Han Li looked up. Chu Feng stood at the rim, spear in hand, robes spotless, watching him like he had been there the whole time.
"Well," Chu Feng called down, his smile sharp, "you really are hard to get rid of."
The climb was harder than the fight. The wall wasn't straight, more like jagged teeth stacked unevenly, and every pull made his arms burn.
The skin on his palms was raw and split from gripping stone and the Tyrant's plates. His shoulder ached with each reach, and his leg still throbbed from the Nightclaw's claws.
Halfway up, he stopped on a narrow ledge. His breath misted in the cold air. Unstrapping the Tyrant plate from his belt, he turned it in his hands. It was still smeared with dark blood, but the edge was intact. It would serve as a shield or a blade until he found something better.
The fight had made Han Li stronger. The heat from the Tyrant Core was gone, but the strength in his body remained.
The rim came into view above, a strip of pale light. Han Li climbed, boots finding small holds in the rock.
The sounds of the Forbidden Zone faded. No more chittering. Only the wind.
He grabbed the last ledge, pulled himself up, and stepped onto level ground.
Chu Feng was ten paces away, spear in hand, blocking the middle of the path with a relaxed posture.
"You're full of surprises," Chu Feng said.
He angled the spear across the path, the polished tip catching the light. Han Li would have to go through him to pass.
His gaze moved over Han Li, pausing on the torn robe, the blood stains, and the Tyrant plate tied at his belt. "Crawling out of the Forbidden Zone in one piece," he said, voice smooth but edged, "I should start calling you lucky instead of trash."
Han Li kept his posture steady, weight centered. "Luck didn't kill the Tyrant."
The smirk on Chu Feng's face twitched. "You expect me to believe you fought that thing?"
"I don't care what you believe." Han Li stepped to the left, testing the gap. The spear tip tracked him, keeping it closed.
His tone dropped lower, almost flat. "You should have stayed down there. Now I have to send you back."
Han Li's back was close to the edge. A single step too far and he would fall. Chu Feng knew it. That was why the spear came forward again, fast and sharp.
Han Li didn't move back. He stepped in.
The sudden change in distance threw off Chu Feng's aim. The spear's tip passed his side instead of his chest.
With his left hand, Han Li brought up the Tyrant plate. The edge slammed against the spear shaft.
CRACK!!! The wood cracked loudly.
Chu Feng's grip tightened to stop it from breaking completely, but the sound had already drawn attention.
Two sect disciples were walking the path. They stopped when they saw the confrontation.
One of them leaned toward the other and whispered, "Isn't that the cripple from Discipline Hall?"
"That's the one who was thrown into the Forbidden Zone. How's he still alive?"
"Did you see that cripple just block Chu Feng?"
Han Li didn't hear the words, but he saw the way Chu Feng's jaw tensed.
Chu Feng pushed forward, trying to force him back before the watchers saw more. Han Li didn't give ground. He kept the plate high and used his free hand to grab the spear shaft.
The force of the push slowed. Han Li's spike was still in his right hand. He raised it, the point lining up with Chu Feng's chest.
Chu Feng tried to twist the spear free, but Han Li's grip didn't loosen. Han Li stepped forward. Chu Feng stepped back.
The heel of Chu Feng's boot scraped against the edge of the cliff. He froze for a moment, realizing there was nothing behind him but open air.
"Where's your arrogance now?" Han Li said. His voice was calm, but the spike in his hand didn't move from its line with Chu Feng's chest.
From behind, the disciples whispered again, their voices carrying just enough for Chu Feng to hear.
"Looks like he's the one being pushed back."
"Is Chu Feng… losing?"
Color rose along Chu Feng's neck. He tried to wrench the spear free again, but Han Li's grip didn't budge.
"You want to send me back to the Forbidden Zone?" Han Li's tone stayed flat, almost bored. "You can go take my place."
The words hit harder than the plate strike. Chu Feng's jaw clenched.
Han Li pressed forward another step. The edge of the cliff was now a breath from Chu Feng's heel. His weight shifted back involuntarily, but there was nowhere to go.
"You should thank those two for showing up," Han Li said, tilting his chin toward the onlookers. "Otherwise, I'd have to explain to the sect why their 'genius' disappeared off a cliff."
The younger disciple's eyes went wide.
"Did he just threaten to…"
"Shut up," the other hissed.
Chu Feng's face tightened, but he lowered the spear. Han Li stepped back a pace, giving him room.
Chu Feng shifted off the edge's line, putting solid ground under his heels again. "This isn't over," he said.
Han Li turned to leave. The two disciples relaxed slightly, until they heard movement behind him.
SWOOSH!!!
Without looking back, Han Li hand snapped to the Tyrant plate. The spear slammed into it with a sharp clang that rang across the cliffside.
Han Li turned, catching the shaft with his free hand and yanking hard. Chu Feng stumbled forward, his own momentum betraying him.
Han Li twisted his wrist, pulling him sideways, right toward the drop..
The heel of Chu Feng's boot slid over empty air. His eyes widened, wind from the depths roaring past his ears. Only Han Li's grip on the spear kept him from falling.
Han Li leaned in, voice cold. "If I can walk out of the Forbidden Zone, I can put you in it."
Color drained from Chu Feng's face. The two disciples watching didn't dare speak, their eyes flicking between the drop and Han Li's grip.
He yanked the spear forward, forcing Chu Feng to stumble a step onto solid ground.
Only then did Han Li shove it back into his hands and turn away without another glance.
One disciple exhaled sharply. "Did he just… almost throw him off?"
The other swallowed. "Chu Feng lost twice… and he's still breathing because Han Li let him."
Han Li didn't slow.
The wind pulled at his torn robe as he walked toward the sect gates. He still had things to do.