Chapter Three: The Duel

Flames roared to life, catching the young man utterly off guard. Yet every member of the Fire Crow tribe was born with an uncanny affinity for fire. The youth cursed furiously, slapping at his body in a frantic dance; wherever his hands passed, the flames vanished, leaving only tendrils of black smoke curling around him.

Ji Hao surveyed the other boy’s newly singed, gleaming scalp with satisfaction, his voice sharp and scornful: “Ha! You can’t even withstand a single blaze—what right do you have to run your mouth here? Who gave you the nerve to shout so loudly in this place?”

Ji Xia cast Ji Hao an approving glance, folding his arms across his chest and saying nothing. By the fire pit, several of the most withered, ancient elders of the tribe nodded in delight, cackling with raspy laughter.

Among the men seated opposite Ji Xia, one stood whose height nearly matched his own. This man was well-proportioned, lacking the knotted muscles that marked most warriors of the tribe. His skin was pale and almost delicate, a stark contrast to those who made their living in the wilds of the southern jungle. His long hair was bound into a single thick braid at the back by three jade rings, and his slender, narrow eyes glimmered with a restless light.

“Wu, don’t disgrace our family,” said the man, his voice smooth yet cold as the edge of a blade.

The youth, left hairless and browless by the flames, let out a bellow, striding forward more than thirty feet in a single bound. He hurled a punch straight at Ji Hao’s face as he exhaled with a roar: “Only cowards attack from behind! I am Ji Wu, son of the mighty Ji Shu!”

A vicious gust accompanied his fist. The force of Ji Wu’s punch whipped Ji Hao’s long hair straight back, each strand pulled taut until his scalp ached. Such power—Ji Hao instantly realized that the strength behind this blow was at least three times his own at full force. Sheer brute strength alone could never block it.

Forming seals with his hands, Ji Hao’s figure flickered and exploded into seven or eight afterimages that shot out in all directions with a rustling sound. Ji Wu’s fist crashed through empty air, not even grazing the edge of Ji Hao’s shadow.

Murmuring an incantation, Ji Hao caused the bonfire’s flames to lurch wildly. Dozens of fire serpents as thick as an arm howled forth, shooting toward Ji Wu at Ji Hao’s mental command.

Ji Xia exhaled softly, watching the writhing fire serpents with an approving smile. “Elders, it seems that Ji Hao has made some progress with the witchcraft you’ve taught him over these years.”

The ancient elders cackled with pride, nodding in satisfaction. One, whose eyes flickered with emerald fire, declared harshly, “Ji Hao is an exceptional seedling, with an extraordinary gift for witchcraft. Perhaps, he will become the first Witch King our Fire Crow tribe has seen in ten thousand years.”

Ji Xia and the warriors beside him smiled, while across from them Ji Shu, Ji Hong, and their followers frowned deeply.

The pale, delicate-skinned Ji Shu barked, “Wu! Ji Hao is the genius of legend—be careful!”

Even as he shouted, Ji Shu frowned, glancing with displeasure at the elders seated in the place of highest honor. Their favoritism toward Ji Hao was obvious to all.

Ji Wu let out a low growl. The shield-shaped tattoo on his left arm flashed, and from the firelight erupted a round metal shield three feet across, covering most of his body. The bronze-hued shield was exquisitely crafted, with intricate patterns: a soaring tower that pierced the clouds, and atop it, a single blood-red eye suspended in the air.

“That shield… it’s so familiar!” Ji Hao’s heart jolted as he recognized the design.

His hands flew through the seals instinctively. Where before he’d only used thirty percent of his power to control the fire serpents, now he unleashed his full strength.

The serpents swelled in size, merging and devouring one another until, in the blink of an eye, three fire dragons, each dozens of feet long, coalesced and crashed at the shield with a roar like the wind.

A low, resonant hum rang out as a ghostly blue radiance flickered over the shield. Twelve twisted runes, each the size of a fist, hovered at the shield’s edge. A blue arc of cold energy, three feet wide, shot out more than ten feet. The fire dragons and blue arc collided, grinding together with muffled explosions. Ji Wu, gripping the shield, trembled under the onslaught, but his powerful frame did not retreat an inch.

“Haha! So you’re Ji Hao? The one who could speak at birth, run freely after a single day, and wield fire magic within a month?” Ji Wu bellowed, brandishing his shield against the fire dragons’ assault. “But your strength is pathetic! Far too weak—Ji Hao, you can’t even harm a hair on my head!”

Ji Hao cackled, giving up control of the rapidly shrinking fire dragons. He fixed Ji Wu with a mocking smile. “Harm a hair? Do you even have any left for me to harm? Hey, how does it feel being bald?”

The taunt made Ji Wu’s eyes flush red with rage. A faint, dim fire aura surged from the top of his head.

Amidst laughter, Ji Hao reached toward a wooden rack on the hut’s wall. A spear, its shaft of green mulberry wood and its head of flint, leapt from the rack into his hand.

With a shout, he spun the spear—taller than two of himself put together—a few times, pouring searing power into it. Ancient, crimson runes blazed along its length, and from the three-foot flint spearhead burst a jet of flame more than ten feet long.

He shook the spear, then swung it down onto Ji Wu’s shield. Fire blazed like waves, the spear’s shadow like a dragon. In an instant, Ji Hao smashed at the shield over a hundred times. Spear and shield collided in a frenzy, blue light and red fire grinding with shrieks.

After more than a hundred furious blows, Ji Hao paused to catch his breath. Ji Wu used the opportunity to push forward with his shield. The three fire dragons finally shattered, and a surge of force from the shield shot into Ji Hao’s arms. His own power was utterly unable to withstand it.

The spear was knocked flying. Ji Hao staggered back in retreat.

Without a word, Ji Wu swung his right arm. The tattoo of a great axe on his forearm flashed, and a black metal axe roared into his grasp. He lifted it high and, with no mercy, brought it down toward Ji Hao’s head.

Looking into Ji Wu’s eyes, gleaming with murderous intent, Ji Hao felt the killing intent as tangible as steel—this fellow truly meant to seize this chance to kill him.

His fingers trembled as he flashed through incantations, and his figure vanished. A whirlwind spun up behind Ji Wu, and Ji Hao stepped from its heart just in time to catch his falling spear. With all his might, he swung it sideways, smashing it against Ji Wu’s back.

With a sharp crack, Ji Wu was sent flying dozens of yards, crashing into the hut’s wall and knocking dozens of weapons from their racks to rain down on his head.

Ji Hao had poured his entire strength into that blow. The nascent core at his brow throbbed violently, sending all his magical power surging through his body at once.

A subtle, searing heat invaded Ji Wu’s organs through his powerful muscles and bones, savagely shaking his insides. His heart burned as if a bomb had exploded in his chest, and he spat a mouthful of blood that instantly burst into flames upon the ground.

Like a bear kicked in the rear, Ji Wu staggered to his feet, blood at his lips, howling as he raised his axe to resume the fight.

“Enough!” Ji Xia rose to his feet and bellowed, “Enough! This is a council of the tribe, not a place for you hot-blooded youngsters to brawl!”

Ji Shu gave a cold snort, his voice smooth as ever: “Elder brother Ji Xia, why not let the children settle things themselves? We’re both vying for chief of the warriors; let our sons put on a show for the tribe!”

Ji Xia drew a deep breath, replying solemnly, “Let everything be decided by the ancestral rules. In half a month, at the ancestral ceremony, we’ll settle everything with our fists.”

Shamed and flushed, Ji Wu slammed his shield and axe to the ground, pointing furiously at Ji Hao and shouting, “Ji Hao, if you’re a real man, duel me at the ancestral ceremony! Do you dare? If you lose, you’ll spend the rest of your life cowering like a eunuch!”

Ji Hao snorted coldly, raised his right hand, and slowly drew it across his throat, accepting Ji Wu’s challenge.

***

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