Li Shen barely evaded Fu's curved sword. The massive blade whistled through the air where his head had been moments before. Desert warriors favored such weapons, but Fu's was larger, requiring both hands to wield. Each swing carried deliberate purpose - slow yet precise.
The Ghost Battle Chamber's white walls reflected their deadly dance. Fu's attacks forced Li Shen to constantly adjust his position, the curved blade always seeking his neck. Despite his speed and experience, Li Shen struggled to close the distance. He kept his qi dormant, relying purely on physical ability.
Their movements flowed like water. Fu advanced with measured steps, the curved sword describing elegant arcs through space. Li Shen retreated and circled, studying the pattern of Fu's footwork. The blade passed inches from his face, yet his expression remained serene.
