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Drudic Cultivation | Thirty-Four
🕑 Added 2019-06-08 03:03:12 +0000 UTC
Jiao smiled as he saw the determination in Yun’s eye. He had been arrogant, but Feng Jiao didn’t want to ruin his entire path by crushing in there, regardless of the words spoken. The fact that he was able to eke out a win so easily in his next match, as well as the motivation still present, reassured Jiao to the fact that whichever sect had selected him would still take him. It was hard to find someone with such motivation.
The rest of the loser bracket matches finished quickly as well. After having lost their first fight, regardless of how well they’d done, each boy wanted to win the next at any cost. Having two losses in a row would not reflect well on their ability or their future. Gone was all the showmanship and gentle exchanges. Although the matches weren’t as quick as Yun’s, they were noticeably faster than the first round of fights.
Feng Jiao’s next match was against a boy around the age of fourteen, as looks went. The two of them bowed but did not exchange any words. Jiao had not seen his fight because it was going on at the same time, he’d battled Yun. Likewise, the boy hadn’t seen Jiao’s but he had seen the aftermath and was therefore on guard. The gong tolled and Feng Jiao rushed forward only to be kept at a distance by a blunted spear.
The boy thrust at Feng Jiao’s stomach, head, and shoulders over and over only to have Jiao dodge each strike. The tempo of the stabs and swipes picked up to the point that Jiao began to sweat, sweat that was rapidly cooled by wind caused by the spear that swung over his head. Every time tried to close the gap his opponent would throw out another well-placed strike that forced him to back up.
“What’s wrong, little child? You seem to be doing a lot of running away right now. If you want to dance with me, I’ll gladly take you out after the tourney.” Emboldened by his temporary lead, the boy started to talk down to Feng Jiao. Without any other choice, Feng Jiao decided to arm himself.
Jiao ran in closer, getting within the spear’s striking range, and swung out as he withdrew the staff he was borrowing from his inventory ring. The long, hardened pole appeared in his hands and caught the other boy by surprise as it struck down with enormous speed. Unable to get his spear in place to block the strike, Jiao’s staff struck against the right side of the boy’s rib cage and knocked him back a few feet with as sickening crunch.
The boy rolled with the strike and regained his footing even as Jiao swung an overhead strike to finish the boy off. His staff was caught on the body of the spear, which was held above the boy’s head in a two-handed grip. Both boys backed up, Jiao two steps and his opponent several. Naturally, Jiao continued to press his advantage as he’d learned to do with the beasts in the forest. It was best to keep up tempo in a close quarters fight lest the enemy get time to muster up a saving move.
The other boy, suddenly on the opposite side of the onslaught of strikes, began to panic. The fight continued for a few minutes with Jiao dodging or parrying all strikes and returning his own like a professional warrior. The boy was forced to concede as he was rapidly accumulating cracked ribs, bruises, and losing his energy. If he wanted to perform well in the bottom bracket, he knew that he needed to admit his defeat. Feng Jiao, throughout the entire fight, hadn’t gotten a single scratch on him. His opponent was on guard this time and was more difficult, but it was still nothing he couldn’t handle.
Jiao’s next match was the same but just a bit more difficult. With his practice fighting beasts in this lifetime he had honed his reaction speed but it wasn’t the same as fighting another human with a weapon. During that match Jiao was pushed to the limits of his abilities, further refining his footwork. Although he hadn’t put too much work into sparring during his current life, he could tell that he had done it in his last human life, considering how naturally it all came to him.
During round three, Feng Jiao dispatched his opponent even quicker, a user of a two-handed sword who thought that raw muscle was going to push them to the top of the tourney. His previous two opponents had made the mistake of trying to block each swing and were swiftly beaten into a near-pulp. Jiao had mistakenly thought that the boy would be a challenge when he saw him and his massive sword, but he was wrong.
With every swing of the massive two-handed blade, Jiao would sway left and right while he danced to the side of the strike. With a blade so massive, the boy was unable to make the minute changes required to compensate for Jiao’s dodges. Jiao had chosen to store his staff once more and fight the boy barehanded in order to get within his swing range and pummel him, it was a good choice.
After each match, Feng Jiao would sit back next to his father and observe the rest of the battles. With each win he got closer and closer to his goal of securing the future of his friends while at the same time making a tidy profit for his uncle, Feng Yaobei, who’d decided to take a risk and bet on his nephew. Everyone he defeated was dropped into the bottom bracket where they were swiftly dispatched by Yun, the boy that Feng Jiao had defeated in the first round.
His berserk state of savage swings and kicks slowed down and Jiao was able to observe his actual swordsmanship. He looked like a salmon swimming upstream, flowing in and out of the water while fighting against the current, graceful and powerful at the same time. Every time he cleaned up Feng Jiao’s sloppy seconds, he moved his way up the loser’s bracket a little more and proved to the entire arena that his loss to Feng Jiao had been a fluke.
During round four, Feng Jiao saw a familiar face. His opponent was a taller, lanky-looking boy with an arrogant air about him. Armed with a short sword, he stared down Feng Jiao with a sick look on his face as his black hair flew in the air.
“Cousin, fancy meeting you here. I don’t suppose you feel like letting your older cousin win, do you?” Feng Lou proposed from where he stood across from Jiao. Even as he asked for mercy, Jiao could see the disdain in his eyes. His posture alluded to the fact that he was ready to flee a moment’s notice, most of his weight on his front food as he prepared to turn and flee.
“No, I don’t think so. Even if I didn’t have a reason to beat you into the ground in front of this crowd, and I do, I still wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. Oh, you didn’t like that? Well, you’ve got a weapon this time, so how about we test if that makes a difference?” Jiao gave his cousin no ground. Although they were not mortal enemies, it would take a long time before he gave Feng Lou any face again, considering their childhood experiences. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you five seconds to concede before I make this event a repeat of the Feng reunion.”
The pained expression on Lou’s face intensified as if he’d tried to douse the sour from a lemon by consuming a pepper. The knuckles on the hand gripping his sword tightened and turned white from pressure as he shifted his weight. In that very moment, Jiao was sure that his cousin was going to fight it out to the end. Then, just before the gong sung out to signal the round, Lou looked into the crowd and made eye contact with his father, getting a slow head shake. The gong was struck and, while trembling in anger, Feng Lou threw his sword to the ground and shouted his concession to the overseer.
Both Lou and Jiao, as well as both of their fathers, knew for a fact that Lou would not be any competition for Feng Jiao, but it still surprised him that his cousin gave up so easily. All his life, Feng Lou had been a headstrong, arrogant, and violent child. For him to give up and throw his face into the dirt so quickly, it was a shocking event for sure. Naturally, Lou knew he would lose to his younger cousin and didn’t desire to be injured before entering the losing bracket but, in reality, his father had bet against him from the start. Even if he could out match Feng Jiao, and he couldn’t, his father would want him to let his younger cousin win for profit.
With his fastest finished yet now completed, Feng Jiao once again wandered over to where his father was sitting. With 256 competitors, there were only seven rounds in total before leading into the top ten boys vs girls. With four wins under his belt already, Jiao’s confidence in his ability to win the entire competition was soaring. Up until this point he hadn’t been pushed to the limits of his skill and he even still had a few tricks up his sleeve that he hadn’t yet been forced to employ. After each match, Jiao would look up to Sect Elder Nufang Mudan in order to enjoy the incredulous look on her face as he swept his way through the competition.
His fifth match began with eight young men taking the stage, including Feng Jiao. So far, he’d only had to face one person he’d thought was going to be a challenge, the boy with the large sword, and he now found himself one match from the semi-finals. His current opponent, however, was somebody he knew was going to be a problem.
Originally given the number 57, Ma Heise had also swept his way to the front of the pack by downing each of his opponents rapidly, giving nobody a chance to catch their breath. Feng Jiao had kept his eye on the young man since the start, impressed because he didn’t seem to come from money but was extremely powerful none-the-less. Every time the gong rang, Ma Heise would instantly strike out with his two whips, constricting his opponent’s movements and dislodging them from their fighting stances. Followed by a few swift blows, he’d dispatched each and every one of them.
Jiao and Heise stared one another down from where they stood, electricity in the air almost visible to the naked eye. Jiao had been watching Heise and Heise’s eyes hadn’t strayed too far from Jiao either. Both of them saw the other as a genuine challenge, something that was difficult to find amongst their age group.
“I’ve been looking forward to this, young Jiao. Tell me, how did you get so strong at such a young age?” Heise bowed to Jiao with a complement, the most cordial greeting that Jiao at received the entire competition. The compliment was mostly empty but Jiao could sense a slight respect in the voice none-the-less, the respect one warrior would give to another regardless of which side of the battlefield they belonged to.
“Well, every morning I would do some push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and go for a long run. On top of that, I didn’t have any air cooling while growing up, even on the hottest days of the summer! Oh, and spinach. Lots of spinach.” To answer the empty question, Jiao offered a facetious answer. Ma Heise had inferred that Feng Jiao was a pampered young lord, fed all sorts of valuable medicines, and that’s how he’d gotten so strong so young. Jiao knew the situation to be otherwise but didn’t feel the need to explain himself. His response elicited a toothy grin from his opponent, one that might send shivers down the spine of a weaker man.
“Very well, my name is Ma Heise. Please advise me!” Heise gave the younger boy a slight bow before straightening out and flexing his wrists with a whip in either hand.
“Feng Jiao, and likewise.” Feng Jiao returned the slight bow. He, too, straightened out and withdrew his weapon. In other matches Jiao avoided using his staff as long as possible to challenge himself but, in this fight, he knew that any hesitation would lead to his defeat.
A loud brass gong was struck with enough force to send vibrations through the air and into each of the spectators. Those watching saw only two clouds of dust as Jiao and Heise launched themselves at the other right away.
