Haoran eyed the selection carefully. The weapons weren't for show—each one was made for actual combat. He reached out, testing the weight of a broadsword, then glanced toward Zafira.
"And what will you be using?"
Zafira shrugged, showing her fist. "This."
Haoran frowned. "Your hand?"
Jun chuckled. "She doesn't need anything else."
Renshu leaned stood beside Jun now and said "I feel like we've walked into an elaborate execution."
Haoran gritted his teeth and took a stance. "No turning back now."
Jun leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with clear amusement. "Try not to die too fast."
The fight began in an instant.
Haoran surged forward, his broadsword slicing through the air with deadly force. The sheer weight behind his first swing alone would have cleaved through flesh and bone—had it connected.
But Zafira was already gone.
She moved with ghostlike precision, sidestepping at the last possible moment. The wind of Haoran's missed strike rippled through her coat, but she was untouched.
Haoran barely had time to reset before she closed the distance, launching a brutal palm strike aimed straight for his ribs. He barely twisted in time, her knuckles grazing his side—yet even that slight touch sent a jarring shockwave through his torso.
She's fast.
He ground his heels into the floor, stabilizing himself, and swung again—this time using the momentum of his first failed strike to feint before shifting his stance. The blade came down in a calculated arc, aimed at where she should have dodged.
Except she didn't dodge.
Instead, Zafira stepped in—right into his guard—and caught his wrist mid-swing.
The impact sent a crack through the chamber as their strength clashed. Haoran's eyes widened as he felt the iron grip locking his sword arm in place.
"Too slow!" she murmured before twisting his wrist just enough to throw his balance off. He had no choice but to step back to regain footing.
And that was all she needed.
Zafira struck. A knee to the gut—sharp, precise, devastating. The force sent Haoran skidding backward, boots scraping against the stone.
Renshu winced. "Yeah, this was a bad idea."
Haoran coughed, shaking off the pain. "That all you got?"
Zafira rolled her shoulders, smirking. "Not even close."
She lunged.
Haoran raised his sword just in time to intercept her first strike—a barehanded blow against the flat of his blade—but the moment of relief was short-lived. Zafira's other fist slammed into his shoulder, sending a shockwave of pain down his arm. His grip faltered for just a second.
And in that second, she ripped the broadsword from his grasp.
The heavy weapon clattered to the floor as Haoran barely managed to roll away, heart pounding.
Jun let out a low whistle. "Oof. That's embarrassing."
Haoran scowled. "Shut up."
Zafira twirled her fingers, motioning for him to get up. "Come now, warlord. You made the challenge. Try to make this worth my time."
Haoran clenched his jaw. If brute strength wasn't enough, then he'd simply push his limits. He took a deep breath, focusing his Qi into his arms, his legs—his sword. The air around him shifted, a subtle hum of power resonating through the steel as he gripped the hilt. His next strike would be faster, stronger, deadlier.
Jun's smirk faded slightly. "Oh? He's actually using Qi now."
Renshu exhaled sharply. "Good. Maybe this won't be so one-sided."
Haoran didn't waste another second. He launched forward, his Qi-infused broadsword slicing through the air with enough force to split a big stone. The ground beneath him cracked as he pushed off, his speed nearly double what it had been before.
But Zafira didn't flinch.
The instant his sword came down, she moved.
Not to dodge. To meet it.
With nothing but her fist.
The moment of impact was deafening.
Zafira's Qi-reinforced fist collided with the edge of Haoran's Qi-empowered broadsword. A shockwave exploded outward, sending dust and debris flying. Renshu had to brace herself, her hair whipping violently from the force, while Jun merely stood and amazed, her eyes reflecting the chaos.
For a split second, it seemed like a deadlock.
Then, the sword shattered.
Not just cracked—shattered. Fragments of metal burst outward, glowing briefly before embedding themselves into the surrounding stone walls.
The next thing anyone registered was Haoran himself.
His entire body launched backward, as if struck by an elephant. He slammed into the chamber wall with enough force to cave it inward, stone crumbling around him as cracks splintered out like a spiderweb.
Silence followed, save for the settling debris.
Renshu's lips parted slightly. "...That's not possible."
Jun crossed her arms, looking far too entertained.
"Oh, it's very possible. You just underestimated how powerful she is. She has trained with master martial artists, mastered about 100 techniques and trained under Qi Masters as well"
Haoran groaned from the crater he had made, barely managing to pry himself out of the rubble. His vision was swimming, his body aching, but the worst part?
Zafira hadn't even broken a sweat.
She sighed, tilting her head as she approached the rubble where Haoran struggled to get up. "Disappointing." she mused, her tone devoid of sympathy.
"I expected more from a so-called warlord."
Haoran spat blood onto the cracked floor, his breath laboured but defiant.
"Go to hell."
Zafira's boot slammed down on his chest, pinning him against the wreckage with unrelenting force. He gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain shot through his ribs.
She crouched slightly, her gaze sharp and piercing. "You want to know the difference between us, Haoran? You think strength is swinging a sword harder, pushing yourself past your limits. But true power..." Her fingers dug into his jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes. "...is making others submit before the fight even begins."
She let go abruptly, standing tall. "Get up."
Haoran wheezed, trying to push himself up, but the moment he moved, Zafira's fist crashed into his stomach, the force from it alone would've knock anyone. A sickening thud echoed through the chamber as Haoran doubled over, coughing violently.
"Get up." she ordered again, stepping back just enough to give him space.
Haoran's arms trembled as he forced himself to his feet. His body screamed for him to stay down, but he refused. He had faced death before—he would not kneel.
Zafira watched him with a glint of amusement. ''I like that. Let's see how long that lasts."
Before he could react, she moved again—a blur of precision and force. Her palm slammed into his ribs, a strike so perfectly placed that it sent a shockwave through his body. Haoran barely stayed on his feet, his vision flickering, his balance unsteady.
Renshu, who had been silent until now, took a small step forward. "Lady Ezra, he's had enough—"
Zafira didn't even glance at her. "No. He hasn't learned yet."
Jun smiled like a pyscho from her spot by the doorway. "This is fun!"
Zafira grabbed Haoran by the collar, pulling him forward until their faces were inches apart.
"You're not walking away from this fight as a warrior. You're walking away as my soldier. My weapon. My asset."
She released him, only to deliver a final, devastating strike to his sternum. The impact rattled his bones, and this time, Haoran couldn't stop himself from crumbling to his knees.
Zafira exhaled, shaking her wrist as if shaking off dust. "Now. Have I made myself clear?"
Haoran coughed, his breath ragged. He wanted to curse her, to fight back—but his body refused.
Renshu rushed towards her beat up husband, looking between them, then slowly lowered her gaze. "...Crystal."
Zafira gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Then let's talk about your obedience."
Before Haoran could even process his defeat, Jun casually strolled forward, pulling a rolled parchment from her coat. With a flourish, she unfurled the contract on a nearby table, the inked letters gleaming under the dim candlelight.
"Right on schedule." Jun said cheerfully, setting an ornate quill beside it.
"Sign here, ''warlord''. Your wife can co-sign if she likes."
Renshu, still kneeling beside her battered husband, let out a long sigh before standing. She snatched the quill without hesitation, dipped it in ink, and signed the contract with a single, fluid stroke.
Haoran groaned. "Betrayed by my own wife."
Renshu patted his head gently, with sympathy in her voice. "You picked this fight."
Zafira smirked, arms crossed. "Your wife is a smart woman."
Just then, the heavy doors swung open with a loud creak, revealing an exasperated Emery storming in, his coat slightly dishevelled. He held bandages, salves, and a medicinal herbs under one arm, his glasses slightly askew.
"What in the name of logic and reason is going on here?" Emery snapped.
"I heard a damn explosion from upstairs! I leave for one hour, and you're breaking people?"
He stomped over to Haoran, already inspecting his injuries with sharp, clinical efficiency. "Damaged ribs, heavy bruising, possible internal damage—honestly, Zafira, must you destroy everything?"
Jun smirked. "I think it builds character."
"It builds my workload!" Emery grumbled, already pulling out salves.
"Now, stay still, Haoran, or I'll make sure the treatment hurts more than the fight."
His sharp gaze flickered to Haoran's other injury—the gunshot wound on his thigh that had been patched up by Emery "At least it's healing or was since, I don't know before you went and got yourself slammed through a wall?"
Haoran groaned. "I was a bit preoccupied."
Emery's glare shifted to Zafira. "And you. Did you really have to go this hard on him?"
Zafira blinked, feigning innocence. "He wanted it."