The Power of a Single Leaf

Wu Gang moved.

Without another word, he lunged forward with a low roar, like a maddened Iron-Arm Ape. His fist whipped through the air, smashing straight toward Lu Yuan's face.

A collective gasp rose from below the platform.

Lu Yuan didn't retreat. His left foot slid sideways and he twisted, letting the fist graze past his lapel. It missed by half an inch.

"Dodging?" Wu Gang grinned viciously and spun into another punch.

This time, Lu Yuan moved first. He ducked under Wu Gang's arm, and the tip of the Blue Silver Grass leaf in his right palm touched a crack between the paving stones, seemingly by accident.

It happened so fast it might have been an illusion.

Wu Gang missed and gave chase. His strides were long and his attacks powerful, but whenever he turned, his right shoulder always dipped first-Bai Zhi had warned Lu Yuan about it.

Lu Yuan kept his eyes on that shoulder.

It dipped.

He moved two steps left ahead of time, narrowly avoiding a sweeping blow glowing with Soul Power. The wind from the fist made his face tingle.

"Is dodging all you can do?" Wu Gang roared.

Laughter erupted below the platform.

"Fight! Beat him up!"

"Is that all a Trash Martial Soul can do?"

Lu Yuan said nothing. His breathing was steady, his gaze moving between Wu Gang's ankles and knees and the inconspicuous cracks in the platform. It was as if there were a chessboard in his mind.

Instructor Chen sat in the referee's seat, tapping a finger lightly on the armrest. His brow was slightly furrowed.

After missing a third time, Wu Gang took a breath. The contempt in his eyes had faded, replaced by irritation.

"Stop running if you've got guts!"

He charged again, weaving from side to side this time to cut off Lu Yuan's escape routes.

Lu Yuan's footwork didn't falter. His Soul Power was only level three, and he was slower than his opponent, but every move came at the very instant Wu Gang shifted his weight.

Half a step too early or too late wouldn't do.

It had to be that half step.

The tip of the Blue Silver Grass leaf touched two more cracks. As lightly as if the wind had stirred it.

"He's avoiding the fight!" an official student shouted from below. "Referee, doesn't that count?"

Instructor Chen looked up.

Lu Yuan turned sideways just in time, narrowly avoiding a whipping kick. He used the momentum to slide back several steps, opening up some distance. The Blue Silver Grass hung low, showing no intent to attack.

But he didn't stop either.

"Continue." Instructor Chen looked away.

The third rule: the referee could determine the outcome based on the situation. The condition was a "clear advantage." Lu Yuan was dodging now, but he did it perfectly every time, showing no signs of defeat.

There was no basis for a ruling.

Wu Gang grew angry. He took a deep breath, and the pale yellow glow of Soul Power around him suddenly flared. His First Soul Ring rose from beneath his feet, white in color.

A Soul Skill was coming.

Lu Yuan's pupils narrowed slightly. The records said Wu Gang's first Soul Skill, Ape Pounce, increased his burst speed by fifty percent.

He couldn't let Wu Gang get close.

The instant the Soul Ring lit up, Wu Gang's right shoulder dipped again.

Lu Yuan rolled to the right almost simultaneously. The move was ungainly, but effective. A yellow blur brushed past his back and slammed into a post at the edge of the platform with a thud.

The post shuddered. Wu Gang shook his head and turned around, his eyes a little red.

"You..." He was breathing heavily.

The drain on his Soul Power was beginning to show. Possession by the Iron-Arm Ape was already taxing, and after his Soul Skill missed, his breathing had grown uneven.

Lu Yuan slowly straightened up. He brushed the dust off his lapel, and the Blue Silver Grass in his palm shimmered with a faint jade-green glow in the sunlight. Its veins seemed a little clearer.

The crowd below grew somewhat quieter.

The laughter died away, replaced by whispers.

"That's uncanny."

"How did he know a Soul Skill was coming?"

Wang Shuo clenched his fists in the crowd, his palms slick with sweat. Beside him, Shen Moxin stood quietly, her gaze fixed on Lu Yuan's hand from behind her glasses.

His fingertips were steady.

On the platform, Wu Gang wiped the sweat from his forehead. He stared at Lu Yuan, then suddenly grinned.

"Fine," he said. "I'll play with you."

As soon as he finished speaking, he charged again. But this time he didn't lunge recklessly. He pressed forward step by step, using his body to block off room to move. His fists came one after another, not to land a hit, but to hem Lu Yuan in.

His tactics had changed.

Lu Yuan's steps grew quicker. Forced to maneuver within a smaller circle, he had fists graze his clothes several times.

Cheers rose from below again.

"That's it! Force him into a corner!"

Instructor Chen leaned forward slightly. He was waiting-waiting for Lu Yuan to be driven into a hopeless position, when he could stop the match on the grounds that he was "at a disadvantage."

Sweat beaded at Lu Yuan's temples.

Sustaining high-speed evasion with level-three Soul Power drained him far more than it did his opponent. His breathing grew heavier, and his steps were less precise than at the start.

Wu Gang noticed.

"Run!" he snarled, one fist blocking the left while the other drove straight for Lu Yuan's chest.

Lu Yuan retreated quickly. His heel met the edge of the platform; another step back and he would fall off.

There was nowhere left to retreat.

Wu Gang's eyes lit up. He poured all his Soul Power into his right arm, and his fist came smashing forward with a rush of wind. If it landed squarely, it would break at least two ribs.

The crowd cried out in alarm.

Wang Shuo closed his eyes.

Shen Moxin's fingers dug into her palm.

But at that moment, Lu Yuan made a strange move. Instead of dodging left or right, he took a small half step forward, toward the fist. At the same time, his left hand pressed lightly on a particular stone slab at the edge of the platform behind him.

That slab had long been loose. When he surveyed the grounds the previous night, the tip of his Blue Silver Grass leaf had probed it: its edge was worn, and the stones beneath it were unsteady.

With that press, the slab tilted up slightly.

Wu Gang's fist was already in front of him. Lu Yuan turned his head, and the fist grazed past his ear. But Wu Gang was charging forward with all his might, and his foot landed squarely on the raised slab.

The slab slipped.

That single slip sent Wu Gang's balance lurching. He roared in alarm and tried to steady himself, but his old momentum was spent and new strength had yet to rise. His whole body staggered forward.

This was the moment Lu Yuan had been waiting for.

The Blue Silver Grass in his right hand, which had been hanging low all along, suddenly rose. It wasn't a single plant, but seven or eight slender blades of grass that had emerged from the cracks at some unknown point. A faint oily sheen coated their surfaces-a secretion produced by soaking the shed skin of a Gray Rock Lizard, slippery and mildly numbing.

The blades sprang out like living things and coiled precisely around Wu Gang's right ankle.

They pulled sharply in the direction he was already staggering.

The force wasn't great; it was only level-three Soul Power. But the timing was too perfect.

"Ah-!"

Amid his startled roar, his burly body lost its balance completely, and he pitched forward, arms and legs flailing.

He plunged beyond the platform's boundary.

Bang!

Dust flew. Wu Gang hit the hard dirt below the platform with a solid thud and rolled twice before stopping. He lay there, stunned.

The entire crowd fell deathly silent.

Everyone stood openmouthed, eyes wide and round. Wind swept across the training ground, stirring dead leaves, the sound piercingly clear.

Lu Yuan stood at the edge of the platform and slowly withdrew his Blue Silver Grass. The oily sheen on the blades quickly faded. He was breathing hard, but stood straight.

Instructor Chen rose from the referee's seat.

His expression was so gloomy it could drip water. He stared at Lu Yuan, then looked at Wu Gang lying below the platform. He tapped his fingers on the table but didn't speak immediately.

A few seconds later, the crowd below erupted.

"He fell off?"

"How did he fall?"

"Did the Blue Silver Grass pull him?"

"Bullshit! How could Blue Silver Grass have that much strength?"

The clamor rose in waves. Wang Shuo's eyes flew open, his mouth wide enough to hold an egg.

Shen Moxin let out a soft breath. She pushed up her glasses, her gaze complicated.

Only then did Wu Gang come to his senses. He scrambled up, mud on his face and his eyes bloodshot.

"You set me up!" he roared. "There's something wrong with that slab!"

Lu Yuan ignored him and looked toward the referee's seat.

Instructor Chen finally spoke. His voice was low, but everyone heard him.

"Lu Yuan," he said, "did you have anything to do with the loose slab on the platform?"

"Instructor," Lu Yuan replied evenly, "when I surveyed the grounds last night, I noticed the edge of that slab was worn. I accidentally stepped on it while retreating just now and only then discovered it was loose. The rules don't say we can't make use of the conditions on the grounds."

Every word was reasonable.

Instructor Chen stared at him for a long moment, then looked at Wu Gang.

"Wu Gang, do you admit defeat?"

Wu Gang's face turned the color of pig liver. Of course he hadn't lost; he still had more than half his Soul Power left and hadn't been hurt at all. But he had already fallen off the platform-under the rules, going out of bounds meant disqualification.

"I..." His teeth ground together.

"Wu Gang is disqualified," Instructor Chen announced without waiting for an answer. "Lu Yuan wins this match."

His announcement caused an even greater uproar.

He had won?

With level-three Soul Power and the Trash Martial Soul Blue Silver Grass, he had really beaten Wu Gang, who had level-eight Soul Power?

The way many people looked at Lu Yuan changed. There was shock, scrutiny, and even a trace of wariness.

Lu Yuan walked down from the platform. His steps were unsteady; he had exhausted too much Soul Power after all. Wang Shuo rushed over to support him, but he waved him off.

"I'm fine."

Shen Moxin came over and asked quietly, "Really?"

"Mm."

"Let's talk when we get back." Shen Moxin glanced toward the referee's seat. Instructor Chen was still standing there, his expression ugly as he spoke in a low voice to Teacher Sun, who had hurried over.

Teacher Sun glanced their way, his gaze icy.

Lu Yuan looked away. He followed Shen Moxin through the crowd, all kinds of discussion filling his ears. As he left the training ground, he looked back at the platform.

An attendant had already stepped on the loose slab, pressing it back into place. The granite surface was rough, and the wear along its edge was clearly visible in the sunlight.

He turned his head and kept walking.

The string in his heart that had been stretched taut for too long finally slackened a little. But another string had quietly pulled tight.

Now that he had won this match, there would probably only be more trouble ahead.

Bai Zhi stood in the shade of a tree, holding a medical kit. When she saw Lu Yuan come out, she hurried over. Her lips moved, but in the end she only said softly, "Congratulations."

Lu Yuan nodded.

The three of them followed the stone path toward the dormitory area. The clamor behind them gradually faded, but the feeling of being pierced by countless gazes lingered.

Wang Shuo held it in for a long time before he finally couldn't resist.

"Lu Yuan," he said, his voice trembling, "how did you do it?"

Lu Yuan looked up at the sky. The sun was bright and dazzling.

"Good luck," he said.

Wang Shuo froze.

Shen Moxin glanced at Lu Yuan but didn't expose him.

In the distance, behind a window on the library's top floor, Ning Zhishou lowered a monocular far-seeing Soul Tool. With his hands behind his back, he stood by the window for a long time.

An assessment record that had just been delivered lay open on the desk.

"Lu Yuan, victory. Method: opponent out of bounds."

A note in smaller writing followed below: "Suspected use of a loose slab on the platform and Blue Silver Grass control. Details to be investigated."

Ning Zhishou picked up the record and read it over again and again. Finally, he went to the bookshelf and pulled out the hefty Study of Continental Martial Soul Lineages.

He turned to the page on "Blue Silver Grass."

There were only a few lines on it: "A common Trash Martial Soul, no potential for Soul Skills, poor Soul Power conductivity, low strength..."

He closed the book and looked out the window.

The crowd by the training ground was gradually dispersing. That small, slender figure was long gone.

Ning Zhishou stood there for a long time, until the sky darkened.

He turned, took a sheet of writing paper from a drawer, and dipped his pen in ink.

The tip hovered over the paper and paused, before finally coming down.