The underground market had fallen into a tense silence. The brief clash had drawn the attention of nearby merchants and mercenaries, all pausing to watch the unfolding battle. Fights were common here, but rarely between newcomers and someone like Wei Jin.
Jackim's grip on his twin blades tightened. He had drawn first blood—but that only made things worse.
Wei Jin's face remained impassive, but Jackim could see the fury in his eyes. He wiped the thin trickle of blood from his cheek, his grip on his dagger tightening.
"I was just going to teach you a lesson," Wei Jin said, his voice low. "But now… I think I'll break something."
Jackim didn't answer. He focused. Everything around him disappeared.
Wei Jin moved first.
His dagger came in fast—a low, deceptive strike aimed at Jackim's ribs.
Jackim reacted on instinct.
Clang!
His right blade deflected the dagger while his left hand slashed upward. Wei Jin barely dodged, twisting away just as Jackim pressed forward.
Wei Jin smirked. "Not bad. But let's see if you can handle this."
Suddenly—his stance shifted.
His speed increased. His movements became sharper, more unpredictable.
Jackim's expression darkened. This isn't normal speed… this is martial arts.
Wei Jin's next strike was faster. Jackim barely dodged.
A kick followed, slamming into Jackim's side and sending him stumbling back.
Damn it.
Wei Jin didn't let up. He attacked relentlessly, his dagger flashing under the dim lights of the underground market.
Jackim blocked one strike.
Dodged another.
But the third scraped across his forearm, drawing blood.
A low chuckle escaped Wei Jin's lips. "You see, street rats like you don't belong here."
Jackim gritted his teeth. He could feel his muscles straining, his breathing uneven. Wei Jin's technique was far superior.
Han's voice suddenly rang out from behind him.
"Jackim, don't just block. Use your second blade properly!"
Jackim's eyes flickered. He had been too defensive.
Twin blades weren't meant for blocking. They were meant for overwhelming an opponent.
Jackim adjusted his stance.
Wei Jin came at him again—fast, confident.
But this time—Jackim moved first.
--
Wei Jin's dagger stabbed forward. Jackim sidestepped.
Too predictable.
His left blade swept low, forcing Wei Jin to jump.
But Jackim was already in motion. His right blade slashed upward, aiming for Wei Jin's chest.
The scarred man barely twisted away.
But not fast enough.
Slash!
A thin cut appeared across his robes, exposing a shallow wound on his torso.
Wei Jin staggered back, shock flashing across his face.
Jackim didn't stop.
He closed the gap, his blades moving faster than before.
Wei Jin's smirk had disappeared.
He was losing.
Jackim pressed the attack, forcing Wei Jin to defend. Each strike was sharper, more precise.
For the first time—Wei Jin was on the backfoot.
---
But just as Jackim saw his chance to finish it—
A voice boomed across the market.
"Enough."
Jackim stopped mid-strike.
Wei Jin stumbled back, breathing hard.
The crowd parted as a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward.
His hair was tied back, his robes simple but well-fitted. Despite his calm expression, there was an undeniable authority in his presence.
Jackim could tell—this man was dangerous.
Wei Jin wiped the blood from his chest, his frustration evident. "Brother Zhan, this isn't your concern."
The man, Zhan Long, ignored him. His gaze remained fixed on Jackim.
"You—where did you learn to fight like that?"
Jackim hesitated. "I… didn't."
Zhan Long studied him for a long moment before smirking. "Interesting."
Wei Jin scowled. "Brother Zhan, this kid disrespected—"
"Enough," Zhan Long interrupted. "You lost. Accept it."
Wei Jin clenched his jaw but didn't argue.
Zhan Long turned back to Jackim. "You have potential. But potential alone means nothing."
Jackim narrowed his eyes. "And who are you?"
A slight smile appeared on Zhan Long's face.
"Someone who knows exactly what you're going through."
--
As the underground market slowly returned to normal, Han led Jackim out through the alleyways.
Jackim remained silent, his mind replaying the fight over and over.
His first real battle with a martial artist.
And he had barely won.
Han spoke up. "That man, Zhan Long… he's no ordinary fighter."
Jackim looked up. "Who is he?"
Han sighed. "A former martial arts prodigy. But he left the world of martial sects years ago."
Jackim frowned. "Why?"
Han hesitated before answering. "Because he killed someone he shouldn't have."
Jackim's steps slowed.
Killed someone?
Han stopped walking. "Listen, Jackim. If you keep following this path, there's no turning back."
Jackim exhaled. He already knew that.
And yet—he wasn't afraid.
Han studied him for a moment, then smirked. "Then I suppose we need to train harder."
Jackim nodded.
He had won today.
But this was just the beginning.
---