(Day 215)

“You’re trying too hard.” Chen Rulan said.  He stood to one side of Pengfei as the disciple stretched and limbered himself up.

“It’s a tournament.  Isn’t winning the point?”

“It’s in-house.  You’re not fighting for Kunlun’s honor among the nine great sects.  It’s more of an opportunity for us to gauge the levels of your peers.”

Pengfei stood up straight and pulled an arm across his chest, releasing the tension accumulated in his two previous bouts.  He mused aloud.

“3^rd, 2^nd 1^st rate, Peak, Transcendent… is there anything beyond that?”

“It doesn’t matter.  Anything below the Peak is arbitrary.  And once you’re past that, I’d imagine labels are meaningless.”

“Still… wouldn’t it look good for you if your student won it all?  Won the tournament and achieved the 2^ndrate?”

Chen Rulan sighed, gave up speaking to the disciple, turned on his heel and left.   Pengfei smiled at his exasperated teacher’s back.  When he had started the dayt, he had not given winning much thought.  But now he found himself in the top 32 disciples.  At least as determine by the brackets.  

Some monsters had been unlucky with the early draws, eliminating each other early on.  Qingfang, the largest of the Jin disciples and a favorite to win, had been eliminated in his first match by Jin Andong.  The giant took it well and stepped aside with grace while disciples who had bet on him muttered their curses.  

Pengfei’s bracket had been good match ups so far.  He’d beaten the first opponent on pure swordsmanship and been able to disarm the next, drag things into a hand-to-hand fight.  He knew that his skill with the jian wasn’t enough to carry him to the top, but the ‘Arhat Fist’ was becoming a more and more effective tool in recent weeks. 

He visualized his stratagems as an elder beckoned him back up onto the training ground, into one of the small rings that had been drawn on the paving stones of the courtyard.  Pengfei bowed to the judge and waited for his next opponent.

Neng stepped forward with his wooden sword in hand.

–Shit.–

Whatever tactics he could attempt, they would be that much harder against a skilled swordsman.  And the more Pengfei learned of the jian, the more he realized how far above him Neng really was.  Not even their strained friendship could make him discount that.  

Neng gave a wordless bow and held his sword in the ready position.  

–Alright… let’s see how this goes.–

He shook the nerves from his mind and raised his wooden sword to mirror Neng.  Right foot forward, opposite of what he preferred when bare-handed.  A more bladed stance as well.  Sword hand extended forward to keep the opponent at bay, but enough bend in the elbow to allow for a strong thrust.  

Pengfei practiced the sword every day, with the rest of the Jin disciples.  But when there was time to go above and beyond he instead chose to focus on the fist.  Now, the difference in the comfort level between the combatants was obvious.  Neng held his sword level without even a sliver of a tremor while Pengfei adjusted his stance anxiously.

The white haired elder looked between the two.

“Begin!”

Neng lunged forward behind his sword and Pengfei leapt to the right.  The fighting ring was small, not much space to run.  Too small to make good use of qinggong.  Still, he called on his internal energy to move swiftly out of danger.  The darts and hops came quicker than they would otherwise.  

Pengfei knew he could not hope to survive just by running.  After another evasion, he pressed hard with his back leg and came forward with a diagonal strike.  He hoped Neng would block, form a connection between the weapons that Pengfei could lean into, rush in before his opponent could reengage.  But Neng just bobbed his torso back for a moment, out of danger, and slashed a counter.  

The attack missed, but it was just the preamble.   Neng brought his hand back in and shot it forward again.

Dragon Emerges (long chuxian – 龍出現)

Pengfei felt the power of the thrust in the split instant before it struck out.  He leaned precariously to the side and brought his weapon up in a parry that took Neng’s sword just far enough off the line.  Still, the intensity of the exchange pushed the off-balanced Pengfei to the ground.

Internal energy was allowed in the tournament, though none of Pengfei’s partners had used it.  The contests were mostly civil exchanges of technique and skill.  Some qi used to enhance mobility but not attacks.  This was something else.  Fiercer.

He scrambled backwards, tripping over his feet as Neng slashed at his head.

–Not even letting me stand back up?–

Pengfei managed to gain his footing again.  He had to throw out some attacks of his own just to keep his attacker from overwhelming him, but none of the blows were successful.  Neng pushed forward, driving Pengfei toward the boundary of the ring again.  

The tips of the blades met between them.  Neng batted Pengfei’s sword around, making just enough contact to constantly throw the weapon off the center line, open up avenues of attack.  

Pengfei attempted the same but hit nothing as his adversary circled and dipped away from the pawing attempts. 

Neng found a path wide enough to attack and lunged in.  Pengfei parried high, guiding the thrust overhead, forming a ceiling with his own sword that protected the head.

A palm pushed Pengfei’s blocking hand to the side.  Neng threw out a backfist with his sword arm, and the butt of the wooden hilt busted open Pengfei’s ear, sending him stumbling

“Fuck!”  Pengfei yelled.  He held a hand up to the side of his head.  It came away bloody.  But this was a match, there was bound to be contact.  Injuries.  He didn’t begrudge it.  Until he looked up and saw the satisfied smile on Neng’s face.

“What the hell man?”

The other disciple did not answer.  He just took his stance again and raised his jian.  Pengfei lifted his own sword to meet the other.  

As soon as the weapons touched, Pengfei attacked.  A desperate attempt to shift the fight to more familiar territory.  He slapped at the flat of Neng’s sword, pushing it across the body.  A deep step and a straight punch to the face with his free hand.

But Neng sidstepped, moving around the attack, then brought the edge of his weapon back up.  Pengfei’s fist only hit air, he felt a slap in his opposite shoulder and neck as Neng’s sword found his side.  A strike to end the match.

Pengfei knew the reality of it, relaxed slightly in defeat as the elder started to speak.

“The winner is – “

But Neng was attacking again.  Pengfei ducked under a slash and brought his wooden jian back to the front in shock.  

“Stop!  The match is – “

Pengfei swatted at the weapon in front of him, ineffectually.  Neng dipped his sword and flicked it out at the fingers, coming from underneath and landing on the knuckles.  The hilt of Pengfei’s weapon practically leaped from his grasp, skittered over the ground and out of the ring.  He stepped back and raised his bare hands in a guard, shaking his fingers in pain.

Pengfei circled, waiting for the supervising elder to end the match.  But someone was speaking quietly to the judge.  A nervous glance was not enough to identify the figure, back turned to the ring.  But the muted tones of the voice were familiar.  Chen Weidao?

No stoppage came, and now Pengfei faced his opponent at a complete disadvantage.  Fist to blade, like some mythical master of the Jianghu.  But he knew he lacked the skill to make up for the asymmetry of the fight.  

Neng just had to stand there to display his dominance.  The arm-length sword held in front of him was an impenetrable barrier.  Every time Pengfei took a step to the side or moved half a pace forward the tip of the weapon would whip out like a snake.  Not biting in earnest, just teasing.  Every flick of movement made Pengfei recoil.  

A leap was met with a slash.  The charge turned to a stumbling retreat.   Every feint, every trick fell uselessly to the side, leading to desperation. 

A thought suddenly occurred.

–I could just concede… step out of bounds or shout ‘I give up!’–   

He considered it for a moment.  His ear hurt, his shoulder throbbed.  The match was already lost.  They continued only on the whim of Neng’s master.  

–Could pack it in, go have some lunch, relax.–

He would have done it, except for one thing.  

The smirk on Neng’s face.

He was enjoying this.  Showing off his swordsmanship.

–But it’s not a sword!–

“Hah!” Pengfei’s shoulders relaxed as the thought brought laughter to his lips.  And suddenly the response that the sect had conditioned into him dropped away.  He slid his foot forward, and when Neng prodded at him, Pengfei ignored the wooden sword that nipped his forearm.  Treated it like a stick instead of the steel it represented.

The next thrust went all the way to the torso, jabbed painfully into the belly.  Pengfei winced but immediately responded with a jab.  Still out of range.

Neng scowled as Pengfei continued to dismiss the training weapon.  “What are you doing?  I thought you’d take this match seriously.” 

“And I thought we were friends, but you’re being a dick.  So, now I’ll show you serious.”

Pengfei reached out and slapped the sword away, just enough to step in past the point.  He ignored the facsimile of a blade sliding along his flesh.  Didn’t give worry to the grievous wounds he would be inflicting on himself if it were a real jian.  

Instead, he punched.  A hard straight to the body.  It landed, and Neng took a large step back with a loud grunting exhale.  

But the attack wasn’t over yet.  Pengfei followed his retreating opponent, threw a hooking punch toward the head and a leg kick.  Neng ducked back from the first blow but a loud smack signaled the success of the second.

Neng thrusted with full force now.  The attacks bit into Pengfei cruelly.  The contusions quickly deepened in color, the first of them already purple.  He dodged most of the attacks aimed at his face, but one pushed his head back sharply and broke the skin above the eye.  Blood trickled down and obscured his vision on one side.

He threw a head kick with as much power as he could muster and clipped the top of Neng’s skull.  It made a satisfying thud and halted the sword attacks for a moment.  It was one of the stronger blows Pengfei had landed on a sparring partner.  He reset his posture, paused his attack as Neng took a few wobbly steps toward the perimeter of the ring.

“You done?”  Pengfei called over.

Neng didn’t respond but turned back to face him.  He straightened his back, used a hand to stretch his neck to one side, and shook off the latest blow.  Then he raised his weapon with a new intensity.

The smirk that had annoyed Pengfei was replaced with seething anger.  

Autumn Wind’s Gust ( qiutian zhenfeng- 秋天陣風)

It came like a sudden breeze kicking up from the west.  Hot and forceful.  A diagonal slash rising from the ground.  Pengfei raised his arm to protect his face, but the wooden sword just beat his own fist against his head, nearly a knockout blow.  

The next attack came up under his elbows and found the ribs beneath.    A crack.

Another slash nicked the top of Pengfei’s pelvis.  He looked up to see the sword loop gracefully around, coming back for his torso again.  He stepped in the direction it was travelling, trying to bleed off some of the impact, but it was still a heavy blow.  Neng’s natural strength amplified by the lever arm formed by the weapon.  But Pengfei grabbed at the wood when he felt the contact.  

He held firm, his battered body clinging to the sword for support as well as safety.  And for a split second Neng was stuck, refusing to let go of the hilt.

The elders watching the fight were already coming forward to intercede in the lull.  Pengfei saw someone step into the ring out of the corner of his eye.   But before a command could be given, Neng spiraled his weapon over Pengfei’s thumb and around the back of his hand, finding the weak point in the grip.  

A flick of Neng’s wrist, accompanied by a shout and a rush of internal energy.  The quick motion would have been enough for a surprisingly deep chopping cut if a real blade had been used.  

Instead, it broke Pengfei’s arm.  The jian landed hard on the forearm with a sickening snap.

“Ahhhh!”  the injured disciple screamed.  He fell to ground clutching his wrist as the Kunlun elders finally jumped between the combatants.