armor clear as day.

The gaze abruptly shrank back, like a startled venomous snake, and quickly withdrew without a trace.

Li Tui's back was soaked with cold sweat.

He slowly exhaled, his fingers unconsciously pressing against his chest. Beneath his clothes, the fleshy growth's throbbing gradually subsided, but the dark-red patterns on its surface had deepened in color, faintly glimmering with an eerie light.

This thing... really couldn't be fed enough.