The sound was dull. Wet.
The first man didn't even grunt. He caught the leg and twisted.
They both crashed into the ground again, this time slamming hard enough to send pebbles flying in all directions.
The second cultivator laughed while pinned. "You're still slower than me."
The first smiled as he tightened his grip. "But I'm heavier."
They rolled apart again, panting, their energy flickering like fire on the edge of exhaustion.
But they didn't stop.
Not even as blood dripped from split lips and torn sleeves.
Not even as their muscles trembled.
This fight had stopped being a contest long ago.
Now it was a lesson.
And both of them were learning fast.
The first cultivator took one final breath, centered his stance, and waited.
The second mirrored him.
One last clash.
They sprinted forward one more time—blurs across a shattered field.
And when their fists met—
The Earth split.
The sky echoed.
And time seemed to hold its breath.
