Minh found Quân near the covered walkway.
The Ernest Thälmann captain stood beneath a leaking roof, clean jacket untouched, expression calm. Behind him, two boys blocked the path to the bike racks where younger students were hiding.
"You came," Quân said.
Minh stopped ten steps away.
"Move."
"You say that like this is your school."
"There are students behind you."
Quân smiled. "There were players behind Lâm too. He protected them. Admirable, honestly."
Gomboc pressed against Minh's teeth.
"Break his smile."
Minh breathed.
"You knew about the ambush."
"I knew about strategy."
"You targeted his hand."
"He still chose to play."
That sentence nearly did it.
Minh felt the line inside him thin, stretch, begin to tear.
Then Lâm's voice returned from the doorway of his apartment.
Come back as you.
Minh lowered his shoulders.
"Last warning. Move."
Quân looked disappointed.
"Lao said you would be more honest."
He signaled.
The two boys rushed Minh from both sides.
One Beat was not enough for two attacks.
So Minh did not use power first.
He moved backward.
A simple retreat.
The left attacker overreached. Minh caught the wrist, redirected, released before khí could travel too far. The right attacker swung. Minh ducked and used a shoulder bump, not a strike, sending him into Quân's legs.
Both went down.
Quân's expression changed for the first time.
Not fear.
Calculation.
"You learned restraint."
"I learned choice."
Quân reached into his pocket.
Minh moved before the object came out.
One breath.
One intent.
Disarm.
His hand struck Quân's wrist. A small folding blade clattered onto the wet concrete.
The hidden students gasped.
Phones rose.
Quân froze.
Now everyone had seen.
Not rivalry.
Not basketball.
A weapon.
Quân's polished mask cracked.
Minh stepped close, voice low enough only Quân could hear.
"Tell whoever stands behind you that Lâm is not the door to me."
Quân's eyes narrowed.
"You don't even know which house you're knocking on."
"Then they can introduce themselves later," Gomboc whispered with amusement.
Minh ignored it and shoved Quân away from the bike racks.
The path opened.
Students ran.
------
On the south stairwell, Tân Phong met Văn Lâm in the rain.
Neither looked like they wanted a heroic fight.
That made them more dangerous.
Văn Lâm smiled too much, knife-thin and restless. "Scout versus scout?"
Tân Phong glanced at the exits behind him. "You talk too much for someone hiding three escape routes."
The smile faded.
They moved at the same time.
No big strikes. No crowd-pleasing impact.
Just angles.
Văn Lâm kicked low at the ankle.
Tân Phong did not dodge backward.
Backward was where Văn Lâm wanted him.
He stepped onto the stair rail, used it like a line drawn in the air, and dropped behind him. Văn Lâm spun, elbow already rising. Tân Phong ducked under it and slapped two fingers against the back of his knee.
Not a strong hit.
The right hit.
Văn Lâm's leg buckled for half a second.
Half a second was Tân Phong's entire fighting style.
He used it to kick a dropped water bottle across the stairwell. Văn Lâm's rear foot landed on it, slipped, and his shoulder hit the wall.
Văn Lâm recovered fast, faster than most. His hand flashed toward Tân Phong's sleeve, two fingers aiming for cloth, not flesh.
Catch the scout.
End the scout.
Tân Phong let the sleeve tear off in his grip.
Under it, his arm was already gone.
He had slipped out of his jacket mid-turn.
"You fight dirty," Văn Lâm hissed.
"I scout dirty," Tân Phong said. "Fighting is for people who got found."
Văn Lâm's eyes flicked once toward the lower exit.
That was enough.
Tân Phong struck heel to ankle, then palm to shoulder, using the stair's wet angle instead of strength.
Văn Lâm slid down three steps and crashed into the landing rail.
No chase.
No finish.
Just the exit cleared.
Tân Phong picked up his torn sleeve and tied it around the door handle, marking the route safe for Thuận's people.
------
From the old court, Lao's voice thundered through the rain.
"Minh!"
Everyone turned.
Lao stood alone at center court, arms spread, face alive with joy.
"Enough side dishes. Come show them what pain made you."
Minh stepped into view.
The crowd pulled back as if the air itself had warned them.
Phú spoke softly.
"He wants audience."
Gomboc whispered:
"Give him one."
Minh walked forward.
No more prey.
But not Lao's monster either.
That distinction felt thin under his feet.
Thin, but real.
For tonight, thin would have to be enough.