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The woman of Yang Chuan sat down slowly beside the man of Wu Jing on the West Side, her bodyguards standing behind her. Though their expressions were vigilant, they appeared much more relaxed. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a cold smirk curling at the corners of her lips, seemingly filled with disdain for Yan Kong and his actions, her gaze drifting intentionally across the center of the arena.
Yan Kong stepped forward towards Bing Lie, the ashes beneath his feet crunching softly with each step. The swords at his waist clinked together lightly, producing faint metallic sounds as if heralding the impending battle.
Bing Lie stood like a solitary pillar in the center of the arena. His figure appeared slender but was firmly rooted to the ground, unafraid of any storm. The wind whipped around him, lifting his cloak and stirring up dust, yet he remained motionless, like a silent statue radiating an indescribable authority. His eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his hat, obscured from view, but the cold aura he exuded was enough to make everyone present hold their breath.
Yan Kong halted a few paces away from Bing Lie, slightly raising his chin and fixing a piercing gaze on him. "Let’s duel!" His voice echoed throughout the arena, filled with a warrior's unique arrogance and fighting spirit. He slowly raised his sword, pointing it at Bing Lie's waist. "Unless you’re willing to surrender, hand over that sword at your side!"
Silence enveloped the arena as all eyes turned to Bing Lie. The woman of Yang Chuan raised an eyebrow, finding Yan Kong's confidence amusing, while the man of Wu Jing wore an intrigued smile, eagerly awaiting what would unfold next.
Bing Lie stood resolute in the wind, the shadow of his hat obscuring most of his face except for a pair of deep-set eyes. His gaze drifted towards Yan Kong as if silently assessing this fervent opponent. Then he lowered his head slightly; his lips moved just enough to convey indifference yet undeniable resolve. "I refuse; I will not surrender."
Those few words seemed to carry an invisible weight that instantly stunned the entire arena. Yan Kong's grip on his sword tightened slightly, and his smile grew even more fervent. He understood that this duel was inevitable; the goal he sought was right before him.
Yan Kong shook his head and sighed with a hint of regret in his tone. "That won't do." He turned to look at the small retrieval robot trailing behind him and pointed at its round lens. "Get the recording ready; this is a historic moment that can’t be missed."
The small retrieval robot emitted a series of disgruntled beeps, complaining about Yan Kong's unreasonable request while activating its recording function. A red light swept across its tiny lens, signaling that filming had begun. It adjusted its position slightly as if saying, "Alright, I’m here now, but don’t expect me to be happy about it."
Yan Kong cleared his throat lightly and straightened his back as if preparing for a speech. His tone became theatrical with a hint of provocation. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed warriors present here today, perhaps you do not yet know that standing before you is I—Yankeeper, Yan Kong."
At this moment, he turned his gaze towards Bing Lie; his tone suddenly deepened with profound respect and fighting spirit. "I have tracked you all the way from Lanzka Hill to here; I know that strike—the one that killed the Iron Dome Terminator—was yours."
As soon as those words left his mouth, silence engulfed the arena once more. The previously calm expressions of Yang Chuan’s woman and Wu Jing’s man froze instantly; their pupils constricted sharply as hidden shock surged like a tidal wave within them. They exchanged glances and saw mutual astonishment reflected in each other's eyes.
"Is the Terminator slain?" the Yang Chuan Woman murmured softly, her tone low yet sufficient to convey her shock and confusion. The man beside Wu Jing narrowed his eyes slightly, the corners of his mouth curving downward, revealing a hint of vigilance and contemplation.
This was not just significant news; for the two great nations, it represented a tremendous shock to the entire Eastern Continent's situation.
Bing Lie lowered his head slightly, seemingly lost in thought, before slowly turning to face Yan Kong. His movements were incredibly graceful, yet carried an undeniable air of authority. With a hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, he scanned Yan Kong from beneath the shadow of his hat, his tone flat yet piercing: "Since you know about that strike, you should be aware of the gap between us, right?"
Yan Kong paused for a moment but then burst into laughter, his voice echoing across the open ground. He spun the knife in his hand, its blade glinting in the sunlight before forcefully plunging it into the ground. With hands on his hips, he seemed to mock Bing Lie's calm demeanor.
"I know! Of course I know!" Yan Kong's smile grew increasingly arrogant, yet there was no concealing the battle intent in his eyes. "I am well aware that right now, I might not even touch one-tenth of your power." He spread his arms wide, his tone filled with provocation and desire. "But so what? I am the Yankeeper! You have taken the Terminator's blade from me, and with a strong opponent like you standing before me, I will not let this opportunity slip away!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly drew the knife from his waist, its blade slicing through the air with a sharp whoosh. Yan Kong's gaze burned with intensity as he raised the knife to his chest, pointing it at Bing Lie with a low and resolute voice: "This is my path! I will take your blade and seize your power!"
He then tilted his chin slightly, pointing the tip of his knife at Bing Lie's waist and said playfully, "Come on, draw your sword; don't let me down."
Bing Lie's gaze remained calm as he held onto the hilt of his sword without any intention of drawing it. His silence caused the atmosphere in the arena to freeze instantly, as if time and air would be sliced apart by the edge of his sword in the next moment.
Bing Lie lowered his head slightly and sighed deeply; his voice was like wind brushing over charred earth. His eyes swept around, noticing people nearby busily salvaging broken houses—damaged beams being dragged out and charred tiles piled up beside them. In the distance, faint cries of battle echoed, as if reminding everyone that war and slaughter had never ceased on this land.
Bing Lie slowly moved his hand away from the hilt of his sword. He stood upright with his back to Yan Kong and gazed up at the sky. The dying light of the setting sun stained the broken clouds red, as if even the heavens were affected by this scorched earth. Suddenly inspired by a thought, a barely perceptible smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He cleared his throat and began to recite aloud a haiku he had composed amidst this desolate scene:
"Burnt land and ruined city,
Dreams shattered but blood unspent,
Wind sighs; sword is long."
His voice was deep and distant, as if it came from deep within the earth and sky, carrying a touch of desolation and mockery—an expression of helplessness towards reality. After finishing, he turned to face Yan Kong again, a hint of amusement glimmering in his eyes.
"You came to this battlefield, while I compose poetry because of it." His tone was calm, as if the other’s provocation and fighting spirit had not disturbed his peace of mind. "In a world like this, are you still fixated on seizing the blade?"
Bing Lie's words were both a question and a silent challenge to Yan Kong, causing the atmosphere around them to tighten once more, as if in the next moment it would erupt into a clash of blades and flames.
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