Chapter 20 Yiran
Yiran
The dummy sword shimmered enticingly, but without an ounce of magic in his body, Yiran couldn’t use it. Simulated or not,
it was suicidal to fight a Hybrid in these conditions.
It was suicidal from the moment you agreed to meet Yuki the first time. Yiran had gone down this path with eyes wide open, hadn’t he? He’d brought his current fate down upon himself, and he was
the only one who could clean up this mess.
The only one who could save himself.
Try it. You might surprise yourself.
This sparring match had to be a test for Noah and Yiran. But why would the Hybrid leader care about a normie’s fighting skills?
“Take your sword,” Noah grunted. He was already gripping his, legs shoulder width apart, feet planted firmly on the sand.
Yiran stayed where he was.
“Oi! Hurry up!”
“We aren’t here to watch you make eyes at each other. We want a fight to the death. Give us a good one.”
“Get him, Noah!”
Loud hoots followed.
With his comrades cheering him on, Noah’s confidence grew. “Take your sword,” he repeated, looking hungrily at Yiran.
The why of it all wasn’t important. Yiran had no other choice. Tossing his jacket aside, he wrapped his fingers around the remaining
sword. Shockingly, his action triggered a response.
Warmth spread from his chest to his limbs, and the blade started to glow.
The weapon was adapting to him, sending a current through his body the same way the ones in the Academy’s Simulator did.
Had the Hybrids really figured out a way to build a Simulator and code a program that could be used by normies?
But what would be the purpose of something like this?
A shout scattered his thoughts.
Sand flew at his face.
Yiran barely had time to turn his head away, but his feet moved instinctively. His lips curled. Noah’s little attack had given
him valuable information.
It was an old-school tactic to kick sand or dust at your opponent to throw them off guard and screw with their vision. But
the problem in this case was that Noah had yelled before what should have been a stealthy attack. An amateur mistake. Noah wasn’t a trained killer; he was a young boy manipulated
into becoming a weapon, caught up in a bigger chess game where he was a sacrificial pawn.
Yiran shut down any sympathy. He couldn’t afford to care about anyone else, let alone an opponent who wanted to kill him.
He could use the dummy sword without magic. That was all that mattered. Exhaling slowly, he blanked his mind and focused on
one thing: surviving.
He smiled. “Time to dance, Nathan.”
Noah growled. “My name’s—”
Not wasting a moment, Yiran pounced before the words could leave the Hybrid’s mouth. But Noah’s reflexes were lightning. Trained
or not, the boy was tenacious and agile, with a flair for spotting holes in his opponent’s defense. To Yiran’s dismay, he
had boundless energy, springing to his feet immediately each time he went down. Back and forth they went, with neither giving
an edge to the other.
The Hybrids continued to cheer. Amid the din, Yiran heard a sharp-pitched buzzing.
Sand spun, creating whirlpools that caught his leg and brought him down. Cursing, he scrambled up, only to hit his shoulder
against a rock formation that sprouted out of nowhere. Pain radiated down his arm, and he cursed again. How many dirty tricks
did the Hybrid leader have up his sleeve?
As Yiran parried Noah’s attacks, he kept an ear out for the buzzing, hoping to spot a pattern. But it came at the most random intervals. Each time, the arena reconfigured itself, creating new and unpredictable obstacles for the two fighters.
It didn’t take long for his injuries to add up. He’d tweaked his ankle, and his bicep was bleeding freely where Noah had sliced
through his sleeve. Still, he felt himself coming into his own. Fights were psychological. Noah wanted to prove himself in
front of his comrades and leader. He wanted to belong. It was a desire Yiran understood, and something he could exploit.
And if there was anything Song Yiran excelled at, it was being a dick.
He did everything he could to rile the boy up. A playful but painful jab here, a taunting kick there, all garnished with the
most annoyingly charming smile and withering insults to embarrass Noah in front of his comrades.
As predicted, Noah’s frustration grew along with Yiran’s jibes and attacks. So did his mistakes. More gaps appeared in his
defenses. More ins for Yiran. Noah’s transformation had given him enhanced physical abilities, but Yiran had mental fortitude
honed by his time at Xingshan Academy and cunning that ran in his blood.
“You tired, Norbert?” he called out, ignoring the fact that they were both panting heavily.
Noah sneered. An ugly bruise was forming at his temple, and he was favoring his left leg after Yiran got a good blow to his
right knee.
But Yiran wasn’t doing any better. His left shoulder was stiff from the early collision. The decreased mobility affected his
dominant hand, and his strikes were less accurate. He recalibrated his next move as they circled each other.
“Ready to give up, Nelson?”
“My name’s Noah.”
“Whatever you say, Nick.”
“Noah—argh!” Stunned from a direct hit to his head, the Hybrid hunched over for a few moments.
No time to gloat. Yiran swung the blunt side of his blade at Noah’s head to knock him unconscious. But again, the Hybrid blocked it in time.
Yiran retreated. His grip was slippery from sweat and blood. He wiped his palms on his jeans, keeping a steady eye on Noah.
“You okay, Nelly-baby? Looking a little woozy to me. Is it time for a snuggle and a warm bottle of Mommy’s milk?” Spitting
the blood pooling in his mouth, Yiran grinned wickedly. “Or did Mommy abandon you?”
Noah froze. Pain flashed in his young eyes.
Yiran’s words had struck home. It seemed they shared that same raw nerve.
Noah’s anguish morphed into rage, and he threw his sword to the ground.
“Admitting defeat?” Yiran laughed humorlessly, calculating his next attack. “That’s okay. In fact, it’s the smartest move
you’ve made so far—”
Craaccck—
Yiran’s already racing pulse sped up. That sound—
Crackcrackcraccck—
Noah arched his head back. Two pincerlike blades erupted from his sides, and a long tail made up of interlocking diamond-shaped
shards extended from the base of his spine, its tip curved like a scorpion’s. Like Felix. Yiran had fought that Hybrid off with defensive spells. He could do the same with Noah—if only he had magic.
Noah’s yinqi crackled loudly above the cheers from the Hybrids watching. Despite what the leader had said about rules, no
one stopped the program.
Yiran’s hesitation increased Noah’s confidence. “Who’s the baby now?” the boy goaded, looking delirious from the spiritual
energy flowing through him. His tail reared up. The stinger was bright purple.
A huge bullet of yinqi shot into the air.
Yiran veered to his right.
Sand sizzled six steps away from his foot. Was Noah’s aim that bad? Yiran had only managed to move two paces. He doesn’t have full control of his new form yet. Yiran could take advantage of that. From what Yuki had shared, Hybrids, like Exorcists, did not possess an unlimited amount
of spiritual energy, which meant their spirit cores could be depleted. Noah seemed reckless enough. If Yiran could get him
to use up his yinqi quickly . . .
Yiran’s mouth went to work. “That’s it?” He scoffed at the smoking hole in the sand. “I’ve seen better from another Hybrid
who had a tail like yours. What was his name? Frankie? Fabian? I’ve such a bad memory when it comes to inconsequential side
characters.”
Noah’s face turned pale. “Felix.”
“Oh, sorry, was he your buddy?” Yiran smiled innocently. “Not sorry he’s dead, though.”
Snarling, Noah flicked his tail. The yinqi bullet was bigger this time, but the aim was no better. Noah’s range and style
of attack appeared limited, but he could get lucky.
Yiran needed a surefire plan.
An image appeared suddenly in his mind. A black sword with a serrated edge, its blade broken. Zizi’s spiritual weapon. He had gone straight for the source of Yuki’s yinqi during their fight, subduing him in two strikes. Could the dummy sword in
Yiran’s hand cut through Noah’s tail?
The sword in his hand hummed in response, but doubt quickly crept into Yiran’s mind. It couldn’t be real magic flowing through him and into the sword. It had to be a trick. An effect of the changes the Hybrids had made to the Simulator.
He couldn’t possibly—
Something whizzed past his ear.
Another violet shard came at him, then another, and then they were exploding all around him like fireworks.
Noah’s second wind had arrived.
Frantically, Yiran twisted and turned. But the shrapnel went everywhere.
Yinqi ripped through his clothing and torched his skin.
He hissed in pain. He’d wasted time overthinking things.
Noah was learning fast, evolving his attack on the fly.
Desperately, Yiran raised his arms to shield his face and eyes as Noah advanced.
It was impossible to avoid his pincers as they stabbed in succession.
Overwhelmed, Yiran fell over. Sand bit into his palms as he tried to scramble away. The smell of blood and his own burning
flesh was making him sick.
The Simulator buzzed. New boulders rose and fell haphazardly.
Yiran’s teeth rattled as his back connected with rock. His sword flew out of his hand, and he dropped heavily onto his already
injured shoulder.
Luck was on Noah’s side. He’d gotten out of the way in time and stayed on his feet. He grinned fiendishly when he saw Yiran trapped
between rocks, weaponless.
There was nowhere to turn. Nowhere to run. Fear churned in Yiran’s stomach, but his anger swelled. He didn’t want to die.
Not like this. A victim of someone else’s scheme.
The arena went completely still.
What new complication was the Hybrid leader throwing into the ring?
The air seemed to expand, and Yiran felt a surge of spiritual energy. Yangqi? Instinctively, he stretched out a hand.
His fingertips tingled.
He felt the rush of spiritual energy going inside him. Pins and needles prickled up from his hands to his arms.
Yiran stared, astounded.
The small white scars on his fingertips—the harrowing mementos his grandfather had gifted him when he was a child—had lit
up with a crimson glow.