It was amusing how… dainty Huang was being as she skipped to her throne. It had been a day since her victory and the young woman was still walking on air.

Metaphorically at least.

Despite her master’s many amazing accomplishments, he had yet to find a means to repair the Imperial scion’s clogged meridians.

Yet she didn’t truly need them, did she?

An’s gaze flitted over to where yesterday’s… well, to call it a duel would have been a disservice. ‘Execution’ seemed more apt.

She knew Gao would be milking the ‘footage’ of the event for all it was worth. She had little doubt that a recording of the event would be playing on repeat in barracks across the province for months to come.

It wasn’t everyday that mortals got to see a cultivator defeated by one of their own after all. Definitely not in single combat.

Never mind that Huang’s skills were borne almost entirely as a result of her time as a cultivator. For while the army of Ten Huo had some reasonably skilled marksmen – the majority of which being concentrated in the ‘Rangers’ – none could claim to be able to perform the same feats as Huang.

The enemy does not know that though, An thought vindictively.

The Imperial contingent had not been subtle in sneering at their opposites the day prior. An had little doubt that many had bristled at the thought that they were sitting across from mortals.

Today though, there was a certain amount of… wariness in their postures. In the way their gazes lingered on the gonnes spread about. Oh certainly, the sneers yet remained, but they were tempered with some small amount of caution.

Glancing down at Huang, it was strange to see the dragon-kin excitedly chattering away into her headset – with Lin no doubt on the other end.

It was strange to think that the woman seemed happier since losing her cultivation. Freer. Certainly it had taken some time for her to reach that point, but there was no denying that being seated down from her lacked some of the constant coiled tension that always surrounded her in her former life.

She certainly couldn’t imagine the woman she’d been before being best friends and excitedly chattering like an initiate with a rural village girl.

Though was it fair to apply that moniker to Lin still?

After all, even though the woman was miles away back in Ten Huo, she was watching the events here as if she were present in person. Indeed, through her control of the metal birds overhead, she might well have a better view of the fights than certain members of the audience.

Those were not the feats of some mere rural mortal.

For though An liked to think she had developed some level of understanding over her lord’s many mystic devices… she hadn’t built any. All she’d done was make copies.

Nothing like the GatLin gonne.

Perhaps An herself might-

“It looks like Shi herself is stepping up to the plate,” Jack murmured to her from his steel throne.

She glanced over from hers – a pleasantly cat themed jade construct that she was slowly working up the courage to ask to have transported back to Ten Huo.

“As you say,” she said for lack of anything else to say.

Mostly because she had little idea what a plate had to do with anything, even if she could infer what he meant through context as the Inquisitor glided down from her own golden monstrosity.

Her master was full of such sayings. So much so that for a time she might have suspected that he truly was some manner of foreigner. Like Elwin. Some manner of… non-cultivator who used his abilities to mimic a cultivator.

That was not the case though. She had felt his ki. As rigid and uncompromising as the man himself. He revealed it sparingly. Indeed, she’d only felt it a few times. Usually when she was in his bed, when his defences were at their most lax.

It could be an overwhelming experience, to feel it bear down on her from all sides. Faint, but definitely there. Some might have found the experience suffocating, but she took comfort in it. To her it was akin to standing beneath a massive cliff face, sure in the knowledge that while it could easily fall and crush her, it could also act as a shelter from the elements.

“I assume you still want to do this?” he asked. “Shui might be injured, but I’ve got some options that might help even things up if need be.”

Perhaps if she was younger and more foolish, she might have bristled at that question, taking it as some slight upon her strength. Time and experience had remedied that.

“I will be fine,” she said, taking his words for what they were; a sign of his affection for her.

The man behind the armour did not sigh, but she did notice a small slump before he nodded.

“Alright then.” he gestured to one of the nearby mortals, who scurried off. “If you insist on doing this yourself, you’ll need the right tools for the job.”

An watched curiously as the mortal returned, a familiar object carried reverently in the ox-kin’s arms.

It was her glaive, but it wasn’t. The blade was made of some white material, while the shaft had a grip similar the handlebars of her beloved bike.

Rubber, I think the slate called it, she thought.

“This will counter her technique?” An asked.

She’d been made aware of this ‘electromagnetism’ that the Inquisitor wielded. The entire command staff had. A fearsome technique that made metal weaponry as much a danger to their wielders as the woman herself.

It made sense though – and made a lot of stories about the Inquisition make a lot more sense in retrospect. Specifically, their ‘invincibility’ in both duels and on the field of battle. An invincibility that was not shared by the rest of the Imperial bloodline.

Naturally, it was assumed to be a technique, but sects across the Empire had spent hundreds of years trying to figure out how it worked.

Yet her master had discovered that secret within a day of meeting the High Inquisitor herself.

Truly, he was a man fit to bear the moniker of ‘Divine’.

Still, even if she knew all that, she found she was almost reluctant to set aside her real weapon to take up the imitation. For while her armament had been supplemented by the revolvers at her waist in the last year, her family’s glaive had been her mainstay weapon since she was a child.

Yet as her fingers settled around the haft of this new weapon, she found that it felt the same. Oh, the texture of the grip was different, but other than that, it felt entirely identical.

The balance. The weight. Even the small chip in the lower haft. It was all the same. Eerily so.

“I did some scans of your weapon months ago and made this based on them,” her master answered her unasked question. “The key differences are the materials. The blade is a layer of sharpened ceramic over a titanium core. Same with the haft, except with rubber. Basically just a combo of lighter and heavier materials balancing out to make something close to what you’re used to.”

He gestured to the blade. “Be warned, that ceramic-alloy is razor sharp, but it won’t stand up to much. It’ll chip easily. Fortunately, as I said, there’s titanium beneath, so the entire blade shouldn’t shatter, but you’re going to lose that initial edge fast. Likewise, that titanium haft is going to bend more easily than the steel you’re used to, so keep an eye out for that.”

She nodded seriously as she moved the weapon through a few practice sweeps, noting the slight flex in the weapon as she did. It almost reminded her of sparring with bamboo. Yet for all that, it felt just the same as her old glaive. So much so that she felt… more comfortable taking it into battle.

“I’d have done something similar with your revolvers,” her master continued. “But to be honest, I was a bit pressed for time. And I’d hate to give you something untested only for it to explode in your hands.

An nodded. Yes, that would not be ideal.

“With that said.” He tapped the bottom of the weapon. “There’s a surprise in the haft. Similar to what Lin was testing before we left.”

An paused before nodding. She understood what he was referring to. And while it would now be less effective than it might have been… she was sure it would still be useful.

“Finally, we’re going to try the same trick as last time with the speakers. It probably won’t work, but it’s better than nothing. We’ll vary the pitches to see if that’ll counter their counter, but I’m not holding my breath.”

An nodded once more. Her own counter to these ‘sonic’ attacks would not be inconvenienced by such a technique, even if the pitch were changed. So she would assume the same would hold true for whatever the enemy implemented.

“That’s everything then.”

Grinning, An turned to leave, only to stop as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, one last thing,” a voice, unmuffled by her master’s helm said.

The tiger-kin flushed deeply as she felt a pair of lips settle on her own, stiffening in place before she leaned into it. It was a moment that seemed to last forever, but was over too soon all the same.

“Good luck,” her master breathed.

“I-” she started, before nodding eagerly. “Yes.”

For some reason, that made the man laugh.

As did a few others within hearing range, though those others all fell silent as An’s glare flitted over all of them.

Huffing, she shouldered her new weapon and descended the stairs into the arena – and if her tail were flitting to and fro as she did, none were foolish enough to comment on it.

Though she could admit to feeling a certain sense of trepidation as she stepped onto the arena floor. Dozens of blank faces stared down at her from all around the arena, but she had eyes for none of them.

Her focus was entirely upon her opponent.

“Shi Zheng. Daughter of the Imperial Clan. Heavenly Realm Cultivator and High-Inquisitor of the Inquisition.”

She was awe inspiring, An could admit that much. An ominous presence that strode out to meet her with the sort of casual grace that belied her skills as a combatant. Her crimson robes fluttered in the breeze, catching the light as the sun’s ray peaked through the clouds above.

Her sword gleamed in that light, as the High-Inquisitor elegantly twirled the ornate weapon about, eyes closed in half-lidded in concentration as she limbered up in preparation for the fight to come.

An swallowed the small lump that had appeared in her throat. It was strange to think that little less than a year ago, she never would have dreamed of fighting a foe of this calibre.

Yet, as she felt the reassuring texture of her weapon in hand, she reminded herself that much could change in a year.

“Guo An. Member of Jack Johansen’s retinue and Colonel in the army Ten Huo. Profound Level Cultivator.”

It wasn’t hard to see. The momentary flare of disdain in her foe’s eyes. Clearly she could taste An’s ki and had found her wanting. Which was not unexpected. For while the Profound level was a height many a cultivator would never reach, it was merely a single step above the norm.

It was the area where inner disciples and sect elders dwelled. Which was the issue. The Profound realm was wide. Of all the realms, it had the most levels and nuance to it. And An knew herself to be on the lower end of that spectrum.

“Combat shall begin in three. Participants make ready.”

Yet, as quickly as it had come, that sneer faded.

“Two.”

To be replaced with a gaze filled with nothing more than cold concentration on the task at hand.

“One.”

Shi moved forward.

An twitched in surprise as she realised that rather than lash out with a lightning bolt like anticipated, the woman sought to close the distance.

With each step forward the dragon-kin’s weapon twirled around her in a manner designed to distract and disorientate, closing the gap between the two of them in a dozen graceful movements.

An’s glaive flicked forward tentatively, only to flinch back as her probe was casually batted aside with a sword thrust that sent vibrations running up her arms. Indeed, as Johansen had warned her, white fragments of her weapon’s blade flew into the air as a large chip gash formed in the cutting edge, revealing the metal beneath.

Hissing internally as the Imperial side roared in approval, An allowed herself to move with the blow, giving up space as her foe’s sword slashed out again.

It missed. Narrowly.

The third did not.

It went low, tip slicing across the cat-girl’s thigh as she hopped back. Pain lanced up her leg, but she barely noticed it as she was forced to hurriedly twirl her own weapon in an attempt to force her opponent to back off.

An attempt that went unrewarded as the Imperial dodged the strike with an almost casual twist of her head, before coldly pressing the advantage.

The Inquisitor’s blade lashed out in a frenzy of stabs and thrusts. The ravenette struggled just to stay alive as her world was reduced to a staccato melody of blows and dodges – each one coming within a hair’s breadth of ending her.

It was inevitable that one would finally slip through once more. And it did. An grunted as an almost contemptuous strike batted her glaive aside once more in a spray of ceramic fragments.

Victory gleamed in her foe’s eyes as she moved in for the kill – only to flinch and leap backwards as an inaudible squeal burst through the arena.

An resisted the urge to sigh in relief as her free hand – the one that had been knocked loose when her foe struck her – released the latch on the mystic device on her belt.

Distantly, through the technique strengthening her ear-drums, she could hear it. The distant wailing of the device.

Her foe had no such protections apparently. Or if she did, they were proving insufficient for the task at hand as she backpedalled, clutching at her head.

I need to press the advantage, An thought.

Though the thought had barely crossed her mind before her foe moved. In the time it took for An to regain her stance, the dragon-kin had pressed a finger to each ear.

And pushed.

By the time An's glaive came down to strike, her foe’s hands were back on her sword – a bloody digit on each hand.

Bright red blood poured from the woman’s ears, as they clashed once more. This time though, the conflict was not so one sided. Pain was no stranger to any cultivator. That alone would not distract a cultivator of the High-Inquisitor’s calibre.

At least, not much.

Combined with a loss of one of her senses though?

It was enough to allow An to hold her own. Taking advantage of a pause in her foe’s rhythm that had not existed before, the tiger-kin pushed forward for the first time since they’d clashed. An imperfect thrust had her strike back, forcing her opponent onto the backfoot as the ravenette sought to press her advantage with a dizzying fast series of thrusts.

…Only for her to realise too late that said imperfect thrust was merely a feint as a foot slammed into her chest from outside of her field of view.

Winded and gasping as the air was driven from her lungs by the hammer blow, instinct more than conscious thought had the glaive-wielder raise her weapon just in time to intersperse the black shaft between herself and a lighting bolt.

Stars danced in the woman’s vision as she held back the coruscating beam of power as it crackled and sizzled in front of her.

And then it was over – and she had just a moment to savour the look of surprise on her foe’s face before the woman came at her again.

Yet that brief gap had given An an opening to employ her own ranged option.

Her foe’s eyes widened as a revolver came up in An’s left hand, bracing on the glaive in her right for support as she fired.

Six shots. Each fired within a hint of a millisecond.

Sparks flew as her foe deflected three of them with her sword – but the other three seemed to just… slide off to the side.

Like water diverting around a rock in their path.

Hissing, An dropped her gonne, gripping her glaive in both hands as they collided once more – and she was once more sent skidding backward. The blows came fast and heavy, An’s arms feeling like they were as heavy as iron as the blows slammed down into her guard.

Left and right, up and down, the Inqusitor’s weapon was an unending tide of steel – one that slowly started to draw blood.

A nick here. A poke there. Superficial individually, but significant when taken together. An’s brow burnt from where blood was running down into her right eye as she glared hatefully at a woman who outclassed her even more than she’d dared thought possible.

And Shui thought she could take this bitch? The cat-woman thought incredulously.

This.

This was the difference between a peak-expert and someone who was merely ‘above average’.

Yet…

The gulf between them was not so large that An could not see the end of it.

A slash here. A poke there. Over the course of their fight, a pattern had emerged. She could feel it. Indeed, even as her arms burned with the exertion and her lungs screamed out for air, she commanded her body to move.

Block left. Duck right. Backturn. Slide left.

She could feel it. She could see it.

The frustration that was growing in her foe. The longer the fight went on, the more face she lost.

Because An was weaker than her.

But she just wasn’t dying.

Now, admittedly, the fight should have been over in that first exchange. An would have been run through without the use of her sonic device.

But she hadn’t been.

Counter. Parry. Push forward. Arrest momentum.

Her opponent sped up – and An felt more cuts open up across her body. Eyes glared furiously at her as the woman fell into a rhythm, her every thought focused on killing the infuriating insignificant gnat before her.

Her killing intent was like an exploding volcano.

An could almost see it, the moment everything else fell away. The war. The crowds. The arena.

It was like they were the only two people in the world. This was a play between the two of them. One with an inevitable end. And that end was drawing closer by the moment. It was but a few sword strokes away.

Neither of them were surprised when it happened. Shi’s knee came up, slamming into the base of An’s glaive, knocking the blade out of the path of the Inquisitor’s own as it descended towards An’s chest.

An knew it would happen. She’d read the move.

She’d just been too tired and too slow to stop it.

So she hadn’t tried.

Instead, she let the base of her glaive arc up – until it was pointed directly towards her foe’s face.

Then she clicked the small button hidden beneath the black material of her right hand…

And the ‘flashbang’ concealed in the base of the shaft exploded with the fury of a newborn sun - right into the Inquisitor’s rage filled eyes.