I opened my eyes.
The same arena surrounded me again—empty, endless, as if it had no boundaries. The air felt heavy, and the space itself seemed unnaturally still, as if time flowed differently here.
Standing opposite me was an old man. One-armed. His right arm was intact, his left was missing. Despite that, he stood calmly, confidently, as if losing a limb meant nothing to him.
My gaze immediately caught the most important detail—second rank.
…This wouldn't be easy.
"You have five attempts," I heard the old man's voice.
"You begin in five seconds."
He gave me no time to think.
Five seconds…
Too little to come up with anything new. I could only act.
The moment the countdown ended, my opponent dashed forward.
His movements were only slightly faster than mine—not overwhelming, but enough to create pressure. I barely managed to keep up.
He mostly attacked with his hands, though he didn't neglect using his legs. His strikes were precise, sharp, without unnecessary movement.
Difficult.
Counterattacking isn't my strength, especially against a hand-to-hand fighter. A battle of endurance won't work either—he's second rank. His reserves of qi are higher. The quality is better too.
My only chance is his weakness. The missing arm.
After his punch, I thrust my sword toward the side of his missing arm.
He dodged.
Damn…
Fatigue began to build. Dodge after dodge, I was losing strength, while my opponent seemed unaffected.
Another punch.
This time I tried attacking from the side of his working arm.
He simply evaded again.
…Failure.
Attempt 2.
This time I started aggressively. I went straight into offense—12(9) Steps of the Storm.
He avoided everything.
The arena felt endless—I couldn't corner him.
After the first sequence, I paused briefly to think.
I need to catch him in a counterattack. But how?
I began carefully observing his movements.
If he kicks—it's usually with the left leg.
If he strikes with the right—he almost always follows with a punch or a horizontal palm strike.
A pattern.
I decided to use it.
Palm strike. I waited.
Right after it, I thrust toward his stomach.
Hit.
Not a penetrating wound, but I struck his internal organs.
But in return…
He completely broke my left arm.
The exchange wasn't worth it.
He had no internal bleeding.
My body tilted to the right. Now we were somewhat equal… but not in my favor.
I made a right-side thrust.
Missed.
He dodged even now.
I tried to turn it into a battle of endurance.
I lost.
Attempt 3.
Another exchange. None of the attacks landed.
I kept dodging. Again and again.
Palm strike…
What if I attack right after it?
I tried.
Right after the palm strike—a thrust.
Missed, but it created an opening.
I continued the pressure and managed to wound his right shoulder.
Finally.
Even if the fight started with this wound, it wouldn't be enough—but it was something.
His punch became slower.
Now I had a slight advantage.
I could try cutting his fist mid-attack.
I did it.
But…
I didn't have enough qi left to finish him.
Defeat.
Attempt 4.
I repeated everything from the previous attempt.
Up to cutting his fist.
I had around 50% qi left.
He clearly had more.
Now I had to wait. Let him bleed out.
I held on.
30% qi.
He slowed down… but his reserves were still far beyond mine.
The bleeding started to clot.
That tactic wouldn't work again.
He stopped using his fists—only kicks now.
When he attacks with his left leg, there's a chance he can't recover quickly.
I tried to cut his leg.
Failed.
I lost again.
Attempt 5.
The last one.
I stood there, feeling the tension tighten around my body.
If I fail—I gain nothing.
Just wasted time.
I focused completely.
Every movement precise. Every decision calculated.
When the blood loss phase began, I still had about 35% qi left.
This time, I chose a different approach.
Why not go for a deeper thrust?
I attacked.
Just like before—his ribs cracked.
But this time, they barely shifted.
And him…
He had a problem.
I caused internal bleeding.
We continued exchanging blows.
10% qi left.
The limit.
All or nothing.
I activated 12(9) Steps of the Storm.
The pressure increased with every strike.
And on the final, ninth step—
I killed him.
The trial was complete.