Blue Shirt

The morning matches soon drew to a close.

There were six matches in the first round. After Lin Qing watched the last one, the steward closed the register and stood by the arena, tapping the table with the end of his brush. "Rest for the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Then the second round begins."

Lin Qing did not go far. He sat down by the wall, his back against the slightly warm stone. The two marks on his palms had faded, returning to their usual quiet pulsing.

Bamboo Breath circulated once through his body. His meridians were clear, and the ice and fire crystals lay quietly deep within the bamboo's body.

He closed his eyes. He did not think about the match just past or who he might face next. He simply let himself pause.

An incense stick did not take long to burn, but it was enough for him to bring himself back into balance.

When he opened his eyes again, a fine layer of frost had formed on the tips of the bamboo branches beside the arena. It slowly melted away with his next breath.

The matchups for the second round soon came out. The steward stood in the center of the arena, a new register in his hand. "Number four against number four." Lin Qing rose and walked into the arena.

His opponent stepped out as well, his footsteps so light they made almost no sound. The man was lean, dressed in a short black tunic with tightly bound cuffs, and had a length of short rope hanging at his waist.

When his gaze fell on Lin Qing, it carried something between confirmation and appraisal, as though he were trying to discern traces of the earlier clash between ice and fire.

The steward glanced at them both. "Begin."

The man did not wait. He dropped low in an instant and skimmed along the ground, the short rope unfurling in his hand like a slender snake searching for something to coil around.

He was far faster than the earth-attribute Soul Master from that morning's match. Before Bamboo Sea Emergence could spread across the stone slabs, the short rope had already swept toward Lin Qing's ankle.

Lin Qing sidestepped it. As he retreated, he unleashed Bamboo Sea Emergence. Bamboo sprang from the ground, raising a barrier of green-gold light between them.

The rope swept across a bamboo stalk, leaving a long, thin scratch like the mark of a blade skimming over softwood.

Lin Qing pole-vaulted onto a bamboo branch and passed through the man's blind spot.

The rope's owner did not pursue him. He pulled the rope back, turned, and dropped low again. The entire sequence flowed like clouds and water, without a single wasted movement.

The two faced each other across the bamboo grove for a moment. Lin Qing noticed that the man always kept his center of gravity low, and every movement began and ended at the same height.

Before the man could fully adjust his rhythm, Lin Qing used the spring of a bamboo branch to leap toward his flank, cold Qi gathering in his palm as he struck at the man's shoulder.

The man turned sideways to dodge, and the short rope curled back toward Lin Qing's wrist.

Lin Qing neither withdrew his hand nor changed direction. An instant before the rope touched his wrist, he released Bamboo Soul, which paused at the edge of the man's consciousness.

The man's movement slowed by half a beat, and the rope's path shifted slightly. Lin Qing took the chance to turn sideways, leaving a thin layer of frost as the cold Qi grazed the man's shoulder.

At that instant, the rope coiled around a bamboo root again. To Lin Qing's surprise, it tightened and pulled, blocking his path of retreat.

He glanced down at the knot tightening around his ankle, then looked up at the rope blade opposite him.

The man readjusted his stance. He had already pulled the short rope back, and his gaze remained steady.

Lin Qing did not contest it. Instead, he deliberately narrowed Bamboo Sea Emergence, compressing the man's room to move to less than one zhang.

He changed positions three times in succession among the bamboo shadows, releasing cold Qi from a different direction each time. The cold Qi was not intended to strike directly.

Instead, it slowly condensed and gathered in the air around the man, settling along the edges of his path.

Frost accumulated soundlessly along the route he had taken. Each turn left that small patch of ground more slippery than before.

At last, his footwork faltered. His sole slid two inches across the ice. Though he quickly regained his balance, Bamboo Soul had already caught that moment of instability.

Lin Qing did not hesitate. Ice and fire gathered in his palm at the same time, and he sent them into the short rope along its length. Cold Qi froze the outside, while heat traveled through its interior. The two forces met, collided, and repelled each other inside and outside the rope.

Fine cracks appeared across the rope's surface, spreading from the middle toward both ends. Then it snapped with a faint crack and fell onto the stone slabs.

The man looked down at the half of the short rope remaining in his hand. He tightened his grip on it, then let go.

He tucked the broken rope into his robes and straightened. "I lost."

Lin Qing withdrew Bamboo Sea Emergence. The bamboo stalks receded one by one into the cracks between the stone slabs, and the green-gold motes scattered and vanished.

The steward's voice came from the edge of the arena. "Number four wins."

Lin Qing walked back to the edge of the arena and stopped by the wall. He looked at his palms. The light of the cold Qi mark and the crimson-gold mark was slowly fading.

He looked up and swept his gaze around. Of those who had finished their matches, some were flexing their wrists, some were tying their shoes, and others were adjusting their collars, as though already accustomed to switching quickly between rest and battle.

The person in the dark blue short tunic was still standing in the distance, still speaking to no one. He simply stood there quietly, like a sword yet to be drawn.

His gaze rested briefly on the palm Lin Qing had drawn back, then shifted away.

The steward's voice rang out again. "Next match."

The second round ended before daylight had fully broken.

The steward closed the register and walked to the center of the arena, his gaze sweeping over the eight people present. "Those who remain, the next round."

He did not say how long the rest would be, nor did he explain the competition format. He simply put the register on the table, turned, and left.

The people in the courtyard gradually dispersed. Some headed back to their lodgings, while others sat down by the wall.

Lin Qing was in no hurry to leave. Standing at the edge of the arena, he slowly circulated Bamboo Breath through his body once, checking the state of his meridians.

The twin ice and fire crystals lay quietly deep within the bamboo's body, like two resting beasts, each with its claws and horns tucked away.

He walked back to his lodgings, closed the door, and sat down beside the bed. He placed the bronze token on the table. Its surface was as smooth as before, without a scratch.

He made no deliberate effort to recall the matches he had already fought. He simply sat there and let his body slowly return to a stable state on its own.

After about a quarter of an hour, he stood and pushed the door open. Outside, it was no longer as quiet as when he had first arrived. Some people leaned against the wall, talking in low voices, while others squatted on the steps, adjusting the tightness of their wrist guards.

He crossed the courtyard and paused at the entrance to the martial arena. In the distance, toward the city wall, a figure was walking away along its base at an even pace.

It did not seem as though the person was hurrying anywhere. He had simply left the boundary of the conversation in the courtyard, placing himself in an open space.

Lin Qing did not look for long. He drew his gaze back and rested it on the door leading into the main competition area.