The morning sun hung low, its golden light breaking through scattered clouds. The gentle breeze carried the crisp scent of dew, rustling the trees surrounding the outer sect.
Both participants had just sealed a formal wager, setting the stakes of their impending battle.
Wu Ming stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression lighthearted. Ten meters before him, Su Lingxue's fingers tightened around the hilt of her saber. Her eyes were cold as frost.
'Hm, she's put a good distance between us. That means she probably has a long-range technique. Well, that works for me too. But…' Wu Ming stepped forward with an easy grace. "A duel is a conversation of blades. Shall we begin our discussion, Junior Sister?"
Su Lingxue answered with action, not words.
With a flick of her wrist, a multitude of frosty lotuses bloomed in the air, swirling like drifting snowflakes before rushing toward Wu Ming.
'My guess was not wrong.'
Wu Ming's sword, still sheathed at his waist, did not move. Instead, his body began weaving through the gaps in her attack like a serpent slipping through the cracks in a stone.
Su Lingxue snorted unhappily. 'Hmph! Does he think my Frost Lotus Saber Art is a child's plaything?'
Her saber flared with a chill of a thousand winters. A single swing of her saber sent another wave of icy lotuses forward, each spinning like a razor-edged wheel.
But again, Wu Ming made light of the move with his footwork, his expression calm and collected.
"This technique of yours is beautiful," Wu Ming murmured, his gaze sweeping over the icy lotuses. "A winter lotus blooming in the storm, yet its roots are still so fragile."
Su Lingxue's face darkened.
"Do not underestimate me!" She snapped, her saber flaring with frost.
A dozen lotuses fused into one, forming a massive spinning wheel of ice that tore toward him like the blade of a heavenly executioner.
Wu Ming chuckled. "Oh?"
He swung his sword twice in succession. Two jade-green crescent slashes shot forward, slicing through the frozen wheel.
Boom!
The lotus shattered into a spray of ice and mist, but hidden behind was a second attack!
Wu Ming's pupils shrunk.
The follow-up strike came too fast. At the last possible instant, Wu Ming twisted his blade to deflect it. The resulting shards splashed against him, frost clinging to his robes and numbing his skin.
Su Lingxue's lips curled in triumph.
Wu Ming's brows lifted slightly. 'Not bad. She played me. Feigned anger, baited me, and concealed a follow-up.'
His smirk deepened. 'But that is still far from enough.'
With a casual shake of his sleeve, the frost fell away. "Not bad. A blade hidden within a flower, elegant and deadly. But in the end, frost melts under the sun."
'Are you trying to fight or flirt, you shameless dog?' Su Lingxue's eye twitched.
But before she could form another lotus, Wu Ming had already closed the gap.
Her saber shot up in reflex.
Clang!
His sword intercepted it with a casual flick, the impact sending a numbing force up her arm.
With another strike from his sword, she staggered back.
But he was relentless.
Like a shadow, he followed. His blade moved in rapid succession, his strikes sharp and clinical, each grazing her wrist, shoulder, and waist. Never cutting deep, but unquestionably precise.
Su Lingxue gritted her teeth, struggling to parry his attacks that arrived mercilessly like the autumn rain.
Her movements gradually slowed. Her breath turned ragged.
Then, a flick of Wu Ming's left wrist.
The tip of his sheath glided across her soft cheek. Not cutting, not harming, just a light touch.
Yet it was the greatest insult.
Her blood boiled.
Wu Ming smiled innocently.
He was clearly toying with her. Again.
'Enough!' Su Lingxue's face burned with humiliation.
A chilling wind swept across the battlefield.
The frost within her saber spread outward, turning the air into icy blades.
She leaped back, widening the gap. Her hands blurred through a series of seals, the lotuses around her blooming once more. Only this time, the petals detached, transforming into countless ice blades that filled the sky.
The temperature plummeted.
Wu Ming's grip tightened around his sword. The playfulness in his gaze vanished, replaced by coldness.
Shing!
A flash of steel.
The Jade Serpent Sword Technique unfurled.
A jade-green dragon roared to life, coiling around his blade before surging forward. It expanded instantly, filling the battlefield.
The ice storm barely lasted a breath before being ravaged by the mighty dragon.
Su Lingxue's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
"What kind of monstrous technique is this?" She barely had time to react before the serpent slammed into her, swallowing her whole.
A deafening roar echoed as the dragon soared into the sky, taking her with it.
"Ahhh! Save me!"
Wu Ming simply watched from below, hands behind his back, expression calm.
Her miserable screams continued to echo through the heavens as she flailed inside the translucent jade beast.
Then, as suddenly as it had formed, the jade dragon dissipated.
Su Lingxue plummeted from the sky.
As the ground rushed toward her, panic shattered the last of her pride.
Her cries turned shrill, stripped of all composure, trembling with raw fear. She clawed at the empty air, limbs flailing like a broken-winged bird cast from the heavens. Her once-cold, proud eyes now brimmed with helpless tears.
Wu Ming watched.
He did not move.
Only when she was mere inches from the ground, about to be reduced to a pitiful mess of shattered bones and regret, did he finally act.
He stepped forward.
With one hand, he caught her effortlessly.
For a moment, he looked down at her, his face expressionless.
Then, in the same calm voice, he asked, "Do you still wish to continue?"
Su Lingxue's lips trembled. Her fists clenched tightly.
And her heart screamed, 'I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.'
But no matter how much she wanted to glare, to curse, to spit in his face, Su Lingxue could only grit her teeth and force out the words, "I... concede."
Wu Ming smiled, just about to comment.
When his expression suddenly stiffened.
Puchi–!
He sneezed. A fine mist of mucus sprayed directly onto Su Lingxue's face.
She went rigid. Her mind blanked.
Wu Ming blinked. Looked at her. Looked at the mess. Looked away.
A long, painful silence.
Then, with the utmost seriousness, he nodded and said, "Apologies. Your icy arts are quite effective." Before she could even process the humiliation, he casually wiped his nose with the sleeve of her robe. Twice, for good measure.
This battle was over.