Tang San approached from behind, each step deliberate, his calm expression edged with focus. "A moment ago," he said evenly, "I suggested we compare notes. How about now, Arthev?"
Arthev turned, One eyebrow lifted slightly. "A spar, you mean? What's the reason behind this?"
Before Tang San could answer, a familiar voice broke the tension.
"What are you two up to?" Xiao Wu yawned, shuffling toward them. She wore the academy's simple uniform, her eyes half-lidded with sleep. A carrot dangled from her hand, which she nibbled lazily as she rubbed her face with the other.
Tang San turned slightly, the edges of his lips twitching into a small smile. "Xiao Wu, you're up early. I just asked Arthev for a friendly spar."
"Sparring?" Xiao Wu perked up instantly, her drowsiness vanishing. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "You two are fighting? Ooh, can I watch?"
Arthev tilted his head slightly, his voice level. "If you can stay awake through the whole match, you are welcome to observe."
Xiao Wu pouted. "I am awake!"
"You were chewing that carrot like someone still dreaming about breakfast," Arthev said evenly. "For a moment, I was unsure whether to say good morning or offer you a pillow."
Tang San blinked, his gaze shifting between Xiao Wu and Arthev. The corners of his mouth tightened—not quite a frown, but far from a smile. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, perhaps to deflect Arthev's jab or say something in Xiao Wu's defense… but no words came. In the end, he stayed quiet, watching with a reserved expression, his hands loosely clasped behind his back.
Xiao Wu narrowed her eyes. "Hmph! I am fully alert now, thank you very much."
"I will believe it when you stop rubbing your face like a panda ," Arthev said, without a hint of a smirk. "But do feel free to watch."
Arthev gave a small nod, then turned his gaze back to Tang San. "Let's head to the playground. I'll meet you there."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked off, his stride calm, neither hurried nor slow. His figure moved through the courtyard like a breeze through still air.
Xiao Wu was about to retort when she noticed he was already walking away, calm and composed, leaving behind only his words like scattered feathers.
"Ugh, he's so infuriating sometimes!" she muttered, though her cheeks puffed with that barely-hidden grin she always wore after Arthev got the last word.
Tang San watched him go, a flicker of tension pressing at his chest. He drew a slow breath, pushing it down. No need to overthink. I've trained harder than anyone—with Teacher's guidance and the Tang Sect's hidden techniques, I won't lose.
Still, something gnawed at him.
He turned to Xiao Wu, gently ruffling her hair. "I'm going ahead."
Xiao Wu pouted briefly, then smiled and followed behind. "You better not hold back—I want a good show!"
The playground lay quiet beneath the soft morning light, its wide dirt clearing scarred from days of training but peaceful now. Dew still clung to the grass beyond, and a breeze whispered across the field. No crowds, no noise—just an open space perfect for testing strength.
Tang San stepped into the clearing, stopping a few paces from Arthev. He squared his stance, his voice steady and formal. "Tang San, martial soul: Blue Silver Grass. Level 22, control-type soul master."
Arthev mirrored his posture, his hands relaxed at his sides, his tone clear. "Arthev, martial soul: Tree. Level 18 soul master."
"Let's begin," Arthev said, voice calm and composed. But within, he laid down a silent rule: No martial soul. No Shinragan. Just my body.
I want to see how far my raw strength and speed can take me.
Tang San gave a short nod, his eyes sharpening. "First soul skill—Entanglement."
With a crisp motion, he slapped his palm to the ground.
From beneath Arthev's feet, thick strands of Blue Silver Grass burst upward, writhing and snapping like serpents. The vines lunged to bind him, coiling hungrily with practiced precision.
Arthev's gaze didn't waver. No panic. No hesitation.
He moved.
In a blink, his figure blurred, vanishing from where he stood. The vines snapped shut on empty air, confused and flailing. A breeze stirred where he'd been—just a ripple, a ghost of movement.
Tang San's eyes widened. "What kind of movement technique…?" he muttered. "It was like he vanished."
A few paces ahead, Arthev stood once more—composed, steady, eyes locked on Tang San. He said nothing. His stance alone made the challenge clear: Catch me—if you can.
"He didn't even use soul power," Tang San realized, a chill running down his spine. That was just speed. Pure, unassisted speed.
"What just happened?!" Xiao Wu yelped from the sidelines, her carrot hanging forgotten in mid-air. "Did he just—teleport?"
Arthev didn't answer. He was already moving again.
His body shot forward like a drawn arrow, his movements precise, every step calculated. No flourish. No wasted motion. His fist snapped toward Tang San's chest with a sonic crack—so fast the air split behind it.
Tang San barely had time to react. He twisted his torso, raising his arm just in time. The blow connected with a heavy thud, driving him back a full step. His breath hitched.
He's strong, too… not just fast.
Refusing to yield, Tang San retaliated—his hand flicked, and more vines erupted beneath Arthev's feet, sweeping low in an attempt to snare his legs mid-strike.
But Arthev was already gone, flipping backward with a graceful sidestep, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. His breath came easy.
"Not bad," he said coolly, voice slicing through the quiet.
Xiao Wu cheered from the edge of the field. "You guys are amazing! Don't harm seriously each other."
Tang San's jaw tightened, his pride stirred. He's restraining himself, he thought. No soul skills. No martial soul. Just fists—and he's still pushing me back.
Fine.
He clapped his hands together—hard.
The ground erupted, a wide net of Blue Silver Grass spreading like a trap across the dirt, weaving upward in every direction. Let's see how you escape this.
Arthev didn't flinch. A faint smirk touched his lips.
This is it. How far can my body go without power?
And then he moved again—diving straight into the heart of Tang San's trap, his limbs weaving between the vines with near-impossible grace, like a blade cutting through a storm.
Tang San's eyes flew wide, disbelief flashing across his face. "What kind of movement is that?" he whispered. "Dodging that precisely—without a soul skill? Just pure agility?"
Arthev gave no reply. He was already moving again—silent, focused, lethal.
He closed the distance in a blink, his body flowing like water, fists clenched tight. He drove a lightning-quick jab at Tang San's chest—the air cracked with the force of it.
But Tang San responded with a blur of motion, activating Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track. His form flickered side to side, becoming a ghost within his own steps. Arthev's strike missed by inches, wind from the blow rustling Tang San's sleeve.
Tang San's breath hitched, sweat already forming at his brow. He's fast—so fast I can barely keep up even with Ghost Shadow…
Arthev didn't let up.
He pressed forward, eyes sharp, analyzing every pivot, every shuffle of Tang San's feet. He's elusive—but not unreadable.
A feint—a flash of his right fist. Tang San moved to intercept it.
Too late.
Arthev's real strike came from the left, low and slicing for the ribs—but just before impact, his hand twisted, not to strike—but to grab.
In one smooth motion, he snatched a shuriken from his belt and flung it past Tang San's shoulder. The metal spun with deadly grace, slicing clean through his sleeve before embedding itself in the earth behind him with a heavy thunk.
Tang San stumbled back, eyes wide, arm frozen mid-block.
"Wha—?!"
That speed—his precision—it's surgical. And he's not using soul power at all…
A laugh rumbled in Arthev's mind.
"Heh! Look at 'im flinch, Stunned Face!" Shukaku growled with amusement. "You're makin' him dance, kid. Keep that up!"
Quiet, Arthev thought back. This is my test, not yours.
Without a word, he stepped forward again, drawing a kunai from his belt. The metal caught the sunlight, flashing like a sliver of fire. Behind him, the vines severed by the shuriken drooped lifelessly, scraping the ground with a dry hiss that cut through the silence.
From the sidelines, Xiao Wu's playful grin faded. Her gaze sharpened. That aura… when he threw the shuriken. Just for a second—it felt… wild. Primal. Like a soul beast. What was that?
She gripped her carrot tighter, eyes narrowing. What is he, really?
Arthev stopped a step away from Tang San, the kunai raised—pointed directly at his chest.
"Tang San," he said quietly, his voice like steel, "you've lost."
Tang San's face twisted with disbelief. "No," he growled. "I haven't lost! Teacher's theories—his training—none of it says I should be losing like this!"
"You're upset because I didn't use soul power," Arthev said, lowering the kunai an inch. "But that was the point."
His tone was calm, but absolute.
"I wanted to see how far I could go without my martial soul. Just body and mind." He tapped the kunai lightly against his palm. Clink. Clink.
"You used your Blue Silver Grass to control the field. I broke through it. That's the difference."
Tang San clenched his jaw, trembling with frustration, his knuckles white. "You're mocking me," he said bitterly. "Mocking my teacher's work."
"No," Arthev replied, eyes unwavering. "I'm proving something to myself. This fight wasn't about superiority—it was about limits. And today… this was enough."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Tang San looked down, breath ragged, caught between pride and realization.
Xiao Wu tilted her head slightly, her gaze still fixed on Arthev. There's something wild in him, she thought, unsettled. Something not human—and he's not even trying to hide it anymore.
To be continued...