Chapter 35 - Overwhelming Victory

From the outside, it looked like a proper exchange, two weapons moving, two bodies weaving through bursts of motion. But to those who looked closely — especially those like Ling Ruxin — it wasn't equal at all.

"He's letting him swing first," she said, her voice barely above a breath. "Letting him feel like he's still in control."

Elder Yao didn't reply right away. Her eyes were narrowed, focused, and a faint smirk played on her lips.

"He's drawing out every flaw," she finally murmured. "Polite enough not to embarrass him too fast."

On the platform, the pace picked up. Feng Zhan's feet moved quicker now, each step heavier than the last. His attacks came in bursts — three quick strikes, a short feint, a rising stab from below — but Lao Xie flowed through it all without a trace of tension in his body.

Even while moving, his blade never swung wildly — It only flicked, tapped and turned aside each spear strike with the smallest effort, as if drawing a line in the air and making Feng Zhan follow it.

"You had all that energy a moment ago," Lao Xie said mildly, his sword twisting down and brushing aside another spear thrust. "What happened to all that confidence?"

"Shut up!" Feng Zhan shouted, his steps growing more aggressive.

But Lao Xie only smiled faintly, his footwork still as light as drifting mist. With a sudden step, he closed the distance again — and this time, he didn't just block. His sword slid up the shaft of the spear, pushed it wide, and brought the blade within an inch of Feng Zhan's collar.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Feng Zhan threw himself back, barely regaining footing, but before he could fully recover, Lao Xie was already stepping forward again — not rushing, not chasing, but pressing with such measured control that it looked almost lazy.

"He's not just overpowering him," one disciple whispered from the stands. "He's teaching him."

Another voice followed. "Teaching? are you crazy?… he's clearly humiliating him."

Up on the stage, the weapons met again — short clangs, controlled sparks, one-sided exchanges that barely looked like effort from Lao Xie's side. And still, he said nothing too loud. Just small phrases between the clashes, carried softly under his breath.

"Too slow."

"Too weak."

"Too stiff."

Each word chipped at Feng Zhan more than the sword did.

"Ughhh, His attacks are heavy…" he said inwardly.

Ling Ruxin's eyes stayed fixed on the scene. "He's reading him like a book," she murmured. "Not just reacting — he's moving before the attack even finishes."

Elder Yao gave a soft hum, her arms folded. "Huh, you're paying attention to him that much.."

"Did something happen between you two?" she asked, her face shows a curious expression.

At that moment, on the platform, Lao Xie sidestepped another thrust and turned his sword gently, the flat of the blade striking Feng Zhan's wrist with just enough force to throw off his grip. The spear dipped for a breath — not enough to fall, but enough to open his defense.

Lao Xie didn't take the opening fully. He only stepped in, let his blade rest gently at the edge of Feng Zhan's neck, not pressing down — just enough to let the cold bite of the metal be felt.

He tilted his head slightly. "Seems like all the confidence from earlier…. didn't last?"

Feng Zhan's face twisted. He slapped Lao Xie's blade aside with the back of his wrist, breathing hard. "Tchh… I'm not done yet!"

"Oh?" Lao Xie tilted his head slightly, sword still lowered at his side. "Could've fooled me."

Feng Zhan didn't answer. He surged forward again, spear swinging in tight arcs, sharper now — but also more desperate, like he was trying to prove something to himself more than anyone else.

The spear shot forward — three rapid strikes, a sudden feint, then a low sweep meant to catch Lao Xie off guard.

But Lao Xie moved through it like he'd seen it all a hundred times before. His sword slid into place without force, without flourish, meeting each thrust with the barest of effort. A flick of the wrist to the left, a gentle tap to the right — and Feng Zhan's rhythm shattered again.

"Still with the feints?" Lao Xie asked mildly. "Is that one supposed to trick me? You really thought that sweep would land?"

"Shut up!" Feng Zhan snapped, jaw tight as he forced another step forward.

Clang!

Lao Xie's blade intercepted with a short ring of metal.

"That tone again," he sighed, not even looking bothered. "For someone who keeps yelling, your strikes are surprisingly quiet."

Feng Zhan's breathing turned ragged, his stance growing heavier. Another strike came, wild and high — Lao Xie stepped around it without even raising his sword.

"You ever try aiming?" he asked gently, almost concerned. "Might improve your odds."

Somewhere in the stands, someone let out a small laugh — quickly stifled, but enough to make Feng Zhan flinch.

The spear lashed out again, this time with more anger than precision — and Lao Xie caught the shaft with a light twist of his blade, guiding it downward like brushing away a falling branch.

"I'm helping you, you know," he added. "Every mistake you make, I let you see it clearly."

"You're mocking me—!"

"No, no. This is kindness." Lao Xie leaned in. "If I really wanted to humiliate you, I'd have done it before you got your third swing in."

Feng Zhan snarled and pushed forward — but it was sloppy now. The spear trembled slightly from his grip, his steps losing form.

Up above, Ling Ruxin watched with narrowed eyes.

"He's baiting him on purpose," she said softly. "He wants Feng Zhan to get angrier… so he'll fall apart faster."

Elder Yao didn't argue. Her gaze followed Lao Xie's steps closely, her arms folded, a smile just barely tugging at her lips.

"He's not even countering seriously," she murmured. "Just toying and showing off."

Back on the stage, the spear came again — a straight jab, shaky but fast.

Lao Xie didn't dodge this time. He leaned just enough to let it graze his sleeve, then flicked his wrist, knocking the weapon upward. His sword traced along the inside of the shaft and ended at Feng Zhan's collarbone once more — still no cut, but the cold edge was there, hovering in place like a silent judgment.

Feng Zhan froze, the tip of his spear aimed at nothing.

Lao Xie tilted his head slightly, a soft exhale leaving his lips. "That was your best one so far," he said. "Almost scratched the embroidery."

Gasps fluttered through the crowd. The arena, once full of cheers, now felt like it was holding its breath.

Feng Zhan didn't speak. He stood rigid, sweat dripping from his jaw.

Lao Xie gave a small shrug.

"…Well?" he said, voice light. "Are we done pretending this was ever close?"