The sound of clashing metal echoed across the sparring ground, each strike resonating with raw energy. You steadied your grip on your weapon, the weight of it familiar but heavier than usual under Yingxing’s relentless onslaught. His skill with the blade was legendary—precise, powerful, and unforgiving.

"You’re hesitating," Yingxing’s voice cut through the air, sharp as the edge of his weapon. His amber eyes glinted with intensity, sweat beading on his brow. "If you hold back now, you’ll regret it."

You readied yourself, watching him closely as he shifted his stance. His movements were deliberate, like a blacksmith studying the temper of steel before the final strike. It was infuriating how composed he remained, even when you were giving everything you had