The light focused on them. The music imposed their mutual salute, then opened the battle.
Yin Yu’s feet left the ground in a single, decisive push, engaging the fight as planned, carried by the dramatic notes of the guqin. His long sleeves flowed behind him, lending his movements a light, ethereal effect. With choreographed precision, his blade struck Yángyán in a clear, ringing clash. The gentle, comforting warmth of the weapon traveled up to his own guard, greeting his fingers like a soft caress from the sun.
With a powerful motion, Quan Yizhen repelled the attack, then diverted the sword aside.
The lament of the guqin intensified. Quan Yizhen counterattacked, feinting to the side before aiming for Yin Yu’s back. Yin Yu parried almost blindly in an impressive, highly technical movement, then turned at once to face him again, his loose braid tracing a graceful arc.
The mortal’s sword described an elegant sweep, launching a new attack; his steps seemed to skim the ground. Their blades brushed one another as their faces drew close, frozen in a feigned challenge.
Their duel resembled a restrained waltz, the two swordsmen circling one another, brushing past on light steps.
