Chapter 20

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over Platform One as Duō Wěi and Duō Chóng took their places. The crowd, buzzing with anticipation, shifted its attention fully to the two combatants. Wěi stood tall, his expression composed, Moonwhisper gleaming in his hand with an aura that spoke of mastery and confidence. Across from him, Chóng's stance was tense, his mind already racing with tactics as he gripped his saber. He knew his only hope against Wěi's direct style lay in deception and subtlety. But as he looked into Wěi's calm eyes, he sensed an uncanny sharpness—a perception that might see through every trick he'd planned.

Elder Lǐ raised his hand and then dropped it swiftly. "Begin!"

Wěi moved first, closing the distance in a blink. His advance was fluid, his footsteps silent, as Moonwhisper sliced through the air in a deadly arc. Chóng barely had time to react, raising his saber in defense. The impact rang out like a hammer against steel, reverberating through Chóng's arm as he staggered back, eyes wide at the sheer force behind Wěi's strike.

CLANG!

The crowd gasped as Wěi didn't relent, his blade flashing in another swift, precise strike. Chóng sidestepped, feigning a misstep, and kicked up a cloud of dust in an attempt to obscure Wěi's vision. But Wěi's movements were unfazed; his gaze remained locked onto Chóng, cutting through the dust with an eerie clarity. In a swift, cutting motion, he brought Moonwhisper down, and Chóng was forced to parry, barely holding back the onslaught.

SLASH!

Chóng gritted his teeth as he felt himself driven back, step by step. With a deft flick of his wrist, he made a feint to his left, hoping to lure Wěi into an opening. But Wěi didn't bite; his sword was already intercepting Chóng's movement before he'd even completed the feint. Chóng's eyes flickered with frustration. Wěi wasn't just faster—he was reading his every move.

In a quick pivot, Chóng spun, shifting his weight to sweep low with his saber in a last-ditch attempt to unbalance Wěi. But Wěi sidestepped effortlessly, his expression never changing as he brought Moonwhisper crashing down with a decisive, ringing blow. Chóng stumbled, his defensive stance wavering as the relentless assault continued.

SHING!

Chóng barely managed to block, his saber held at an awkward angle, struggling to absorb the force of each strike. Wěi's attacks flowed one into another, each one powerful, each one calculated to dismantle Chóng's defense piece by piece. Desperation flared in Chóng's eyes, and he made another attempt—flicking his wrist to scatter dust upward, then sidestepping rapidly, hoping to catch Wěi's blind side.

But Wěi had already adjusted, sidestepping the trap and closing in with a powerful, sweeping strike. Chóng's saber vibrated under the impact, the metal screeching in protest as he fought to maintain his grip. His hand was shaking, his grip slipping under the sheer power behind Wěi's blows.

Chóng's mind raced, recalling every strategy he'd practiced, every trick he'd studied. But Wěi was unmoved, each tactic failing to even disrupt his rhythm. He tried one last gambit—pivoting sharply to lead Wěi toward the edge of the platform, feigning fatigue as he backed away with trembling steps. But Wěi followed, his focus unbreakable, his attacks relentless.

CRACK!

Chóng's saber took another brutal hit, the blade shuddering under the impact. Wěi's expression remained calm, but there was a deadly precision in his eyes, a sense of inevitability as he advanced.

In a final, desperate attempt, Chóng lunged forward, his saber aimed for Wěi's chest. But Wěi twisted, his form blurring with speed as he sidestepped and swung Moonwhisper down with a force that could not be denied.

SHATTER!

Chóng's saber splintered, fragments of metal scattering across the platform as Wěi's blade came to a stop—poised just inches from Chóng's throat. Chóng froze, his breath caught in his throat, staring at the unwavering tip of Moonwhisper. In that moment, he knew he'd been utterly defeated.

The crowd erupted, cheers rising in waves, particularly from the girls who seemed spellbound by Wěi's prowess. Their voices rang out with admiration, calling his name in excitement and awe.

Elder Lǐ's voice boomed across the platform. "Victory to Duō Wěi!"

As Wěi withdrew his sword and left the platform, his face retained the same calm confidence. His gaze swept briefly over the crowd, acknowledging the cheers with a subtle nod before turning away, leaving Chóng to stand alone in the center, his broken saber a stark reminder of the gap between them.