Caught between a rock and a hard place, an enraged woman and three-meter ape, Jin Shu took a deep breath, forcing his racing thoughts to still. He knew what he had to do—but timing was everything.

The naked ape loomed behind him, its sight no longer obscured by the powder. It raised its club high to crush him, while Ling Shi closed in fast from the front.

He had seconds. No—less.

A club and a fist descended from opposite sides. Jin Shu watched them with clear eyes, no longer distracted by anger. A heartbeat—no, a fraction of one—before the blows landed, he sank into the ground and vanished.

Dust exploded from the twin impacts, cloaking the arena in a smokescreen. Shadows flickered within the haze, then a blast of qi swept the dust aside, revealing the battlefield once more.

Jin Shu had hoped his sneak attack would work. It didn’t.

Ling Shi had spun at the last moment, catching his sudden reappearance with a swift kick instead of the shot to the back of the head he’d expected.

The blow hurled him across the arena. He hit the ground hard, tumbling end over end. For a breath, he lay still, dazed and aching, wondering if anything was broken. But there was no time to check—her footsteps were already pounding toward him.

Again, he melted into the floor, rippling reality beneath him as he slipped away.

Moments later, he reemerged on the far side of the arena—but Ling Shi was already turning to intercept him.

How? How is she doing it?

He couldn’t understand. Had she seen the signs of his escape? But they were so subtle—nearly imperceptible.

Groaning, he adjusted his plan. Help me, he called inwardly. Block her next attack with a ripple.

A grunt of acknowledgment answered him in his mind.

He didn’t have to wait long. She crossed the distance in a blur, fist raised for a brutal strike, her spirit just behind, mirroring the motion with its massive club.

Wait! Redirect their attacks! He changed his mind at the last instant.

He didn’t know if it would work, but he had to try.

The fist shot toward his face, the club toward his skull—then both vanished in midair. A breath later, they reappeared—hurtling toward each other.

Ling Shi’s fist slammed into her own spirit. The ape’s club struck her square in the gut, knocking her backward and driving the breath from her lungs.

Jin Shu couldn’t help but smirk. His gamble had paid off. Wasting no time, he strode forward, ready to end the fight.

But even as she doubled over, gasping for air, her eyes never left him.

He drew his holstered pellet gun to fire, hoping to force an opening. Click. Broken. The weapon must have snapped during their earlier clash.

He tossed it aside, drawing his knife instead and stepping forward, blade raised toward her throat—just as she snapped upright.

“Stop!” Elder Li’s voice rang out, sharp and final.

For a heartbeat, Jin Shu thought he’d won—until he felt the whisper of wind along his temple.

“Tie!” Elder Li called.

Jin Shu turned his head. A wooden club hovered an inch from his skull.

With his knife at her throat and her spirit’s club at his temple, the duel ended in a draw.

Jin Shu coughed and winced, pressing a hand to his side. A few ribs were definitely cracked from her earlier kick.

“You got lucky!” Ling Shi growled. “Next time we fight, you die.”

He snorted. “You’d better pray the next time we fight is in another sparring stage. Otherwise, you won’t even know how you died.”

If he’d been using lethal weapons, she’d already be dead—unless her skin was bulletproof, which he highly doubted. Not against his bullets.

“Tough words for a man pretending to be a woman,” she sneered, a malevolent glint in her eye. “You almost fooled me. But I can feel it—your yang energy.” She licked her lips. “Does the Sect Master know?”

Jin Shu’s expression darkened. Before he could respond, the healers reached them. They whisked Ling Shi away to treat her more serious injuries, leaving one behind to check on him.

“You have three broken ribs,” the healer said. “Would you prefer treatment or a bone-mending pill?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Speed and pain. The pill works near-instantly, but it’ll hurt—a lot. My technique takes longer—anywhere from a half an hour to a full hour—but it’s mostly painless.”

Jin Shu considered. He’d just been outed—by someone who clearly wasn’t a friend. He needed to recover quickly and speak to his mother and stepmother before rumors spread.

“I’ll take the pill.”

“Come to the healer’s area—we keep the pills there.”

He followed her without a word. As they approached the alcove, a voice whispered in his ear.

“I won’t expose you.”

He turned. Ling Shi sat nearby, surrounded by healers applying medicine and qi techniques. One was carefully removing metal fragments from her face, but she didn’t even flinch.

“I won’t say anything,” she said again. “But you’ll owe me.”

He blinked, surprised. He didn’t know how to transmit his voice yet, so he remained silent.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He frowned but gave a small nod.

“Good. I’ll come to collect soon,” she added with a low chuckle.

He didn’t like it, but he had little choice. As long as she kept her word, he could live with owing her a favor—so long as it didn’t violate his principles or bottom line.

The healer handed him the pill, and he sat down, swallowing it in one gulp. He braced himself for the excruciating pain.

It wasn’t that bad. Painful, yes—but nothing compared to the agony of his Body Inscribing Technique. A reminder that he’d been neglecting it lately.

Too long, he thought. He could’ve used its power in the duel.

And then, he frowned.

There was something else—something that came with the technique. A skill or ability. He had completely forgotten it existed.

Strange.

He shouldn’t be that forgetful.

But every time he stopped thinking about it, it vanished from his memory—as if something didn’t want him to remember.

“Heavenly interference,” said Long Jinshu, his sudden calm voice startling him from within.

“What?” Jin Shu blurted aloud before he could stop himself.

The healer glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “The pain wasn’t as bad as I thought. Surprised me.”

She gave him an even more puzzled look. “You may be in shock. Everyone who takes that pill usually passes out from the pain.”

He shook his head. “It really wasn’t that bad. Try dying a few times—that will raise your pain tolerance.”

The healer frowned and turned away, clearly deciding not to ask.

Anyway… he thought. What were you saying about heavenly something?

“Heavenly interference,” Long Jinshu repeated. “It happens when a technique touches on the Dao but remains incomplete. Using it defies the natural order, and so... the heavens reject it.”

What about those dragon and tiger tattoos could possibly go against the heavens?

“It’s not the tattoos. It’s the rune.”

Rune? He tried to recall it. Something… life…

“Life-Giving Rune.”

Right! That one. Jin Shu blinked. Wait… it doesn’t actually give them life, does it?

“No. But that’s only because it’s incomplete, as I said.”

So if it were completed... the tattoos on my back would come to life?

“In a sense, yes.”

How does it work?

“That, I cannot tell you. Heavenly secrets, and all that.”

Riiight… so you don’t know.

Long Jinshu chuckled. “Honestly? Sort of. I know pieces, but not the whole.”

Jin Shu was about to press for more, but the roar of the crowd snapped him out of the mental conversation. He looked up, surprised to see that Tian Li and Bing Hou had already ascended the stage. The barrier shimmered to life around them, locking into place.