The fight resumed after a brief pause.
Shinya stopped holding back. He moved across the fighting platform like a phantom, every strike brimming with lethal intent. The cursed tool knife spun in his hand, its blade glinting coldly in the sunlight.
Wana was noticeably slower than before.
The wound across her waist and abdomen was still bleeding. Every movement pulled at it, sending a sharp stab of pain through her. Her steps grew sluggish, and her cursed energy no longer flowed as smoothly-but she did not retreat. She kept searching for a chance to counter amid Shinya's relentless assault.
Shinya noticed.
His grin widened, triumph all but spilling from his eyes.
"What's wrong, cousin?" He slashed at Wana's shoulder. She twisted aside, but the blade still grazed her sleeve, slicing it open. "You're getting slower and slower. Does your wound hurt that much?"
Wana did not answer. She simply dodged his attacks in silence.
Shinya's laughter grew even more unrestrained. He picked up the pace, slash after slash, each faster than the last, like a cat toying with an injured mouse.
"Wana," he said with condescending contempt, "compared to Zhiyan, you're just another loser."
His blade skimmed the ends of her hair, shearing off a few strands.
"No-"
He abruptly changed his attack, turning the blade to thrust straight at Wana's chest. She barely managed to twist aside, but the knife still cut across her arm, leaving a shallow, bloody line.
Shinya withdrew his knife and stepped back, tilting his head at her with a vicious grin.
"One day," he said, forcing each word through his teeth, "I'll drag Zhiyan through the mud and make him taste defeat."
His voice seethed with years of pent-up resentment.
"I'll make him kneel like a dog and beg me to spare him-"
Bam!