Zhou Yuan's Opponent!

"You don't know." Luo Wen spoke for him. "You charged in without knowing anything. Everything you learned in Cangwu Valley, you threw it all away today. You weren't watching your opponent. You were looking at someone you wanted to hit. Xiahou Jie isn't Zhao Ming, but from beginning to end, you fought Xiahou Jie as if he were Zhao Ming."

Lu Chi's eyes reddened. He bit his lip, refusing to let himself cry.

"You took two steps back. Very good." Luo Wen's voice suddenly dropped. It was not the low voice that came after furious rage, but something even more painful—a disappointed low. "Do you know why you took those two steps back? You don't. You guessed. Your body found the right rhythm for you, but your mind never caught up. You won today's match, but you guessed your way to victory."

Lu Chi's eyes were red, but no tears fell. He stood in the hall with both hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. It hurt, but he would not loosen them. He would rather Luo Wen scold him, scold him harder and louder, than hear him speak in that tone. That tone was not anger. It was disappointment. Anger could still be fixed. Disappointment meant he thought you could no longer be fixed.

Luo Wen leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.

"Let me ask you," he said. "What was the most dangerous moment for you today?"

Lu Chi thought for a moment. "When I feinted a lunge to the left. If Xiahou Jie hadn't chosen to defend then and had attacked directly instead, my body would have been twisted. I wouldn't have been able to dodge."

Luo Wen looked at him and fell silent