"Agreed," Lin Tian said. He called his own sword from his ring—the adaptable jian he had chosen in the Sword-Testing Spire. It was lighter, more fluid than Yan Lang's heavy blade.
"A single exchange," Yan Lang confirmed. He settled into his stance. It was perfect. Every line of his body spoke of optimized power, from the placement of his back foot to the angle of his shoulder. There was no waste, no flair. It was the essence of the glacier: immense, patient, and utterly crushing when it moved.
Lin Tian mirrored him, falling into the opening stance of the Moonfrost Sword Dance. But he didn't hold it rigidly. He let his knees soften, his weight settle into a ready balance. His Ice Flame Qi circulated, not explosively, but with a fluid, ready current beneath his skin.
He is absolute zero, Lin Tian observed. I am the moment ice meets fire.
"Begin," Gor's deep voice rumbled from the sidelines.
Yan Lang moved.
