Like all large households, this Dari manor had expansive arena platforms for entertainment. Whether it was entertaining the Elven drummers or Goblin wrestlers or the unique snake dance of the Vampires and Lycans, these platforms would find some use throughout the year and express the deep culture and aesthetics of this martial realm.

  As a martial realm, though, there was one primary use for these platforms – battle.

  Not just the sparring that the two servants were about to initiate, but grand tournaments and competitions (a highly favoured way for the aristocracy to recruit external experts or for independent warriors to seek sponsors). Naturally, nothing could compare to these as a form of entertainment in this land.

  No longer showing the same cavalier attitude, the young Witch took a position quite distant from his opponent and waved to show that he was ready. Receiving confirmation on the opposite end, he spread out his hands and began a chant.

  Suddenly, a smoke-like substance began to rise from his pores and engulf his figure.

  Well, to call it smoke-like wasn’t the most accurate. For one, it was a light shade of blue and had a unique liquid viscosity. A similar phenomenon was observed in Yachit, though hers was star-spangled and crimson red like a fire in a diamond mine.

  Aura.

  It wasn’t just a flashy manifestation of power, but the next level in a person’s growth on the path of life energy mastery. A warrior’s aura, especially when released tangibly like this, was evidence of their power and energy reserves. To be able to make ones life energy visible was no small feat.

  Before the word go, the younger fighter bolted at her opponent with feverish intensity, covering the distance between them in just two strides and a half.

  Despite this bullet-like charge, her attack was blocked by an immaterial shield. Her intention to drive through the resistance was delayed by a sudden explosion that sent her flying backwards.

  Bastard, she said internally with a scowl.

  One of the many benefits of Aura was actually instantiated in that short exchange. In a fight like the one between Chaina and Elijah, his superior senses allowed him a level of precognition of her attacks as he could see what spell she was casting by paying attention to her lips.

  One’s Aura served as a cloak and could go even further in deceiving an enemy in the crucial moment.

  The very next moment, she dodged to the side, avoiding a dangerous swipe of a blade right behind her. The face of the attacker was that of her sparring partner, but the illusory nature of his body made it clear that he was just a hastily made copy for the sake of that rapid attack.

  She stretched out her hand and crushed the copy’s throat with a quick flex of her fingers. What resulted was a spontaneous gale that the Troll managed to evade despite the spell using the clone as a marker for the attack. The result was the same with the next two or three traps he set for her. She weaved through the blades of wind like a skilled dancer, timing their exact release and evading them with just enough, never overcommitting to any move so that she was able to dodge accurately. At the end, only a few out of the dozens of distinct strikes aimed at her managed to graze her.

  This was another use of one’s Aura – it expanded the range of their senses and movements and actions that could deceive sight and sensation would not be able to deceive their life energy.

  To say that her dodges were perfect would be an exaggeration, though. She had timed every dodge perfectly, yes, but the pernicious nature of the Witch’s innate element of wind was precisely showcased then, since it could extend the range of attacks slightly and reduce the efficacy of even her exceptional instincts. Still, considering the mastery of his attacks and the expenditure of mana involved, he could scarcely be congratulated on, nor could he feel satisfied with just that level of damage.

  Tsk. I didn’t expect her to dodge that quickly.

  He was frustrated that his trap hadn’t been decisive, but his expression calmed down soon after.

  Well, what else can you expect from those martial arts freaks?

  A scholar might note, if they were inclined to watch a match at such a low level, that the two major disciplines in this world were on display.

  In the blue corner, the Witch was engaged in sorcery. Casting expertly and at range, he manipulated the mana of this world into clever and hard-to-predict attacks that would leave a lesser opponent much flustered.

  While in the red corner, displaying supreme mastery of her own body and an acute sensitivity to the environment around her through the use of natural Qi, the recently removed squad leader showed her adeptness in martial arts.

  She rushed at him.

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  Although he was afforded extra speed because of his innate wind talent, cultivators (or martial artists) whose very bodies were amplified by their practice of the art would naturally still hold the advantage.

  After much manoeuvring, she had him cornered and released a simple straight jab at him.

  Crack!

  Several such sounds were heard at once as clay fragments fell to the ground.

  Those were the defensive charms that Adeleye had been wearing. The number that shattered instantaneously spoke of the force of the blow.

  Ugh!

  He grunted and beat a rapid retreat, the sudden explosions he had left behind covering his escape and allowing him to create safe separation.

  I think she shattered my collarbone, he thought with a grimace. No, there’s no thinking; she broke it.

  I was aiming for his chest, she said to herself, clearly displeased with not being able to see the fight off with that attack.

  She observed the deep cuts that had appeared on her arm and determined that she could still fight with it.

  The cuts had come from the powerful spell he had cast just before her strike landed, moving her fist off target just enough and therefore extending their battle a little longer.

  This is no good, he thought to himself, it’ll be a little embarrassing if I can’t hold out for even a little while longer.

  Although they were both injured, her discipline meant that if they made their battle one of attrition or exchanging blows, he’d collapse with undignified wounds long before she did. In addition, his mobility was more affected, and he couldn’t keep the pace of the battle on the same level. This wasn’t to say that she had completely outclassed him, but rather demonstrated the difference between the two practitioners.

  It was said that, in close quarters, martial arts were indomitable.

  And yes, to a cultivator, any distance within a hundred metres essentially counted as close quarters.

  Well, I can only put in maximum effort.

  He ignored his fractured shoulder and looked straight at her, apparently intent on carrying on the fight with one arm.

  She cocked her eyebrow but didn’t wait any longer, rushing at him with the same bold manner she was used to.

  Adeleye proved himself more capable than appearances would suggest and somehow maintained the earlier pace, using the wind to more overtly help his motions.

  She swept her leg at him to take him down, and an air current lifted him up above her, while simultaneously pushing her downwards.

  She anticipated his fall and tried to sweep once more, but he kept himself afloat just a second longer and landed on her ankle. The damage that was dealt was inconsequential, but he launched himself off her body, making hand signs in the air and firing dangerous wind bullets from his mouth.

  Since sorcery boiled down to language and intent (if put overly simply), all forms of speech could be theoretically used to cast spells.

  “Ho? Didn’t expect you to use that.”

  He saw that the wind bullets had been blocked by her now large palm.

  In frustration at being evaded, she had used a partial transformation into her innate Troll form.

  Known far and wide for their “stone skin defence”, Trolls were once the kings of all mountains before the Dwarves. What they lacked in technical ingenuity and political power, they more than made up for in brute strength and durability. Among the myriad races, only the Lycans could boast of any higher attainment in those fields.

  Despite the power of these abilities, they were generally frowned upon within Jan Zaki who maintained a belief in the supremacy of their race. They were, of course, pragmatic leaders and would not object when these powers were used in their service on the field (that was the purpose of recruiting many different races after all), but they did generally hold to the idea that it was unseemly for “lower” races to display their innate forms and abilities on clan premises.

  She clicked her tongue, knowing what he meant as her hand returned to normal.

  Was this the strength I said I was going to pursue? She asked herself derisively, looking at her opponent. She came to a sudden decision: it was time to end this.

  The sun was hanging low in the sky, and in this ambience, she began another attack, dealing with the evasions and attacks unmoved and unrelenting. Unlike before, where she’d pace herself and avoid direct hits even if she needed to abort an attack, she now powered through them, each time nearly bringing the fight to a disastrous end.

  This meant that the Witch could scarcely catch his breath as his opponent dogged him like his shadow.

  I’ll create separation and then…

  A brooding red light suddenly glowed in his vision.

  Bright flame-like energy appeared on her fist. This star-studded ball of energy was not only dangerous but also had a bizarre, attractive power, almost pulling the would-be victim in. In any chase, it was impossible to dodge such a hit at this distance.

  He prayed to Xango that his charms would be enough, trying to block the blow with the flat of his blade.

  A few seconds passed.

  Rather than the expected impact, there was nothing but silence.

  Adeleye finally peeked out and was astonished by the sight he was met with.

  Yachit seemed equally shocked, looking at her fist to make sure that she had not been hallucinating earlier.

  Indeed, the intense blaze had disappeared, dispersed like a small breeze, and the ferocious life-reaping fist was now cupped in a firm yet soft palm. The owner of it smiled gently at the pair, diffusing the tension instantly.

  Standing in the centre of the ring, and still holding on to the young girl’s now relaxed hand, was a tall and handsome youth with honey coloured eyes that complimented his smooth brown complexion and evoked the pleasant coolness of autumn when he smiled.

  His sudden appearance was a shock to say the least, but while the two fighters were stunned silent by it, there was someone who had an opposite reaction.