In the inner courtyard square of Crow's Perch, two burly men were putting on a lukewarm fistfight, and the spectators' cheers were just as listless.
"Clear out! Clear out!"
A guard on watch in a tower came sprinting out, demanding that everyone clear the grounds.
The event organizer was deeply displeased. Fistfighting was an entertainment project strongly supported by the baron, who often placed bets and even stepped into the ring himself.
Who dared stand in the way of those angry fists swinging through the air?
That Nilfgaardian witch again, probably! Were they disturbing your rest, you stinking bitch?
"Hurry... a real-sword duel between witchers! You won't see this once in ten years!" The guard finally caught his breath.
Displeasure and anticipation appeared on everyone's faces:
Why didn't you say so sooner!
The spectators moved back ten meters, opening up a large empty space.
Almost everyone in Crow's Perch entitled to enter the inner courtyard had arrived, and quite a few off-duty Nilfgaardian soldiers poured in under Sergeant's supervision.
Had the morning's monster tide not frightened so many people, there would have been even more spectators.
"What is our slogan?" Chen Xu called out, facing the White Wolf from a distance and ignoring the spectators urging them on.
The White Wolf drew the steel sword from his back, looking impatient. "You know I'll never say that."
"Fine, then. I'd rather you save more energy for proper business anyway." As Chen Xu spoke, he slid Gram back into its sheath, actually preparing to call off the match.
"Enough! Friendship first, competition second! Happy now?" Geralt tightened his grip on the hilt, adjusting how it sat in his hand.
He certainly did not want to lose in front of the sorceress.
The slogan made him feel a little ashamed, and he would have to take that out on Pro too.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The swords clashed in a dense, piercing barrage, sending sparks flying. The spectators in the front row could not help covering their ears.
Only by facing the White Wolf's mastery-level Sword Technique head-on could one experience that absolute dominance so directly.
Chen Xu's Saber Technique was already impressive, but Geralt had drawn him completely into his own rhythm.
Whenever a blade came at him, he had to defend; whenever his guard opened wide, he took a punch or a couple of kicks. Though he used Dodge to shed the direct force each time, he still came off worse.
In a head-on exchange, he was outclassed in strength as well.
Geralt was nervous too. "Friendship first, competition second" was a coded rule Chen Xu had invented to prohibit Signs.
With one of the witcher's major tools restricted, he no longer had confidence in a certain victory.
Chen Xu still had an Advancement Card. With mastery-level [Saber Technique], he was confident he could match the White Wolf with magic prohibited.
But the mental sluggishness brought on by advancement was extremely dangerous, and this was only a spar. There was absolutely no need to waste a precious advancement opportunity.
Rather than advance [Saber Technique], he would be better off choosing the more practical [Dodge].
He carefully analyzed the differences between [Sword Technique], [Armed Combat], and [Saber Technique], trying to resolve his inability to comprehend it on his own.
Could it be that his deep training in the other proficiencies already covered most aspects of swordsmanship, leaving him unable to grasp its essence all this time?
The contest of basic moves gradually reached a fever pitch.
"Brilliant! That angle! That idea! Just what you'd expect from a master witcher!" a Nilfgaardian soldier exclaimed in admiration.
"You can follow that?" A baron's guard beside him looked bemused:
There's nothing special about it. I'd go in with a sliding tackle and take them both down!
"Of course. Both dazzling and deadly. By comparison, this left-hander falls quite a bit short." The soldier clearly knew something about swordsmanship:
"Straightforward attacks might look efficient, but they actually reveal his intentions completely."
"He's not left-handed. His right arm is disabled." The guard smacked his lips. Feeling that his knowledge could not keep up, he stubbornly retorted:
"A fucking witcher has to work this hard fighting a cripple. If the other fellow's arm were intact, tsk, tsk."
"You don't know shit! Could he be that nimble if he weren't left-handed? I'd eat shit!"
As the occasional remark reached his ears, the White Wolf grew a little impatient. He knocked Chen Xu slightly back with a stroke, then suddenly began spinning rapidly like a top.
There it was, the helicopter rotor tactic!
This sword technique from the original game, [Whirl], was even more outrageous on a battlefield, with an absurdly high attack frequency.
Chen Xu could even feel a gust of wind from the blade pressing toward him.
Clink, clink, clink...
He tried to block, and Gram nearly flew out of his hand.
Five strikes in an instant, every one as powerful as a full-force blow!
This was not normal at all. Chen Xu's hand trembled, numb from the impacts.
He checked the data. Sure enough, the old bastard was using Dark Energy again!
In the original game, Whirl and New Year Greeting Swordsmanship consumed large amounts of stamina, just like witcher Signs.
Judging by the silent way Geralt was currently consuming Dark Energy, perhaps witchers and sorcerers had fundamentally different Dark Energy attributes!
[Whirl] exerted tremendous pressure. Chen Xu had already been forced into a corner of the fighting area; any farther back, and he would be among the spectators!
The White Wolf curled his lips, victory already in his grasp.
The onlookers all cheered. The outcome largely matched their expectations; the mutant's physical abilities were there for all to see, after all.
Still, it had certainly been a satisfying fight.
Chen Xu suddenly stepped back and leaped, using the head of the swordsman's Chosen watching the fight as a foothold for a second jump. The previously unnamed skill he had comprehended, Air Stall, activated!
[Guard Counter]!
His stamina drained rapidly as he spun horizontally through the air. Glaem and Geralt's whirling steel sword meshed like two gears, accelerating each other!
It looked as though Chen Xu was offering a combination technique that strengthened them both, but he was actually disrupting Geralt's rhythm.
The White Wolf soon lost control of the surging power of his sword. He lost his balance, forcing Whirl to stop.
Now it was his sword that nearly flew out of his hand!
This was a battle scene never before seen in the world, ten thousand times more spectacular than magical bombardments that only pitted raw power against raw power!
A truly miraculous technique!
The already satisfied spectators cried out in astonishment again.
What a visual feast! And most importantly, they did not even have to pay for admission!
A world where only the swordsman's Chosen got hurt had been achieved.
"Go, Geralt!"
Fringilla stood on the third floor, loudly cheering for the man she loved. The baron also pushed open a window and hurled down a wine bottle:
"What's all this racket! All of you, fuck off!"
The White Wolf found this fight deeply unsatisfying. As he saw it, if he could use Signs, Chen Xu would not last a single exchange against him.
"Sorry, kid." Geralt suddenly gave a mischievous grin. His left hand discreetly reached out, and a soft burst of white light crossed several meters and slipped into Chen Xu's mind.
This fellow had tricked him once at cards. Tricking him back during a spar was only fair.
[Luojiete on [Axii Sign] used you. 3 will check: Curwillrent: 1 Failed! You are continuously immobilized, for seconds 3. Again damage each time taken may check.]
Couldn't take a loss, so he launched a sneak attack?
The cool notification voice slipped into Chen Xu's mind, sounding almost like scrambled gibberish to him, but he still used it to bite down hard on the tip of his tongue.
In his confusion, he actually bit his lip instead!
[Failded! Check will, failed! Failed!... Success!]
Under his control, every one or two teeth inflicted a separate instance of damage.
With just 1 point of will, Chen Xu broke free of the three-second hard crowd control in 0.45 seconds!
This was the panel's truly heaven-defying aspect-or rather, the divine grace that belonged to him alone!
Blood streamed from his mouth as he leveled Gram at his opponent once more!
Geralt, who had charged forward brimming with confidence, blanched in shock. Instinctively tensing the muscles in both arms, he raised his steel sword over his head and lunged into a downward cleave!
New Year Greeting Swordsmanship!
Magic poured out, producing force far beyond the explosive strength of the White Wolf's own muscles!
Crack.
The superb steel sword, which could trade blows with Gram, could no longer withstand the punishment and was cleaved in two at the middle.
The White Wolf froze, and so did the spectators.
Clang! The steel sword in Chen Xu's hand then slipped from his grip, and he landed on his backside, seemingly unable to withstand that charged cleave.
"As expected of a master witcher. You're incredible!" His broken right arm could already move a little, and he now began clapping and cheering for the White Wolf.
Looks like Geralt really wanted to win.
There wasn't a quest anyway. If he could make a friend happy, why not?