Chapter One Hundred: Sparring (Part Three)

“Xuan, why did you have Yun go up for a sparring match as well? At his current level, I doubt he could last more than a few moves,” Yuwen Chengdu asked, perplexed by Zhang Xuan’s arrangement.

“There’s no deeper reason,” Zhang Xuan replied as he watched Zhao Yun step into the arena. “You all went through it, so I thought Yun should experience it too. It’s a chance for him to test the results of his training and set a target to chase, a direction for his efforts.” In his heart, Zhang Xuan believed Zhao Yun, once grown, might be the only one capable of dueling that person alone—at least, that’s what Zhang Xuan himself imagined. Now that time and space were thrown into disarray, there might be others able to match him.

“By the way, Second Brother, what did you take away from this bout?”

“A takeaway?” Yuwen Chengdu mused. “He was clearly holding back, yet I could only withstand a handful of moves. I’ll have to keep practicing hard. Someday, I’ll defeat him.” He was right; despite the opponent’s previous exertion and many chances to finish the match early during the spar, he chose not to, almost as if giving Yuwen Chengdu the opportunity to learn through the duel. Ultimately, it depended on Chengdu’s own insight.

“Zai Xing, Chengdu, about your sparring matches, let me point out your strengths and shortcomings...” Master Tong then analyzed the good and lacking aspects of Yang Zaixing and Yuwen Chengdu’s performances. “Alright, reflect on today’s spar; preserve your strengths and improve your weaknesses. That’s all for now—Yun is about to start his match.”

Everyone's eyes turned once again to the center of the arena.

“You’re the one who challenged me, aren’t you? But you look young. Why not train for a few more years before coming back? Swords and spears know no mercy; it wouldn’t do for you to get hurt. Let someone else step forward to challenge me,” the martial artist said to Zhao Yun.

“Brother Xuan says ‘never underestimate the young and poor.’ If you look down on me because of my age, you may pay dearly for your contempt and carelessness. Please, teach me!” Zhao Yun declared, taking a deep breath before raising his spear and charging at his opponent.

“Such admirable courage!” The martial artist lifted his halberd to meet him.

The battle began swiftly, but at their current levels, they were not equals. The bout ended quickly; with twenty moves, Zhao Yun’s spear was knocked out of his hands.

“Xuan, didn’t you say you’d take the stage? Now’s your chance—take him down in one fell swoop and avenge your brothers!” Master Tong urged.

“Master Tong, do you think I’m as shameless as you? I’m honestly embarrassed for you. To challenge someone when he’s exhausted, even though you’re my master and I ought to obey your wishes, look at him—he’s already out of breath! How could you bear to strike at him now? I for one cannot,” Zhang Xuan declared righteously to Master Tong.

Yang Zaixing and the others exchanged speechless glances. It was Zhang Xuan who’d said he’d fight, who’d suggested waiting until the opponent was tired to deliver a thunderous blow, who’d spoken of avenging his brothers—now suddenly it was all Master Tong’s idea.

“Xuan, are you just avoiding the match because you suspect he still has energy and you lack confidence? Is that why you’re pushing it off, afraid to step up? If you’re scared, just say so! Should we look down on you? What do you think, Zaixing?” Yang Zaixing and the others nodded in agreement with Master Tong.

“I’m not afraid. I simply believe it’s unsporting to seize victory when the opponent is fatigued. A master like myself must display grace, never taking advantage of another’s weakness.”

Yang Zaixing slung his arm over Zhang Xuan’s shoulder. “Xuan, go on. You promised to ‘avenge’ us. We’re all waiting. If you win, no one will say you took advantage. Besides, you were the one who proposed the round-robin idea.”

“Brother, food can be eaten recklessly—so long as it’s not poison, at worst it’ll upset your stomach—but your words can’t be spoken recklessly. How is it my idea to hold a round-robin? Wasn’t it you who, itching to spar upon seeing someone training, stepped up? Did I urge you? I don’t think so!”

Yang Zaixing thought for a moment; it did seem he himself had acted on impulse, unable to refute Zhang Xuan.

“Xuan, even if Big Brother was willing, you definitely pushed Yun and me up next,” Yuwen Chengdu chimed in fairly. Zhao Yun had now returned to Zhang Xuan’s side, listening to the conversation, and raised his little hand, calling out, “I testify for Second Brother Yuwen—Brother Xuan ‘encouraged’ us to go up!”

“Yun, grown-ups are talking. Children shouldn’t interrupt!”

Zhao Yun muttered under his breath, “He calls me a child, but he’s only a few years older. He’s a child too.”

“Enough. Since you’re all so eager for me to avenge you, I’ll reluctantly step up and let you see the difference between us—or rather, the difference between you and me. After all, I am a master. Watch closely and see how I avenge you!” With those words, Zhang Xuan strode forward, leaving his hand behind as he went.

“Relax, go boldly. No need to leave your hand behind—we won’t hold you back. We want to see how you avenge us!” Yang Zaixing saw through Zhang Xuan’s little trick and exposed it without mercy.

“How’s your rest? I’ll be your last opponent today. If you need more time, I’ll give it. I won’t strike when you’re weak,” Zhang Xuan said.

“Go get your weapon. I barely used any strength in the last round, and with all this rest, I’m ready. Don’t let me down,” the martial artist replied.

Zhang Xuan looked at his empty hands—he hadn’t even brought his spear. Still, he spoke calmly, “I came up first to greet you. If you’re tired, we can leave it at that for today. If you’re up for a match, I’ll fetch my weapon.”

“Go and get your weapon. I’m brimming with energy.”

Since Zhang Xuan had stepped up and the challenge was accepted, there was no avoiding the duel. He turned towards the weapon rack. Yang Zaixing and the others watched his movements. “No way, Xuan’s up there—could he be planning to run?” “He’s certainly capable of it!” they said among themselves, though Zhang Xuan couldn’t hear them.

Zhang Xuan chose his familiar spear and returned to the center of the arena. “Come, let’s fight without regrets. Who knows if we’ll have such chances again? Perhaps next time, we’ll meet on the battlefield.” The latter half he murmured to himself, for he felt uncertain about subduing this opponent—at least for now. As for the future, who could say?

Without further words, the opponent raised his halberd and lunged at Zhang Xuan. Knowing the prior exhaustion, he intended to finish the match quickly; if he couldn’t win swiftly, the scales would tip ever so slowly in Zhang Xuan’s favor.