Zhang stepped forward. Each of his motions was akin to a tide crashing down. Flowing Tide Style lived up to its name. His qi-infused strikes mimicked crashing waves, endless in rhythm, layered in pressure. His sword came from the right. The arc was sharp, fast, and elegant.
Quinlan moved.
No elemental flare. No spiritual burst.
Just his body.
He parried with his immense strength and footwork, which was still a bit unrefined compared to Ayame's, but honed through many brutal drills.
Truth be told, Quinlan's preferred fighting style was much closer to Iris's and even the wild Raika's. He didn't like to overthink things during combat too much, nor was he as flexible or graceful as his oriental samurai lover.
However, that was not to say Ayame was a bad teacher for him, not at all. In fact, she was a strictly better candidate than Raika, who just smashed things until they died or she passed out, and Iris, who wasn't much better. She'd gained training during her time in the royal army of the Valorian family, but she wasn't exactly teacher material. Iris was much more reliant on her class and raw stats than swordsmanship compared to Ayame.
'She would be the perfect sparring partner, though,' Quinlan thought, making sure he would not let the woman leave his home before she accepted his match request.
*Clang!*
The two swords collided.
Not expecting such bodily might from a peasant not in the Qi Gathering Stage, Zhang was overwhelmed momentarily. His sword-wielding arm swung backward from the impact, not having enough force of its own to resist Quinlan's momentum.
"Wha-?!"
Quinlan's shoulder slammed into Zhang's ribs with a painful thud.
The impact made the young master grunt, forcing him to stagger back. For a moment, disbelief flashed in his eyes.
"You dared touch me?!"
Quinlan answered with a swing of his saber.
The black blade hissed through the air with his trademark style: rough, brutal, no elegance. But what it lacked in grace and refinement, it made up for with its sheer weight. Experience. A predator's edge. Zhang barely managed to parry with qi flaring as his blade turned the strike.
Their swords clanged together once again.
But this time, Quinlan's arms burned from extreme strain all of a sudden. His muscles screamed from the clash against the water-coated qi sword. As a man with no cultivation of his own, he was at a great numerical disadvantage against his opponent once the cultivator began taking things seriously.
But Zhang? Zhang had taken a step back.
"You really-?!" Zhang panted slightly, eyes narrowing.
"Do you really dare think that physical strength can beat a cultivator? One that is above the Qi Gathering Stage?!"
"I do," Quinlan replied with little emotion, too focused on his duel to converse.
Zhang snarled with his qi flaring. "Then drown in the tide, you irrelevant worm!"
He charged.
The Flowing Tide Style emphasized continuity. Each strike led seamlessly into the next, like the waves of the sea. His feet barely touched the dirt road, the movement of his limbs being so fluid that he seemed to drift rather than run. ꭆÃΝÒ𝔟Èṩ
Quinlan's eyes narrowed.
Zhang was faster than he expected.
But not fast enough for the Primordial Villain's reflexes to fail him.
His body moved on instinct. He twisted his body out of the sword's arc, narrowly avoiding a slash meant to sever his shoulder. The tip of Zhang's blade grazed the fabric of his sleeve. That strike was far too close for comfort.
Zhang grinned victoriously, overjoyed to see the man he was so scared of beforehand not being that much of a danger in the end.
Another flurry of slashes followed, but this time Quinlan didn't dodge. He deflected with crude blocks that lacked the grace of a martial art but carried raw power behind them. Sparks flew as steel met steel, Zhang's refined technique grinding against Quinlan's brutal parries.
Too fast to counter head-on.
Quinlan stepped back, altering his tempo. He stopped chasing the rhythm of Zhang's style. Instead, he began observing.
Zhang lashed out again, and Quinlan stepped inside this time around, not away. The sudden shift in distance broke the Flowing Tide's tempo. Zhang faltered, surprised that someone would willingly close the gap against a qi user.
Quinlan's black saber swung in a tight arc. Once again, it wasn't elegant or flashy, but efficient.
Zhang hissed from pain as he leapt backward. A red line of blood trickled down his forearm.
"You got lucky!" Zhang growled.
"Yes, Yes…" Quinlan mused while not losing focus for one second.
He was learning at a rapid rate, already obtaining numerous valuable points of information from his brief encounter with this arrogant man.
His usual style was aggression. Overwhelm the enemy. Pressure them until they cracked. But here, in this world, that approach was suicide. At least until he got his hands on some combat arts of his own.
As things stood, he had to be careful and smart against someone like Zhang, who was faster. Someone whose qi-enhanced strikes could cleave through stone.
So he experimented.
Zhang swept forward again, but Quinlan anticipated the angle. Flowing Tide always followed the water's path. It was fluid, continuous. He baited with a high guard, then sidestepped a rising slash. His saber lashed out, but Zhang caught it with a parry. However, Quinlan didn't retreat.
He stepped in again.
'He hates tight spaces,' Quinlan noted. 'His style needs room to breathe.'
A back elbow crashed against Zhang's side, sending the cultivator stumbling. He recovered quickly with his rage flaring.
"You think brute strength can beat cultivation?!"
Quinlan no longer entertained him with even his dismissive responses.
Zhang attacked again, this time weaving in his Water Vein Pulse, a qi footwork burst that sent him sliding at uncanny angles. Quinlan's eyes widened.
'Shit. That's pretty epic.'
Zhang struck from the left, then reappeared behind him. Quinlan twisted his body to dodge at all costs, yet still got slashed. Blood welled up across his back.
A lesser man would've panicked. But Quinlan, who'd lived through many painful encounters, knew that nothing good would come from panicking.
As such, he jumped backward, putting space between them, and exhaled slowly.
'That movement must've been empowered by this qi thing. But he only uses it in bursts. It seems to drain his stamina.'
Zhang leered smugly. "Tired already?" He then turned his head toward Feng Jiai. "I'll get back to your disciplining soon enough! Just you wait, woman!"
This time, when Zhang lunged, Quinlan didn't meet him head-on. He sidestepped, deliberately slowing his movement by throwing off the tide rhythm. He watched Zhang's shoulders, his hips. He let his honed instincts fill the gaps.
Zhang's blade came down. Quinlan's saber flashed up at an awkward angle to defend. Their weapons locked together in a power struggle.
But what Zhang failed to account for was that Quinlan wasn't overly reliant on his swordsmanship talent. The young master had allowed a man who was ready to sustain extremely severe wounds if it meant he would win the battle to get too close to him.
Far too close.
Quinlan's forehead slammed into the bridge of Zhang's nose.
*CRACK!*