ATPnovel Chapter 103 I am no match for him?
Chapter 103 I am no match for him?
Sweat beaded on Han Dang's forehead. He realized that his knife was getting faster and faster, not because he was doing it on his own, but because he was being forced to.
The rhythm of the spear was gradually tightening, like an invisible rope slowly constricting his sword strike.
If he didn't speed up, the spear tip would slip through the gap, but as soon as he sped up, his opponent also sped up, causing his stamina consumption to increase exponentially.
Han Dang suddenly roared, gripped the knife with both hands, and raised it above his head.
The ring-pommel sword is known for its slashing and chopping techniques, but in this strike, he poured all his strength into the blade, the edge cutting through the air with a deep, mournful sound as it crashed down.
Zhao Yun did not take the blow head-on; instead, he parried the spear shaft at an angle, and the blade struck the shaft.
The gun barrel is made of ash wood, which has excellent toughness.
The moment the blade struck the spear shaft, the shaft bent sharply, dissipating thirty percent of the blade's force.
The spear shaft then bounced back, and Zhao Yun used this momentum to thrust the spear tip straight at Han Dang's face.
Han Dang was greatly alarmed and hurriedly turned his head to the side.
The tip of the gun grazed his earlobe, and the strong wind made his ear sting.
He used the momentum to leap back, taking three steps back to regain his footing.
Cheng Pu's gaze changed. He was familiar with Han Dang's swordsmanship. In the entire Liaoxi region, there were not many people who could last thirty rounds under Han Dang's sword.
At this moment, thirty rounds had passed, and the boy's spear was not only not suppressed, but was getting faster and faster.
Cheng Pu had a strange feeling that this young man seemed to be weak when facing the weak and strong when facing the strong.
But how is that possible?
Jian Yong didn't understand the intricacies of the game, but he understood speed.
He saw Han Dang's sword quickly become an arc of light, and Zhao Yun's spear also quickly become an arc of light. The two arcs of light clashed, separated, and clashed again on the training ground.
The sound of metal clanging was so dense it was like a torrential downpour hitting roof tiles, and he instinctively held his breath.
Jian Yong couldn't help but say, "De Mou, why do I have a feeling that you're going to be wiped out by this young man?"
Han Dang was breathing heavily, and the veins on his forehead were slightly bulging. He looked at Zhao Yun, who was also breathing heavily, with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and dripping onto the yellow soil of the training ground. He seemed to have reached his limit as well.
But those eyes remained calm, the gun still pointed at him, unmoved.
He realized he had met a true rival, a feeling he hadn't had in a long time.
The last time I fought so exhilaratingly was when I clashed with the Xianbei Queji.
"Again!"
He took a deep breath, gripped the hilt of the sword tightly again, and the ring-pommel sword gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
The sword technique changed again, no longer solely pursuing speed, but alternating between fast and slow movements.
One strike is as swift as lightning, the next as slow as pushing a mountain.
The rhythm constantly shifts between fast and slow, making it impossible to anticipate.
However, to his surprise, Zhao Yun's spear technique also changed.
Han Dang slashed slowly with his sword, yet the force was immense.
Zhao Yun did not parry the spear; instead, the spear tip slid down the blade and pierced Han Dang's wrist, which was holding the sword.
Han Dang quickly changed his move, switching from a slow slash to a fast one, deflecting the spear tip.
The two exchanged blows, the sounds of swords and spears clashing filling the air.
Gradually, both of them were drenched in sweat. Han Dang's robes were soaked through and clung tightly to his back. Each swing of his sword was accompanied by heavy breathing.
Zhao Yun's hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and the ash wood on the spear shaft was stained with dark marks from the sweat.
Liu Bei silently counted in his mind: forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty rounds!
"stop!"
Upon hearing this, Zhao Yun swept through the enemy ranks with a single move, forcing Han Dang to retreat. Han Dang then sheathed his spear and stood still, and the two stopped fighting at the same time.
Han Dang thrust his ring-pommel sword into the ground, the blade sinking three inches into the rammed earth.
He was panting heavily, looking at Zhao Yun, who was also panting.
"Great, hahaha, it's been a long time since I've had such a satisfying fight!"
"You're only fifteen, that's impressive!"
Han Dang shook his head, his tone tinged with emotion: "When I was fifteen, I was still practicing martial arts in my hometown. You, at fifteen, are already able to fight me to a draw."
He paused, then added, "In the fight just now, I, Han, did not hold back."
The corridor fell silent immediately after these words were spoken.
Everyone knows Han Dang's temperament; when he says he won't hold back, he really means it.
He said that a draw would mean the two teams were truly evenly matched.
Everyone was amazed. At such a young age, he had such skills. Where did our lord find such a talent?
Zhao Yun sheathed his spear, saluted, and, still catching his breath, said, "Han Jun Hou Chengrang!"
Jian Yong winked at Cheng Pu and laughed, "Demou, Hou Cheng fought him for fifty rounds, and Han Dang fought him for fifty rounds too!"
Cheng Pu remained silent, his gaze fixed on Zhao Yun in the arena, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.
A thought vaguely surfaced in his mind, but he couldn't believe that the boy was only fifteen years old!
Cheng Yu nodded to himself. Not bad. This boy has the strength of Han Dang, yet he can fight Hou Cheng to a standstill. He doesn't fight or compete, which shows a bit of the Confucian style.
Seeing that the others had not yet realized Zhao Yun's prowess, Liu Bei smiled to himself.
Let him add fuel to the fire!
"Yuan Zhao, why don't you go up and give it a try!"
Xu Rong leaned against a pillar, having been watching ever since Hou Cheng and Zhao Yun began their fight.
His martial arts skills were not outstanding among the crowd; he was good at military strategy and tactics, not front-line combat.
Hou Cheng was above him, and Han Dang was even above Hou Cheng.
Hearing Liu Bei call out his name, he was shocked. If Zhao Yun and Han Dang were truly evenly matched, then he himself would probably not last more than twenty rounds.
However, he was a steady person, and since his lord had spoken, he didn't ask any further questions.
He walked to the weapon rack, took a spear, and went to the center of the field to stand opposite Zhao Yun.
Xu Rong took a deep breath and began to move.
Xu Rong's martial arts skills were average; he lacked Han Dang's speed and Hou Cheng's versatility, but his strength lay in his stability.
Every move he made was upright and honest, without being reckless or revealing any flaws.
This kind of composure allows him to crush those weaker than himself, and to protect himself against those stronger than himself.
Zhao Yun raised his spear to meet him, the tip of the spear touching the shaft, and gently deflected it.
Xu Rong felt the spear in his hand being pulled off course by several inches by a force. He steadied himself by sinking his wrist and then swept it horizontally with his backhand.
This time, Zhao Yun's spear did not intercept; instead, the shaft of the spear brushed against Zhao Yun's spear shaft and slid forward.
Xu Rong swept his spear even faster, creating a whistling sound.
After more than ten rounds, the two were still fighting back and forth.
Xu Rong gradually discovered something: he was getting better and better at wielding his spear.
It wasn't because Zhao Yun was going easy on him, but rather, it seemed that every move Zhao Yun made squeezed out his potential.
After twenty rounds, sweat beaded on Xu Rong's forehead. He felt that each of his spear thrusts was just a hair's breadth away from piercing Zhao Yun.
It was so close.
If he were just a little faster and a little more ruthless, he could break through that spear's defenses.
So he kept speeding up and putting more effort into it.
Xu Rong's breathing was heavy as a bull's. He realized that no matter how fast he went, the spear was always only a little bit faster than him.
No matter how much force he applied, the spear tip was always only slightly more accurate than his.
It was that tiny difference that made every single one of his spears miss its mark.
He felt he could break through that barrier at any moment, and with the next spear, he could pierce it.
But when the next spear was thrust out, it was still just a hair's breadth away.
His spear thrusts grew increasingly fierce without him even realizing it.
Although his breathing was heavy, he felt as if he was stronger than the previous move with each strike he made.
He began to forget that the person opposite him was a boy who couldn't even defeat Han Dang, and he forgot that he had originally only planned to last for twenty rounds before giving up.
He was completely absorbed in the competition.
His robes were soaked with sweat, but his eyes shone with an astonishing light; he had never fought so exhilaratingly.
Each spear felt it was so close to winning, so it thrust out the next spear with all its might.
Before we knew it, we had already gone through more than forty rounds.
Zhao Yun, reflected in the light, was also covered in sweat. He seemed to have given his all in every move and even countered from time to time, showing no signs of holding back.
Zhao Yun's spear techniques were constantly changing and varied, dazzling the eye.
Han Dang gradually realized something was wrong!
Xu Rong's condition looks so familiar.
It seems, it seems, just like him?
A terrible thought jumped into his mind, stirring up a monstrous wave!
This boy's martial arts skills are beyond my reach.