Night of the Finals

The evening wind blew in from the end of the corridor, carrying the lingering warmth released by the sun-heated concrete during the day. When Lin Chen pushed open the dormitory door, the light outside was shifting from pale gold to grayish yellow. The edges of the clouds on the horizon still held one last ring of brightness, like embers before a fire went out. He sat on the edge of the bed, took an enamel mug from the iron rack by the headboard, and drank some water. It was cool, with a faint taste of rust, probably drawn from the communal water barrel at the end of the corridor. When he put the mug back, it struck the iron rack with a crisp clang that sounded especially clear in the quiet room.

He pushed the half-open window a few more inches open, letting in more wind. Outside, someone rode slowly down the street. The sound of the turning chain drew near from afar, then gradually faded away. A bicycle bell rang once at the corner before being scattered by the wind. People occasionally passed through the contestants' dormitory corridor, their footsteps light and heavy by turns. No one spoke. Light leaking through the cracks beneath the doors stretched irregular bright lines across the floor.

Lin Chen summoned the interface in his mind. This time, it appeared faster than usual, as if it had already been waiting for him there. Numbers and entries emerged line by line in his vision, steady and clear.

[Host: Lin Chen]

[Combat Power: 178]

[Bloodline Slot: (Empty)]

[Martial Arts Library: Basic Fist and Kick Techniques (Mastery), Basic Footwork (Proficient), Skirmishing Footwork (Incomplete, Comprehension 29%), Afterimage Fist (Proficient)]

[Skill Library: None]

[Talent Traits: None]

[Backpack: Empty]

[Pickup Range: 1 meter]

He noticed that the "Afterimage Fist" entry had changed from a fragment state into a complete skill entry. He tried recalling the details of Krillin's demonstration during the day—the rapid footwork, the timing of the duplicates, the way his breath had to flow to maintain the afterimages—and all the information felt as though it had already been etched into his body's memory. He could call upon it directly without any extra practice. His fingers moved lightly on his knee, as if simulating the starting position of a move, but the motion was slight and never fully unfolded.

He closed his eyes, and the information on the interface automatically drew together, retreating from the edges of his vision like a rolled-up scroll. The room had darkened, with only a little light left outside the window, gray and hazy, like the transitional space between twilight and nightfall.

About half an hour later, footsteps sounded in the corridor. Someone knocked on a door in the distance and asked whether anyone had spare bandages. A muffled voice answered, "No," and the footsteps turned back. Lin Chen stood and rolled his shoulders, then walked to the window and glanced outside. Several lights were still on near the parking lot, where people were packing up their things beneath them, their shadows stretched long by the light. Just as he was about to turn and close the door, new footsteps came from the corridor. This time they were lighter and quicker, as if someone were jogging through the hallway.

The footsteps stopped outside his door. Someone knocked, not loudly, but clearly.

"Lin Chen? Are you there?"

It was Goku's voice.

Lin Chen walked over and opened the door. Goku stood outside in his orange gi, holding a cup of water—the same paper cup Lin Chen had seen him drinking from when he came down from the ring that afternoon. Condensation clung to the surface. The corridor light behind him cast his shadow onto the floor, overlapping with the shadow of the doorframe.

"You're not asleep yet, right?" Goku glanced inside. "I saw your light was still on, so I came over to say hello. Krillin said you're tough to deal with, so I've been thinking about how to fight you tomorrow."

Lin Chen stepped aside from the doorway. "Come in and sit."

Goku walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed the paper cup on the bedside table and casually adjusted it so the bottom was aligned with the straight edge of the table. "I watched your match with Krillin today. You fought steadily, and I saw some of the changes in him during the match too. You kept waiting for him to expose an opening before attacking, just like in your earlier matches."

"Because he fights fast. I needed to see clearly before moving."

Goku nodded, seeming to accept that explanation. He picked up the paper cup and took a drink. Condensation dripped down the side, leaving a thin trail along the rim. "Nine tomorrow morning, at the main ring." He set the cup down. "I'll fight with everything I have. Krillin said your defense is good, so I want to see whether it can stop my attacks."

Lin Chen stood by the window. "We'll find out tomorrow."

Goku stood. When he reached the door, he turned back and looked at him once more. "Your aura seems steadier than it was this afternoon. I don't know if it's just my imagination."

With that, he left. His footsteps gradually faded down the corridor. They paused somewhere halfway through, as if someone had stopped there without continuing on. Then the sound resumed, lighter than before, followed by the indistinct sound of a door closing.

Lin Chen closed the room door and slid the lock into place with a soft click. Then he went to the bed, drank the enamel mug dry, and set it on the table. He lay down, feeling that his body temperature was slightly higher than before, as though the warmth accumulated during the day had not completely dissipated and was slowly sinking into his muscles. The sky outside had gone completely dark. Only an extremely faint line of light remained in the distance, along the edge of the clouds, like a curtain that had not quite closed.

He turned over and felt the muscles in his arms and shoulders relax, looser than they had been during the day, as if after an entire day, his body had finally settled into a resting position. Two bird cries came from the roof—the same nocturnal bird as last night. The calls were short and stopped after two chirps, and then everything returned to silence.

He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep. Only a faint yellowish light still shone somewhere in the distance outside. In the dark room, that light fell through a gap in the curtains and onto the wall like a quietly glowing mark, utterly still amid the slow sound of breathing.