Martial Competition: Wisdom in Power pt2

"Hmmm, show off" Fu Heng thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. His eyes renewed with focus as he was preparing to face Long Huang's on coming attack. 

Swish!

In a fluid motion, Long Huang shifted his stance, the Phantom Fang Sword Art intertwining seamlessly with his movements.

His strikes radiated lethal precision, each one engineered for maximum impact rather than mere brute force.

Fu Heng looked at the attack, a smile crept on his face, it was a textbook Mirage Thrust.

"How naive, junior brother," he said.

Swoosh!!

Fueled by his confidence in knowing the weakness of the Phantom Fang Sword Art, he dogged and counterattacked, but his own naivety betrayed him.

"Got his ass"

Long Huang smiled at this and dodged effortlessly, and in an instant, the Frostbite Serpent Sword was in motion for his counterattack.

Clang!!

The blade met Fu Heng's sword in a shower of dazzling sparks, sending a surge of numbing cold racing through Fu Heng's arm.

Stiffness gripped his fingers, his grip faltering for just a heartbeat.

Not waiting for a second invitation.

Long Huang seized the moment. With a left pivot, the Frostbite Serpent Sword flashed with a Moonlit Slash, a crescent arc of a freezing aura slicing through the air toward Fu Heng.

"Shit not go"

The attack barely missed its target, forcing Fu Heng into a desperate backflip, but the residual chill from the strike encumbered his retreat.

Gritting his teeth, Fu Heng shook off the cold's grip, launching a feint to the left before twisting into a Phantom Scythe, this time aiming for Long Huang's blind spot.

But Long Huang smiled; he was no longer a novice, he had learned. He flowed like the wind, his Wind Deer Steps carrying him just beyond the reach of Fu Heng's attack.

The Frostbite Serpent Sword darted out,

Phantom Fang Sword Art

Serpent's Feint.

Swoosh...

The flat side of Long Huang's icy blade slammed into Fu Heng's ribs. A thin line of frost spread forth from the impact, sapping his breath and resolve.

Fu Heng staggered backward, his breath visibly misting in the sudden chill that enveloped the arena.

In a last, defiant stand, he raised his sword in a guard, but Long Huang's blade's tip was already resting perilously close to his throat.

"Yield," Long Huang instructed, his voice steady and calm.

Fu Heng expelled a shaky breath, a wry smile creeping onto his lips. "Damn. I forgot you had that thing."

With a satisfied grin, Long Huang lowered the Frostbite Serpent Sword and sheathed it, the icy aura gradually receding.

He then lifted up Fu Heng off of the ground.

"Thanks" said Fu Heng as he got up.

Fu Heng flexed his stiffened arm, laughter bubbling up despite the defeat.

"Next time, I'm bringing a warmer coat."

Long Huang chuckled in response.

"Next time, I won't stop at your ribs."

Meanwhile, at the other end of the sparring ground, the atmosphere pulsed with energy as Zhao Gun launched his assault like a storm unleashed.

His mastery of the Thunderous Fist Art transformed his limbs into volatile conduits of blue lightning.

Each strike left jagged cracks in the bluestone arena, a testament to his overwhelming power.

In stark contrast, Huang Min approached the barrage like a whisper slicing through thunder, her Moonlit Steps rendering her nearly invisible in the chaos.

With a simple flick of her fan, she deflected Zhao Gun's energy-laden punches, her movements appearing deceptively passive, almost indifferent.

Yet her eyes, sharp as Zhao Gun, dissected each flaw and gap in his offense.

After a furious exchange of blows, Huang Min spun gracefully away, creating a distance that hung like a taut string between them.

The tension in the arena was palpable, as if the very air held its breath.

"Your movements… they echo Long Huang's," she remarked, her voice steady yet inquisitive.

"Do yo two know each other?"

Zhao Gun's body tensed, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his face was it pride? Resentment?

"We are somewhat brothers," he growled, his tone laced with an edge.

"That's all you need to know."

Huang Min snapped her fan shut with a decisive click.

"Then I won't humiliate you," she replied coolly.

In a heartbeat, the air shifted. A celestial light ignited in her irises as she circulated the Nine Moon Cradle cultivation technique. Yet she refrained from unleashing her full power, because she didn't need to.

Zhao Gun launched a ferocious punch, Lightning Lunge, the punch fueled by raw energy, stuck out aim to injure its target, but struck only air as Huang Min flowed past him.

With a pinpoint strike to his elbow's pressure point, she knocked the wind out of his arm, numbing the very lightning that had crackled with energy just moments ago.

When Zhao Gun attempted his Thunderous Fist Art Thunderclap Smash, Huang Min countered with her Moonlit Steps Surge.

Her footwork mirrored his, yet it was refined and perfected; where he depended on overwhelming force, she dismantled his offense with agile precision.

Zhao Gun roared in frustration, channeling his qi with ferocity. The phantom of lightning materialized behind him, crackling with ethereal energy.

As he unleashed Tempest Barrage, a storm of fists aimed at Huang Min.

But she didn't flinch. Instead, she stepped into the storm, her fan flicking open Celestial Parry.

The barrage shattered around her, diverted by an unseen lunar current that seemed to absorb the force of his attack.

In a moment of clarity, she executed a single, deliberate tap, Moon's Kiss right to his sternum. A pulse of silvery qi rippled through him, locking his meridians, leaving him staggering and gasping for breath as he sank to one knee.

The arena fell into a stunned silence.

Zhao Gun glared up at Huang Min, disbelief clouding his features as pride wrestled within him. With quiet composure, she extended a hand.

"You fight well," she acknowledged, her voice devoid of condescension.

He hesitated, but finally clasped her wrist, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

"…Next time, I'll be ready," he muttered, determination rekindled in his voice.

The crowd erupted, cheers filled the air, gasps erupted like fireworks, and the clatter of overturned cups echoed in the excitement.

This clash had been a masterclass in control versus chaos, precision versus brute power.

In the corner, Chi Qide clenched his fingers, a concerned frown etched on his face.

"They're stronger than I anticipated."

Long Huang, after finishing his fight with Fu Heng, turned and glanced at Huang Min in front of him.

She adjusted her robes, her expression serene, yet the fire of competition smoldered within her. The finals awaited, and only one thing was clear: this battle was just the beginning.