Enhancement: Courtly Tournament (II)

Why was the referee calling his name? Wasn't he supposed to be playing the Black first mate right now?

As Xia Lun pondered this, he politely accepted the short sword from the attendant, then casually glanced at the back of his hand—not black. This really was his own hand.

Though Xia Lun was no so-called war hero, the audience apparently did not care about his past record. As the referee introduced him, thunderous cheers immediately erupted around him.

"Sir, it's your turn," the attendant reminded him.

Xia Lun nodded, took the safety tip from the other man, and slowly stepped onto the field.

"Tap."

His boots landed on the field. The floor was quite slick.

The hulking man opposite him sneered, then flicked his hand and tossed his black satin cloak patterned with stars off the field. He extended his left foot, reached forward with his right hand, and assumed a standard longpoint stance.

"Taking so long? I'd say you lack even basic courage." His opening words were a taunt.

Xia Lun lowered his head and slowly fitted the safety tip onto his sword point. Then he touched the flat of the blade to his face and saluted his opponent with his sword.

"All flash and no substance." His opponent did not appreciate the gesture and continued provoking him. "Hurry up and start. Hurry up and finish. A glorious occasion like this isn't a place for a weakling like you."

Following those confrontational words, the spectators below burst into another round of eager cheers, seemingly in full agreement with the opponent.

Though his opponent had provoked him, Xia Lun acted as though he had heard nothing. His blade hung slightly low as his black eyes calmly watched the man before him.

Over the past few days, Xia Lun had kept entering dreams in order to obtain the Nonhuman Toughness specialty. Although he had reversed his relationship with the guards later in those dreams, he had still endured torture in the end.

As a result, he had long accumulated a bellyful of resentment and fury in those dreams. Right now, he desperately wanted to vent that anger.

His heartbeat quickened. Amid the overwhelming cheers, a bloodthirsty desire for battle slowly rose within him. Deep down, he craved the faint resistance of a blade cutting through flesh.

Thump, thump... Thump, thump...

"The current odds are five to one. It seems no one has much faith in contestant Xia Lun," the referee said, stirring the crowd up. "But a fencing match is ultimately a contest of true skill."

"Kill him!"

"Surrender already, coward!" the bloodthirsty spectators shouted. Yet most of them did not think highly of Xia Lun.

"Your apprentice doesn't look very impressive, Commodore." On the viewing platform, the plump Bird smiled and shook his head.

The commodore's expression remained cold and calm. His pale blue, nearly transparent eyes shifted slightly before he said, "You're even less patient than your daughter. The dice haven't even been cast yet."

"An experienced commander can tell the outcome of a war just by looking at an army's formation." Bird spoke with a smiling face, but he deliberately stressed the words "experienced." "The result was decided long ago."

By now, the atmosphere beneath the viewing platform had reached its peak. The referee suddenly slashed down his baton. "Begin!"

Though the burly man facing Xia Lun had acted extremely disdainful, he was actually exceedingly cautious.

Rather than rushing Xia Lun at once, he carefully held his sword toward Xia Lun's throat, maintaining a threatening posture as he slowly moved toward Xia Lun's left side.

The burly man's strategy was quite common. He wanted to seize the outside line and gain an angular advantage over the centerline. It was a very conservative approach.

Yet before he had taken two steps, a sharp whistle split the air, accompanied by a cold gust of force rushing straight at his face!

Xia Lun appeared easygoing and steady, but his attack was aggressive to the extreme. They were still at a safe distance when he suddenly kicked off the ground and lunged forward, thrusting straight at the man's eye!

"Buzzz—bang!"

The blade's hum vanished in an instant, followed by a dazzling spray of sparks. The burly man felt as if a warhorse had slammed into him head-on, forcing him to stagger backward.

Through the scattering sparks, he caught sight of Xia Lun closing in like a crazed phantom!

He had only just regained his footing when another diagonal slash tore through the air, chopping from the upper right toward his shoulder and neck. He focused, raised his wrist slightly, and instantly crossed blades to parry.

He blocked it!

Delighted, he immediately tried to counterattack with his superior strength. Yet in the next instant, the impact against his guard abruptly vanished...

What was going on?!

Before he could recover, pressure suddenly bore down on his blade again—somehow, his opponent's edge had already slipped beneath his own.

The next moment, pain shot through his wrist. The sudden upward strike threw him off balance and flung his centerline wide open!

The burly man was horrified and hurriedly drew back his sword to defend himself. Only then did he realize that his opponent's blade had somehow shifted direction again, pressing down from above and locking both his line of force and his sword path in place!

A flash of cold swordlight flickered past.

"Smack, crack!"

In the next instant, Xia Lun slapped his sword across the man's face. Accompanied by a bone-crunching crack, the burly man clutched his nose and dropped to his knees in agony.

His nose was now broken, and a bright red sword mark had appeared across his face, making him look particularly bizarre.

The crowd immediately burst into laughter. Whistles, mockery, and cheers rang out without end.

"Xia Lun, three points!" the referee announced.

On the viewing platform, Geliide, holding a green apple, curiously leaned forward. She blinked and asked, "What just happened? How was the match decided so suddenly?"

"After the blades crossed, he controlled the opponent's movements by sensing the transmission of force through the blade. Then he broke the centerline with a powerful upward strike before turning his sword again for the cut." The plump Bird opened his smiling eyes, his tone turning solemn. "He's skilled with a sword."

"How could he control the other person's movements?" Geliide turned back to look at her father.

Bird raised his cenwood cane as though holding a sword. "A sword is an extension of the body. If you can sense the force in the blade, you can sense your opponent's movements. If you know what your opponent intends to do, you can control the enemy's actions."

"Well said." The commodore glanced at Bird, and there was unexpectedly a trace of amusement in his voice. "In certain foreign fencing schools, this is called Listening Force. It's a very practical technique for close-range blade contact."

"Then why couldn't Horn use Listening Force as well? Logically, once blades cross, shouldn't the perception of force go both ways?" Geliide continued.

"He lost the initiative, so naturally he had to lose." Bird shook his head and said no more. "Keep watching. There are still five points left."

P.S. I didn't make up the Listening Force fencing technique. The Meyer Fencing School really does have this move.

If you'd like to see the reference material, leave a paragraph comment here. If there are more than a hundred by the end of today, I'll post it in the review section.