?!? 

Considering  that both Za Huan and the Wuu siblings knew about the frenzied wolves’ den, it would make sense for the Ingen participants to be informed as well, meaning that he might have wrongfully held a grudge for stolen prey.

But the other ‘purpetrator’ was from a rivaling clan, and while he hadn’t acted as aggressive as the spear wielder, he didn’t seem to hold many positive feelings for her at least.

The only explanation Ku Lo could find was fear. His broken blade aside, he felt that Za Huan was a good bit stronger than him, even though he had little to no practice or reference in the matter.

With ‘Sho’er’s rather evasive behavior around her, does he think I’m the easier target?

“Will you accept or not?” Outside his head, Ku Lo heard his challenger’s forceful voice, seemingly impatient over his continued silence.

“I will.” He separated from Gingge and walked into the open arena. “There is however something that interests me. I do not remember having qualms with neither the Ingen family nor you personally. For what reason do you pick on a newcomer who participates for an impoverished, small clan?”

His opponent did the same. “We are both contestants in this tournament on equal grounds. You own points and I wish to fight for them. What do public relations have to do in this proving of skill?”

“I suppose that is true. As you wish.” Ku Lo retrieved his still bloodied sword, brandishing it. True, but not what I want to know… Doesn’t matter for now, I guess.

Initially, there were more than thirty paces between them, but circling the other with weapons raised, they closed in on one another.

Aside from the shortsword, ‘Sho’er’ appeared unarmed and though he couldn’t tell with absolute certainty, Ku Lo was also convinced that he wore no armor.

At least of the plated kind. 

If there was chainmail beneath the heavy robe, he most likely wouldn’t be able to make it out.

When they had gotten close enough for an all out lunge to reach the other, he noticed the ever so slightly indignant expression on his face.

Before Ku Lo could reach a conclusion to the most fitting approach, his adversary thrust out. A decisive opening strike that forced a hasty block and made way for consecutive attacks. 

He struck them aside with desperate sweeps, the metal collisions ringing in his ears as the impacts traveled up his arm.

The man before him moved with unrelenting brutality, gaps in his volley having passed long before Ku Lo could retaliate and in immediate pursuit when he tried to gain distance.

A jab scraped his shoulder, it seemed light, forgotten the next moment when his opponent released another.

His lounges screamed for more air, but felt as though pierced by needles as the cold invaded his body alongside it.

The strike plunged the shortsword into his forearm, almost making him reel back instinctively. Instead, he struck his blade at the limb that retracted from its successful attack.

He was too slow for it to hit, but finally managed to force some distance between them, if only two paces. Lowering his upper body, Ku Lo held out his sword, lightly slapping the blade’s tip when the man came close.

Here, the difference in weapon size was in his favor for the first time. Qingling had once shown him how to bait an opponent with the tactic, but his current adversary had to retreat due to lacking range. 

A frail advantage, since he had just experienced its complete reversal at close range, but the biggest one he could spot at a glance.

Since neither was willing to lunge in again, they resumed slow circling, interrupted only by Ku Lo repeating his swatting whenever the man got too close for his comfort.

In this relative calm, he gathered Qi in his left hand and formed small, swirling needles at his fingernails. 

Yet his opponent’s eyes shifted to the violet mist on his hand before he could complete his preparations. Though not long enough to gain distance in time.

The purple projectile raced towards Sho, who had to duck out of the way awkwardly. In this position, he could barely deflect Ku Lo’s following sword strike.

It tore at his sleeve and the impact shook the man’s already unstable footing. The next attack, a hasty sweep that reversed his sword’s momentum, managed to graze Sho’s right upper arm, but like his own, the wound was anything but deep.

With a desperate lunge, he rushed at  Ku Lo, but slightly shifted, making him realize the feint as his opponent passed by him and his blade.

He jumped away in panic, narrowly dodging the backstab that aimed for the edge of his shoulder blade.

When he turned, their distance had increased to three paces again, but Ku Lo was too slow in putting up his guard, allowing Sho to close in with an opening poke.

What followed was the oppressive hail of jabs, thrusts and slashes that pushed him back, but never out of range.

Ku Lo was forced to rely on reflex to avert the attacks. Which he managed, but his arms felt more and more opposed to the quick movement.

Meanwhile, Sho did not show any signs of tiredness, his already forceful strikes almost growing more intense as time went on.

But being on the defensive also meant that he could study his moves. At the cost of a cut on his backhand, he had vaguely familiarized himself with the patterns, making out signs for likely gaps.

In one of them, he executed an upward slash that forced Sho to retreat.

This time, Ku Lo became certain. While backing off after the assault, the man’s otherwise solid defenses were more lax. Other things had also struck him as slightly peculiar.

Seemingly pointless moves to the side or back after an attack, halted the next moment, which made them too short to exploit.

Not so with the retreat however.

Though even with this realization, he still had to find a way to make use of it. Due to the neglected defense, his adversary’s retreat was too quick to hit with his bigger, but therefore slower blade.

A lunge could cover the distance, but it would likely result in a trade of blows, something that he did not want to risk in a pose of headfirst dive.

Sho’s sides were even more open than his front, but he was faster than Ku Lo from the start, so overtaking him posed even more of a challenge. 

His opponent recovered his stance and, with a short sprint, engaged him at an odd angle that forced him on the defensive right from the start. 

Between two jabs he began the formation of a Yin Paw, but the momentary loss of concentration forced him to deflect the next attack with a wide sweep that left him open for a fourth, which painfully scraped along his instinctively raised left and disrupted the already dispersing technique.

Thinking that his trap had been discovered, Ku Lo jumped back, but Sho aggressively closed in after him. 

With two resounding clashes, they had returned to their previous position, making him the target of Sho’s successive thrusts.

Ku Lo was hesitant to repeat his tactic, but a long reaching attack that had a slightly extended recovery period felt too good an opportunity to pass on.

The nails of his left hand brimmed with Qi, which he retracted into his sleeve as best he could to conceal the traitorous purple mist. 

Forming the initial structure tore his attention in two, focusing on his adversary’s next move.

A resounding impact nearly shattered the technique again, but with progress, it stabilized, requiring little but a steady supply of Qi to bring it to completion.

In turn, defending against the ultimately limited amount of attacks Sho executed got easier, even if he would lose a battle of attrition.

Performing a short swipe in light of Sho’s thrust cost him a hit to the forearm, but also forced his enemy back.

The opening appeared and Ku Lo dived in to exploit it. His sword aimed at the neck, he saw Sho move to the side and attempt to retaliate.

Sword hit sword due to Ku Lo ripping his weapon up at the cost of footing, but the fingers of his left hand clawed at the air, releasing the Yin Paw at his opponent’s unprotected stomach.

A pained scream, the first Sho had ever let out during their battle, rang in his ears. The man sank to his knees and held the wound with both hands, though not preventing the trickling of blood on the lightly snowed gravel.

Ku Lo aimed the sword at his neck.

He had won.

But he noticed the unceasing tremors unsettling the tip of his weapon. His mouth was too dry for words and crashing into him like a wave came the pain of his lacerated arms.