Jun ran all the way to the Island, weaving between pedestrians, dodging litter bearers and mule-drawn carts, and bypassing the traffic on the south bridge by leaping onto the stone parapet and dashing down its length, the entire time one misstep away from tumbling into the lake below. He was clutching an ache in his side and wincing from the pain of his stitched wounds when he arrived at Warrior’s Park, just in time to hear the gong sound on the start of the first semifinal match.
Jun shoved his way toward the main arena, the only one remaining. The colored flags had been removed from the corners of the other fields, which had been filled with benches to accommodate additional spectators. Over the heads of the crowd, Jun could see the raised pavilion, as fully occupied as it had been during the opening ceremony three days ago: the diminutive figure of the emperor nearly buried in bright layers of fabric, General Cobu and Guardian Yama, and, behind them, rows of court officials in black. Armed and armored soldiers stood at all four corners, watching over the Scroll of Heaven on its ornate stand.
“Let me through,” Jun shouted, pushing through the dense crowd near the sidelines of the arena. “I’m a Guardian candidate, I’m the Little Dragon, let me through!” When he made it to the front he found himself, to his horror, in a cluster of Red Scarves cheering for Leopard.
Jun sucked in a breath at the battle unfolding in the arena. Leopard, wielding a broadsword as thick and mean-looking as he was, was going after Yin Yue with ferocious hacking blows. Yin stood his ground, pivoting and expertly deflecting each of his opponent’s attacks with the edge of his straight sword, an agile weapon built for finesse and precision. Every time Leopard swung his weapon with power enough to decapitate his foe, Yin parried and counterattacked, slashing at any part of Leopard’s body left unguarded: his ribs and shoulders, calves and ankles, wrists and elbows. Leopard was too quick to be caught by many of the cuts, but Yin Yue, as Jun well knew, was as deliberate, dogged, and steady a fighter as any the tournament had ever seen.
Leopard took a slice to the thigh and another to the chest. Blood ran off his body and mingled with the sweat already glistening on his skin. Both men were heaving with effort after less than a couple of minutes; in their expressions it was clear they knew any wrong move would be their last. Leopard’s lips were drawn back over his crooked teeth, his eyes alight with the familiar, unnerving hatred that he’d carried into every fight thus far, yet on top of that darted a desperation that Jun hadn’t seen before. None of Leopard’s other unfortunate opponents had been as calm and skilled, as confident and persistent, as Yin. No one else had drawn as much blood. If Leopard didn’t win the fight soon, his wounds would accumulate, and he would bleed out in the arena.
Others had been afraid of Leopard, the way anyone would be afraid of a rabid dog. But Yin was not afraid; he was fighting with businesslike determination. Someone needed to put down the dangerous animal, and he would do it. Anyone else watching the fight would’ve thought Yin Yue was in perfect control, but Jun wasn’t fooled. He could see the strain in his old classmate’s face, the tension evident in his body even as he moved with enviable agility, never faltering, always protecting his center line and maintaining stability as Master Song had taught him. Yin Yue was fighting with all he had and his stamina was impressive, but he’d never fought such an unpredictable, uncontrolled opponent under such deadly circumstances with such high stakes.
With a frustrated snarl, Leopard brought his broadsword whistling down again; Yin Yue again parried and deflected, pivoted left, snaked his sword into the space below his opponent’s right arm and sank the tip of his blade into Leopard’s side, sliding it between the two bottom ribs like a knife into fruit. Leopard roared, lashing out with a furious side kick that caught Yin Yue in the hip and sent him staggering backward before he could drive his sword all the way into the body of his foe. Leopard stumbled away, blood running down the side of his torso, and for a moment, both men panted on opposite ends of the arena, looking as if they would like to call for a mutual time-out if only they could have one. Jun wanted to shout encouragement to Yin, but anything he might’ve said was drowned out by the angry exhortations of the Red Scarves.
“Come on, keep going, what’re you waiting for?” they shouted at Leopard. They had cheered Cobu’s fighter in all his previous matches, but now that he was weakened and bleeding, clearly outclassed by a better-trained martial artist, they were indignant, scornful, demanding.
Leopard’s nostrils flared. The provocations of the crowd seemed to madden him and fill him with a surge of inhuman energy. Heedless of his wounds, Leopard hefted his broadsword and ran at Yin Yue, bellowing with rage, in what seemed a last-ditch, all-or-nothing suicide charge.
Yin’s sword arm was poised; he stood his ground, eyes narrowed, ready. Jun was reminded of Yin’s first match, when he’d met the sudden rush of Mr. Chen the Indomitable in the same resolute fashion, knocking out the charging titan with a single precision kick to the chin.
A terrible foreboding seized Jun. His instincts screamed that this fight was nothing like that other one. Leopard was no wrestler. He wasn’t running at Yin to tackle him to the ground and pin him into submission. He was a dirty, inventive, merciless scrapper who’d escaped from an Eastern labor camp and survived the fighting pits in the borderland. It won’t work! Jun wanted to scream at Yin. You’re doing what he expects. Get out of the way! But his words seemed frozen, his voice in his own head muffled by the excited shouting all around him. All he could do was watch.
Yin Yue waited until Leopard was almost upon him, with no chance of stopping his headlong momentum, before he flicked his sword hand deftly, bringing the straight blade around in an overhead arc and sending it forward and down in a deadly piercing thrust straight for the hollow of Leopard’s throat.
At the last possible second, Leopard dropped to the ground from a dead sprint and slid feet first, left leg tucked, right extended, like a cuju player slide-tackling an opponent to kick the ball into the net. Yin’s blade stabbed through empty air above his enemy’s head an instant before Leopard’s legs slammed into his. Yin, having already committed to his attack, pitched off-balance; Leopard’s right heel hooked Yin’s back foot, and Yin tumbled, landing hard on his shoulder.
“Get up, Yin!” Jun’s cry was only one of many, a crowd chorus of suspense and terror.
But Leopard was on his feet faster, weapon in hand. Yin rolled and managed to get to one knee, bringing his sword up to defend against the impending blow. Leopard’s heavy blade smashed down from above onto Yin’s weapon with a clang of ringing metal. Again, he brought it up and smashed it down, like a chef hacking at a duck leg with a cleaver. The straight sword was a finesse weapon, intended for slashing and piercing, not built to withstand extreme, repeated edge-on-edge impact. Yin had to brace against the onslaught with his left hand supporting his trembling right arm just to keep his sword arm from buckling.
Get away from there, Yin! Don’t try to fight his force with more force.
But Yin Yue had never met an opponent he could not defeat in an equal frontal assault. With a surge of effort, he pushed off his knee, trying to regain his footing and force Leopard back onto the defensive. For a split second, he had to shift to his left to steady himself, and his sword arm wobbled.
Leopard’s broadsword came thudding down again, but this time not against metal. Instead the thick, sharp blade chopped through the joint of Yin Yue’s wrist with the sickening thunk of a butcher’s blow. Yin Yue’s severed hand, and the straight sword attached to it, dropped to the ground between the two fighters.
“No!” Jun’s raw scream was not the only one that went up from the sidelines.
Yin Yue didn’t seem to register what had happened for a second. Then shock hit him, all at once. He fell backward, clutching his exposed stump to his chest, blood streaming down his shirt and pants. His face was a mask of fear, pain, and terrible understanding.
Leopard kicked aside Yin’s weapon and his hand. He raised his broadsword in an executioner’s swing.
Jun tried, vainly, to push through the people in his way, to jump the barricade around the arena, even knowing he could never make it in time. Yin raised his eyes, not to Leopard but to the crowd. Looking for Ren. When he didn’t find her, he closed his eyes, lifted his chin, and took his final breath.
The broadsword didn’t descend. To everyone’s surprise, Leopard paused, looking down at Yin Yue with an incomprehensible mixture of contempt and curiosity. As if, out of everyone he had fought in the tournament so far, only Yin had managed to really command his attention.
“What’re you waiting for?” exclaimed one of the Red Scarves.
From the emperor’s pavilion, General Cobu leaned forward.
Yin, his shoulders trembling with pain, but his expression calm before death, waited another whole two breaths before cracking his eyes open in confusion.
Leopard smiled the smile of a terrifying little boy presented with a bauble. “You are a real warrior. Ready to die in defeat.” He lowered his broadsword. “Not being able to fight will be worse for you than death,” he decided. “I will leave you like this.”
He turned and left the arena. Cheers and boos from the Red Scarves followed him.
General Cobu sat back in his cushioned seat, his expression unreadable.
Medics rushed into the ring and got to work on Yin. They wrapped a tourniquet around his stump and pulled him out of the arena on a canvas stretcher between two poles. As the people standing around the arena parted to let them through, Jun rushed to the side of the stretcher. “Yin,” he said, and stopped, unable to think of anything else that could be said. Yin Yue’s eyes were half-closed, his face taut with pain. He turned his head slightly and, seeing Jun, his eyes widened.
“I…” Jun hurried alongside the medics. “I couldn’t leave,” he said.
The small muscles around Yin’s eyes and mouth slackened slightly: a glimmer of relief. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he was carried away too quickly and whatever words he might’ve spoken were drowned out by the enthusiastic arena announcer.
“Leopard moves on to the final round of the Guardian’s Tournament! Who will face him in the arena this afternoon? Find out in the next match between the Little Dragon and Ghostface!”