Wei's eyes were locked on the dark shape.
It skimmed across the surface of the water, barely disturbing it, leaving almost no ripples behind. It moved like a predator that did not need to breathe, like a hunting cat sliding low and silent through grass. The wind brushed across the pond, but it did not alter the thing's path in the slightest. Its course was straight. Its speed steady.
It was closing in on the two girls.
They had not noticed.
They were still speaking to each other in low voices, unaware. Calm. Hesitant. Doing the worst possible thing.
They were waiting.
They had not run.
They had not even turned around.
In that moment, Wei understood something with painful clarity.
If he did nothing, they would die.
The distance was too great.
Even if he tore his throat raw screaming, they would never hear him.
And the dark shape needed only a few more steps.
Wei clenched his fists. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip. The restless heat in his chest surged upward, sharp and urgent, but he forced it back down.
This was not the moment for impulse.
He knew better than that.
The instant he made a sound, his life would be forfeit.
The silver warrior was not deaf.
He simply had not yet decided whether to acknowledge him.
And because of that, Wei understood something even worse.
Silence was not safety.
It was merely waiting for judgment.
He did not hesitate again.
He stepped forward and walked straight toward the silver-armored warrior.
"Hey."
His voice was not loud.
But it was clear.
"Big idiot."
The words cut straight through the tense but steady rhythm of the clearing, ripping it open.
For the first time, the silver warrior's gaze truly fell on Wei.
Wei forced himself to lift his head. He let a careless edge creep into his voice, deliberate and forced. "You really need a blade to deal with an unarmed, handsome kid like me?"
He knew it was stupid.
He knew it would not save anyone.
But he needed a variable.
The silver warrior stopped.
The pale eyes were cold and empty, without warmth, without anger. Slowly, he drew his cavalry saber. With a dull, wet sound, he plunged the blade into the soft mud at the edge of the pond.
It was not a challenge.
It was confidence.
Then he stepped backward.
A dozen steps.
Slow. Measured. Calm.
Like a machine executing a routine that had already been written.
He raised one hand and pointed at the saber.
The meaning was unmistakable.
You may use my weapon.
Wei's chest tightened sharply.
The soil here was thin, barely covering stone. Yet the saber stood upright, steady, unmoving, as though it had always belonged there.
Wei stared at the blade and understood.
This was not a chance to turn the tables.
It was a test.
"Fine," he told himself.
Either he did nothing and watched them die.
Or he stepped forward and dragged all the danger onto himself.
If he could buy even a little time, the two girls might live.
Wei licked his cracked lips.
Wind rushed into his ears. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs, heavy enough to hurt.
Step by step, he walked toward the saber. Each step felt like walking along the edge of nothing.
Then—
He exploded into motion.
Water burst upward as Wei charged out of the pond. His fingers closed around the saber's hilt. Using the momentum of his forward rush, he wrenched it free and swung in one continuous motion, slashing straight at the silver warrior.
No testing strike.
No restraint.
His father's voice flashed through his mind.
Simple.
Direct.
Effective.
A blade was not meant to be beautiful.
It was meant to stop danger.
Wei gripped the saber with both hands. His shoulders and back drove the motion. His swings were wide, unrefined, almost ugly. There was no structure, no elegance. Every cut followed the shortest possible path.
Chop.
Sweep.
Press.
Like cutting at the wind.
Like hacking away his own retreat.
The silver warrior did not step back.
He did not dodge.
He merely raised his armored forearm.
Metal met steel.
Sparks exploded into the night, scattering light that fell into the water and vanished at once.
One strike.
Two.
Three.
Wei's palms began to numb. Pain tore through his shoulders, sharp and insistent.
But he did not stop.
And then he realized something far worse.
The silver warrior was not blocking the blade.
He was guiding it.
Every collision shifted the saber's path just enough to divert it away from lethal angles. Not by accident.
By choice.
The silver warrior did not need to kill him.
Not yet.
He was watching.
Watching to see whether Wei would thrash wildly once pain set in.
Whether desperation would break his form.
Whether survival instinct would make him abandon the effort to keep the threat focused on himself.
Wei's breathing grew ragged.
Sweat mixed with blood and slid down from his hairline.
The silver warrior's stance, however, remained perfectly steady.
Like a monument standing in the night.
Only then did Wei truly understand.
He had been pulled into something built specifically for him.
Not for victory.
Not for glory.
But to see how long he could endure.
Sparks leapt again from the saber and shattered against the silver chestplate, just as Wei's will strained to its limit.
Time stretched.
The armor did not yield.
The silver warrior spoke, his voice no longer as calm as before.
"Where did you learn military blade work?"