Fay used her movement technique. Her form went blurry, as if she were a ghost.
Radeon's whip snapped after her. A series of afterimages chased Fay across the clearing, nipping at shoulders, ankles, waist.
Each crack came close enough to tug her hair, to sting the air beside her skin.
He could have pushed further. He could have drawn blood. Radeon chose not to. An injury now was inconvenient.
The miners watched master and disciple train and forgot to breathe. It felt like a life and death struggle, trump cards thrown without hesitation.
Awe sat beside jealousy in their throats. This was the life they imagined when they heard the word cultivator.
Carefree. Unrestrained. Caring only for martial arts. Some hearts wavered. Would it not be safer to stay with such a man?
Then hunger returned and the thought turned dull. Safe did not mean well fed.
Reality poured them a cold bucket of water, and they went back to tightening straps and counting rations.
