The Next Match!

Zhou Yuan walked to the center of the arena and cupped his fists toward the man in dark crimson martial attire. The other man returned the gesture, his movements textbook-perfect, but Lu Chi noticed that when he raised his hands, his right hand had come up from beside the leather pouch, his fingers brushing across its surface. The motion was incredibly fast—so fast that Lu Chi would never have noticed it if his senses had not been fixed on the man the entire time.

Lu Chi frowned. He could not say what was wrong, only that such a movement should not have appeared during a formal salute.

The referee's flag came down.

Zhou Yuan moved first. He wielded a pair of short staffs, each around two feet long and entirely black. In his hands, they looked like two bones extending from his arms. His strikes were not particularly fast, but their angles were vicious. The first staff struck at his opponent's left knee; as the man dodged, the second redirected toward his abdomen; the third stabbed straight for the wrist holding his knife.

The three strikes flowed together seamlessly. The other man's expression changed. He had not expected this sickly-looking Zhou Family branch member to attack so cleanly. He retreated three large steps in a row to evade Zhou Yuan's first two strikes. The third nearly hit his wrist, and he violently jerked his right hand back at the last moment. The tip of the staff brushed his sleeve, producing a crisp snap.

Cheers rose from the stands.

After regaining his footing, the man in dark crimson martial attire darkened. He drew his short blade. The blade was not long, but a faint blue glow coated its edge—not the blade's own color, but something clinging to it. With his left