Feixiao was a well known name in the underground world of the Xianzhou. — The name of a champion. The name of the Foxian fighter who had taken it all for the whole season and the years before. The one who had never ever tasted defeat.

Her fights had always been a pleasure to watch; not too brutal, nor too sloppy. They were the showcase of her martial prowess and capability to fight. She knew what she was doing and it showed.

One of those days, you’d decided to attend these matches, finding a certain interest in them.

You settled down in the grandstands before the match were to begin, waiting patiently. — Until Feixiao stepped in the square-shaped ring under the thunder of cheers and applause.

The Foxian didn’t seem phased by the noise, ears flickering slightly as she took in the overall ambience in the makeshift stadium.

Then, the fight began.

At first, everything was going well, Feixiao dodging through the attacks and parrying with technique and dexterity. — But then, it turned to a never-seen disaster.

Under her opponent’s reckless but strong hits, the Foxian fighter’s stance began to crumble apart bit by bit, rendering her powerless. She was losing. Her steps were faltering continuously, as the crowd roared out for her to hang on.

For the first time ever, Feixiao was tasting defeat.