The Match

The man raised his hand. A layer of dark yellow Soul Power poured from his palm and spread up his arm, covering his entire shoulder and back.

His frame did not grow larger, but a layer of rocklike markings appeared on the surface of his skin.

Lin Qing recognized that presence-an earth-attribute Soul Master, with high defense and thick HP. Soul Power as solid as a mountain was slowly spreading out.

The man took a step forward, and the ground trembled slightly, as though a heavy stone were being pushed along.

He did not attack quickly. He simply advanced with measured steps, each one shortening the distance between them.

Lin Qing did not wait for him to close in completely. He pressed his left hand toward the ground and activated Bamboo Sea Emergence.

Bamboo shot out from the cracks between the stone slabs. Green-gold light spread across the ground, quickly raising a wall of bamboo between them.

The man did not stop. He raised a hand and struck the nearest stalk, which dented beneath his palm before shattering.

He did not move quickly, but his blows were heavy. Like a man dismantling a wall, he knocked the stalks down one after another.

Lin Qing did not stand there waiting for him to finish. He pole-vaulted from one bamboo branch to another, moving swiftly through the grove.

The man followed his path for a few steps, then stopped. Seemingly realizing he could not catch up, he gave up the chase altogether.

He planted his feet and crossed his arms in front of him, the rocklike markings growing thicker and heavier.

He lowered his center of gravity, his whole body like a mound of tightly packed earth, neither attacking nor retreating.

Lin Qing realized he was waiting-waiting for him to come close and meet him head-on.

Lin Qing did not circle around or continue widening the distance. Instead, he landed back on the ground, cold gathering in his palm as he struck at the man's shoulder.

The instant his palm touched the rocklike markings, he felt resistance, as though a thick layer of clay were blocking his path.

The cold seeped in much more slowly than usual. The man merely swayed slightly before steadying himself.

Lin Qing stepped back half a pace, observing the changes in the rocklike markings.

The cold had indeed seeped in, but not fast enough to control him effectively.

He changed strategies, gathering heat in his right hand and injecting it along the gap where the cold had seeped in.

The alternating cold and heat met inside the rocklike markings. There was no obvious reaction at first, but when they reached the flow of Soul Power deeper within, the two forces collided subtly.

The man lowered his head and glanced at his shoulder, as though feeling the two forces moving in different directions inside his body.

His brow twitched slightly, then he raised his head, his gaze still steady.

Lin Qing did not wait for his next move. Cold and heat surged from his palm at the same time, injected along the same path through the gaps in the markings.

The two forces met inside the rocklike markings, colliding, repelling each other and pressing together.

Tiny cracks began to appear on the surface of the dark yellow markings. They spread in the direction Lin Qing had previously injected the cold, then were forced open by the heat, like a stone repeatedly heated and cooled.

The man lowered his head. He was silent for a moment, then uncrossed his arms. The rocklike markings receded from his skin, and his shoulders sank an inch, as though he had shed a thick shell.

"...Enough." His voice was not loud, like a stone that had rolled down from a height and finally reached the bottom.

He turned and walked off the field, his steps heavier than when he had entered.

Lin Qing withdrew Bamboo Sea Emergence. The bamboo stalks retreated one by one into the cracks between the stone slabs, and the leaves turned into specks of light that scattered in the air. The steward's voice rang out: "Number three wins."

Lin Qing walked back to the wall, the light of the two marks on his palms gradually fading. He noticed that the same gaze from before had returned.

The person in the dark blue short jacket was still standing nearby, his gaze resting on the hands Lin Qing had withdrawn, as though confirming something, or perhaps estimating a number that had yet to be settled.

The glance was brief, without any additional expression. It lingered for a moment, then shifted away.

Lin Qing did not follow that gaze. He simply looked away, keeping himself at a distance from which he could get back into form at any time.

The morning sun was gradually rising, illuminating the entire training ground.

The matches on the field continued. Lin Qing stood against the wall, his gaze following the two figures moving on the field.

After the earth-attribute Soul Master left the field, three more matches took place. None lasted very long; even the longest was only a little over half an incense stick.

The winners stopped, and the losers left the field. No one said much.

He noticed that the person in the dark blue short jacket had remained at the edge of the field, never changing position.

He watched every match, his gaze steady, as though accustomed to gathering information at this pace, in no hurry to make a judgment and content to watch each match through first.

Lin Qing made no particular effort to avoid that gaze, either. He simply did not look back when it swept over him, returning his attention to the field.

The steward's voice rang out again. "Number twelve against number twelve."

A tall man walked onto the field. His Martial Soul was a pair of short spears, their tips glinting coldly in the morning light.

He walked quickly, and once on the field, he stepped forward sideways without pausing, thrusting one short spear from the left and the other from the right.

His opponent reacted just as quickly, turning sideways to dodge while raising a hand to parry, deflecting the spearheads.

The two exchanged four or five rounds of blows. Their moves were not particularly complicated, but the pace was fast, with hardly any gap between each attack and defense.

In the end, the tall man found an opening and pressed a spear against his opponent's waist. His opponent stepped back half a pace and stopped.

"Number twelve wins."

The tall man put away his short spears, turned and walked off the field. As he passed Lin Qing, his gaze did not linger on him.

Lin Qing did not deliberately watch him either. As he passed, he merely took note of the way he held his spears-his fingers neither too tight nor too loose, as though he could strike again at any moment.

Without pausing, the steward called another number. The dark blue figure who had been standing there all this time entered the field.

His stride was even as he walked onto the field, still without any unnecessary movements.

A rather thin opponent stood across from him, his Martial Soul a pair of short daggers.

The man moved quickly. As soon as the match began, he pressed forward, moving swiftly close to the ground as he tried to cut in from the side.

The person in the dark blue short jacket did not retreat. He stood where he was and waited until his opponent entered striking range before raising his hand.

His palm traced an arc through the air, and his Martial Soul appeared-a slender sword with a straight, dark blade and an exceedingly thin glint of cold light along its edge.

The sword made no sound when it appeared, nor did any excess Soul Power spill out. It was as though he had held it in his hand all along and only let it be seen when the time came to use it.

His opponent had clearly noticed this as well. He did not slow down, but the angle of his approach shifted slightly from before.

The slender sword's defensive reach was not large, yet it seemed just enough to block the path his opponent had planned to take.