After the hour break, everyone took their seats in the stands. The crowd waiting in anticipation for thr next fight. Two men, both had steamrolled their competition by pure strength and resilience, not finesse. The monk Hanjo and Silent Edge's Jinhu.
On the platform below, both boys took their positions. Hanjo bowed. "Amitabha."
Jinhu bowed. "Yeah yeah. Let's just get this over with."
The elder gave the signal, the gong rung. Both met in the middle of the platform. Two immovable forces locked fingers. Wrists locked, firearms bulging. Neither willing to giving an inch. The platform cracked under their feet as both tried to get the upper hand.
Hanjo began pushing Jinhu back inch by inch. His strength was undeniable. Jinhu's feet dug into the stone, cracking along the way.
Jinhu's face was no longer playful, he was irritated. "This dude is a lot stronger than me." He grunted to himself as Hanjo kept pushing.
"No more games." Jinhu smiled he let go of his grip and stepped to the left, he let the monks strength carry him. Hanjo stumbled, Jinhu jumped away. "Amitabha, no more games." Hanjo grinned at Jinhu.
They rushed in once more. Fists flying, elbows cracked. It was fist against fist, neither blocked, neither flinched. They were not exchanging techniques, rather wills. Hanjo's palm shot forward, striking Jinhu just below the ribs. The air left Jinhu's lungs as he gasoed and dropped to one knee.
Hanjo looked down at him. "Amitabha, are you done already?"
Jinhu stood wiping blood from his lip. "Not yet." He cracked his knuckes. "But you are."
Jinhu stepped in and threw an explosive uppercut that connected with Hanjo's jaw."
SNAP.
Beads scattered on the platform, leaving a small crater where each one landed. Jinhu didn't take notice, but Hanjo did. He hand reached his his neck. Not pain, just the absence of weight that had been there for years. He looked at Jinhu who was still breathing hard, fists raised.
"Good." Hanjo muttered to himself. "You're growing." He smiled.
In the stands Baek Mu-Seon leaned to an elder of shaolin. "Seems Hanjo finally found someone he deems worthy of being a friend."
On the platform Hanjo stepped forward, then he was gone. Jinhu met him in kind. Both men again traded blows, this time faster. Harder. They didn't talk, they fought.
Elbows to ribs, fists to faces. Palms to chests. Both bled, both of them grinned at each other.
The crowd rose to their feet and cheered. Mu Jang stood and roared. "Now THAT is how men fight!" He looked at Sa Gwan and grinned. "Brutes." Sa Gwan muttered and stood, because like everyone else. Something about the way these two were approaching this fight was entertaining... for brutes that is.
Below, both boys locked fingers again. Hanjo whispered. "Let's finish this, one final move. Me first." Jinhu nodded. "Let's do it."
They separated both taking ten steps back. Hanjo took a deep breath as qi flowed from his dantian down his arm and into his fist.
Buddha’s Mercy - Falling Mountain Palm.
Jinhu braced and crossed his arms in front of him just in time.
BOOM.
The strike sent shockwaves through the air. Jinhu's feet dragged backwards, leaving grooves where he once stood. His arms trembled, blood dripped from them as he struggled to stay on his feet. He dropped to one knee. Raised his arms and redirected the strike into the sky.
Jinhu stood, blood dripping from both arms, down his hands and fingertips onto the stone below. "My turn." He smiled.
He lowered his stance and gathered his qi.
Earth-Splitter first form EarthRend.
The platform shook from the pressure. Stone cracked further beneath his feet. Jinhu roared and launched his fist. Hanjo barely had time to react.
CRACK.
The impact was deafening. A shockwave erupted outward. Dust swallowed the arena. As the dust settled, Hanjo was on the other side of the arena, back against the wall with a crater behind him.
The crowd went silent. Then it erupted as the elder lifted Jinhu's hand and declared him the winner.
Jinhu hopped off the platform and made his way to Hanjo. He extended his hand. "Amitabha." He said out of breath. "I'm Jinhu. Let's be friends."
Hanjo blinked and smiled back. He took Jinhu's hand. Hanjo had one arm over Jinhu's shoulder as the two helped each other out of the arena.
If Jinhu's fight was a battle of wills and two mountains clashing. Ilho's bout with Namgung Jin was a shadow dance.
From the opening gong, it was clear.
Jin struck first, crisp, sharp, precise. His technique was textbook. No flaws.
Above the Sword Saint leaned forward. "He's improved much."
Beside him Wu Cheng narrowed his eyes. "He has, too bad it's the worst possible matchup."
Ilho never answered Jin's challenges. Never postured, never so much as blinked under the pressure Jin thought he was providing.
He simply disappeared. Namgung Jin's sword simply missed. Over and over again.
In this moment Jin thought of his uncle Gyeom's words. "Dont be too cocky my nephew, you are just a frog in a well." In that moment he knew exactly what his uncle meant. He was always outdone by his cousin Ryu, but noone else could hold a candle to him. Until now. Until Ilho stepped on stage Jin had never known fear, or loss.
Ilho danced, shadow to shadow. Dancing around every strike, his feet barely touching the ground.
The crowd went silent. Questions and doubt erupted from them.
"Is he running?"
"He's scared of Namgung's sword."
Then came the first cut. A shallow line across Jin's face. Then another. Another. Jin backed off. Eyes wide, trying to track Ilho, he spun and parried. Each time Ilho wasnt where he just was. Ilho circled Jin like a predator playing with his prey. Jin finally saw an opening. He swung his sword. Ilho simply slide underneath it. He tapped Jin's calf with his butterfly swords. A warning. Jin turned. The boys eyes met as one corner of Ilho's mouth lifted and he winked.
Jin backed off again. Ilho thought to himself. "I should stop toying with him."
From that point, the tone changed. And so did the crowds reaction. They no longer saw Ilho as someone who was hiding, but hunting. Each cut Ilho inflicted in Jin was precise, shallow, and accumulative. Jin's uniform began to change colors, it was now soaked in red. The crowd took notice and gasped.
Jin was breathing hard, he gathered his qi for one last ditch attempt to reach Ilho. He swung. Ilho was already behind him. Both swords hovered against Jin's back. One at the base of his neck, the other at his kidney. Jin froze. His sword hit the ground. "I yield."
The crowd went silent, then erupted. Ilho stepped back. He didn’t say a word. His expression showed nothing. He simply walked off the platform.
Above in the stands the Sword Saint leaned forward. "He will need more strict training."
Wu Cheng patted him on the back. "It's okay old friend. I think he did well."
"He was doing well, until he wasn't." Gyeom looked at Cheng and Yeol. "How is it you found not one but three monsters?"
Cheng laughed. "Luck."
The semifinal bracket flickered to life in the sky.
Blue vs. Ryul.
Jinhu vs. Ilho.
The stage was set. And Murim would never be the same again.