She moved with deceptive ease, her sword slicing through the air in slow, deliberate arcs. To the untrained eye, it might seem like she was merely warming up, but Layla could see the truth.
"She's toying with him" she muttered. "She's barely using a fraction of her strength. Even Bao would put up a better fight than this tragedy."
Jiang nodded. "She's testing him. Seeing how long it takes before he runs out of tricks."
Atlas, meanwhile, was sweating bullets. His mind raced as he dodged and parried, barely keeping up.
"Now, Shen, let's be reasonable" he said between hurried breaths, sidestepping yet another swipe.
"I am but a humble scholar! A man of intellect! Would you strike down an unarmed philosopher?"
Shen Xue scoffed. "You're armed. And you're not a philosopher."
"Minor details" Atlas said, ducking under another swing.
"But let's think about this logically. Wouldn't it be a more valuable use of your time to fight someone, I don't know, worthier?"
She lunged, forcing Atlas to stumble backward. "Oh? And who do you propose?"
"Jiang!" Atlas pointed wildly. "Jiang is strong. Trained. He—"
Jiang crossed his arms. "Not a chance."
Atlas let out a strangled laugh, narrowly avoiding a downward slash.
"Master Lin Wuye! A legendary warrior! Surely, a more engaging opponent!"
Lin Wuye smiled. "You're on your own, Atlas."
Atlas groaned, barely managing to sidestep before Shen Xue's blade although wood nearly took his arm off.
"You're all heartless!"
Layla laughed. "Oh, I'm loving this."
Master Daokan watched the fight unfold, his expression unreadable.
"He's clever, but cleverness alone won't save him."
Yan Shuren, his trusted disciple, crossed his arms.
"It's amusing, though. I've never seen someone try so hard to avoid a fight while actively fighting."
Ren, the youngest yet already an undeniable prodigy, observed with keen interest.
"He's adapting. Not efficiently, but he's trying. It's almost admirable."
Meyu, standing beside them, sighed. "Almost. He talks a lot, but he's still going to get beaten into the ground."
Yuxe Wuye, watched with an amused glint in her eye. "I think he knows that. But still, he fights in his own way. It may not be the strongest, but it's uniquely him."
Atlas, meanwhile, had somehow backed himself into a corner, staff gripped tightly as Shen Xue advanced.
"Now, now, let's not be rash. What if we—"
Shen Xue swung. Atlas yelped and barely ducked, the force of the strike sending a rush of air past his face. The sheer pressure of the blow carved into the ground behind him, rustling the trees at the edges of the arena. Leaves tore from their branches, scattering like frightened birds. Even the spectators felt the impact ripple through the air, a gust washing over them like a stormfront.
Atlas blinked at the destruction behind him.
"Okay, okay! How about a break? Just a small one? Water break? No?"
Shen Xue grinned. "No."
Out of pure spite, she channelled a fraction of her Qi, sending a controlled yet forceful strike toward Atlas. The very air around her vibrated from the sheer pressure.
But the moment it made contact, the energy crackled and dissipated, swallowed by an unseen force. Instead of immediately reflecting back, the energy lingered within Atlas, coursing through his body like a foreign entity seeking to root itself. His limbs twitched involuntarily, an uncomfortable heat pooling within his heart. The shockwave should have rebounded, but instead, it resides within Atlas. Shen Xue barely tilted her head, watching curiously as the energy sputtered and fizzled against his skin, yet did not lash back toward her.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh?"
Atlas, oblivious to what just happened, flailed in panic, his body feeling strangely heavier, like something unnatural was pressing against his insides. He barely managed to duck. He hadn't even realized what his own body had done.
"Ha! Missed!" he blurted out, before immediately scrambling out of the way of another precise blow.
The next few moments were a chaotic display of comedic dodging—Atlas twisting, rolling, and flinging himself to the side in ways that resembled more of a dance than actual combat. "
Too slow!" he taunted before tripping over his own foot and narrowly avoiding what would have been a direct hit to his ribs.
Layla snorted. "This is both the worst and best fight I've ever seen."
But his luck couldn't last forever.
Shen Xue finally adjusted, realizing that her Qi-based attacks were useless. With one well-placed strike, she abandoned energy entirely and relied on sheer physical force, slamming the blunt force of her longsword squarely into his stomach. The impact sent him flying backward, his entire body feeling as though it had been struck by a battering ram.
Atlas hit the ground with a loud thud, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. But beyond the pain, a deeper, more insidious sensation churned inside him. The energy he had absorbed was still there, refusing to leave, slowly poisoning his very being. His limbs twitched violently as he tried to process what was happening.
Jiang winced. "Oof. That looked painful."
Lin Wuye chuckled. "He doesn't have Qi to soften the blow. But... did you see that? The Qi attack didn't affect him."
Jiang furrowed his brow. "Wait. That energy didn't fully return to Shen Could it be that Atlas's body absorbs Qi?"
Yan Shuren crossed his arms. "There are two possibilities. Either his body acts as a vessel, temporarily holding Qi until he expels it through physical contact—or, worse, his body simply has no way to regulate Qi at all, meaning it will keep accumulating until it tears him apart from the inside."
Jiang frowned. "So either he has to fight back, or he'll be dealing with something far worse than just losing this match?"
Yan Shuren nodded. "Exactly. But there's another question to consider. If his body cannot regulate Qi, what happens when he finally releases it?"
Lin Wuye, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "There are two likely outcomes. If his body is merely storing the Qi, then when he does release it, it will be uncontrolled—wild, chaotic, and potentially destructive to himself and those around him. However, if his body fundamentally rejects Qi as a foreign entity, then forcing it out could damage his meridians beyond repair. Either way, the longer he holds it in, the worse it becomes."
Jiang frowned. "So he's either a ticking time bomb or slowly poisoning himself just by standing there?"
Lin Wuye sighed. "Exactly. Either he learns how to consciously control and release it, or he won't make it out of this fight in one piece."
Master Daokan, arms crossed, observed Atlas with a contemplative expression.
"The question is, what happens if he does manage to release it?"
Yan Shuren glanced at him. "You're worried about the scale of the effect?"
Master Daokan nodded. "If his body is storing Qi without control, then the release could be catastrophic. If it's simply expelled, it might just disperse harmlessly. But if it rebounds with equal force..."
He trailed off, letting the implication settle.
Yue Wuye frowned. "That would mean anyone in range could be affected. Depending on how much he's absorbed, it could cripple him or even Shen herself."
Ren, watching closely, finally spoke. "Should we intervene if it comes to that?"
Master Daokan remained silent for a moment before exhaling. "No. Not yet. He needs to figure it out himself. But if it spirals out of control, then we step in. Atlas has been a headache for too long, but I have no intention of watching him die today."
Atlas wheezed, lifting a trembling hand. "Objection... to... this entire situation..."
A sharp, searing sensation coiled within his chest, unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn't just pain—it was something worse. It felt like his own body was trying to reject itself, like an unnatural force was twisting through his veins, trying to find an exit. His limbs felt heavy, his breath uneven, his heart hammering as if it were moments away from shattering. Every fiber of his being screamed at him that something was wrong.
And yet, Atlas scoffed, letting out a breathy chuckle. "Tch... is that all?"
Because to him, no pain could ever compare to his past.
The stench of burning wood and iron filled his lungs. The cries of desperation, the metallic taste of blood in the air, the overwhelming heat—all of it had been etched into his very soul. He had stood amidst the wreckage of his old life, watching it crumble, powerless to do anything but survive.
Pain? Pain had been starvation in the gutters, wounds left untreated, betrayals from those he once trusted. Pain was learning that the world had no mercy for the weak, that suffering was inevitable unless you found a way to stand above it all.
Pain was realizing no one was coming to save him.
So no, whatever this was—this roiling storm inside his body, this creeping venom in his bloodstream—this was nothing.
Nothing compared to what he had already endured.